Are you a “C-c-cl-Clicker”?

ClickerI just found myself doing it again- click, click, then harder, “CLICK”, moving it around a few times as if that would work, Click, click, click really fast, then motioning itin a tiny circle really fast while clicking quickly, then a few lifting of the mouse and tapping it on the surface of the table- Tap, tap, tap, click, click…  No matter what I did, the batteries were dead…

Taking the back off, unloading the now dead batteries, looking at the recharger for the two pair I need charged up for such times…  Suddenly I got thinking to how many of my friends and me included will do the all sorts of funny things to get that last click out of the remote control for the TV, DVD player or stereo…  The wave and lifting up and down the remote while pushing the button over and over…  Then standing up to aim directly, stepping one step closer to click again, Shake it or tap it against the coffee table and try one more time before resolving to those batteries being dead too…

Then as I was loading the new batteries in, got thinking to getting in an elevator, how I have laughed at some people who will push that button repeatedly, as if that little button and repeated pushing is going to make a 3-4+ ton elevator move any quicker…

And when your cell phone dies, we almost always turn it one one last time with just enough juice in it to show the IOS starting to turn on, then that black screen…  How many times to you push your buttons?

Aren’t we humans funny with our trying to get that little bit more, even though we should know the effort spent on elevators, remotes, cell phones and mouse, pushing

buttons and click, click, clicking is just a waisted effort…

Are you a “C-c-cl-Clicker”?

Do you listen to music when writing?

MusicTypewriterI was doing a bit of writing, and got to thinking what other people do when they write, do you listen to music while you are writing?

If you happen to follow me in Facebook and see a Spotify posting that I am listening to music without song, often classical piano or jazz music- I am probably writing…

The stories of songs bring too many images in my head, I’m dyslexic and see my thoughts as pictures…  To listen to music with words being sung, telling a story I end up seeing too many of those images too, cluttering my own ideas I am attempting to share…

Closing my eyes, I allow the sound and rhythm of the music to tune out the non silence- motor vehicles that drive by the house, the snoring of my two dogs, the sound of the printer, hum of the fan in the computer and the sound of my breath even my heart…  For me this is full focus, the idea as images start growing, the many images of a single idea start to form, like watching the many pieces of an item spinning and flipping into place on a computer generated animation, 3D objects each finding their place in a kind of motion picture that to write, I need to find the words to paint to describe it…

There is no technical writing, I am just not that kind of writing, as I can only find ways to describe the images, story telling to me is the only way…  There are no words spoken that only I hear, unless it is thinking to someone’s writing I read and I know their voice, then I hear their voice as I read…  But this is my own writings, and the only voice I hear is the single word, as I locate the letters on the keyboard for that word, then the next word with my fingers trying to keep up…  Slowly the words like strokes of a paint brush describes the part of the image or moving image I see in my head…  As if to speak as I think, without thinking too much to what I am saying, just describing it as best I can with words like paint…

To watch me type, one would see me intently staring at the keys, my fingers trying to locate the correct keys in what has turned into my way to writing that works for me and I have been practicing for so many years since finding out I was dyslexic and that I also needed to figure out how to write better…

If I am creating visually, I already have the image in my head, and I allow my experience to figure out the how to convey that image…  This I find easy, and enjoy listening to many kinds of music while drawing, painting doing photography or graphic design…  But to write, I need to focus and that means music without song…

Do you listen to music as you write?  If so, what kind?

Giving Thanks to SOBcon Chicago 2012

SOBcon Chicago 2012 happened this past May, and I haven’t been online much since, working my butt off on building my studio and ideas that transformed and developed since the event…  The people and the event helped me more then words can could ever describe…

Bit of history…

This morning I got to thinking to my Mom who passed away from Cancer that morning a year ago today, the 7th of September landed on a Wednesday…  I smile thinking to how much she supported and helped me in becoming an Artist, and smile deeper thinking of how happy she was when I first shared with her ideas of doing a Charity Art Auction to raise money for the Cancer Research Institute and to help the homeless…

