The March X ends today, and among the things accomplished: a new greenhouse kit was assembled at the back line of our yard. My thanks to Russ for his catalytic inspiration, Terie and Marty for their help, and Dana for her reliable support.
Happy Easter!
“Everyone has now seen that pandemics are another way for the military, intelligence, and public health services to expand their budgets and their power. In 2020, public health, defense, and intelligence agencies weaponized a [Covid-19] pandemic, resulting in unprecedented profits to Big Pharma and the dramatic expansion of the security/surveillance state, including a systemic abandonment of constitutional rights — effectively a coup d’état against liberal democracy globally.”
– Robert F Kennedy, Jr / The Wuhan Cover-Up: And the Terrifying Bioweapons Arms Race (Kindle edition, p. 385)
I am recovered from an unnamed health ordeal that hit me the day after Christmas and lasted a month before I felt reasonably well. Then another month before I felt like myself. My recent article in Clandestiny will be all I say about it any time soon. So now it’s Leap Day and the eve of another March X. I won’t be recording regular notes about my heightened activity this time. Priorities to be confronted: 1) completing a “legacy collage” commission for a Dominican Sister of Peace: 2) building a greenhouse in the backyard of the Town House; 3) preparations for a new gardening season; 4) physical conditioning to ready myself for a decent bicycling program in 2024. Be seeing you in April!
“None of them [simulations] emphasized protecting public health by showing Americans how to bolster their immune systems, to eat well, to lose weight, to exercise, to maintain vitamin D levels, and to avoid chemical exposure. None of these focused on devising the vital communications infrastructures to link frontline doctors during a pandemic or to facilitate the development and refinement of optimal treatment protocols.”
– Robert F Kennedy, Jr
I’ve adopted the practice of “grounding” every morning, standing barefoot in my front yard. Although there are many published enumerations of the benefits, I can’t put into words the positive effect that I feel every time I do it, especially when I look up into the sky. Apparently the human organism is an electo-magnetically sensitive creature like other mammals. Last time I checked, none of them wear shoes. They typically dig in the dirt a lot, too, and I’ve been wanting to do that myself more and more. James is holding some black raspberries for me. Eventually, my whole backyard will probably end up as a crude urban farmstead.
Today’s sight bite— The stark metal structure extending out into the downtown parking lot, —c-l-i-c-k— its black hulk having swallowed what used to be a brewpub previously known as the Beer Engine.
“A recent bill that was introduced would ‘authorize the President of the United States to issue letters of marque and reprisal for the purpose of seizing the assets of certain Russian citizens.’ So, if the bill passes, children can once again legitimately dream of becoming a pirate when they grow up.”
– Simon Black
It occurred to me today that Dana and I started out together with our own natural lifestyles, and, over the years, we’ve evolved separately toward the mean. I’m not talking about our personalities, but the way we like to live each day. We actually were remarkably close to begin with, but then we mutually adapted to like each other’s groove a bit more over time. Hey, in other words, it worked out fine. Earlier today we had a busted mission to dig some freebie yard plants. I sowed some wildflowers instead. This morning brought good relations with Les J in England and Tammy in Lake City. That, plus a decent night’s sleep, made this one a keeper before noon.
Today’s sight bite— Flashing lights on the firetruck a stone’s throw away, —c-l-i-c-k— while the morning air filled with enough burnt-toast stink to coax me back inside.
“Thank God there’s no justice in this world.”
— Tim Considine, on the undeserved richness of his career
Nearly anything that promises forward progress requires a period of rest, and this is clearly a recovery day. Got a few things done outside before the rain blew in. Chipping away at a new miniature keeps an element of intuition in play, but no major advancements have taken place in the studio so far this month. Dana and I cleaned the living space and the corresponding boost in “vibration” is always a welcome result. A wave of well-being marks another Sunday here at the Town House, and I’m feeling especially thankful.
Today’s sight bite— Bricks and broken rubble strewn along a flat ditch, —c-l-i-c-k— as my project to extend a paved walkway out to the birdbath resumes for 2022.
