March 11th, 2009
March exercise—day eleven— The air had a noticeable bite as I walked to campus, so I welcomed it, knowing I usually feel tired at the beginning of “act two.” In the absence of enthusiasm, rituals must drive the momentum, enhanced by proven boosters—stimulative variety, forced incremental achievement, constrained creativity, doses of nature, and, of course, music.
Today’s sight bite— My Speedo tinted pool goggles —c-l-i-c-k— hanging from the same locker-room hook where I accidentally left them two weeks ago.
Tomorrow— A networking opportunity, plus another shot at the $900 door prize…
Posted in Creativity, Music, Psychology | No Comments »
March 10th, 2009
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…
Posted in Dana, Exercise, Food, Home | No Comments »
March 9th, 2009
March exercise—day nine— Where did the day go? Still trying to achieve the level of focus that makes this exercise worthwhile. Probably the most interesting conversation of the day was with the Lieutenant. We brainstormed about having my friend Eric come up from Franklin for a concert early this summer. From the time Eric created “Cooler” in 1999, I hoped for another CD from him with the same innovative blend of mellow reverence and uplifting energy. I was delighted to learn about “The Jazz in Me,” and invited Dan to check out the new disc. I think this music is perfect for a fundraising concert or community outreach event. I’ve probably written about Eric here before. Dana arranged for him to play at my 50th birthday party. His jazzy tunes are laid back but buoyant, and his improvisational gifts have clearly reached new heights.
Today’s sight bite— A balding Walie, tugging at the leash —c-l-i-c-k— as if she’d forgotten everything I taught her about the proper way to take a neighborhood stroll.
Tomorrow— Perhaps enough physical progress to attempt a Pilates session…
Posted in Birthdays, Community, Dana, Exercise, Friends, Music, Pets | No Comments »
March 8th, 2009
March exercise—day eight— Dadbo would have relished seizing a weekend like this for a constructive jump on spring, and now, as I type this entry after dark, that pleasant bubble of exotic air is being shoved aside by severe weather. Dana and I enjoyed our morning walk past the marina, out to the abandoned island resort, but we shared a desire to have hiked in a setting which might’ve done better justice to the unseasonably warm day. Nevertheless, the steep hills gave our hearts an overdue workout, in addition to the panoramic views of Herrington Lake.
Today’s sight bite— The squirrel, positioned under our damaged porch eave —c-l-i-c-k— balanced on a rotting slat like a springboard diver.
Tomorrow— Volunteer consultations kick off a week of diverse projects…
Posted in Dadbo, Dana, Exercise, Nature | No Comments »
March 7th, 2009
March exercise—day seven— Not unlike many other people, most of the day was spent out of doors, capturing the mild weather. My lower back complained like a cranky teenager, but I was eager to tie up the loose ends of yard clean-up. The next rain will set the stage for lawn seeding, and I needed to clear away the last of the limb debris. How’s that for an exciting log entry? We ended the evening with a viewing of Eastwood’s Changeling. His color palette was handsome and the period look convincing, but an effective mood never coalesced for me, as with Mystic or Baby. I was ready to move on before it was over. Clint, it’s time to give Paul Haggis a call.
Today’s sight bite— Red bird perched on the stub of a butchered tree —c-l-i-c-k— singing as if there were no more frozen mornings ahead.
Tomorrow— An effort to guide the exercise toward imaginative waters…
Posted in Home, Movies, Nature, Personalities | No Comments »
March 6th, 2009
March exercise—day six— When the corner video store can tell you every movie you’ve ever rented there, and a vast enterprise like Amazon can process and recall each product you may have momentarily drooled over in front of your monitor, there is absolutely no excuse for a hospital not making readily available—and for not enforcing—a list of medications that will cause known danger to a particular patient, especially when just such an allergy list has been provided to it on more than one occasion. My conclusion is not that it can’t; the shameful circumstance is that it apparently won’t. Incredible as it seems, Bruce has recovered enough to be released today. I shall do everything within my power to see that he never spends another minute under the care of that institution.
Today’s sight bite— Bruce seated at his favorite spot on the couch —c-l-i-c-k— laughing when I prescribe a dose of Patrick McGoohan.
