Just as I try to wrap my mind around the idea that Josh has been soldiering in Iraq for half a year, and that Alyx and Ian and Brendan are suitably credentialized and making their own way in the world, and that Clayton is going off to U.D., I’m forced to try another wild concept on for size: Seth is 17 years old!
Archive for the ‘Family’ Category
Clan kiddoes at large
Tuesday, June 21st, 2005Calling Benton Quest, calling Benton Quest
Monday, June 20th, 2005After the Y2K doomsday scenario dissolved and then the family was unable to put together a comprehensive emergency action plan in the wake of September 11, I guess I’d had enough of preparing for potential calamity. But a recent warning from Frank Gaffney about the EMP threat almost makes me think I should become a card-carrying Crashologist again. G-bo used to talk about EMP as a clear and present danger, but never suggested what could be done about it at the personal level beyond the fundamentals. Maybe I need to look into this more deeply, although it probably comes back to the basics of surviving any catastrophe—clean water, nutrition, shelter, power, communications, medical care, and self defense.
I understand, dear reader, that you might see a name like Gaffney and think, “He’s one of those right-wing think tankers who’s actively helping Rumsfeld and Cheney reshape the entire U.S. power structure.” Just keep in mind that when I check out the Websites that work to expose all these scary conservatives, I usually say, “Wow, these guys are great!”
Report from Camp Hourglass
Sunday, June 19th, 2005It was a refreshing, worthwhile, and really fun weekend in the woods with Marty (thanks, James, it was a good idea). Out of the one fearful episode came a name for the place—Widow’s Knob—after we encountered the black widow spider at our campsite. No black bear were sighted, however, although they must certainly be in the area by now. I underestimated how much effort it would require to lug our provisions up to the heights, so we’ll rethink how much gear is actually necessary for the next expedition. A tent might be a good idea, since spiders clearly rule the darkness there, especially the long-leggers, who consider a mere facial landscape no deterrent to their nightly mission.
Operation Oak Leaf Cluster
Saturday, June 18th, 2005Marty and I are setting off to spend two days in the wooded heights of Casey County. May we overcome every challenge and achieve mission success…
— Bruce — Wayne — hmm… that does hit close to home
Friday, June 17th, 2005It seems a shame to enter a dark theater on such a glorious day, but, on the other hand, I’ve been waiting since childhood to see a Batman movie that did justice to my favorite comic book hero (who, along with Tarzan, possessed no superhuman powers). And then we’ll make up for it by spending the weekend camping on one of our knobs at the Blue Bank Farm (but we’re not saying which one!).
To Gotham and a true diversion
Thursday, June 16th, 2005On our way back from Indy, Dana and I needed a modest escape, so we had a glass of vino and saw Cinderella Man at the Baxter. Howard may not be one of our cinematic innovators, but he’ll usually exhibit some virtuosity with the tools available to him; he’s quite a storyteller (I liked The Missing enormously). It’s also clear he’s a fine collaborator—lots of other outstanding work done under his generalship in this picture: Oscar-level performances, convincing period ambiance, superb editing. There are some distracting flaws, however—like the fake-o winter-set details (he needed the guy who handled the snow on Gangs of New York). I didn’t think I’d respond well to another boxing flick after Million Dollar Baby (I personally wanted to see the new Batman movie, but…), so my positive reaction was a surprise. Now that my first choice has been endorsed, it’s only a matter of time before MartyMan and I leap into the GrandyJohnMobile and deal decisively with this unresolved matter.
Our Comeback Kid
Wednesday, June 15th, 2005For somebody who just had his belly split open and rinsed, Bruce is doing remarkably well. His spirits are good and he’s more talkative than he’s been in weeks.
At the nursing station I saw a stack of papers, with rubber banks around chunks of it. Since I saw the top section had Bruce’s name on it, I asked if that one was his. “Oh no,” was the reply, “This whole stack is his chart, from the time he was admitted.”
All eleven inches of it.
The prince of perseverance vs the king of irrelevance
Tuesday, June 14th, 2005With another successful surgery behind him, Bruce is back in a critical care room until he’s stable enough to return to his “home away from home” on the seventh floor (Solid Organ Transplant unit). When they “hosed him out” this time around, a major section of large intestine had to be removed, along with his gall bladder. As he faces down the pain with his characteristic stoicism, he’s optimistic that this is the turning point that will put him on a firm path to recovery.
ps — Meanwhile, I don’t care about Michael Jackson or his brothers. I don’t care about the jurors. I’m not interested in their private circumstances. I don’t want to know speculative opinions about their motivations. I couldn’t give a rat’s ass if they decided to exonerate him, admonish him, coronate him, or personally administer a lethal injection. (I just wanted to make that clear.)