Thursday ~ Cared for Mombo at the Hall, and she was trying to shake off some cold symptoms. Joan got home as early as possible, so I could get back to Danville for drinks and dinner with the visiting brothers Andrew and Rory from South Africa, along with local friends (Lee and David with granddaughter). The owner of the Bluegrass Pizza Pub invited us to draw on the wall with chalk, but only Zoey and I took him up on it. I cannot remember ever being uncomfortable with a piece of chalk in my hand, which stimulates a direct, electromagnetic current to my imagination. Nor can I recall life before my chalkboard career, as a matter of fact. Like clockwork, Scott V turned 65 first today, but, for some reason, I haven’t reached out yet.
Friday ~ Spent a lot of time monitoring the stock market and setting up trades. Made a trip to Minuteman Press to arrange for the printing of the Carol & Bob portraits. The happy image was taken by someone at a Band Fest picnic years ago, but I have no recollection who it was — a total mystery. We watched the first disc of The Wire, Season Three. So far, there doesn’t seem to be any new ground being broken, but it always fascinates me to observe Dominic West’s acting, and the way he projects different characters without saying anything. I am still reading the new biography of Heston (Hollywood’s Last Icon), and the same basic sense of the great man is reinforced. Loaded with photos from his family archives. The first time I immersed myself in Heston, I was influenced by his values and principles. This time I am struck more with his stubborn refusal to allow personal, professional, or societal obstacles to remain unchallenged. Late in the evening I spent time on the phone with both Marty and Terie, trying to defuse another domestic flare-up. I believe they have exhausted their ability to live with each other at this point in their lives, and I can only trust them to resolve it and not let it spill over to affect those who love them.
Saturday ~ Up at 6am to go get a free load of compost from the city (out at their farm off Standford Road). Spent the rest of the morning working on the Town House yard, fueled by Subway’s new Keurig unit. Not a bad way to spend my birthday so far. We had a relaxing afternoon with early drinks, hot baths, and general sweetness. And then it was time to head to Lexington in search of Moules et Frites. We were early (imagine that), so we stopped into a pub to have a Belgian Red Ale. I was pleasantly surprised by its refreshingly dry, tart, slightly apple-vinegar quality, and it hit the spot better than a typical brew. Dana was still hobbling from her basement-stairs mishap, so we were moving a bit slow, but all went well. The moules marinière at Le Deauville were perhaps the tastiest mussels I have ever enjoyed, enhanced by an exceptional New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc. I had crossed the line of no return into Medicare and hit the pillow hard when we arrived home.
Sunday ~ We had our typical brunch-with-morning-political-news-shows, and the exasperating scene in Washington, DC continues. Politicians are unwilling to forge anything balanced enough to anger everyone in the country, except for the few who remember what a compromise actually looks and sounds like. The problem is that most citizens who care are convinced that compromise will not actually solve anything and they want their side to hold sway. It hardens the polarity and ensures another pendulum swing. It is a pathological state. The rhetorical downtrend deepens. And, of course, many troubling problems such as health care only get worse. Later in the day we drove to Lexington to attend Drew Robertson’s graduation celebration. Dana was adequately ambulatory, but still treading very cautiously. It was a pleasant backyard bash. Mingling with extended relatives, plastic cup of iced Buffalo Trace in hand, I lost track of time and jeopardized our getting to Costco before it closed. Still feeling in the “birthday zone,” I treated myself to socks and underpants, and we finally had that misbehaving tire on the Avalon fixed.
“Woke up. Got out of bed.
Dragged a comb across my head.”
