Janet 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.
Archive for the ‘Friends’ Category
Open That Bottle II
Saturday, August 19th, 2006Back 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.
Ripples of timeless meaning
Tuesday, August 15th, 2006Mike’s mom is doing well. I took my small bicycle with me, so last night, Mike and I prepped his old ten-speed and did a short “shakedown” to see his brother Tom, a former apartment mate of mine from university days and in more recent years a client. During this visit, Mike’s been using space in Tom’s conference room to complete a book manuscript that’s due at the publisher on Friday.
Today we loaded the bikes in “Ned” (my truck) and set out to fulfill a mutual promise from the 1970s—to make a “pilgrimage” to the grave of frontiersman Simon Kenton in Urbana, Ohio. Our first stop was in West Liberty, where we bicycled out to the so-called Piatt Castles, built by two brothers of contrasting personalities on land their father settled after leaving Cincinnati in 1828. I hadn’t been out there in over 40 years. The adventurous risk taking that it represents became a metaphor for our day-long discussion about what we face in middle life as individuals and friends. Afterwards we had lunch at the small regional airport. Tom had recommended the little cafe beside the runway. There was a B-25 displayed on the tarmac, so Mike and I just let ourselves through the chain-link gate to nose around, almost as if the War on Terror hadn’t made it yet to this neck of the woods.
From the airport we drove to the campus of Urbana University and got back on bikes for our ride to the cemetery. Mike wanted to ask for directions. I knew we could find the grave-site on our own. A caretaker wasn’t around, but we had no difficulty locating the prominent location, with its impressive bronze sculpture and concentric rings of monuments and markers. I wish I could explain what it was like for me to be there—to sit at that spot and know it was my hero’s final physical destination, after a life that was too bold for fiction. To be honest, I don’t have the ability to record my impressions of the time we spent at the site, including the meeting of a goal that literally took a generation to fulfill. At some level we must have understood that the fullness of the graveside experience would first require a chunk of transpired lifetime. Perhaps that’s why we put it off for so long. Now I’m hoping for the inspiration that will enable me to transcend my verbal capacities and somehow capture the day’s insights.
Spur of the moment
Monday, August 14th, 2006After my noon Advisory Board meeting at the Salvation Army, I’ll be heading to Dark County, Ohio. My best buddy Mike is there from Tucson, Arizona, staying at his folks and keeping an eye on his mom, who’s recovering from a pacemaker replacement.
Optimizing enjoyment through actual occasions
Sunday, August 13th, 2006I gathered with friends at the cabin early for Shared Silence and Milton’s summary of what we’ve learned about Process Theology—how the language of religion and the language of science can be translated into a third, new language that integrates spiritual, philosophical, and metaphysical concepts with the most current understanding of quantum physics and string theory.
I lent a hand picking up litter and trash along our adopted highway, Chrisman Lane (Kentucky 1273). When I first started doing this I figured I was making up for the candy wrappers I tossed on the ground as a kid and the beer bottles I threw at speed limit signs after I turned 18. I don’t know how many garbage bags it took before I figured I’d balanced my karma. Now I do it in tribute to my friend Mack, who I miss every time I travel his favorite road, one of the prettiest in Boyle County.
After sending out an email notice to areas cyclists, I made the drive to Blue Bank Farm. I mowed the Clan graveyard, helped Jeffrey pick garden vegetables, and brought some apples down from the orchard for Mombo. When I got back home, Dana and I finished cleaning up the porch and front yard before munching down on fresh tomatoes.
God — Friends — Community — Family
When it comes to the important things, days probably don’t get much better than this.
Various & Sundry, part forty-two
Saturday, August 12th, 2006— David and Lee scheduled an appointment to look at a house on the 400 block of West Broadway, so we tagged along. I had a bad feeling about this. Californians bought the house last summer, and it seems as though they had more money than good sense. Workers and dumpsters suddenly vanished a few weeks ago. Our look through the property confirmed my worst suspicions. One of Danville’s finest historic homes had been hung up and gutted like Duke Brian in “Gorky Park.” Reportedly, the owner can’t be located. To add a ludicrous element to the whole thing, a daughter is now asking prospective buyers to pay an even higher price than her mother paid for it—a perfectly livable home that was stripped, raped, and left for dead.
