Matthew 11:28-29 - Today, Learn from Jesus—who is gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your soul. This is a Wekivaword.
Wednesday, April 4, 2012
Tuesday, April 3, 2012
Happy Birthday to Mimi!
Mimi's birthday was on Sunday. To celebrate, Mimi requested a day at the beach, and so that is what we did. As you know, two days before the New Year, Mimi tripped over Teddy (their dog) in the kitchen and broke her hip. So we are thrilled that she is now walking without a cane and was able to do the stairs over the dunes and navigate the sand and surf, for which we are truly thankful to God. It was a lovely day. We took lunch with us, arrived around 10:30 a.m. and stayed till the skies turned grey and we made tracks for home. These are a few photos of the day to keep the memory fresh...
Judy did the lion's share of the work getting us ready, from ordering and picking up the lunch, to filling the coolers and even buying and guiding the set up of the canopy, which Anne and Steven are helping to accomplish. I helped by taking this lovely photo... (and by actually manning one end of it when it went up. I think Anne's quote was: "Dad, when you are done taking the picture, we need your help.")
I also kept watch for sharks, as you can see. Sara, one of our friends, wants to know if I keep bees in my spare time. Ha! Well, the pith helmet comes in handy if I get the urge to seek the source of the Nile or look for Dr. Livingstone, I presume!
Birthdays are extra special when there are grandchildren on hand. And when the grandchildren are old enough to drive and help carry the beach stuff, too! Tara and John and Anne and Steven were in the front car. The "senior set" were in the second. We were told by the ranger that since Mimi and Papa are 62 plus they qualify for the lifetime senior citizen National Park pass, so they got one, and will I am sure use it in future ramblings.
Papa oversaw the shelling; Mimi has perfected "The Sanibel Stoop" even though we were at the Canavaral National Seashore, the northern end by New Smyrna.
Tara and John enjoyed the waterline.
Pithy sayings through the years:
"Without pith helmets the expedition will collapse. Why? The heat, sir! It's deadly! I know it!" (1879)
Another missionary, Elsie Clark, described the obligatory pith helmet: "It looks very heavy and clumsy, but in reality is very light and cool; at any rate we must put looks aside and wear it." (c. 1899)
"In the middle of the day the sun is hot, and those who are unaccustomed to it must wear pith helmets, carry umbrellas, and take the shady side of the street." (1904)
"A pith helmet is the safest headgear, and it must project enough at the back to shade the neck, and also be carried high enough behind to admit of shooting in the prone position without its tilting forward over the nose." (1905)
"None of his coworkers at the Central Square branch had opted to wear the pith helmet, which Walt couldn't understand. It was the pith helmet that had made him want to be a mail carrier in the first place." (1999)
"In his khaki pith helmet he looked like a gym teacher playing Teddy Roosevelt in the faculty production of 'Arsenic and Old Lace'." (2001)
"If the quicksand gets me, at least you will know what happened when you find no trace except, of course, my pith helmet..." (2012)
Papa and Mimi enjoy "A Waterside Supper with Riparian Entertainments"...!
Steven and Anne smile for Mom's camera...
Good Things Come to Those Who Wait...
If you are feeling a tad impatient about something today, please remember that when President Buchanan sent the first transatlantic cable message from Bedford Springs Hotel in Pennsylvania to H. M. Queen Victoria in Britain, the message took 17 hours to arrive. And that cut down the usual time of sending a message from the U. S. A. to the U.K. which until then took 12 days.
Kinda puts the waiting into perspective, doesn't it?
Kinda puts the waiting into perspective, doesn't it?
Monday, April 2, 2012
What is Art...?
Years ago, this was a dinner time conversation topic for a group of friends at Penn State, I among them. (Hi, TMIs, Betty, Hope, Joanne, Allen, Chuck, Jim, Dave; and remembering Woody, this fine day...)
A number of us were architecture or art history majors, others were graduate students in the English department. We had begun what would be an ongoing series of evenings going to see films by a noted director. We had decided that dinner after was a good idea, to talk about the films and so we took turns making the meals, and sharing in the enthusiastic discussion that ensued. We often returned to the topic of what was and was not art.