Dana was up early and walked over to Centre’s track before I woke up and found the coffee hot. I needed to finish the digital file retouching of the RFs color composite illustration. I wanted to be ready to send it to the printer by the time she returned from her Architectural Review Board meeting. We were able to do just that, and I hand-cut a prototype mat so that I could show James my idea for a standard 14 x 11 framable print. The water was still warm in Dana’s tub, so I took a quick bath and dressed for the day. She suggested we get some lunch after showing James the test print. On the way to pick it up, the Avalon sedan’s brakes went out right before we got to Danny the mechanic’s garage on South Fourth, so we rolled right in. Wayne D happened to be there and we talked to him about his scheduled lower leg amputation (not a decision anyone would make casually). Clearly it was his only option, and he was down to choosing the surgeon. While Dana arranged for the repairs, I started to walk home to get the Toyota pickup (Joben). Turns out I would get a walk under my belt, too. When I bent to pick up what looked like litter, I discovered it was a 20-dollar bill in poor condition. Well, that was the second bit of luck. When I got back to the garage, we headed to Minuteman Press to get back on schedule. The test print was terribly dark, but when they re-ran it at the lightest setting, it looked fine. We decided to go have a Mexican lunch nearby, and followed that with a stop at the ‘Bean’ coffee shop. When I inquired about the senior discount with the lady there, she didn’t even know it was mentioned on the menu, and we joked around for few minutes before finding out that she knew Susan and James. Her name was Tammy Bernard, and James had actually been her ‘bundle boy’ decades before at Liberty Sportwear (1980?). She looked quite fit, and sure enough she was a fellow Boot Camp devotee with Susan. Her husband, Bill Devine, is a physician at UK Health. She ended up enjoying our chat so much that she gave us our Americano cups on the house. On to the 10th Planet to see James. 
He liked the final artwork and test print, so Dana called in the quantity for the order. James handed me $50 and persuaded me to see if I could get all the mats cut at the Frame Cellar by the close of business. We picked up the prints and headed back downtown to John C’s shop. Dana told me that she had seen him unlocking his place after 6 am, and I was worried that he might not have stayed open all day, but he was there working. I was astonished to find out that he hadn’t been in his storefront since the first of the month and that he was “playing catch-up.” Not a good time to ask him to drop what he was doing, but my luck held. He was willing to cut the mats for James right then and there. He told me that he had been in Florida visiting his son Paden (named after the Kevin Kline character in Silverado), and when he got back to Kentucky, he had to turn around and go right back after learning Paden had crashed his motorcycle when a woman pulled out in front of him (she never even saw what she had done). For some reason, Paden had returned to the hospital after they released him, and it was discovered that he was bleeding internally from a small rupture in a renal artery. (The surgeon reportedly said, “If you had gone to bed, you probably wouldn’t have awoken the next day.”) So, I managed to pick the first day he was back in the frame shop after this family ordeal, and to top it off, he gave me a discount on the whole rush job. I told him he had to think up a reason to ask me for a big favor. Back in the studio, I put all the new prints into the mats while Dana did the paperwork for James. I dropped her off at Danny’s garage before I went back to see James at the Planet. He was very satisfied with everything he needed for his RF gathering in Ohio. He and Susan were planning on leaving the next morning, and he was “trying to squeeze five days of work into three.” Even though he still had a late night ahead of him, he was in a relaxed mood and we talked about the extraordinary event on Blue Bank Road when the missing todder was found on the Sweeney Knob after a ten-hour search involving local first responders, hundreds of volunteers, and multiple law enforcement entities. This week will always be remembered for the miraculous rescue of the little Chumbley boy in the Clan Valley “forcefield.” Thousands of people must have been praying, but nobody’s pleas could have been more pure than Mombo’s. When I returned, Dana had brought home some organic wine, so I opened a bottle and we made fruit-&-nut plates for supper and watched three episodes of The Affair. I liked them enormously, except for one part that can only be described as pornographic. It was obvious why Maura T (Helen) had been nominated for an Emmy. I could not believe that Sebastian Junger did a cameo (was it meant to be tongue-in-cheek?), but I got a major kick out of his appearance. What a day! Very intense on many levels, but without the characteristic “fears and doubts.” It was time for bed, in preparation for an early start to prepare for my multi-day care-giving stay with Mombo (when I hope to finally complete the oak-trim details above the stone flue). There won’t be many more quite like today…
There are different types of ideal days.
For me, surely today was one of them.