— Analysts are predicting that the demand for refurbishing Web formats may soon overtake the need for new site designs. Prices for domain names are dropping, a clear indication that the market for original sites is slowing down. Some agencies and firms are staffing specialized divisions devoted to economical “creative makeovers.” Deep within his Sanctum of Fortitude, Website Makeover™ Man is contemplating his fate.
— Watched a copy of “Broken Trail” last night, which Terie taped for us (before our vacation with Marty), because we no longer pay for channels like AMC. It was interesting to study the similarities and differences in Duvall’s performance, compared to “Open Range,” along with the contrasting directorial styles brought to similar subject matter. And speaking of contrasts, the radically different character that Church personifies, versus his memorable Jack in “Sideways,” is worth the viewing. As much as I liked “Broken Trail,” and as much as I admired its aura of authenticity, the screenplay does suffer unfortunately from what I’ll refer to as presentism. For the most part, in my opinion, Costner managed to avoid presentism when he made “Open Range,”—an impressive personal achievement, quite frankly, since his indulgent first western reeked of it. Nevertheless, who doesn’t like the entertaining “Dances,” in spite of its PC tone?
Keep them dogies movin’
Wednesday, August 9th, 2006We broke another record with tonight’s ride—around 40 participants, although I didn’t get an exact head count. They broke into three fairly even pace groups, just like they did last week. Dotti was passing out flyers for the open meeting for cyclists and collecting email addresses on her clipboard. Rick S had commitments that caused him to hand leadership of the C-Group to me, and it got a bit wild at first when a few teens wanted to squirt too far ahead of the pack, but I think I managed to get their respect by outriding them.
“Don’t try to understand ’em. Just rope, throw and brand ’em.”
Finally crankin’ in sync
Tuesday, August 8th, 2006An important thing happened at my
B.I.K.E. meeting tonight. The people that showed up took the bull by the horns and put my idea of holding an open forum back on the table. The difference this time is that it’s going to be for bicyclists only, by invitation, and not promoted to the general public. An experienced facilitator agreed to moderate the event. The consensus was that it’s time to put our organizational framework in front of the cycling community and see what they want to do with it.
I think that many who were there felt a bit uneasy about moving things sharply away from my proposed agenda items, but I was pleased with the development. My goal all along was just to provide enough leadership to get a team of volunteers moving forward with their own defined priorities.
Prospecting the high country
Monday, August 7th, 2006Despite the difficulties in punctuality I had pulling myself away from the Dixons of Broadwing Farm, we managed to arrive on time at our appointment with representatives of Lincoln Memorial University. Our primary goal was to follow up on Jerome’s prior contact with the dean of the new DeBusk College of Osteopathic Medicine, but due to understandable concerns about the comprehensive visual identity of the parent institution, other administrators wanted to sit in. We had no problem with that—it dovetailed with our own philosophy of image management and it gave us the opportunity to promote our creative services to a wider audience. The meeting seemed to go well. I’d never heard of LMU, but it’s a beautiful setting and progress on the new College is moving along rapidly. Faculty will be in place next winter and the first incoming students are scheduled to begin classes in the fall of 2007. Now is the time for them to invest in projecting a high level of graphic credibility. Dana and I are ideally suited for this work. Will they choose wisely?
After leaving LMU, we headed through the tunnel into Kentucky and found a decent Mexican lunch in Middlesboro. (Home of Lee Majors, who Brendan’s dad always liked and I still admire for his work long ago in “Will Penny.” He got his start, like my pal Andrew, at Pioneer Playhouse, here in Danville.) We decided to go through with our idea of making a cold call on the University of the Cumberlands. The weather was awful, pouring like a sonuvagun, and I was trying to safeguard the portfolio. All the time I wondered if the whole thing was a forlorn hope. Quite the contrary. The timing seemed almost perfect, and we sat down with the director of community relations just as he was thinking about severing ties to a big expensive outfit from Iowa (the same kind of specialized organization that nearly recruited Dana and me back in the 80s). That meeting seemed to go well, too, and I found myself getting more and more comfortable with that KY-TN border region as fertile ground for the graybeard prospector.
