Archive for the ‘Jay’ Category
Thursday, March 6th, 2014
“When fascism comes to America, it will not be in brown and black shirts. It will not be with jackboots. It will be Nike sneakers and smiley shirts. Smiley-smiley.”
— George Carlin
Marty drove me to Blue Bank Hall for my session of Mombo Care, because Joan’s truck was still down here at the farm and I did not want to leave Dana without the Avalon. Joan hit a deer last week when I was here and needed the vehicle until Jay could determine that her sedan was safe to drive. Another scar for “The Silver Bunkit.” It was abnormally busy here, with visits from the home-health nurse and occupational therapist, but that phase is probably at an end. Medicare won’t continue to pay, as long as no further progress is being made, according to evaluations. One does not need to spend much time with these providers to learn that they rate Mombo at the top of her age group, based on the attitude and overall physical condition of those they treat. It makes me realize that anyone better than her has not qualified for federal home care and those worse than her do not have as good a mindset to make best use of what is clearly beneficial, wellness-oriented therapy. Another bewildering example of the ongoing clash between the dominant disease-care system and the bureaucracy of collectivist social programs. The OT gal was telling Mombo that she sees people abuse a support system by wanting to be waited on, but that she admires Mombo for using the availability of support to enable her improvement. She seemed to be overcome with genuine emotion with the recognition that this probably would be her last visit.
Posted in Dana, Jay, Joan, Marty, Mombo, Social Science | No Comments »
Sunday, March 21st, 2010
March Exercise V —day twenty-one— After Dana fixed Marty and me a delicious pancake breakfast, I set out on Hakkoch for my first bike workout of the year. Near the edge of town I stopped at Jay and Glenda’s for a surprise inspection before heading out to Chrisman Lane, one of my favorite riding roads. I was thinking about the recent death of Winston and that Walie was the only Yorkie remaining in the Clan. She’ll turn twelve on April Fool’s Day. I rode about 15.5 miles and was ready to arrive home. I’ve got some serious work to do if I hope to complete a 100-miler in May. Joan and Mombo stopped by as part of their ongoing mattress research. I heard Joan tell Walie she knew what it felt like to be a widow.
Today’s scent bite— The glorious agricultural stench of a spreader’s output —s-n-i-f-f— with pastoral recollections of Studebakers, Browns, and Silknetters all rolled into one.
Previously on M-Ex— This is about as heavily into the experiment as one can get. (3/21/06)
Tomorrow— Pedal to the metal…
Posted in Dana, Death, Exercise, Family, Home, Jay, Joan, Marty, Mombo, Pets | Comments Closed
Monday, March 8th, 2010
March Exercise V —day eight— The clock ruled the day, and it was 7 pm by the time I finished the photo-retouching for the next newspaper ad in the Jacob series. I’m astonished with how much I’ve broadened the exploration of music advantageous to my studio work, now that I have a Macintosh powerful enough to handle iTunes and Pandora.com while running intensive graphic applications. The ability to follow with minimal impediments one’s own evolving musical tastes is yet another fantastic benefit of the rapid advances in content delivery. For the first time in my life, I’m genuinely enjoying the output of great female vocalists, and have been drawn lately to the classic Portuguese samba and bossa nova tunes as a perfect adjunct to many of my typical daily tasks as a graphic designer. And, my goodness, no other ladies possess “that sweet beat” quite like Maria Rita, Gal Costa, Roberta Sa, Vanessa Da Mata, Carol Saboya, Rosa Passos, Nara Leão, Bebel Gilberto, and so many others. Maybe it’s that early infusion of Lalo Schifrin that predisposed me, but, damn, it sure took me long enough to come full circle and discover Cal Tjader, Bebo Valdés, Tito Puente, and all the others.
Today’s sight bite— The familiar smile of my “bay-bo brother” —c-l-i-c-k— making a diagnosis on two different ailing vehicles within a dozen minutes.
