Doing my best to normalize after an abrupt departure from Tipp City and late-night drive to Kentucky (in order to get Dana’s antique credenza from Sydne safely home before the rain arrives). I stopped often to close my eyes, playing it safe, worries of 1993 in my nerve endings. It was nearly 3 am by the time I found my bed. Today the dire situation with our studio workload is uppermost on my mind, as I make the harsh decisions to confine my energy to the necessary turnaround.
Archive for the ‘Family’ Category
Back home in Danville— A number of things that weren’t important yesterday
Friday, September 22nd, 2006Day Eight at Barefoot’s Resort— Only time will tell if I am right or I am wrong
Wednesday, September 20th, 2006Phoned into the KBBC conference out on the dock this morning, reminding me of taking the July call when I was here, while out on a boat with Marty. This kind of technology has just sneaked up on us, but would have seemed like Star Trek to me not that long ago. After that, Foot and I mounted our last perch run across Muskellunge Bay to the Point. I had one 11-inch baby that made the outing for me, although we were still hoping for a limit catch. They just haven’t bitten like that on this trip. Foot was miffed at hooking little channel cats and sunfish. I cleaned and froze the batch when we got back. Now we’re cleaning, organizing, and packing so we can leave as early as possible tomorrow morning. I guess I’m ready to depart, but I sure would like some “final night luck” later this evening and bring in a nice salmon.
Day Six at Barefoot’s Resort— I’ve changed my mind, I’ve opened up the doors
Monday, September 18th, 2006Foot sounds serious about starting his little house next year, talking to Mr. Hill when he stopped to discuss sand-truck access to the adjacent property (apparently the neighbors want to create a beach like the natural one here at this resort). The contractor said he was no relation to the Hill who originally owned the entire island. He and Foot looked at the spot where the A-frame will be sited. Hill said that code compliance and getting a permit will be more difficult than the excavation. He seemed like a nice man with helpful advice. His own father also bought lake frontage not long after Bill’s parents first came to Hill Island in the 1950s. My friend hopes to sell his business in Ohio and move up here to manage the resort within five years. His dream excites my own desire to have a retreat in the woods, but the inner determination to reverse my personal downturn and accomplish that goal must come from inside me. At the same time, I have concerns for my friend. Earlier this year, Bill quit smoking for 12 weeks—long enough to live as a nonsmoker—but he started up again after a quarrel with Amy (their first?). Much buried tension in the man, like there was in my dad, and perhaps more than a little rage; it bubbled to the surface last night when I touched on a political subject. Like most proud Americans, the direction our country is moving disturbs him and he takes it personally, and then hides it inside. Stress and cigarettes—an unhappy combination. There’s little I can do about it, of course, and the same is true for my family members who smoke… too many of them… but how can I be judgmental when I have unmanaged problems of my own? Ok, where do I start? Review priorities and take even greater control over my use of time. Should I curtail many of my extraneous activities? Should I suspend this online journal? Is it time to set a few simple, practical goals and then banish all conflicting objectives until they’re achieved? Mike spoke to me about the misconceptions of setting priorities and defining daily tasks. He has decades of experience and impressive, tangible results to show for it, so put his advice to the test, and for God’s sake forget about sharing it in a public log. If I don’t take this last opportunity to gain command over my financial status, I’ll face radical changes over which I’ll have minimal capacity to direct. I must prove I can make a few specific things happen in my life that are essential, and that means everything else has to be put on hold. Period.
Day Three at Barefoot’s Resort— Gonna try with a little help from my friends
Friday, September 15th, 2006When I overheard Mike and Bob discussing sales goals, Mike said something so clear and plain-spoken that it hit my brain like a laser— “First you set an objective, and then you devise the strategy and tactics to achieve it.” I realized how reactive I’ve been in my professional life, rather than proactive. Mike knows what he’s talking about. After years as a leading sales executive for M&M/Mars, he now works directly with the owner of a top food distributor in the Midwest. We talked a lot today while Bill, JD, and Bob were out fishing. I know I can learn a lot from Mike if I open up. He’ll be more than pleased to give me advice, but do I have the discipline to use it? During a 90-minute phone call with Dana we confirmed the do-or-die aspect of what we face together, and the need for total open-mindedness in our problem solving, to turn the situation with our studio around.