Runnin’ back to Saskatoon (I mean Indianapolis)
Monday, June 13th, 2005About ready to hit the road one more time, and I wish I could see Bruce without having to go into that hospital environment again. If I’ve had enough of that place, I can only imagine what my son is going through, now that he’s been there for over twelve weeks. The idea that it could be another twelve (according to one of his docs) is too much to process right now. But here’s something encouraging that I learned from Uncle Bob this past weekend: His before-the-England-trip stress test results were very good. So that means if we eat smart, don’t smoke and get regular exercise, we can overcome our family history of predisposition to cardio-vascular disease. That’s a message not just to me, but to my whole Clan!
Because the sky is blue, it makes me cry
Sunday, June 12th, 2005After seeing my fitness chum from Japan (Yu Saito of Denyo) for the first time in over three years, at the old cabin where we meditate, we spent the afternoon on campus, soaking up more world-class music at the Festival. I did another study with the Karat medium and then got a satisfying close-up shot of soloist Vizzutti. On the other hand, it was hard for both of us to comprehend why we could be having such a wonderful time while Bruce was still going through his extended ordeal… and then we found out that he needs emergency surgery tomorrow. We’ll leave in the morning to be there.
At the Great American Brass Band Festival
Saturday, June 11th, 2005Because I’m not in 5k shape, I decided to lend a helping hand at the early “Run for the Brass” event, and we had a wild scene at our water stop. The unusual 2005 course had people lapping walkers while the leaders were moving in the opposite direction. A bit complicated, especially with participants crossing in front of each other to grab cups of water. So I had everyone yelling instructions in both directions, but the guys with headsets couldn’t hear us and just did their own thing—crazy! The rest of the day was ripe with superb music and the best of family and friends. The parade was fun, I got to meet the entire Helmers caboodle (Holly, Hayley, Halle, Hannah and Henry!), Bob got a new pair of Brooks at DBF, Marty and I grilled lamb kabobs, and then we all set up at our picnic tables (perfectly located on campus, thanks to Pat) in time for a delightful evening that included Mombo, the Simpsons, plus Joan and her chums. To top it off, Gov Ernie was there to smooze the crowd, we managed to sneak a little Mondavi Zin, some digital close-ups at the foot of the stage came together nicely, and I had an opportunity to straighten everything out with Chuck (we’ll be able to pick up our bronze bowl soon, consummating that long-standing barter deal that desperately needed to be resolved). BrassRoots and Rhythm & Brass were outstanding, so we want to go back to the Festival on Sunday to hear them again, along with the DiMartino/Osland Jazz Orchestra (DOJO).
I’d better stop rambling!
At the hop
Friday, June 10th, 2005Carol and Bob arrived for Band Fest weekend, and we had some time to make a few Gallery Hop stops. All the posters from the 16-year history of the Festival were on display, including the four that I designed. Sheldon signed 50 copies of the 2005 edition, and half of them were already gone at $35 a pop. Thanks to Aunt Carol, I found the courage to approach Chuck about his unreciprocal mode (in our long-standing barter deal). I hung out at Paul’s and wondered why I was getting myself into another trade, since I’m the unresponsive party in my similar agreement with Ginny.
Hope for the dawn
Thursday, June 9th, 2005I saw Dr L at the Whitehouse opening, and he told me that he’s seen patients with two normal kidneys lose all renal function dealing with hemorrhagic pancreatitis. So I guess I can’t be too discouraged about
Bruce’s ongoing struggle. Tomorrow adds up to 12 weeks, and that’s enough to test anyone to their core. Danny D loaned me his copy of Dark Night of the Soul. If he thinks I need to better understand this level of suffering, he’s right.
Vinyl hair rush vs sable hair brush
Monday, June 6th, 2005As if getting one step closer to being in the Plastic Mullet Series wasn’t treat enough, I got an early look at the Speed’s Berthe Morisot exhibition, and since I tend to possess that “painterly eye” for 24 hours or so after visiting the finest museums, it was fortuitous to have packed my Karat pencils and sketchbook so I could study a sunny treetop during our brief stay at Simpson Knob.
Day of Clan
Saturday, June 4th, 2005All of a sudden the visited links color has switched from violet to black. Hmm… maybe it has something to do with Brendan fixing the style sheet so that my entries don’t look like a single, continuous line. Speaking of Brendan, it was good to see him yesterday. He turned us on to “Pirate’s Cove,” perhaps the coolest board game I’ve ever played (gotta try “Ticket to Ride” next). It was also fun to be with Alyx on her big day. I really think she liked the “Arts & Crafts Companion” we got her, plus my photorama (number two). A huge “thanx” to the Keepsters, who always throw an enjoyable bash. Marty and I headed up to one of our knobs and kicked around until sunset, then we took some pictures of the evening mist sliding through the Valley. I’ll feel stupid if I end up getting poison ivy.