After what may have been the best night’s sleep that I have had in two or three months, I woke up with a cool breeze above my pillow and came downstairs to discover a nutritious breakfast smoothie and a pot of hot coffee to go with it. Thank you, Dana, for getting my day off to such a positive start. TSLA, YHOO, TJX, and FEYE took over from there, when the market opened, and I spent a productive morning managing my active trades for four separate accounts, including the Trust investment. I may have gotten a suitable entry price for a long position in VMW, but only time will tell with that. When the office intercom beeped, I was the beneficiary of a delicious roast turkey sandwich with a bowl of fresh gazpacho. It has been a fine season for tomatoes, and I am still working on getting my fill. Dana said that aging Walie was having one of her most lively days in a long time. After lunch, I noticed a new Ommatidia story by Brendan (which always makes my day), checked email, and worked a bit on my Spotify playlists, now that Marty has me successfully making the transition from Pandora. Some time ago I figured that eventually one would be able to watch any movie or TV show on demand, but I had not expected so soon to see the same be true of music. Yes, I have to listen to commercials now and then, but they are not as obnoxious as those on the Pandora site, since most of the Spotify ads are about the musical offerings themselves. Then it was into the painting studio for another session on the GAB portrait (with a few Danny Darst tunes for good company). I can say that I finally overcame the wall of fear (compliments of an old pal named perfectionism) that became attached to this commission, but now the pressing need is to find a route to the summit by the end of the month. I have pledged to myself to complete the artwork for Greg’s and Lynne’s return from their trip to France. At 4 o’clock, I crossed the street to play chess with the library group: one win, one loss (strangely enough, it usually works out that I beat the people I am capable of defeating and lose to those I am not capable of defeating). Although I rediscovered chess through vision therapy a while back, I am getting more serious about it this year, now that I can regularly match wits with local players right next door. Before I left, I checked out Is He Dead? (I admit that I wanted the Mark Twain comedy primarily to study the engravings by Barry Moser). When I got home I crossed paths with Dana, leaving to meet her spiritual group at the library, and then I jumped back into my yew-trimming topiary project in the front yard. With each passing growing season, it is easier and faster for me to keep them in shape, but more difficult to make significant changes or refinements. Nature will provide an occasional opportunity for a new direction or interesting detour, but it is mostly about keeping the whole effect under control. When the “skeeters” decided it was time to bite my ankles, it was off to Centre for some weight lifting before dinner. Being settled into the gym groove has always been a confidence-booster for me, and that goes back nearly 45 years. Peter Lupus emphasized that 100 twists a day kept his waistline small, although I have not been able to achieve the daily habit yet. In the workout room, I combine strenuous twists with the “ab chair” to manage my own belly, plus a circuit of machines and dumbbell exercises, in addition to the trusty bench press (where is that best buddy to spot me?). As I entered our back door after a brisk walk home, a blend of magnificent odors told me that Dana had been baking up a storm — sourdough bread, chocolate cake, and apple pie! We are preparing to celebrate Marty’s promotion to full-time employment at Hitachi in Harrodsburg. I am not the only member of the household on a roll. Well done, Grandson (and he got an A in his first course at the Technical College). Marty happened to be catching up on sleep (I cannot imagine handling a night-shift + school schedule the way he does), so Dana and I split a Red Hook and enjoyed a bowl of Swiss-chard-lentil soup with raw-tomato-basil-cheese salad. All that was left for me to do was to record my ideal day at this blogsite, and now I am ready to hit the sack. Tomorrow we shall begin again!
Taking down “Ingredients Reclaimed” was not a happy task. The Mahan Gallery was a perfect setting for my artwork, and I wish the exhibit could have hung longer. Only sold one piece. Dana’s consolation: “It’s Danville.” I should dwell instead on all the good aspects of organizing this show and how positive the response has been, but it’s no fun to dismantle these things. That is just the way it is. Because the day was mild (the proverbial lamb?), I decided to prune the big bush by the northwest corner of the front porch. It gives me pleasure, but aggravates my sore right wrist. In the middle of completing my first new miniature of the month, as I write this entry, and I feel rusty for some reason. Evidently I have lost touch with my art, to a degree, after lots of computer work over the past weeks, even though I also have spent time studying my items on display at the Library. Sometimes I look at a collage that I have done and possess no clear recollection of making it. I need to use this month to connect with the process on a more profound level. For some reason, I get the notion that achieving this has much to do with the ingredients, and my approach to their selection. Keep thinking about that.