Previously on M-Ex— The momentum is placed in service to some of my finest works of collage. (3/8/07)
Tomorrow— Vision Therapy session number eight…
Posted in Awe, Jay, Music, Personalities, Studio, Technology | Comments Closed
Friday, October 30th, 2009
“The chief cause of stress is reality.”
~ Lily Tomlin
It’s hard to accept that nearly three weeks have flown by since Dana and I were traveling to North Carolina, bearing the brunt of a devastating tempest that left 35 homes “unlivable” in Casey County (based on information I learned through the Salvation Army). Since that stormy day I had two wonderful weekends with family at both Broadwing and Blue Bank Farms. Carol and Bob are as youthful as ever and at the pinnacle of insight. Shame on me for taking five years to make a return visit. I was delighted to see how they had displayed my drawing of the old barn, and Pete showed off my pen and ink sketch of the Vulcan stove from their early years above the French Broad. I couldn’t help but contemplate the decline in my sketchbook activity over the past year. During my two days at the Hall, I made an attempt to complete work on the rock flue, but ran into mortar problems again while battling Panyon’s tool thievery. My “Son of Dirk Man” character was a bit of a flop, compared to Jay’s Pappy, Mombo’s Rufus, and Clay’s Donkey Kong. Nevertheless, the day was noteworthy for the revival of our Clan Hayride—a “harvest jamboree,” as Joan called it—and also for her tip about Pandora.com. The Council voted to commission an illustrated map of Clan Valley. Wow, how do I come up with an estimate for that? (Lord, help me finish it quicker than my stone masonry!) Dana called me from town to break the news that our friend Irina had been discovered lifeless, the apparent victim of a heart attack. She was a year younger than me! It took four or five days for me to grasp the finality of losing her awesome talent. Early Sunday morning I decided to tote my Hawken-style 50-caliber down the Valley in search of venison. The ache of a gifted comrade’s passing was on my heart when treetops dipped to let the sun pour its precious gold into our beloved hollow. The goal of hunting for meat dissolved abruptly to a deep reverence for the beauty of our rural legacy and my gratitude for life. When I got up to move farther along the road, something caught the corner of my eye. Four good sized does were now moving purposefully across the hay field. Before I could swing my muzzleloader into play, all were into the wooded drainage. If I’d only lingered a minute more, I probably could have had my pick. The following days were tainted with sorrow, but the request to create Irina’s memorial keepsake helped me channel my emotion, although, sadly, the local printer once again seized the opportunity to complain about our predicable attention to detail. By week’s end, the fabulous distraction of sharing Rick H’s 50th birthday celebration was trumped by the news of Glenda’s bizarre mishap at the Haunted House, which resulted in her breaking four back bones. And this comes on top of her and Jay dealing with the aftermath of burst plumbing and extensive damage to their newly remodeled home. The Graybeard Prospector had the second of two successful networking sessions in Lancaster, and Sunday Silence at Simpson Knob was another welcome break, but the heightened oscillation of desirable and undesirable happenings is becoming too strange. All I want to do is immerse myself in the upcoming wood engraving workshop at Larkspur and try to take myself back to a point of quiet equilibrium. Well then, load the truck and go!
Posted in Angst, Art, Awe, Business, Dana, Death, Family, Firearms, Friends, Gratitude, Hunting, Jay, Joan, Mombo, Music, Nature, Personalities, Pets | No Comments »
Friday, January 30th, 2009
“A man is no sailor if he cannot sleep when he turns in, and turn out when he’s called.”
—Richard Henry Dana, Jr.
Two Years Before the Mast
Power to the People!