Oldenday IX
Friday, June 3rd, 2005By adolescence, our collection of evolving characters and plot-lines had detached itself from playtime notions or other childhood limitations. We made an effort to shed not only elements of fantasy, but anything out of conformity to the “historical accuracy” of our invented world—the land of “The Pirates.” We used the term in its broadest sense. The band of half-brothers central to our story were not the classic “Howard Pyle types,” but true corsairs from the standpoint of their disregard for societal constraints or prevailing authority. Their adventurous conduct was governed by a common code of mutual survival and respect for each other’s keen abilities. That our story had no fixed beginning or end was well accepted by us all, and we felt free to add new personalities, ethnicities, and anecdotes, as long as they seemed to fit within a narrative continuum that was constantly pushing forward and backward in time. Revisions in service to coherence would pass muster and shape the new legacy. It’s hard to describe the shared excitement and the satisfaction of knowing that we could never be bored if we were together, because the joy of adding to our open-ended chronicles was just a collective daydream away. A mere suggestion could trigger a new layer of creative integration. I’m not sure when it happened, but we started to document a few things here and there, and before long it was apparent that there was no end to the depth and richness of the mosaic. I can’t say it was clear to us at the time that it would prove to be a lifelong pursuit, but we did appreciate its staying power and understood that it was certain to continuously improve. It’s no surprise to any imaginative individual that youth is often fertile ground for an enduring artistic vision. I just recently listened to Ron Howard explain that the premise of how he’d create his motion picture about the Great Depression derived from ideas he had in high school. By the time the oldest of us were settled into college life, we had quite a head of steam with our own story project, but we didn’t anticipate the explosion of development that was about to take place in “The Legend.”
Oldenday VIII
Friday, June 3rd, 2005When Brendan spoke of “building a narrative out of noncontiguous events,” it was as if he was talking about the tapestry of stories that my brothers and I have been weaving all our lives. Stories… they’ve been part of my creative identity from the beginning. Wanting to tell them was as natural as drawing. First it was with chalk and blackboard (my artistic genesis), and then it expanded to comic strips, “scrips,” and my early childhood writings (the Summer family’s life on a farm and the adventures of Gordon Antent, leader of shipwrecked souls). But whatever artesian well of infatuation might emerge and run its course, there was always a distinct narrative world that continued to evolve at the pace of my maturing regard for the human condition, and there was never any doubt about the fact that this was a story project that was meant to endure. As is typical with any creative momentum that has an origin in early life, it’s difficult to define how naive concepts gain an inertia that survive childhood play. And it was always a collaborative enterprise from the start, involving a sibling give-and-take of ideas that would find enough consensus to mold the stories and character profiles in a semi-permanent fashion, until the next burst of development. It all grew out of an activity that, for us, was a powerfully stimulative pastime—playing with little plastic men. Current hobbyists and collectors would refer to them as “playset figures.” The next generation would know them as “action figures.” But most families like ours wouldn’t expend limited resources for the elaborate playsets on the market, with their carefully planned and crafted groups of figures, buildings, props, and accessories (few would dispute that the Marx Toy Company was the high-water mark in the genre). We fit into the merchandising strata at a level called “dimestore toys,” cheap, simple bags of men (rarely women) with few if any accouterments. We envied the friends and cousins who had Marx
playsets (WWII Battleground, Blue and Gray, Fort Apache, Alamo, Ben-hur, and TV spin-offs like Davy Crockett, Gunsmoke, Wagon Train, and The Rifleman), but we could make do. We had imagination to spare and we had each other, but most of all, it really wasn’t about the toys. It was about the dramatic stories, and the heroic personalities, and the exotic homelands, and the interactivity of brotherly minds, and the continuity of our boyhood traditions, and ultimately… the fascinating nonlinearity of it all.
One of those ~bbBOIIINNG~ moments
Thursday, June 2nd, 2005Something Brendan said yesterday really got me fixated on a line of thought. For some reason I don’t consider myself a writer (perhaps a diarist or “journal-ist” at best), and yet telling stories has been a part of my imaginative side for as long as I can remember— whether illustrative, oral, or written. The Iliad and Odyssey of Homer may have been the first nonlinear story, but I didn’t read Homer (just the condensed juvenile versions) until long after my brothers and I had begun to create a rich oral/written tradition that’s almost 50 years old now. It’s nonlinear nature is one of its strongest suits. It’s been called various things over the years, but now we generally refer to it as “The Legend.” If I keep thinking about this I’ll have the ingredients for another Oldenday segment.