For those who go out of their way to sow seeds of disdain for the customary list of New Year’s resolutions: it’s not about now long it stays viable, or about the resulting success rate, or whether it retains meaning in a culture where overt self-improvement carries a tinge of “fuddy-duddy-ness.” For me it’s about one’s mindset at the cyclical cusp. Is it merely “the thought that counts”? No, it’s more than that. The thought becomes a renewal of self-belief, expressed in line-items of striving. It requires introspection, evaluation, and discernment—hardly fashionable, to be sure. All I know is that they have worked for me at some level, so I’m not sheepish about continuing the practice. I don’t feel the need to broadcast my aims for the year, and listing some of them here hardly constitutes that, since I seriously doubt if a half dozen people still pay any attention to this worn-out log.
• Complete the Barrett portrait.
• Do some form of vision therapy each day.
• Resurrect a more impressive fitness regimen.
• Restore my practice of stretching and meditation.
• Elevate my profile as a collage artist.
• Launch the handmade card biz with Cliff.
• Complete home improvements for an open house.
• Create our first knob-land walking trails at Blue Bank.
• Outperform the market with rules-based trading.
• Produce the first digital version of a Clan Map.
• Boost participation in caring for my mother.
Dana prepared an outstanding Christmas brunch for Terie and Marty’s morning visit, enhanced by my “Agave Maria” recipe which utilized the home-made tomato juice that she canned while I was in Michigan. We opened presents afterward, including a new air-combat video game for Marty that we shall properly inaugurate tomorrow during our PS3 Fest here at the Town House. Last night was another amazing Stew Eve gathering, with the Clan Hall packed with “grown-ups.” Only the members of our Louisiana outpost were missing. Brendan was home, and all the Louisville cousins were present. Mingus was pouring an excellent Bourbon Barrel Stout. Jerry R gave me a rifle sleeve for my muzzle loader (which claimed no venison this year), and Jeanne surprised me with a small picture of our mom when our dad first took her fishing. I had no memory of the image. All these details take on a new emotional significance in the wake of Mombo’s diagnosis of Alzheimer’s disease. Everything will change now, and yet everything remains the same as the family pulls together to manage her care, to collectively safeguard her well-being and dignity. God bless us everyone!
March Exercise —day ten— Another day of rain, but my mind is drifting back almost a year to when we replaced our roof here at the Town House, or, I should say, after we replaced it. I arose from a fretful sleep and could see out the bathroom window that it was raining. A familiar distress clutched at my gut, and I prepared myself to climb up into the attic to check on my array of buckets and plastic sheets. And then, for the first time in years, I reacted to the knowledge that it was just a bit of welcome rain, that there were no more roof leaks to magnify the stress that had accompanied any amount of precipitation. Everything was fine. I could go back to sleep without worry. Through most of my life I have enjoyed the rain—being out in it, just hearing and smelling it. What a comfort to think it could be like that again!
Today’s sight bite— Sidewalk puddles energized with a steady drizzle —c-l-i-c-k— is enough to convince me that my walk to campus can wait until tomorrow.
Tomorrow— Our date postponed . . .
I do not write regularly in my journal… I see no reason why I should. I see no reason why any one should have the slightest sense of duty in such a matter.
—Occupant of The Hall Bedroom
— Year of 2010 workout totals: Swim-35; Bike-40; Powerwalk-3; Run-0; Lift-0; Pilates-0; Lupus Drills-0
— There is no good justification for having any of these annual numbers come in under 48. I managed to preserve some level of basic fitness this year, thanks only to continued pool access and my fondness for being on a bicycle, but I can’t kid myself—if I don’t reverse this slow decline in vigorous activity, I shall pay a price over time, and it will be a price I can’t afford. My hope for 2011: a new momentum of exercise that will result in a more balanced routine, with 7-10 pounds of weight loss by my birthday.