"Is a brick art?" was the very lively theme of one of those evenings. We placed a brick on the middle of the table as our centerpiece, and away the discussion ran.
I recall that in that time period, several of us also made a trip to D.C. and among the places we visited was the Hirshhorn Museum. As we went from one gallery to the next we had a strolling conversation about the art displayed there, all of which could be put into the category of modern or post-modern art. Some of it, we "got". Even admired. Other works left us cold for one reason or another.
"We're walking...we're walking..." and talking about the art we are seeing.
We turned a corner, and found, facing us at the end of the next gallery, a 4 x 8 sheet of plywood, hung vertically, on which were a few paint spatters, as if it had been used as an impromptu drop cloth.
Well! That was the "last straw". We promptly sat down in the middle of the gallery and had a long conversation, agreeing among ourselves that modern art had gone too far when a piece of plywood with a bit of white paint could be hung in a world-class museum as if it were "art". Any of us, we concurred, could have done THAT...! All the while, this particular plywood panel was in our middle distance, as if to illustrate all we were saying.
I suppose we had about a half hour's worth of conversation. And having put the nail in the coffin of modern art, as it were, we then stood up, and began to make our way out of the gallery. As we did so, we drew nearer to the plywood panel. And as we got close to it, we had one of those "Ah Ha!" moments. Because it was NOT a piece of plywood. It was an artist's canvas, the precise size of a standard piece of plywood, on which the artist had first painstakingly created the pattern of the wood grain, and then, on top of that, the stamped "lumber yard" marks, and then on top of that, the white paint effect.
The artist, is and was a genius. He created a work of art that did exactly what was intended, engaging the viewer completely in the work. I noticed that it is not currently on view at the Hirshhorn, which is a tremendous shame. You can see it, here:
"Plywood With Roller Marks #5", by John Clem Clarke, 1974.
A number of us were architecture or art history majors, others were graduate students in the English department. We had begun what would be an ongoing series of evenings going to see films by a noted director. We had decided that dinner after was a good idea, to talk about the films and so we took turns making the meals, and sharing in the enthusiastic discussion that ensued. We often returned to the topic of what was and was not art.
"Is a brick art?" was the very lively theme of one of those evenings. We placed a brick on the middle of the table as our centerpiece, and away the discussion ran.
I recall that in that time period, several of us also made a trip to D.C. and among the places we visited was the Hirshhorn Museum. As we went from one gallery to the next we had a strolling conversation about the art displayed there, all of which could be put into the category of modern or post-modern art. Some of it, we "got". Even admired. Other works left us cold for one reason or another.
"We're walking...we're walking..." and talking about the art we are seeing.
We turned a corner, and found, facing us at the end of the next gallery, a 4 x 8 sheet of plywood, hung vertically, on which were a few paint spatters, as if it had been used as an impromptu drop cloth.
Well! That was the "last straw". We promptly sat down in the middle of the gallery and had a long conversation, agreeing among ourselves that modern art had gone too far when a piece of plywood with a bit of white paint could be hung in a world-class museum as if it were "art". Any of us, we concurred, could have done THAT...! All the while, this particular plywood panel was in our middle distance, as if to illustrate all we were saying.
I suppose we had about a half hour's worth of conversation. And having put the nail in the coffin of modern art, as it were, we then stood up, and began to make our way out of the gallery. As we did so, we drew nearer to the plywood panel. And as we got close to it, we had one of those "Ah Ha!" moments. Because it was NOT a piece of plywood. It was an artist's canvas, the precise size of a standard piece of plywood, on which the artist had first painstakingly created the pattern of the wood grain, and then, on top of that, the stamped "lumber yard" marks, and then on top of that, the white paint effect.
The artist, is and was a genius. He created a work of art that did exactly what was intended, engaging the viewer completely in the work. I noticed that it is not currently on view at the Hirshhorn, which is a tremendous shame. You can see it, here:
"Plywood With Roller Marks #5", by John Clem Clarke, 1974.
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