Various & Sundry, part forty-one
Tuesday, August 1st, 2006— Month of July workout totals: Swim-6; Bike-7; Run-2; Lift-3; Yoga-2
— As I continue to thoroughly enjoy my peak cycling season, I notice an increasing level of muscle tightness and pelvic inflexibility due to a decline in periodic yoga practice. Balance and discipline. Why is it so difficult to calibrate?
— On Saturday, when Dana baked Terie a birthday pie (Blue Bank blackberries plus organic red raspberries), I decorated the crust with her favorite thing that makes her happy.
— I seemed to need every available minute yesterday to meet my evening deadline, but I managed to complete three mixed media collage artworks, including a “Fifteenth Cosmosaic,” the largest composition in the series so far and the first to be executed specifically for public exhibition and sale. Dana and I hand delivered them to Kathleen, the coordinator for the Lexington CONNECTIONS show, and she accepted all three on the spot. Even though it was getting late, she was kind enough to spend some time providing framing advice. I’ve been concerned I haven’t yet developed the ability to frame my work in a manner commensurate with the quality of the art. I intend to rectify that with these pieces, which are due in the city next month.
strut and race, cut and paste
Sunday, July 30th, 2006Began the day with an early 31-miler with nine of my best cycling chums—out to a remote area of Mercer County between Harrodsburg and Perryville, and then back to Danville in a hard pace line on U.S.150. Mark M mentioned a trip to the Appalachian Trail north of Hot Springs. It got me thinking how we could blend that with some out-of-state prospecting and a long-overdue visit to Broadwing Farm. Then I devoted most of my Sunday to further progress on three mixed media collage pieces that I need to have finished by Tuesday. I knew it might be nice to visit Joan during her final shift at the book seller, but I just don’t have an extra penny to spend. I’d like to start “Huck Finn” soon, but I can just borrow it across the street at the Boyle County Library.
Scholars and Palsies
Friday, July 28th, 2006It might have been one of those ideal days, had I not left up in the air my potential plans to attend a rifle match with David. Eventually the uncertainties seemed to resolve themselves by default, and I was able to focus my creative attention on preparing artwork for the Layerist exhibition scheduled this autumn in Lexington. At lunch there was an enjoyable Rotary program with bright, bubbly representatives from the “graduating” GSP class. Tonight we had a delightful dinner with Joan—lamb chops, sweet corn, plus Fron’s tomatoes with basil and cheese. To that we added red wine, soy yogurt over mixed berries, and good conversation about how our families ate when we were all kids.
A memorable year for the most awesome annual athletic competition
Monday, July 24th, 2006After being home from our trip some 36 hours or so, I finally found my house keys. One of those quantum warps in space or existential blind spots, I suppose. I was miffed to the point of near obsession, but discovered them at last, in a place I’d already searched three times. Madness…
I’ve also had an unsettled feeling all morning, wondering if maybe there was a Clan gathering yesterday that we missed. Nobody told us if the Council had been rescheduled or not, due to the cancelation of the Seitz family reunion. We got back pretty early Sunday morning and didn’t have much energy yesterday, but we would have made the effort to attend. I guess I should have inquired, but didn’t think of it until I found myself in the midst of a restless sleep.
I said I’d record some notes about the Tour de France, which could not have offered more interest to bicycle fans this year. Floyd Landis won the race after being declared out of contention, pulling off one of the greatest comebacks in sport so far this century. His Alpine performance on Thursday bordered on the superhuman, and he left no doubters concerning his place as Lance’s rightful successor.