Day Two at Barefoot’s Resort— You can syndicate any boat you row
Thursday, September 14th, 2006Bob and I were up early and put the rowboat in the water. Bill (Foot) found oars and an anchor locked in the unused shower house. I figured that with six guys, we needed a third small boat for fishing in the channel. Most of the perch caught while we were up here in July were taken between 8-11 in the morning, including that memorable outing Marty and I had with Sartoris on July 21st. It’s time to duplicate that success, if I can. At least we have the “elbow room” now and the Sylvan can be used exclusively for salmon runs. Before long, five of us were “fanning at the plate” out in the channel, so we gave that up and had a fair amount of success with another run to Connors. Nobody got skunked this time. Bob had multi-species and Foot caught an 11-inch perch—a nice fish by any standard. I had only four keepers. It’s frustrating for us not to have found the “zone” yet.
September Eleven
Monday, September 11th, 2006It’s our 24th wedding anniversary, but we no longer have this date to ourselves, of course; it now belongs to all Americans.
Dana and I opted for a day at home, trying to enjoy the familiar with mindful appreciation. I did some chores for her; she made two tasty meals for me. At the same time, I was trying to pack for a Michigan trip and finish framing the 50th anniversary artwork for the California B’bachs. I avoided the media all day, since there were already too many things going on in my head. I really had to quiet myself and beckon an Archangel, so I wouldn’t goof up, fall two stories off a ladder, and ruin the day.
Our intimate supper featured the last of my venison tenderloin, wild rice, and Fron’s yellow squash. Sliced organic strawberries in liqueur-flavored yogurt were an exquisite finale, and the bottle of Firestone Cabernet was pure velvet on the palette, shining like fiery blood before the candle flames.
Yes, my family is amazing
Sunday, September 10th, 2006I can’t tell you how cool it was to sit on the porch at Frank’s farm today and laugh with my mate and brother and sister and niece and nephews, realizing we’re all just a bunch of grownups now. Although we’re two distinct generations, we can all relish a fun conversation at the same level. And I think it will surely get cooler.
Brendan wasn’t there, but I’m thinking about him because he posted a fantastic panorama from Clan Pirate Day 2. The rest of the photos aren’t up yet at his Flickr site (as I type this), but go there anyway, if you haven’t enjoyed it lately. His captions are as good as his images, and his shots are damn good (even though he didn’t get the spelling right for “ghee,” because we intentionally made those kinds of things difficult for his generation—where’s that Dixonary Wiki?).
In need of an exit strategy
Thursday, September 7th, 2006Bruce went back into the hospital early this morning. As far as I can tell, it was a chain reaction of things that caused his blood pressure to drop dangerously low.
Monday Monday, so good to me
Monday, September 4th, 2006Mombo and Joan decided to travel with us, and we were in no hurry to make our way towards home. Yesterday was Uncle Bob’s 70th birthday, and I think that gave me the idea of our going to Yellow Springs and popping in on his son, Dan (not the type of thing you could do on a holiday with just anyone.) It turned out to be a wonderful experience, with an outdoor meal hot off the grill, and a rare opportunity to examine an extraordinary private art collection, including an astonishing series of wood engravings by Dearth. It was fun to talk to Elizabeth about her studies at U.C., and to wish Olivia well before she departs on her adventure to Spain. My magnanimous cousin gave me some pawpaw fruit as we were getting ready to leave, and he reminded me that nothing is more important than family. On the way south, we discussed the possibility of Darb’s relocation to the Blue Bank Farm, which, if approached with thoughtful planning and a bit of imagination, could be a win-win situation for her and the entire Clan.
Decks awash
Sunday, September 3rd, 2006Today was “Clan Pirate Day 2,” and there may never be a third at this scale. My personal opinion is that the abundant availability of alcohol is fundamentally incompatible with our thematic idea. Nevertheless, it was great fun in many respects, and the wide array of wenches, knaves, powder monkeys, and assorted nautical vermin will contribute many interesting additions to the family image bank. “Lady Virginia” was chosen by our jousting champion, who lost by a single point—a clear case of robbery. We celebrated a number of birthdays with Dana’s famous carrot cake, which we managed to decorate late last night in the motel after the original effort to make our own icing fell apart. A tip of the admiral’s leather hat to our very own “Stenchpit” and his “Lillie.” Without their monumental dedication this day and its memories would not exist.
I should be getting paid for this
Saturday, September 2nd, 2006What is it about the first wave of fall-ish air that rolls through an open bedroom window and makes you sleep like a log?
I never have insomnia, but I can’t say I get a restful night’s sleep very often, so a zonk-out like last night is a most welcome occurrence. Downside— I didn’t exactly launch into the day, and besides, I’m having an ongoing feud with running on Saturday mornings this summer, after years of ritual. I love to swim, and I get on my bike every chance I get, but, for some reason, I haven’t been able to run much lately, unless I’m totally into the mood, which hasn’t been that often.