Tomorrow— Return to the full-blown exercise…
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March 5th, 2009
March exercise—day five— Improvements were recognized today on all fronts, but I don’t think I shall personally feel 100% for a bit more time. Bruce was doing a newspaper puzzle (a most welcome sign), but seems more concerned with solving the riddle of his unexpected plunge into such a perilous state. Brendan sent a heartwarming note of support. The County Judge and I secured an appointment in the state capital to visit with Transportation Cabinet people. Attended the reception at the Arts Center, learned more from David F about getting introduced to an art buyer, and met a very good pastel artist from Lexington. After that, Dana went to the New York Philharmonic performance with our Russian friend, Irina, another exceptionally creative individual.
Today’s sight bite— Bruce in his demeaning hospital garb —c-l-i-c-k— sitting on the edge of his bed in conversation with an ever-faithful mother.
Tomorrow— A new attempt at imposing the exercise…
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March 4th, 2009
March exercise—day four— Spent most of the day in bed with some sort of relapse into flu-like symptoms. On top of it, my sore back feels no better than yesterday. I didn’t make it over to the hospital. Dana reported that Bruce recognized her, wept, and wanted to come home. Things are moving in the right direction at last.
Today’s sight bite— Silhouettes of treetops visible through my window —c-l-i-c-k— like a cut-paper illustration, with the diagonal slashes of ice-broken limbs disturbing the composition.
Tomorrow— Hope for improved well-being…
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March 3rd, 2009
March exercise—day three— (Dear Back, You picked a great time to act up again. Please knock it off and return my mobility. Your friend, John.) The probable result of a 24-hour dose of stress, my lower back has treated me with an unexpected spasm when I bent over to work on a snarl of power cords. Bruce is doing slightly better after they moved a dialysis unit into his ICU chamber, but he still doesn’t recognize his visitors. Mombo sent out a nice prayer request.
Today’s sight bite— The high-resolution digital television picture —c-l-i-c-k— that is a result of solid professional know-how.
Tomorrow— I have absolutely no idea what Wednesday will bring…
Posted in Angst, Bruce, Family, Mombo, Prayer, Technology | No Comments »
March 2nd, 2009
March exercise—day two— If you want to watch the day blow a gasket, try imposing a rigid framework on it. We were at the hospital by midmorning, after learning that Bruce had been transferred to critical care in a state of acute delirium. I had to break away and respond to the County Judge Executive, who sought an immediate consultation on pressing “bicycle matters.” Have I actually become the local “go-to guy” on those issues? By the end of the day, it’s clear to us that Bruce is having an adverse reaction to medications he should not have been given—but nobody connected with his care seems willing to admit the obvious.
Today’s sight bite— The incomparable, gradient ultramarine of a pre-sunrise sky —c-l-i-c-k— crenelated from below by the jutting shapes of downtown commercial structures.
Tomorrow— Juggling the rituals of heightened awareness with the breaking developments of family crisis…
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March 1st, 2009
March exercise—day one— One would think that I’d be completely familiar with February’s annual habit of ducking out early, but it caught me by surprise again this year, and now the March Exercise is upon me before the full preliminaries are complete. Surely the highlight of the day was our meeting in Lexington with K&KK about their wedding ideas and plans. More than an invitation design, this will be an opportunity to collaborate on introducing the thematic impression of what is certain to be a classy, memorable event.
Today’s sight bite— The “evening star,” in all her naked splendor, poses proudly above the urban competitors —c-l-i-c-k— and I almost convince myself that I can see her tiny crescent with the bare eye.
Tomorrow— With Monday-morning appropriateness, details of the regimen are put into effect…
Posted in Caitlan, Family, Nature | No Comments »
February 23rd, 2009
After a miserable weekend of single combat against a determined viral foe, I felt recovered enough to wrap in a blanket and watch the Academy Awards telecast. What a disappointment! The Oscars have less and less to do with my personal affinities as a life-long movie fanatic. In my peculiar world, it would’ve been fitting for the program to have ended with a clip of Taylor’s final cry from Planet of the Apes— “Damn you! God damn you all to hell!”
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February 20th, 2009
“Death is at all times solemn, but never so much so as at sea. A man dies on shore; his body remains with this friends, but when a man falls overboard at sea and is lost, there is a suddenness in the event, and a difficulty in realizing it, which give to it an air of awful mystery.”
—Richard Henry Dana, Jr.
Two Years Before the Mast
We navigate in a sea of souls…
Grim reality has a way of sweeping aside all the self-absorbing trivialities that clog a journal like this, but rather than ask myself — “What’s the point of it all?” — why not scratch ahead with a continued search for meaning? Maybe for me. Maybe for you. Maybe, maybe not. If I stopped believing it worth a try, this would be my final post.