Various & Sundry, part eighteen
Wednesday, June 1st, 2005— Month of May workout totals: Swim-6; Bike-0; Run-2; Lift-0.
— I won’t even try to elaborate on the sad state of my fitness program. At least I continue to swim, although I need to boost that monthly total to a minimum of eight workouts. On the bright side, I had a decent session yesterday and was only a second off my all-time fastest 4-lap sprint. Now, when am I going to get back on my bike?
— In the past 24 hours or so, my niece Caitlan (sister of
Brendan) successfully winged her way to Europe. Her mom’s advice: “Have the time of your life!” I’ll second that motion.
— I spoke to Josh Sunday when he called during the Clan gathering. I really didn’t know what to say to him. I’m terrible on the phone in those situations. Always have been, I guess. We talked a little about his current assignment, until he goes back out on the road, and whether his area was in danger of any mortar attacks. I told him how much I support what he’s doing, but it didn’t sound as strong as I feel about it. You know, if I had to make my log entries with a telephone I’d never do it. I’d just scrap
this whole thing.
— Bruce has dodged another bullet, enabling him to fight onward toward the day he gets to go home. Frankly, I don’t know what a home life is going to be like for him when it’s restored, but I’m certain he looks forward to it with an abiding desire that provides a strong source of fortitude. I’m aware that I haven’t mentioned his wife much in this log. Perhaps I’m not confident enough in my own kindness to put thoughts in writing. At this point I’ll just describe a funny New Yorker cartoon that seems apropos: A man is lying in a hospital bed, appearing totally down and out. Tubes, cords, and medical technology are everywhere. A doctor with a somewhat forlorn expression is standing beside a woman dressed in pearls and a fur wrap. Her expression is one of exasperation. She says, “I can’t believe this is happening to me.”
A real survivor
Tuesday, May 31st, 2005I have to admit something to myself—this most recent crisis has been more than a “speed bump” for Bruce. This time he was in a ditch. The emergency surgery that took place yesterday was even more vital than I first realized. The medical details are starting to make my head fill with static, but now I understand that he would’ve gone quickly downhill without the procedure, and that it wasn’t a certainty that his body could handle the trauma. The intervention was just something that had to happen to prevent massive organ failure, and it worked. He’s stable and doing better already. If all goes well, they won’t have to repeat it (but, realistically, that could still be necessary). He told his mom that he feels like he’s trapped on an island, just trying to survive one more day.
Another day, another dilemma
Monday, May 30th, 2005Mombo seemed surprised to see me shooting with the digital camera at Eagle Nest. I suppose she’s gotten used to that 33-year-old Nikkormat FTn in front of my face. I enjoy the immediacy of digital, but haven’t shaken the nagging discomfort of feeling myself slip away from negative film. Polish cinematographer Janusz Kaminski (longtime Spielberg collaborator finishing up “War of the Worlds”) has his own more influential misgivings. He worries about “our ability to preserve history photographically,” and about “creating people who accept visually inferior images as the norm.” For me the economics are forcing a reluctant shift, so I should heed his concerns, maintaining a bank of quality images and making sure they outlive me. If “digital is degrading our aesthetics,” as Kaminski fears, there’s nothing I can do about it. I think it was already happening long before this particular development (probably began with the decline of the Arts & Crafts movement). However, I can refuse to give up my desire to document my family in a way that perhaps no one else in my generation is suited to achieve.
Various & Sundry, part seventeen
Saturday, May 28th, 2005— Marty finally convinced me to watch “Collateral.” Mann outdoes himself in this one. I won’t be the one to explain why it isn’t a flawless picture. If you haven’t seen it, I dare not give anything away. If you have, need I say more?
— Seth and I confirmed our desire to recut “Pirate Revenge,” and now I just have to schedule a block of time. He has access to the editing suite this summer, so it will be essential to have a new version before our Ohio gathering around Labor Day. If we hit the mark anywhere near my original visualization, minds will be most certainly blown.
— James encouraged me to spend time with Marty in the knobs, learning the terrain together and sleeping under the oaks. I own that land. What prevents me from claiming stewardship?
— Bruce undergoes a major surgical procedure tomorrow. I believe it will be the final turning point in his successful recovery. This is something that the providers would preferred to have have done much sooner, had he been strong enough to handle the general anesthesia, so I view it as an important step forward, rather than a setback. He’s ready for it, and it will lay to rest this stubborn condition in his internal core. May the mercy of Divine Law govern every aspect of the operation, guide every thought, and each skilled hand, to fulfill the promise of his unfolding destiny and the ultimate potential of his Christ wholeness.