Everyone here made it through the night without mishap, but I’m not sure about sleeping again in that cold bedroom upstairs. Shelters continue to accept more people as house temperatures drop and it becomes harder to tough it out. Radio reports indicate that the north side of Danville is still basically without power, and this would include Jay’s new house, although I haven’t heard from him. Terie and Marty are still here with us. Junction City and Perryville are still dead. Boyle County is one of the worst-hit areas in a state-wide disaster. Sounds like local officials are getting their act together with a declared state of emergency and multi-agency coordination. Hometown Radio continues to suspend all music and commercial activity for ’round-the-clock emergency broadcasting. Chunks of the city are returning to normal, but it’s clear that we’re at the center of a federally declared disaster. Some people around here have more difficult days ahead. Will that include us? I’m not optimistic about our power being restored today. I would think differently if I saw a KU truck somewhere in the vicinity. All we can do is hang in and try to stay out of a shelter ourselves. At some point there will be big bills and a big mess to clean up.
To break the monotony, I decided to tackle our personal disaster zone, since the city is supposed to start picking up debris this weekend. Decided to clear the driveway again and made a good dent in the piles of debris out front, cutting limbs to the recommended maximum length. While I worked, I started to see more utility trucks moving through the neighborhood; this was encouraging. Amazing what some physical exercise and a hot shower can do for one’s disposition. That and some reheated soup made me feel like a man reborn. I have to say that we’ve been eating well. Dana can sure make do with the most meager kitchen basics.
Even if our power comes on, Bellsouth says that it will be next Wednesday before our downed phone line is re-connected. That means no Internet before mid-week. Must find a way to check email before then. Dixon Design is a business in name only as we deal with basic survival.
Posted in Community, Crashology, Dana, Family, Home, Jay, Marty, Nonfiction, Technology, Terie | No Comments »
Monday, July 16th, 2007
Tales of the Graybeard Prospector XXII
— The grizzled one prospected for both types of precious ore on the same day. He staked the first claim early in Marion County, searching for evidence of silver in the applied arts. By the end of the day, he was panning for gold at a gallery opening, with at least one promising nugget to his credit with a personal invitation to visit the big city from one of Lexington’s most prominent fine-arts administrators.
“How is it with stains?”
— I stopped by the Motor Mall to match a truck color for Pike Valley Farm. I was walking across the lot with a salesman when I made the mistake of stepping into his blind spot and I was nearly hit by a stream of saliva. He apologized by saying he’d been a catcher in college. The only reply I could think of was, “Well, I suppose that baseball is the last bastion of spitters.”
By hook or by crook, we will.
— Constructive thought is about making connections. Acquisition of information provides little, unless it helps me draw associations, which I have a natural tendency to do, even without sound data. It seems as though bits and pieces of knowledge, plus a variety of external influences, are continually converging in my daily awareness, and I can look at this as random static, coincidence, synchronicity, or divine guidance, but, fundamentally, it’s just the way I think, and I’m used to it. Perhaps that’s why, as a creative person, I find the process of collage so interesting and often develop visual ideas with a montage approach. Perhaps it’s also why I find it difficult sometimes to concentrate. Achieving any type of perceptual breakthrough invariably requires me to severely limit interruptions and drain a pernicious swamp of festering “to-do’s” and internal distractions. I haven’t had a decent creative rhythm lately, but something will shake out soon—I can feel it coming.
All jigged out? For shame!
— It was a full weekend. Marty and I got an early start on Saturday and hauled one load of blacktop to the fill on our way to Richmond. We helped clean out the garage at Fourth Street House and brought back a load of bricks that almost broke Ned’s butt. I nearly broke my own trying to help get that stone bench from the back yard into the bed of Mighty Manfred. Dropped Marty off after we unloaded the bricks at the Town House and headed to Blue Bank. Nothing going on, but I was glad I hung out, because Joan turned me on to Mhing, a conversion of Mah Jong to playing cards. Dadbo became enamored with it when he visited the Thomas cabin, and now I’m hooked, too! Sunday morning brought a nice 34-miler. Dan’s front cable broke, which continued the run of bad luck from Wednesday night, when a young guy went down on the bridge before Sand Knob (near Carpenter’s Creek) and broke his elbow. Most of Sunday afternoon was devoted to our Clan Council meeting, and we took another portrait afterwards (this time I did it right—35mm film in the shade). We moved the stone bench to a temporary spot in the cemetery. Michelle and Godson Nic announced their wedding date in summer 2008, but no “jumpin’ jig” erupted. Jay killed a pair of copperheads with a shovel. Jerusha gave me five “Pirate” Hot Wheels. I committed to completing the rock flue next month, so Marty and I need to reserve a couple days to finish the job together. All-in-all, it was a good Clan weekend. Mombo is gradually doing better, Terie’s new job is going well, J & J are counting down the days until “Bay-bo Hour,” and the Loft-mates have both quit smoking! I’m probably forgetting other news, but it’s time to call it quits.