Not long after the bulk of our community had shaken off the surprise of our shared crisis, most of us were shocked to learn that the life of a respected local leader had been tragically lost. If his name was added to the list of Kentucky’s weather-related deaths, it is unknown to me, but what is clear is that he was found in a vacant house where he’d been working with a generator. The coroner said the circumstances were consistent with carbon monoxide poisoning. It was a mild day. He wasn’t attempting to heat the building. People speculated that the wind blew the door shut while he was operating a sump pump. The precise circumstances remain a puzzle. I didn’t know anyone active in town affairs that didn’t consider him a friend. He covered the leadership bases—from business to social service. He made multiple trips to the Gulf Coast as a volunteer to help with the Katrina response. He was highly intelligent, compassionate, and knew how to do almost anything. The Chamber of Commerce named him “outstanding citizen” over fifteen years ago, but he never slowed down. He took to his grave an unmatched knowledge of the County’s industrial development history and infrastructure. He was the last of a breed of quiet men who had made a truly significant difference. The abrupt vacancy was painfully felt. I spent two hours in line to offer his family a few words that wouldn’t sound trite. I’m not sure that I succeeded.
I didn’t attend the funeral the next day, but paid a visit with my friend Danny to the Abbey of Gethsemani. It was my first time there. It was raining and in many respects would have been considered a dismal day, but others were also making the same pilgrimage, and I found a sense of peace in the setting that defied personal understanding. God is everywhere, but keenly present in some places, and that suggests to me the appropriate use of the word “sacred.” We also stopped at the Saint Rose church in Springfield to meet Father Murray, and I had my first look at the extraordinary Bavarian-style windows. Father Murray is extraordinary, too. At age 87, he looked to me to be in his mid 70s. He told me, “Well, I’ve always gotten a lot of exercise.” He pointed out 70-year-old trees damaged in the ice storm that he helped plant when he was a novice. The seminary was moved east long ago and the associated buildings demolished, but the church remains, a splendid structure full of artistic treasures, including a 13-figure Last Supper and a 12-figure Pentecost, all wood carved in the Italian fashion. Danny wanted to show me the Convent near Loretto and to check on any damage to the outdoor Way of Sorrows. It was evident that huge limbs from the tall grove of surrounding trees had crashed all about, but the only casualty was The Crucifixion. We marveled that each figure of Our Lady had escaped harm, but that “Christ took the hit.”
Several days before, Joan had an opportunity to meet Danny when he joined Joan, Dana, and me at the Hub for coffee after one of Hayley’s high-scoring victories. It was another meaningful, in-depth discussion about heavy subjects. Joan thought she might have intruded and skewed the conversation. Nothing could be further from the truth. Danny told be later he was pleased to meet her and said that my sister was a “strong soul.” He is correct, of course, but I’ve already known that for some time. Danny is quite a soul himself. The word I would use is “magnanimous.” Yesterday he brought over his pole saw and tied himself to my chimney so he could deal with the big branches that were still jack-knifed on our rooftop. One of his earliest memories is watching his father top trees as a lumberjack in the high Sierras. He seems to have the right tool for everything and knows how to use them safely. I can’t say how much I appreciate that in two hours of work together, his generous favor of skill has saved me hundreds of dollars in tree-service fees (or maybe more, from what I’ve heard around town about what people have been charged since the storm).
So, with power now restored for Mombo and Clan Valley and the last of my storm-related headaches resolved, can I say that circumstances have returned to normal? “Not hardly,” as the expression goes. I think I’m battling the same virus that put Bruce back in the hospital yesterday with pneumonia. We’re sleeping on the floor because we made the blunder of giving away our old mattress before FedEx delivered the complete replacement set (and, wouldn’t you know it, they lost part of it). I have no complaints. Things are picking up in the studio, and I have a fun project to work on with KK & K. It’s time to put the Crash Bucket away and begin preparing for the March Exercise.
Posted in Angst, Art, Blogging, Bruce, Caitlan, Community, Crashology, Dana, Death, Exercise, Family, Friends, Gratitude, Home, Joan, Mombo, Nonfiction, Saints, Sport, Studio, Technology | No Comments »
February 1st, 2009
“A well man at sea has little sympathy with one who is sea-sick; he is too apt to be conscious of a comparison favorable to his own manhood.”