— The best exhibitions I’ve experienced this year? The ones that occur to me now are the Surrealism show at the Cincinnati Art Museum, the California Impressionists show at the Dayton Art Institute, and the Collage show at Northern Kentucky University. I shall not soon forget seeing my first original Schwitters collage or Cornell box. I am challenged to learn more about Louise Nevelson, Hannah Höch, Alfred Mitchell, William Wendt, Percy Gray, Matthew Rose, David Wallace, Cecil Touchon Janet Jones, Dennis Parlante, and Stephanie Dalton Cowan.
— One of these days I’ll start to fully comprehend what mobile technologies portend for my creative work style. Believe it or not, I still don’t know what to make of these changes in communications. They seem to be touching everything, even my annual experience at Barefoot’s Resort. Being able to have a MacBook Pro and access to a wireless broadband connection changes everything about staying on top of project priorities while out of the studio. Bullets showed me his Kindle and I liked it. I didn’t expect to. Everybody around me seems to have an iPhone. How can I stay abreast? How can I hope to remain a communication designer amid all these transformations?
— Dana’s blunder with the non-existent gas line sent me into a bit of a tailspin, until I realized that tearing apart my work space in the basement would probably result in a better situation after the dust settled. Lesson: disruptions can be opportunities. I need to embrace change more, as I used to do. Look at how Dana has taken on a new discipline with Bruce’s in-home dialysis. We all tend to make room for what we consider the most important things, and that includes procrastination.
— Very well . . . here I am at the close of another year. I can’t change a single thing about the past. In hindsight, the preceding weeks look like some type of malaise. Not that there haven’t been a few highlights, such as the Safariland Doe with my solo harvest at Blue Bank Farm, or the recent push to restore our conference room, but overall it has been a dismal quarter. Enough with the negative. I have the new-year opportunity to shake off the “humbug” and get it together. There’s always the historically strong motivator of Resolutions, to reboot my priorities and catalyze a new momentum that would carry me toward my 60th birthday in 16 months. Time to plot a systematic, gradient escalation to full engagement— physically and mentally —to balance professional, financial, and artistic activity. Reclaim it!
You know that fleshy web at the base of a thumb? Don’t let that overlap the edge of a paint can when you whale away with a hammer to close the can.
Of course, the saving grace is realizing that I can never injure my good hand when I periodically foul up with a hammer.
I’m such a genius after the fact . . .
March Exercise V —day thirty— Dana was still down for the count, as I spent most of my day with the roofing crew. I tore off the deteriorating veneer which covered the exterior of the front dormer and discovered original stucco matching the Tudor-style gables. It was a pleasant discovery that took the edge off a somewhat stressful day. After today, I know what to expect as the dudes move from the garage to the Town House. This work should provide a significant visual transformation.
Today’s sight bite— Don’t bend over. No. NO! —c-l-i-c-k— a roofer’s major crevasse that makes any plumber look like a lightweight.
Previously on M-Ex— An illustration and an excavation. (3/30/09)
Tomorrow— A try for thirty miles on two wheels . . .
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…
March Exercise V —day nineteen— We finally “pulled the trigger” and hired a roofer, ending years of distress that stemmed from our inability to afford the kind of roof we truly wanted. Someday, perhaps, this bungalow will once again wear a clay tile roof, as it did in the 1920s, but, sadly, we won’t be the ones to provide it. We can’t even swing the metal simulation, so we’ll do the best thing we can— restore the original terracotta color with a premium asphalt shingle. We’re tired of the indecision and just can’t attempt another rainy season with buckets throughout the attic. It’s time to press on.
Today’s sight bite— Low shafts of morning light —c-l-i-c-k— as they wrap around the ancient maple’s gnarled bark.