When he first started to compete as a cyclist, my pal Brian (who gave me a nice pair of his pedals earlier this year) used to race against Landis, the Mountain Bike Cross Country National Champion at the time. In a recent article about the Tour, several of us local cyclists were asked to make a prediction about who would win the event. I hedged my bets, and the Advocate Messenger printed this quotation from me:
“With Armstrong’s top four challengers from 2005 out of the picture, predicting the victor this year will be harder than picking the winner of a Kentucky Derby. Team Gerolsteiner’s Levi Leipheimer, from the United States, may be the man to beat, but it’s hard not to like the chances of Aussie Cadel Evans or Phonak’s Floyd Landis, another American. However, my hopes are with one of the Discovery Channel cyclists—Ukrainian Yaroslav Popovych, Italian Paolo Savoldelli, or, if I had to pick a favorite, American George Hincapie. This is a team that knows how to produce a champion.”
In contrast, Brian didn’t beat around the bush, and he placed a single public bet on Floyd Landis with his own statement to the same reporter. It was a great call, the same kind of smart, gutsy, no-fear attitude he shows the rest of us every week, and that’s what it takes to be a competitor on two wheels.
Day Six at Barefoot’s Resort
Friday, July 21st, 2006As of last night, I think that Mr. Sartoris could no longer take it, so he invited us to go out on his boat this morning to demonstrate successful lake perch methodology. Long story made short— Marty and I brought back a basket of 34 keepers which resulted in an “all-you-can-eat” beer-battered fry later in the day.
Suffice it to say the Sartoris Technique works! I’ll be looking forward to using it again in September. What a difference a little know-how makes. As they say, “Close only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades.” Everything has to be exactly right and then… WHAM. Most catches don’t require a new bait setup. WHAM. Again and again. That man thinks like a fish. And the current conditions in the Les Cheneaux allow for a satisfying reward, if you take the proper approach.
After our big catch we went into town to get tartar sauce for Marty and also visited the Hessel dock, concluding that the weather was right to take out Walt’s Sylvan, so we had a nice boat ride when we got back, circling Government Bay, motoring out the Yacht Entrance, and then coming back around Gravelly Island. Marty got his chance to take the wheel out in open water. We had the familiar geography all to ourselves and it was really enjoyable. As the sun set, it was a classic Barefoot’s Resort scenario… campfire, frisbee on the beach, marshmallow roast, a slice of Dana’s blueberry-peach pie with a scoop of Laurie’s homemade ice cream.
Packing luggage that night didn’t even feel so bad. What a week!
Deciding what to do with the hardware
Sunday, July 2nd, 2006Conditions 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!”
You’ve come a long way, Kid Punk
Monday, June 26th, 2006• He overcame his childhood learning challenges to become the most highly educated and professionally accomplished member of the family—a Clan Treasure.
• Compassionate, open-minded, tireless, inquisitive—all the qualities one would hope for in a physician.
• More than a superb clinician, he’s truly earned the descriptive term of healer.
• Many call him friend—I’ve never seen a person more naturally comfortable in the role—and a generous one he is.
• He selected his mate as carefully as he picked his vocation. He chose both wisely. And now he investigates the responsibility of fatherhood with the same sincere, prayerful, conscientious approach.