She had donated much of her life in helping people in our town and county…  My Mom had helped in starting the Tioga County Arts Council, helping with writing it’s non-for-profit status and being one of their first Presidents…  She donated thousands of hours during almost 20 years with our town’s volunteer ambulance, and even helping in writing the by-laws of our town’s Chamber of Commerce- she was so proud when later I would become the Vice President of the Chamber…  I was taught to give back to the community through her giving…

Last summer I ran this idea of doing a Charity Art Auction by a few of my friends online, and when Liz Strauss (one of the founders of SOBcon) felt this was a great idea, I knew I was on to something…  Sadly the idea I knew needed to be shelved last summer when I found the cancer had spread to my Mom’s brain, then her passing away- I knew then I would need a better frame of mind and my studio completely up and running… So slowly I handled the many challenges in front of me then…

Since my Mom’s passing a year ago, I’ve worked to get my studio equipment and needed materials and supplies to be able to offer the best possible color for fine art prints possible, I also worked on growing this idea…  The color management system is going to be added this week that will help with the Giclee Fine Art Imager to print the best possible color possible… Smiling with pride as I slowly work on the studio, building the furniture by hand and slowly earning the money needed for new equipment and materials to open the studio’s new Fine Art Reproduction service…

I’m getting close to finishing everything needed to reopen the studio soon…   Then turn my efforts to earning the money needed to pay for Artists and purchase more materials and get the needed permissions all in order for the first Charity Art Auction…

Inspired by SOBcon- Giving

With realizing in the beginning of this year my portrait abilities had become a bit rusty, I started to think to some Artists I would like to hire to do two portraits each of some inspiring people in Social Media…  As I started to look into this some, I suddenly had an opportunity to attend SOBcon Chicago 2012

Even before the trip to Chicago, this idea started growing, and I would like to share how…  A few weeks before the event, people were sharing online why they attend SOBcon…  Molly Cantrell-Kraig (founder of Women with Drive Foundation) did an AudioBoo audio recording that I felt was very insightful and so very inspirational-

Molly made my heart grow larger and larger- she Grinched me…  To you Molly, I whisper softly a special “Thank You”…  Wish I could have spent more time with you to share this idea more in depth, events like this have so many people, am glad we could share that glass of wine together, and now you know why I mentioned that you “Grinched” me…  As I was listening one late evening of sleeplessness to Molly’s soft voice, I came up with the domain name and bought it- ArtistsHelping.com (which I am thinking now to a nice logo for and will soon be starting to create the website)…

Knowing my studio wasn’t yet ready to start this idea, that I still needed a bunch of time to build studio furniture and buy the needed equipment to produce the idea of quality fine art prints…  Since December I’ve been needing to reinvest in a new computer, all new software and there was hundreds of pounds of materials and some more tech equipment I would need to purchase…  But also felt there was nothing wrong with starting to share the idea some with a few people to get their feedback…

Landing in Chicago, this artist from a small town without a stoplight was a bit overwhelmed with the BIG CITY…  It being about 8 years since I had been in New York and looking up at buildings that disappear in the clouds…  And even longer since attending a large Tech conference…

I shared the Charity Art Auction idea to a few people at SOBcon and got even more support for the concept that truly astounded me and also helped in growing more confidence in this idea…  Chris Brogan said he really liked the idea and would do all he could, as he would be one of the six Inspiring People…  Then after Tim Sanders spoke, he stopped at our table and asked me what I was doing, so I told him quickly and he looked to me and said; “I want to help make this happen!”, giving me his business card…  And then there was Jay Jay French who spoke a little bit about how he too had suffered the loss of his mother to Cancer, of how he came through that hard period of his life, such strength to share such pain and how he made it through it, which giving me a bit more confidence in my own pains of the heart…

Over the next couple of weeks I got to thinking as I listened to this recording Molly made…  I suddenly thought to myself- “Why do just one event, when I could possibly create something that could help other Organizations and Artists too”…  I did poured myself into research about Copyrights, Taxes and Art Donations…

Did you know if an Artist donates a piece of artwork to a charity to be auctioned off, the Artist can only write off on their taxes the material cost to create artwork?  So a piece of art that might be sold for a large amount of money, if it were a watercolor, only write off the cost of the paper, frame and a few more cents to cover the amount of pigment used, an Artist can’t even write off the time taken to create the art piece…  This too came into the idea- how could I maybe be able to benefit Charities and also help the Artists that donate their artwork?  Took a bit of time, but I figured that part out too, how this could also help Artists since attending SOBcon