—Richard Henry Dana, Jr.
Two Years Before the Mast
Seven Deadly Zins
Lee fixed an elaborate, delicious dinner last night, and my plate’s fare was more than I could finish. The Harrisons broke bread with us, too, and then left for a Norton Center performance. They’re still based at a motel, so that tells me Gose Pike remains off the grid. Access to David’s laptop provided an opportunity for us to glance at our growing accumulation of email. I could merely glance at Caitlan’s request that I design the invitation for her year-end wedding. And after that, the big news: Bruce called to let us know our power was back on—at last. We relaxed with Appaloosa for an encore viewing and then gratefully returned to a gradually warming house.
When the ordeal is over, a strange kind of pride or sense of self-congratulation comes alarmingly easy. While others foundered, panicked, or were just plain clueless, if one was in a position to rely on prior judgments and preparations, there can be a satisfaction that is not entirely admirable, because it too easily creates a comforting detachment from those who are still suffering, from those who are still counting the days. Somewhere in the heart is a motivation to move beyond protecting immediate family to a more general community outreach, but the longed-for end to personal crisis brings too strong a desire for the return to ordinary living.
And how smooth it can be to slip into that “new era of normalcy” without also seeing the experience as a call to greater preparedness. True, there seems to be an ongoing series of natural disasters distributed here and there, and this could be seen simply as “our turn” and to say, “All’s well that ends well.” But is it more astute to count blessings without losing a sense of guarded optimism, keeping one eye on the potential for more of the same or worse? Or perhaps that’s the unbroken “crashologist” within—my inner “doom-and-gloom-er” who needs to keep his powder dry and the gas tank on F.
Posted in Angst, Bruce, Caitlan, Community, Crashology, Family, Food, Friends, Gratitude, Home, Movies, Nonfiction, Priorities, Psychology, Wine | No Comments »
January 31st, 2009
“It is not the least of the advantages of allowing sailors occasionally a day of liberty, that it gives them a spring, and makes them feel cheerful and independent, and leads them insensibly to look on the bright side of everything for some time after.”
—Richard Henry Dana, Jr.
Two Years Before the Mast
HITCH—Can I finish my coffee first? COLE—You surely may.
Terie’s power was restored last night, so all of us ate dinner at her place in Junction City and watched the Ed Harris picture, Appaloosa. (Superb western!) Terie fixed me up with a replacement mobile phone before we left. Even though KU has declared our residence restored, there was no power when we got home, but things seemed a bit more tolerable, just for having been in a warm, functional space for a few hours. Dana and I shifted our sleeping arrangements to the downstairs room in front of the gas grate. I was restless most of the night, until early morning, although probably better off than I would have been on the frigid second level.
Worked outside today on the “endless” expanse of fallen limbs—slow progress without a chain saw. I talked to Bill, our business neighbor, and, although he still had no power at his Parksville residence, he discovered he had electricity in his law office across the street. Dana got through to the light company again and informed them of our status. The CPAs next door are still without power, too, and, since we’re both connected to the same utility pole, all we can do is wait for someone to show up to fix it. Ruined limbs are visibly putting pressure on the line. Bill thinks that might have triggered something.
Dana is anxious to get out of the house, so we’ve decided to use the locker rooms at Centre, find an open restaurant, and then spend the evening at Lee and David’s, not knowing what we’ll come back to. Bruce went to Terie and Marty’s, so we’re shutting off the gas and leaving for the evening—with our fingers crossed.
Posted in Bruce, Community, Crashology, Dana, Family, Friends, Home, Marty, Movies, Nonfiction, Technology, Terie | No Comments »
January 30th, 2009
“A man is no sailor if he cannot sleep when he turns in, and turn out when he’s called.”
—Richard Henry Dana, Jr.
Two Years Before the Mast
Power to the People!
Everyone here made it through the night without mishap, but I’m not sure about sleeping again in that cold bedroom upstairs. Shelters continue to accept more people as house temperatures drop and it becomes harder to tough it out. Radio reports indicate that the north side of Danville is still basically without power, and this would include Jay’s new house, although I haven’t heard from him. Terie and Marty are still here with us. Junction City and Perryville are still dead. Boyle County is one of the worst-hit areas in a state-wide disaster. Sounds like local officials are getting their act together with a declared state of emergency and multi-agency coordination. Hometown Radio continues to suspend all music and commercial activity for ’round-the-clock emergency broadcasting. Chunks of the city are returning to normal, but it’s clear that we’re at the center of a federally declared disaster. Some people around here have more difficult days ahead. Will that include us? I’m not optimistic about our power being restored today. I would think differently if I saw a KU truck somewhere in the vicinity. All we can do is hang in and try to stay out of a shelter ourselves. At some point there will be big bills and a big mess to clean up.