V & S
Posted in Art, Business, Dadbo, Exercise, Family, Friends, James, Jay, Jerome, Joan, Marty, Mombo, Pirates, Playtime, Psychology, Sport, Terie | Comments Closed
Wednesday, May 9th, 2007
Mombo and I had supper together at the Hall Sunday evening and the farm looked wonderful to my eyes. Fron and Bubb were both mowing when I drove in, and Glenda has clearly added her effort to the flower beds. Bless them all for their care of the Clan Heartland. I used to have more pangs of regret when I made visits from my town-based existence, but now I just focus on appreciating the way things are, and that my mother has a beautiful place to live, and that the foundation is now laid for a new generation of stewardship. As ever, the Land awaits me. What shall I do about it?
Posted in Family, Jay, Jeffrey, Mombo, Nature | Comments Closed
Thursday, August 17th, 2006
Today is Bill’s birthday, and I just saw him yesterday morning. No present or card this year… nothing for Jay either. That’s just how things are these days, and it’s quite a contrast from that 200+ handmade-cards-a-year era not so long ago. Much of today felt like decompression from yesterday. I wanted to swim laps, but Centre’s pool is closed for maintenance, so I ran a bit and lifted. As if that wasn’t enough exertion, after Dana and I attended the Chamber’s Business After Hours reception, I used Dadbo’s old concrete-hauling wheelbarrow to start retrieving stone and brick rubble from the site across the street. Please tell me I look like Mack building his rock fences and not Clem the Gem with another load of scrounge.
Posted in Business, Exercise, Family, Friends, Jay | Comments Closed
Wednesday, August 16th, 2006
Last night I stayed in Tipp City with my chum Bill and we enjoyed our shared anticipation for a September fishing trip to Michigan. Even though I failed to reach him by phone and he was bone tired from a day in the sun (after clearing fallen trees from the Great Miami with a chain saw), he welcomed me with a bear hug and set his last Bud Light in front of me—that’s what I call a friend.
It took me ten hours to get home from Ohio today. The joint in my rear drive shaft broke south of Kenton County, but I was able to arrange a tow and successful repair before the end of the day. I felt like I’d sweated off a couple gallons, baking on the shoulder of I-75. It was almost the exact spot where years ago a state policeman pulled me over after the Cincinnati Marathon to test my sobriety. Old “Ned” continues to give me fits if I don’t keep spending money on him that I’d rather not. I’m glad this didn’t happen yesterday with Mike.
Crucial to getting out of my predicament: 1) Dana insisting on Monday that I carry a cellular phone. 2) Being able to talk through the details of the breakdown with my brother Jay, an expert truck mechanic. I was so focused on his long-distance analysis and advice that I completely forgot that today is his 45th birthday.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY to my brother, “Bub.” I love you, forever…
Sitting for a long time at a garage in what barely passes as a “waiting room” can be a strange experience. I watched part of a “Gunsmoke” episode featuring Anthony Zerbe playing opposite himself in a split-screen double role, but my mind was on a personal crisis more critical than a broken pickup. I thought about the counsel of my best friends from youth. Each has his own brand of wisdom, having survived his own chapters of adversity. Both genuinely care about the particular challenges it’s my turn to face.