The ideas I gained with some of the people I had the opportunity to meet during SOBcon in Chicago, and those ideas of “Giving” helped to grow this concept further…

The first Charity Art Auction I will do with ArtistHelping.com will be for three Artists to do 2 portraits each of Inspiring People in Social Media, produce 200 limited edition prints of each of the 6 portraits, then to do an online and live via smart phone Charity Art Auction during a major Social Media Conference…  To be able to donate the profits after covering the costs, to be able to print out one of those HUGE Checks to donate the net profits to be split between the Cancer Research Institute and InvisiblePeople.tv

Giving Thanks to those at SOBcon Chicago 2012

Now the time is drawing near and I wanted to share and also thank some people who were so very inspiring to me…

It’s the amazing people who attend SOBcon- the people that make it such an amazing event, not just the learning or mastermind sessions but the feeling as if all who attend are like family…  The speeches and learning is just a small part to the whole- it’s really the people and the giving that makes this such an amazing event!!!  Too many good people to list that I had the opportunity to meet, but there are a special few I do wish to thank-

Cate Equality Colgan (@CateTV), Liz Strauss (@lizstrauss), Terry St. Marie (@Starbucker), Tim Sanders (@sanderssays), Chris Brogan (@chrisbrogan), Diane Brogan (@DianeBrogan), Steven Brogan (@SteveBrogan), Mark Horvath (@hardlynormal), Molly Cantrell-Kraig (@mckr1g), Ric Dragon (@RicDragon), Marc Pitman (@marcapitman) and Jay Jay French (@jayjayfrench)…

Thank you all for listening to my idea and for giving me the extra confidence to start making this happen…   Thank you all for being so very inspiring!!!

Each Memorial Day, I think to my Family’s History…

Every Memorial Day weekend for a long time now, I get thinking to some conversations that happened during a few Memorial Day weekends so long ago- of our family history discussed, and always makes me think to many of my memories of when I was growing up, what my Grandparents, Great Uncle and Aunt told me about this holiday’s meaning and how it shaped part of my life…

When I was in High School, there was this one mandatory test the government does to see just how smart you are, and after if you are, the Recruiters have those test scores… It was because of these tests I was called down to Guidance Office about, I scored high and the Guidance Councilor told me he felt I should meet a few recruiters that were interested in me from the Army, the Air force and the Navy… He explained to me all had some sort of communications and photo departments and even commercial art, as he well knew my I was only interested in the Art…

I remember it was our birthday, as my Gram and I had birthdays just three days apart and always would share it together as I grew up… I told her of how interested the different branches of the military was in my test scores, thinking she would be so happy… Our family had a long history of those who had served I knew, but didn’t realize till that night just how much… She wasn’t happy at all with my telling her this…

In my living room my coffee table sits one of my grandfather’s Navy Chests from World War II, and between the chairs sits my great grandfathers World War I Army Chest… My Dad served in the Korean War… These things I knew from when I turned 13 and my Dad told me of these things, showing me the purple heart they had sent to Grandma…

But instead of my Gram being happy for my high test scores, her gray blue eyes showed deep concern and worry instead of happiness… She then told of our family history, or at least my Sir Name family history, and said I should talk more with my Mom, to find of her family history, as it is even deeper then the Taggart’s name…

She then told me of how my great, great’s, 5 times removed- stepped off the ship from Ireland only to be signed up for the Civil War… His son fraught in the Spanish-American War, then his son in the Army during WWI, then my grandfather enlisted in the Navy in WWII and my Dad served during the Korean War… Then she looked deep into my eyes and said to me; “Your family has served this country for five generations-five wars, through your Mom’s side even more- seven generations all the way back to the Revolution I believe- please, I think our family has given enough so one generation can choose not to fight for it”… Then a tear ran down her cheek, and she said; “Please use your talent, your gift and go to college for art, just think about it”…

So often as I grew up and especially while I stayed with them while attending Syracuse University, she would comment on just how much like my grandfather I was, more so then my Dad… He had a heavy step, thump of the heal when he walks, I on my toes as my grandfather did, and the creative and joking sparkle in my eyes that she loved so in him I also seemed to have inherited… When I look to what artwork I have of his, and in reading his writings to her, wish only to be able to be as good of an artist of words line and shade as he was…