To break the monotony, I decided to tackle our personal disaster zone, since the city is supposed to start picking up debris this weekend. Decided to clear the driveway again and made a good dent in the piles of debris out front, cutting limbs to the recommended maximum length. While I worked, I started to see more utility trucks moving through the neighborhood; this was encouraging. Amazing what some physical exercise and a hot shower can do for one’s disposition. That and some reheated soup made me feel like a man reborn. I have to say that we’ve been eating well. Dana can sure make do with the most meager kitchen basics.
Even if our power comes on, Bellsouth says that it will be next Wednesday before our downed phone line is re-connected. That means no Internet before mid-week. Must find a way to check email before then. Dixon Design is a business in name only as we deal with basic survival.
Posted in Community, Crashology, Dana, Family, Home, Jay, Marty, Nonfiction, Technology, Terie | No Comments »
January 29th, 2009
“But all these little vexations and labors would have been nothing—they would have been passed by as the common evils of a sea life, which every sailor, who is a man, will go through without complaint—were it not for the uncertainty, or worse than uncertainty, which hung over the nature and length of our voyage.”
—Richard Henry Dana, Jr.
Two Years Before the Mast
We are out of champagne and I’m stuck my dear…
Water pressure came back around breakfast time. I immediately began filling a bathtub, but forgot about it, and it almost overflowed (my tub is so old it has no safety drain). Still no power, though. More areas of the city have been restored, including Lee and David’s neighborhood, but the whole idea of our benefiting from a downtown priority was in error, because Main Street is back in action with traffic lights and storefront electricity. Obviously, we’re not part of that circuit. More likely, we must pay the price for all the tree damage on Lexington Avenue and the block of Broadway to the west. Fortunately, our new gas water heater is operating again, so at least we now have hot, running water, which makes taking a shower the most inviting development of the day.
Two KU trucks were out front for a few minutes and linemen were examining the service connection next door, where the anchor is broken and the conduit is touching the roof of the car port. It looked like a promising sign, but a neighbor told me that the utility guys said what they’re currently working on would not affect this end of the block. I get the notion that nobody considers our area “low-hanging fruit.” I understand they want to restore the greatest number of customers as rapidly as possible, so if one happens to be on an oddball circuit, tough luck. As our house continues to lose its residual warmth, we cling to the idea that we’re on somebody’s checklist.
In the event that it could still be days before we have electricity, I’m starting to urge more conservation of cooking propane, but, at the same time, push for a more open distribution of heat throughout the rest of the house to safeguard pipes. This results in a lower temperature for the main gathering room—not a popular condition to be advocating.
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January 28th, 2009
“Such are the trifles which produce quarrels on shipboard. In fact, we had been too long from port. We were getting tired of one another, and were in an irritable state, both forward and aft.”
—Richard Henry Dana, Jr.
Two Years Before the Mast
IDEAL FOR: Camping, Tailgating, Emergencies
We made it through the night without any “casualties.” Before bed, Dana had reached her brother in California to discuss carbon monoxide safety issues. We cracked a window for fresh air and verified that the flames were burning a steady blue. I’d already made sure to set the flue damper for a decent exhaust draw. Dana also had contact with Joan. She was burning wood at a socked-in Kelley Ridge. Mombo had been evacuated to the Keep by Glenda, and the Hellyers were reportedly clustered around a kerosene heater. We hoped that they also had made certain of adequate ventilation.
Bruce and I disagreed over his wanting to go outside to begin clearing fallen limbs. In addition to the hazard of continuous downfall, he’d just been released from the hospital over the weekend after recovering from pneumonia. I protested harshly and we both over-reacted in turn, which is usually how these stress-induced arguments take hold. As it turned out, we soon apologized and teamed up to clear the driveway just in time to relocate our other two vehicles before more heavy limbs from the big maple crashed down. Old “Simon Kenton” is taking a horrendous splintering, and the worst may be ahead, if the wind picks up. I’d dodged a bullet with one night of “Ned” sitting underneath, but once the knee-jerk emotions were cleared out, I knew we had to get the truck and Bruce’s Corolla over to the funeral home parking lot right away. Too bad we blew our cool for a minute. I shouldn’t have been so tactless with my objections. In fact, by myself, I might’ve been unable to extract both cars in time.