Dadbo once said to me after his buddy Joe died that a man is lucky to have one or two true friends in life, and now I know what he meant.
Posted in Angst, Birthdays, Dadbo, Dana, Death, Family, Friends, Jay, Personalities, Priorities, Television | Comments Closed
Sunday, July 2nd, 2006
Conditions could hardly have been better on the second day of July for our bike ride early this morning. A 35-miler took us down through Moreland and out Black Pike, past where my brother Jay and his family used to live. Hustonville was quiet as a ghost town when we pedaled through, a perfect spot for our turnaround point. My pal Elisabeth was amused about winning the women’s division at the 5k in Stanford yesterday. She’s trying to figure out what to do with the huge trophy she was not expecting to bring home. A NYC artist who spends her summers in Lincoln County, she does quite a bit of running and cycling during her stays in Kentucky. She turns 50 later this year, and a good indication of her high fitness level is that I take ample satisfaction in ever being able to stay up with her on the road. When I asked her if she knew any sculptors, she laughed and said, “Lots!”
Posted in Art, Exercise, Family, Friends, Jay | Comments Closed
Wednesday, June 7th, 2006
There’s a particular stairwell connecting the upper and lower levels of the fitness center at Centre College that has a smell which takes me back to the old McKinley School, where I attended fourth, fifth, and sixth grades. You know what I mean; it’s one of those odor-triggered responses that has deep emotional characteristics. For me, it evokes the final years of pre-adolescence in my first hometown of West Milton, before our family moved to Tipp City, and the resulting psychological disorientation that came with being “the new kid,” just as puberty struck with a vengeance. I was twelve. It wasn’t an easy transition. Life deals many different kinds, of course. On a scale of ten it doesn’t come close to what others in my Clan have endured. I just happened to lose my best friends at the diciest time in a young man’s coming of age. In some unexplainable way I also lost my original identity. Honestly, I still have no idea how it actually affected my personality and my relationship to others. I just know it did, and that’s all that probably needs to be said about it. Fortunately, the summer of our disruption was fashioned into
an adventure of memorable proportions, with our transitional accommodations in the upstairs apartment of a downtown building perched ridiculously close to the major rail line. It must have been inexpensive, and only a boy could have loved it, although I understood how absurdly small it was for a nine-member family. We survived a hot summer without air conditioning by spending most of our time at the pool. It left me with a lifelong attachment to swimming, the most sensual of fitness activities, and further solidified a bond of five brothers, thrown more tightly together with our sudden isolation. I remember the day Mombo gave me hell because I walked three-year-old Jay to our developing home-site two miles out of town, indicating the age gap of the Brothers Dixon in those days. Side-by-side, we navigated a mutually unfamiliar universe of lifeguards, construction workers, shopkeepers, and strange neighbors. Thank God for the summer of ’64. As cohorts in adaptation, we had to make it uniquely our own world, and perhaps, to some degree, it also prepared me for the arrival of September, the end of childhood, and a school with new and different smells…
Posted in Community, Family, Home, Jay, Mombo, Psychology, Time | Comments Closed
Saturday, March 4th, 2006
March experiment—day three— Hard work interrupted by hard work of a different sort, and then spending an evening with the rifle competitors, securing an assignment to produce the match program.
Today’s sight bites— Jay’s grin as he tossed hibernating crawdads at me—c-l-i-c-k—Michelle and her massive bullfrog—c-l-i-c-k—“pack-mule Seth,” lugging 300 feet of pipe up the hollow—c-l-i-c-k—Joan dressed in Joe’s big “Willy suit” with rolled up cuffs—c-l-i-c-k—David and his Martini-Henry carbine—c-l-i-c-k—with too many images from the day cycling behind my eyelids as I drift off to sleep.
Tomorrow— Quiet time at Simpson Knob, and a break from my regimen…
Posted in Family, Friends, Jay, Joan | Comments Closed
Friday, December 30th, 2005
— Josh comes home to his Clan for a mid-deployment visit.