Dana and I are in the middle of preparations to go to Ohio for the Renaissance Festival (or at least I was until I started blogging). Clan Pirate Day is tomorrow, and, like last year, the inspiration to fully embrace the prospect is slow in coming. The slime-quaffing, freebooting Queen’s Admiral isn’t the most appealing character to adopt for any length of time, but, when the curtain goes up, I reckon I can growl and buckle my swashes with the best of ’em!
Various & Sundry, part forty-three
Friday, September 1st, 2006— Month of August workout totals: Swim-4; Bike-7; Run-1; Lift-2; Yoga-7
— I saw Sheldon at the gym again this morning, well into Brian’s strenuous workout. I’m convinced that Sheldon really wants to get in shape. If Brian was putting me through that routine, I’d be having a tough time of it, too. Sheldon is one of the best fine artists in this part of the United States, but that distinction doesn’t exempt him from his sedentary profession. Good for you, my friend. Health, wellness, and life extension are something we can all be pro-active about, and that’s the service Brian provides. He’s one of the most fit young men in this part of the United States. On Wednesday night he came flying by me and called out, “Hop on!” I was already pedaling hard, but took the challenge to catch his draft at nearly 30 miles per hour. I could only “suck wheel” for a couple hundred yards before I fell apart. Man… Now that’s cycling.
— The Breidenbach 50th Anniversary collage had been sitting on my art board all week, so I set myself to the task of completing it this afternoon. While she was making constructive comments, Dana accidently smeared some fresh ink. She felt terrible. All I could say was “Just leave the area.” I wasn’t sure what to do at first, but within several minutes I managed to clean and repair the damage—with no indication of anything having gone wrong. I flashed back thirty-two years, when I’d doctor the dates on European rail passes. Yes, I could’ve been a master forger… I might’ve even become a David Halifax!
— Hugh (my friend the mayoral candidate) stopped by while we relaxed on the front porch this evening to enjoy the most refreshing air we’ve had in quite some time. We got to talking about the Town House, and tapped his wealth of knowledge about the history of local real estate. Our home on West Broadway was built in the 20s by W.A. Walker for a railroad man named Arnold, who also had a twin dwelling constructed for his daughter on St. Mildred’s Court, close to campus. She married a Bush Nichols, whose brother, one of Danville’s only Republican mayors, lived in the house across the street from ours. The Arnold daughter died at a young age. The second wife and widow of Bush Nichols still resides in the Twin House today.
— We haven’t indulged much network TV in ages, but last night Dana and I found ourselves glued for 90 minutes. We watched three consecutive episodes of “The Office.” Actually, the term “glued” is not correct usage. This might be the funniest show since “Seinfeld.” If that’s the case, it’ll be impossible to ignore.
A giftbearer-rich environment
Monday, August 28th, 2006Bruce spent most of the day resting. He wanted to leave for Indianapolis after tonight’s concert. Quite some time ago, as a 40th birthday present for her son, Dana got tickets for a rare Bruce Cockburn performance at the Kentucky Theatre. Lee and David decided to go, too, and the five of us drove to Lexington for dinner at Natasha’s before the show. We had a great meal and great seats. Bruce was clearly pleased with his gift. Early this morning on her way to work, Joan dropped off hers—an excellent copy of “Walden” that belonged to Joe Wood. At lunch, Bruce and I had a good talk about writing as a subtractive process, and the necessity of brutal self-editing (not unlike the practice of “design refinement” drilled into me as a university student). I’m finally beginning to fully appreciate Bruce’s artistic spirit. My anticipation for his creative output is a familiar craving with which I’ve learned to live. I respond to artists in one of three ways—indifference, inspiration, or demoralization. Although Bruce Cockburn’s sensibilities tend to fall a bit farther to the left than mine, he doesn’t fit the description of a stereotypical liberal musician. Experiencing his creative energy inspires me to my own art, and maybe that’s one more thing my son and I have come to share.