So far, several massive limbs have cracked and jack-knifed to the roof of the house and garage, but none have caused significant damage. The pin oak out front has shed major downfall, too, but the only real damage to property up ’til now is one severed telephone wire. The power line looks unharmed, but we won’t have a net connection, even if the electricity is restored, until the broken land line is repaired. Our second phone line is intact, but has no high-speed service. It will be a bitch to deal with all of this when the weather breaks, but we have it no worse than nearly every property owner in sight, and clearly there are some who have sustained severe damage.
It’s a good thing I’ve been reading Two Years Before the Mast, or I’d believe that this was true hardship. Nothing must compare to laying aloft in a gale of freezing rain to furl a sail with your bare hands off Cape Horn. Lord, how did they do it? Youth and necessity, I reckon—how it does remind me of the soft life I live by comparison!
One of the first orders of the day was to get the propane camp stove from the attic, so Dana could prepare the hot meals she prescribed for all. I finally went down to the basement and opened the “crash bucket” to claim its fuel canisters and spare batteries. So long in storage for just this kind of misfortune, the large Rubbermaid tub filled with emergency supplies hadn’t been disturbed or replenished since the Y2K scare. We defied the warning against using the camp stove indoors and set it up in the kitchen, but closed off the room to the rest of the house, keeping the back door open for fresh air. While in use, the kitchen’s temperature was not much different than that outside. Dana is nothing else if not a trouper. She used some poultry that was in danger of spoiling to fix a tasty fried-chicken dinner, and I helped make the mashed potatoes.
We had plenty of drinking water, since we routinely distill our own and maintain several days worth on hand. I dug out my Sony Walkman to listen to local radio reports. Garrard County has no public water. Wal-Mart and Food Lion sold out of bottled water. Inter-County Energy phone lines are out and even the 911 call center can’t make contact with them, due to jammed lines. Reportedly, crews are now closing in on 30 hours without sleep in their efforts to restore power. With the forecast of 15 mph winds tonight, lines could continue to come down again, even after repairs are made. If the current comes back on, I can’t think of anything to do first except distill more water, in case we lose power again. Other priorities? Cook food and run the furnace as long as it lasts. I can presume that downtown Danville will be a priority for responders, but, with the latest news, we may need to face another cold night without electricity before we have the benefit of repairs—maybe two.
As the light begins to fail, I’ll make these last notes of the day. Lamp oil has been added to the lantern and new batteries have been inserted in preparation for another night without power. Radio says the entire twelve-county Touchstone grid is down, with a spokesperson declaring “several days” before expectations of wide service. No word from Kentucky Utilities about the city, but I would assume the prospects are better. No more news from Clan. Dana tried to reach Eagle Nest, but no success. Bruce was able to charge a cellular phone battery with his car’s converter. It’s getting too dark to write comfortably, so it’s time for me to be about my duties at nightfall. It will be colder than last night, but the gas is still on. God knows how much it’s costing us to burn constantly like this. My prayer is for a quiet night, and the return of power on the morrow.
Posted in Angst, Bruce, Cliff, Community, Crashology, Dana, Family, Food, Home, Jeanne, Joan, Mombo, Nature, Nonfiction, Prayer, Priorities, Technology | No Comments »
January 27th, 2009
“Whatever your feelings may be, you must make a joke of everything at sea; and if you were to fall from aloft and be caught in the belly of a sail, and thus saved from instant death, it would not do to look at all disturbed, or to make a serious matter of it.”
—Richard Henry Dana, Jr.
Two Years Before the Mast
The Great State of Denial
It’s now painfully obvious that we didn’t take the warning signs seriously enough, delaying our emergency preparations until we suspected the power was down for the long haul. Given the morning ice storm and the momentary outages throughout the day, we should’ve anticipated the worst case scenario. The dialysis center called and asked us to come pick up Bruce, so we scraped the thick ice off “Ava” and made a run out west of the bypass. A few branches were down along Main Street, and there were small trees snapped off around the Boyle Schools campus, but it really didn’t look that bad to me. The temperature had risen and the ice was melting. Bruce said he was just sleepy and would’ve been fine to drive before long, but the staff were just eager to shut down early and go home. I drove “Bert” back, avoiding the 400 block of West Broadway. Dana and Bruce tried to return that way and reported it nearly impassable, due to the tree damage. Another clear warning sign that this was not typical winter weather.