— Mack stops by the Town House and we talk about my old saxophone.
— Gov. Fletcher appoints me to the Kentucky Bicycle Commission.
— A major international Arts and Crafts exhibition unexpectedly comes to our attention.
— We hike back Horse Lick Hollow for Marty’s first visit to the Clan’s little “Pine Forest.”
— Seth and I complete the long-overdue “Pirate Revenge” video.
— I experience my first artistic fellowship with a group of Layerists.
— The exalted Plastic Mullet Series honors yours truly.
— I have the opportunity to design the poster for Sheldon Tapley’s painting.
— David treats me to another great hunting weekend in the Knobs.
— Jay and Glenda make their vows at a wedding ceremony in Liberty.
— Dana and I thoroughly enjoy listening to Gates of Fire on tape.
— After Aunt Alma’s funeral, Dana, Jerome and I pray at the Shrine of the Holy Relics.
— Caitlan takes us all to Oxford with her captivating England Blog.
— I discover the extraordinary young writer Paul Watkins and hook myself on his work.
— Marty and I conduct our first camp-out on “Widow’s Knob.”
— The Clan gathers for Mombo’s 80th-Birthday tribute at the Boone Tavern and Hotel.
— Dana and I celebrate our 23rd Anniversary in Augusta, Kentucky.
• • • and the top highlight of 2005 • • •
— Bruce battles through kidney failure, septicemia, and the various complications of severe pancreatitis to defy—by the grace of Almighty God—the medical odds against his survival.
Posted in Bruce, Caitlan, Dana, Family, Jay, Jerome, Marty, Mombo, Time | Comments Closed
Sunday, December 25th, 2005
• Nobody can recite the Holy Bible like Charlton Heston, and I do mean nobody. Christmas morning isn’t set until I watch his performance of the Nativity verses, filmed at the ruins of a Roman amphitheater. Sometimes I just want to shut my eyes and listen to the masterful shift of his voice characterization from Angel to Blessed Virgin to Shepherd to Magi to the 12-year-old Jesus in the temple doing “my father’s business.” And I always enjoy how he portrays the angel telling Joseph that Herod “is dead,” almost as if the heavenly being takes grim satisfaction in the opportune demise.
• My TV-Show Fantasy Wish List for Santa: I want a sprawling hacienda like Big John Cannon’s, on a ranch like The Yellow Rose, with a horse just like Jason McCord’s, and a fully stocked pull-down gun panel like the one James West had. When I need to be in the city, I’d like a Robin Masters Ferrari so I can commute to my urban pad, just like the apartment Jim Phelps lived in, with a big John Gnagy studio attached, plus a closet with an Alexander Mundy wardrobe. I suppose that’ll do for this year, Santa, unless you want to toss in a hovercraft, custom-built by Benton Quest. I’ve been really, really nice.
• I don’t know how long ago the “Oyster-Stew Eve” tradition began, but now it wouldn’t be Christmas for me without it. We gathered once again last night at Mombo’s, and it was a full house with all the Hellyers in attendance. Bubb played the temperamental stew chef, but his main course was superb as usual. I could have done without the bizarre homily that gushed on about everyone’s favorite computer racketeer earning his media sainthood. Oh well, there’s got to be a reason church hierarchs would exile a pastor to the boondocks of rural Kentucky. After what I’ve learned about the downfall of the precious parish in Richmond, nothing is going to surprise me about the bewildering judgments of those running an institutional religion that long ago lost its way. Give me a simple family Christmas Eve, with loving hugs, wall-to-wall cousins, Yorkies under foot, Jaybon’s vino, mud room goodbyes, and the lasting brilliance of a Dadbo who combined the sleep-inducing benefits of warm milk for the kiddoes, with a dose of aphrodisiac for Mr. and Mrs. Claus.
Posted in Community, Dadbo, Family, Food, Holidays, Jay, Jerome, Mombo, Personalities, Scripture, Television, Wine | Comments Closed