• He could have given up. He could have carried hatred. He forgave instead, and unlocked the door to a lifetime of victories.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY to my “kid” brother. I love you, forever…
Natural High vs Milk Dud Meltdown
Saturday, June 24th, 2006Five of us from Danville joined the morning bicycle ride (Frankfort to Versailles to Midway and back) as part of the “Share the Road” activities in the state capital today. It started to rain as we hauled our bikes north and it was still raining at 8 am when we left the St. Clair Mall en masse. The weather proved to be a clear deterrent to participation. There were only about 25 of us who set out, and the wet pavement caused two guys to crash within the first five miles. Steve and I opted to turn around at Versailles and got in over 40 miles before arriving at the Capitol for the “Share the Road” Rally. Martin and the two Dans did the full loop through Midway, but missed the speakers as a result. Sadly, I have to say they didn’t miss much. It started to sprinkle when we climbed back into the city via McCracken Pike and the buzz was that the rally had been cancelled. Organizers made the decision to proceed when the rain let up, but the governor had already been called away to a greater priority. Although I had the personal opportunity to network with a “Who’s Who” of cycling advocates from around Kentucky, the rally fell short of my expectations, and there was no one who came before the microphone that could articulate the full significance of the shift in policy. I didn’t see a single TV camera. I wouldn’t call it a bomb, but to say the potential for a decent media event had fizzled would not be an eggageration. Nevertheless, it was an interesting ride through a quintessentially Bluegrass region, with the Woodford Reserve estate and some of the most famous thoroughbred farms in the world. The crumbling Castlerock and Old Taylor Distilleries along Glenn’s Creek were visually fascinating. I’ve never seen anything like them. Somebody could make a helluva creepy motion picture on those grounds. Loan Andrew half a million to make a movie on location there and he could take the indie scene by storm…
Gaining the eternal friendship of God and other casual topics
Friday, June 23rd, 2006Frenetic Friday
Friday, June 16th, 2006Rotary Club was unusually interesting today. I was called upon to make an spontaneous appeal in support of The Salvation Army Summer Camp program. Then we heard from a hometown gal who’s taking Pioneer Playhouse by storm this summer, and that got me thinking about my young chum Andrew. Holly Henson, daughter of the Playhouse founder, gave her pitch about next year’s Raintree County 50th Anniversary Festival. She made us realize that in 1956, it was the most expensive domestic motion picture ever made, and that 40% of it was shot in and around Danville/Boyle County. She made what I thought was an amusing remark— “What if 50 years later everyone had forgotten that the movie Titanic was filmed at Herrington Lake?” Later in the afternoon, I had coffee with a rookie staff writer for the local newspaper to promote the “Share the Road Rally” in Frankfort next Saturday. I’m also in the process of raising the profile of the bicycling advocacy group that a few of us local cyclists have organized this year. We have some lofty goals, and decided it was time to “go public.” We’re committed to a long-term effort and agree it’s too late to put on the brakes now. We’ll press on and see what happens. After that, Dana and I cruised to Lexington for the Gallery Hop, grabbed dinner and a glass of wine at Alfalfa’s downtown eatery, and settled in for an Altman picture at the State Theatre. What a day!
…rub-a-dub-dub, three minds at the Hub
Wednesday, June 14th, 2006Dana and I spent some time this afternoon having coffee with Beth, a good friend of my sister. She just finished writing a book and was celebrating with a big piece of chocolate cake when we arrived. I don’t know Beth that well, but sometimes you don’t need to know a person that well to realize she or he is observant, thoughtful, compassionate, and imaginative. It was nice to have such a respectful listener—someone sincerely interested in what we’ve learned from life’s experiences.
It’s refreshing to have a good conversation with a creative individual who can open herself to huge ideas and still be totally grounded in reality at the same time.
I hope I get to talk to her again.
GABBF 2006, first impressions
Sunday, June 11th, 2006It was our 17th Great American Brass Band Festival, and maybe the best yet for us. It will certainly be one of the most memorable.
— This year I composed the second poster in a commemorative series which will continue to highlight local artists, working closely with Phnomphone “Paul” Sirimongkhon, a popular painter in town. He’s a native of Laos and a graduate of Berea College. He works for Centre College as a graphic artist. I designed the souvenir pin and t-shirt with images derived from his featured artwork. The pin sold out halfway through the Festival, which has never happened before. The shirts, produced at the 10th Planet, sold well, too. (Oh yes… I found out that I’m to be the Featured Artist in 2007, so I get to play with myself—I mean, collaborate with myself.)
— We had a double table at last night’s picnic celebration, and our theme was a fitting tribute to South African guests Roger and Marcia Ingel, visiting from Durban. A maximum effort was made by all, including Janet and Jerome, and (sonofagun!) we earned the table competition’s “Best of Show.” I don’t think the picture does justice to how cool an impression it made, to tell the truth. Guess you had to be there. There were so many ingredients to the overall effect— the flowers, the place settings, the decorations, the food, the wardrobe, the signage. I created the graphics, and I hope it was an effective promotion for Dixon Design. In any case, although I was resistant at first to the idea of going all the way with our preparations, it turned out to be a lot of fun. I suppose we just love this aspect of the Festival as much as any.