When the power went out and didn’t immediately come back on, I knew to ready the candles, lanterns, and flashlights before darkness arrived. Tree branches were shattering all around us and sirens were screaming. Our good fortune was that the gas was still flowing and we could fire up the decorative hearth log in the front room. Foolishly, we hadn’t thought earlier to fill the bathtubs as a precautionary measure. The pressure was gone, and now we’re left with whatever tap-water jugs we had in storage plus anything we could still capture from melting roof ice. The temperature outside was rapidly dropping. Terie and Marty showed up as evening fell. We ate a cold dinner, huddled before the heat source, and sorted out the sleeping arrangements.
The “crash bucket” I keep in the basement is on my mind as I complete this entry by candlelight, but I figure I’ll deal with that contingency if we’re still without electricity when morning comes.
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January 2nd, 2009
— Year of 2008 workout totals: Swim-21; Bike-47; Run-21; Lift-19; Yoga-10; Pilates-29; Lupus Drill-18
— If I have doubts about whether physical conditioning should be a top priority for me this year, all I have to do is look at my workout totals from the past twelve months and that should be enough to convince me a new diligence about fitness demands a high place on my list of New Year’s resolutions. I shall also add:
• An improved habit of creative goal setting for artistic output.
• More robust business development efforts into new markets.
• Periodic infusions of nature, including more time in the woods.
• Steady progress toward the 30th anniversary of our studio.
from Scott-Martin Krosofsky’s The Book of Customs
— Joan sent me a link for some interesting Venetian woodcuts that I’ve never seen before. In spite of my ongoing investigation into wood engraving, I’ve yet to try my hand at an authentic woodcut, which is executed on the plank side of the block, in contrast to the end grain. Pete gave me some hemlock slabs from the Broadwing sawmill that I intend to use for my first effort, but I need to find an effective way to plane them down.
— Got a nice reply to our Christmas e-card from my cousin, Dr. Dave. For a pleasant look at a branch of our extended Clan, visit It’s a Sullivan Thing. A cool site for a cool family.
— Australia! I feel sorry for anybody who doesn’t get to see this movie before it departs the wide-screen cinema. Can they still make a full-length motion picture with the same scope and spirit as the classic epics? I say they can, and they did!
— Uncle Bob’s “Farm Woman: 1936” earned third place this year in NC’s poetry contest for seniors. It was also published in Western North Carolina Woman. According to our poet, “Such times may be more relevant than we would like, I’m afraid.” I shouldn’t publish it here, but you must read it. Let me know and I’ll send it to you…
V & S
Posted in Art, Exercise, Family, Holidays, Joan, Movies, Priorities, Verse, Words | No Comments »
December 30th, 2008
— Month of November workout totals: Swim-4; Bike-2; Run-2; Lift-2; Yoga-0; Pilates-2; Lupus Drill-3
— Here it is, the tail end of December, without my making a full entry in well over a month. I suppose I haven’t had much to say, or maybe I’ve been bogged down in the same economic pessimism which seems to grip the country (and who needs to hear more of that?). Well, enough of procrastination. Let’s take an overdue look at some recent personal developments of a more positive nature:
— Bridget at Maker’s Mark® announced that The Mark of Great Art Website now lists the final disposition of our summer collection. Pursuit of Happiness is hanging at Cantaloupe (35 Charlotte Road, London) and The Mark of Stardom ended up at Toys (Calle Infanta Isabel, Madrid). I received good exposure in a feature about the London event, which was also used to raise money that provides visual art projects for people with mild-to-profound learning difficulties. You might agree that the article is not that well written, but who’s complaining? Those Brits don’t understand real English anyway, yuhknowhattahmean?
— I completed my newest wood engraving and returned to Larkspur for a day of printing on Gray’s antique Vandercook, a marvelous piece of equipment to which I’m blessed to be given access. No. 11 at the Paddock is derived from a digital I took at Keeneland during the recent Fall Meet. I also took the opportunity to finally create a numbered edition of Waiting for Joe, my first block under Wesley’s guidance. Needless to say, this low-res image is a poor representation of the actual engraving—
— Although my hope was to devise “The Original Joe’s Christmas Box” for our CAC’s holiday exhibition, I did manage to deliver Cosmic Cusp, a fusion of previous year-end compositions. I made the deadline in response to Dana’s suggestion, and the resulting piece is a stronger effect than the individual mixed-media components. That’s synergy for you!