Previously on M-Ex— Our favorite hoops-gril finishes her high school career. (3/19/09)
Tomorrow— Our first visit to the Kentucky Artisan Center…
“Time for you to leave…”
— Master Kan
I caught a ride to Ohio with Joan and Mombo on Friday afternoon, and we managed to arrive at the church in Tipp City while almost everyone was still there. The three of us had dinner with K&KK in downtown Tipp. When Dana found out that Bruce would not be released immediately from Jewish Hospital, she left Louisville and made the trip separately to join me at Amy and Bill’s later that night. The morning funeral was appropriate for “a theatrical family,” complete with bagpipes and a horse-drawn hearse. We walked the half mile or so to the Catholic cemetery and rediscovered the profound sense of community that is lost when mourners retreat to their individual automobiles. The family reception at the parish hall featured a salad-lover’s bonanza. I enjoyed talking to Rita, David, Clev, and Angela before we returned to say good-bye to “The Barefeet.” After I snapped the bride+groom+2dogs in their new great room, we made our way down to Taylorsville Dam and the 2009 Seitz Reunion. Always good to see each member of my mother’s family, whoever shows up. Some of us gathered at Marion’s Pizza afterwards. Joan and I got a kick out of the peculiar, black and white, celebrity photos from the 60s and 70s, many of which are now beginning to fade. She observed, “What John Kenley did with his Players was what the Colonel had hoped to do in Danville.” True, but Henson’s summer troupe survived his passing and lives on after 60 years. Back at the motel, Joan treated us to our own adjoining room and I had the rare opportunity to watch the final two stages of the Tour de France before we left the next day. Although Armstrong accepted his role as “domestique” to teammate and eventual winner Alberto Contador after the Alpine 15th stage, admitting that “I gave it everything I had, and I wasn’t the best,” it was exciting to watch him ensure his place on the podium while settling “unfinished business” on Mont Ventoux. I tried to get Mombo and Joan involved, but they were just too sleepy to follow the drama. Dana had more interest in the Sunday finish, with the stunning aerial views of Paris and the Champs-Elysees. Lance will be back to challenge his rivals next year, leading a new team sponsored by Radio Shack. Whether an “old fart” can unseat the young Spaniard at the age of 38 will surely be the focus of the 2010 Tour. After checkout, we headed directly to Louisville to get Bruce. I’d felt odd on Saturday that I hadn’t worn my Seitz T-shirt, but it was a good thing I’d put it in my bag, because it was the only clean shirt I could offer Bruce for his release and our trip home. We all got to the Town House safe and sound, and Bruce was feeling normal enough by Monday to be voicing grievances about minor issues in and around the kitchen. I can tell how much he’d like to have his independence back. I said, “When you begin to feel like a husband in your mother’s home, it’s time to carry out the exit strategy.” His laughter sounded good.
An apartment house located about a half block from our home burned while we slept last night. Bruce said he heard and felt an explosion. Dana and I figured that the frequent sirens and steadily increasing traffic noise downtown has inured us to sounds that would otherwise wake us up. It’s amazing what one can get used to. Reminds me of when I was twelve, and, for a few months, our family slept only a few feet (literally) from the active B&O rail line that ran through Tipp City. I did awaken when the police rang the doorbell at 4:30 am, looking to take a statement from Bruce about the fire. Rumors have circulated today concerning the potential of foul play. If it turns out to be arson, I hope the culprits are nailed, but the greatest concern to me is losing another old structure in this endangered historic district.
March exercise—day thirty— Except for some early evening labor in the back yard (our pitiable urban garden), I spent the day pushing forward a commemorative safari illustration. The project will provide a fitting close to my annual exercise.
Today’s sight bite— Fractured brick, chunks of coal, and fragments of clay roofing —c-l-i-c-k— relics of a home’s former incarnation are freed from the dark earth.
Tomorrow— Finish line…
March exercise—day ten— I was pleased to find that new priorities were finally coming into alignment today. Summer-like weather and a multi-day forecast of showers compelled us to spend some of the afternoon raking and seeding the backyard. My lower back felt stable enough for me to participate in most of Marlene’s Pilates class and to put in some additional time at the gym. After 40 minutes of spinning, I felt like I hadn’t been on a bike in a year. Afterwards, Dana and I shared a dinner by candlelight to celebrate the 31st anniversary of our original date, discussing our recollections of life in the 70s. Her chicken prepared in sherry and sour cream was superb, and I selected a Belgian white brew to complement.
Today’s sight bite— The aged, once-spreading tree on campus that inspired my composition for “Boss’s Bucket” —c-l-i-c-k— now forever rendered by the ice storm a triple amputee.
Tomorrow— An ambitious checklist and my first appointment with the pool in 14 days…