Day of Death, Day of Life
Saturday, August 26th, 2006In Lexington this morning, a commuter jet crashed while trying to take off from the wrong runway, killing 49 of the 50 souls on board. I bicycled out to Shared Silence, and left for Kelley Ridge when I got home, to help Joan get her armoire to the upper floor. I didn’t find out about the accident until she told me. Jeffrey had to leave, but I stayed and had lunch with her, Caitlan, Josh, Pat, and Verla. Caitlan and I talked about her internship, and I also found out that Josh will be working full time as a screen printer for the 10th Planet. Joan sent me home with gifts, including Berry’s book on Harlan Hubbard and two of Joe’s old wooden boxes that will enable me to create assemblage under the influence of Joseph Cornell. She also loaned me a James McMullen book which totally throws open my thinking with respect to a concept for the Brass Band Festival poster. I worked outside when I got home, swept the driveway, and finished stacking my salvaged bricks. I got an email informing me that the son of a cycling pal (Martin V of Burgin) had died in a rock-climbing fall. I helped Dana finish her food preparations for Bruce’s visit, just as he arrived. It seemed so amazing to have him here after his first solo Interstate drive in a very long time. It was only a year ago that he was still in the thick of a battle against potentially deadly infections, so this marks another important milestone in his slow recovery. Jeannette and Ben stopped by to see him and have a bite to eat. Terie, Marty, Joan, and Caitlan paid him a visit, too. It’s been a happy evening, in a house not usually so full of life, but I’m acutely aware of the overwhelming sense of tragedy that so many other Central Kentucky families must be feeling tonight.
The sour and the sweetness
Friday, August 25th, 2006Even though Dana made me blueberry pancakes this morning, we almost quarreled about the upcoming pirate gig. I realized later that it really had nothing to do with that. I was upset about continuing problems with my Mac G4. Make no mistake about it, Apple Computer has manufactured at least one miserably poor product, and it happens to be sitting on my desk.
A more enjoyable thing was taking what I learned in Kathleen’s studio yesterday and starting work on Florence and Bill’s 50th Anniversary collage. However, the best part of my day was finding out that Fron had already string-trimmed the gully at the Clan graveyard. I was shocked to discover that it was finished, and all I had to do was mow the grass in the orchard. And then he filled my box with tomatoes again. I definitely like this guy…
Best insight of the day
Wednesday, August 23rd, 2006“When in doubt, make another pot of coffee.”
—Dana
Stout of heart, carry on
Monday, August 21st, 2006Dana put it best in her brief notice to family—
“Born in ’66, Bruce turns 40 years of age today, due to your intercessory prayers, no doubt.”
HAPPY BIRTHDAY to my stalwart son. I love you, forever…
A murder of crows and David without his rook rifle
Sunday, August 20th, 2006You know you’ve found a bit of heaven when you can have berry pie with your early morning coffee, while sitting on a porch that overlooks a natural pond, and then complete a pen and ink sketch of a woodland path in time to be served a broiler-fresh asparagus frittata for brunch.
Janet and Jerome didn’t get to stay over last night and missed the patented Simpson Cabin Lazy Sunday, which, come to think of it, ranks right up there with the patented Yorkshire Estate Lazy Sunday.
Open That Bottle II
Saturday, August 19th, 2006Janet and Jerome joined us at the Simpson cabin to open some bottles and indulge our Epicurean leanings. We stared with crack-&-peel shrimp and a zesty gazpacho, added a plate of fruit and cheese, which was followed by a main course of grilled ka-bobs with garden vegetables, marinated lamb and venison (from the 2004 Martini-Henry buck), plus asparagus pinwheels, red-cabbage slaw and Mexican jicama, closing with a frozen strawberry dessert. To accompany our extraordinary menu we tasted a merely satisfactory Californian chardonnay, an interestingly ancient South African cabernet, and a magnificent Sonoma Valley pinot noir, in addition to a bright, smooth sherry from Texas. Before our “guests” arrived, David provided me an opportunity to shoot my Enfield military .303 rifle and British “foxhole” revolver, both surprisingly accurate, once I learned the peculiarities of the sights. While we were up at the range, he tested his .577/450 double rifle and quickly nailed a small iron target at 300 yards—twice. This man is a sharpshooter. Maybe I can get Jerome to come earlier next time. I know he’d also enjoy shooting targets with these antique arms.
Large Marty
Friday, August 18th, 2006Marty was here to interview me for a writing assignment, and it’s impressive to see how seriously he’s taking the school project. I filled one side of a cassette tape during our Q & A. That should give him plenty to work with for his rough draft. After a hearty supper of turkey burgers and sweet corn, we hauled more loads of brick from across the street. Since Marty started lifting weights, he’s gotten noticeably stronger. He matches my height now and, judging from his big shoe size, he still has some growing to do.
Back to the rockpile
Thursday, August 17th, 2006Today 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.
My brother, my mate, and my true friends
Wednesday, August 16th, 2006Last 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.