— Sara Jane stopped by today to take her first look at my latest portrait commission, and it’s no exaggeration to report that she’s delighted with the result. Three Girlfriends is a departure for me. I haven’t worked with acrylics in ages, but I chose the medium for what I thought would be an appropriate interpretation of her original photograph. The picture of ladies posing dramatically on a beach suggested a series of translucent glazes to capture the luminosity of the morning surf, and lent itself to the back-lighting of the figures. I’m pleased that it worked out as well as it did, but I had the notion that if I patiently built up layers of thin color and milky washes on a smooth panel, I could avoid a brush-stroke technique (not my strong suit) and rely on years of experience handling liquid effects. I put in some necessary details with colored pencil, but the sealed acrylic surface made it more like “rubbing” tones and highlights, as opposed to typical drawing. In the final analysis, it proved to be a very interesting exploration.
— EKU’s Chitauqua Lecture Series Juried Art Exhibition (wow, that’s long) has once again favored one of my collage artworks. The upcoming “Freedom” show will include Fifteenth Cosmosaic, and I’m looking forward to the opening reception on January 23rd. As most people familiar with my work already understand, this series of spontaneous “mystical” compositions originated with graduation presents for my nieces and nephews. I’ve never been certain about how it might appeal to a public audience, but perhaps this is a good indicator.
— Three years ago I wrote about Paula, who lost a bout with cancer too early in life. During that time, the KBBC worked to find a way to put to good use the proceeds from the sale of the “Share the Road” specialty license plate. On December 11th, we finally had our public announcement of The Paula Nye Memorial Education Grants for bicyclist and pedestrian safety.
The endorsement of our effort by the Transportation Cabinet and current administration was not a foregone inevitability, but when they realized: A) Thousands of plate buyers had made a voluntary contribution to help make Kentucky roadways friendlier to non-motorized travel; B) The Commission’s intent to independently administer the allocation of funds would cost the state nothing; and C) The grant program was a fitting tribute to an employee who had worked to diligently promote highway accommodations for bicyclists and pedestrians … How could they not support our concept? To their credit, the Lieutenant Governor and the Mayor of Lexington were at the Horse Park for our kick-off event. Strangely enough, David D, the public information professional who had shown enthusiasm for our project from the beginning and had orchestrated the media splash, died suddenly at work a couple weeks before the scheduled announcement, and that made the event even more tinged with emotion than anyone could have expected.
— I came back to the Blue Bank Farm this month with a muzzleloader and tried my best to close the season with some venison. Didn’t spy a single white-tail, but had to hear about Greystone’s Astrea dragging in a ruined ten-pointer that somebody failed to successfully track after the shot. Such was my luck as a hunter this time around. I haven’t enjoyed being in the woods this much for goodness knows how long, plus I had the rare opportunity to hike the knobs with brother Fron, as we marked boundary lines and plotted a mutual strategy for selective logging throughout our holdings. I have no good excuse for not connecting my soul with the land on a more regular basis. I allow myself to forget how much I will always love those acres. Folly!
— There is much room for gratitude and optimism in the coming cycle. Nevertheless, there are many significant challenges for all of us to face in 2009. I know a guy as old as me who has been retired from GM for eight years. He’s a nice man, but did he genuinely work hard enough during 20 years of employment to deserve a big income and benefits from the age of 48 until he dies? That could easily be twice the number of years he put in as a worker, or, if he takes care of himself, even more. Now, it’s one thing to dodge Taliban rockets in God-cursed terrain. In my book those brave Americans have earned a more-than-decent pension. But assembling ugly, inefficient cars that most thoughtful people would rather not drive? That’s “a horse of a different color.” Our nation would’ve surely crashed decades ago if all corporations had been managed as poorly as the Detroit auto companies. And they want to continue juicing the taxpayers to avoid restructuring under bankruptcy? Now, that’s what I call audacity.
V & S
Posted in Art, Craftsmanship, Crashology, Current Events, Dana, Death, Exercise, Family, Firearms, Friends, Gratitude, Holidays, Hunting, Jeffrey, Nature, Political Affairs, Public Service, Technology | No Comments »