Memorial weekend my senior year of high school the family did the normal yearly venture, going up to open the family cottage for the summer at Brantingham Lake in the Adirondacks of New York State… A beautiful cabin my great grandfather had bought when my Gram was a child, each year cousins and all would gather too clean it up, put the dock in and have a family weekend… Was this weekend my that I found my grandmother, Uncle Harry and Grandpa Davis sitting together on the font porch, watching the sun set on the lake below, their calling me over to talk some…

Gram asked me if I had made any choices about what to do after high school… I had told her that the Air force said I had the scores to be a pilot, the navy said I could be an officer after some added classes and the Army wanted to teach me photography and tech communications because of my test scores…  And I had received one acceptance into a small junior college in Boston for Commercial Art… There was a long moment of silence, all seemed in deep thought looking out over the lake…

My Grandfather spoke first, saying he had been in World War II, in the air force, his father had taught aironomics to pilots in World War I… He was a tech for the aiming devices for the large bombing planes while he was stationed in England during World War II… He said; “At the time I was single and it was the right thing to do, so I enlisted and was proud to have served my country and my father was also very proud to have served too”…

Then my Uncle Harry spoke… He said; “Charlie your grandfather grew up together, and we signed up the same day, we talked about it at length when the war had started over in Europe in the news and we chose to go into the Navy… I was proud I served my country, still am… Charlie went to to serve on a destroyer and I to another ship… We grew up together, he was my best friend, we fished, played sports, and he introduced me to your grandmother’s sister, Harriet, who I married”, who sat next to Gram… Then he said; “Your grandfather didn’t come back, and I lost my best and oldest friend”… There was a very odd silence then, my grandfather I was raised knowing was really my Step Grandfather who had married Gram after the war, she was a widow then…

Gram then said to me; “If it would help, Dane (Who she remarried and I knew as Grandpa) and I will bring you to Boston to visit that Art school you’ve been excepted to one weekend… She then seemed to lift the spirits of all there by talking about Boston, changing the subject some… It was then agreed, they would bring me to Boston… While there, it was easy to want to go to college instead of the military, to the relief of my grandmother’s worries…

Gram had given me this box of memories of my grandfather when I finished college in 1993, since then each Memorial Day I pull it out and read some of the letters… I had known some of his legacy being in Basketball for Syracuse University- http://www.orangehoops.org/ctaggart.htm Others are letters he had written to my Gram, their marriage certificate, some photos and the letters to her he had written… Lastly the Western Union letter from a Vice Admiral from the Navy, telling of my grandfather’s ship being sunk…

I sit in my studio now, a box of keepsakes on my drawing table, the letters from my grandfather to my Gram, reading one or two before I can no longer read from blurred site… Some of the envelopers have small bloated wrinkles here and there, watermarks that when I hold up to the light, some still sparkle of the salt still embedded in the parchment, my grandmother’s tears…

The same time period while in college, I got to spend time at Uncle Harry’s house, just a block through the park trail kiddy corner from my grandparents house… I was often over there helping Uncle Harry with things that needed doing around his house- my being his youth to his experience and teaching me some about carpentry and home maintenance… After his stroke, he was able to remember the times of his youth as if yesterday, but not were he had just set the house keys and would smile telling me of his memories he and just had… I would go over there to help with the house needs, and he would tell me stories of my grandfather and him growing up, fishing together, playing football and how much he respected him… I see now from the two letter I just read, how close they were, he mentioned Uncle Harry several times in each letter…

My 2nd semester, spring Memorial Day weekend at Uncle Harry’s we sat for a bit on his back porch and he told me stories of my grandfather while they were at cottage at the beginning of World War II… He told me of how my grandfather and he would go fishing at Otter Creek, a spot in the stream nicknamed “Nelly’s Hole” were one had to navigate through the forest off a dirt road to get to this area of the stream… Often this was were the boys of my family were taught how to use a campus and topographical map… This the family secret fishing spot of four generations that one could almost count on catch a day’s limit of wild brook trout… This was the creek the two of them would always catch and release the fish they caught, so the young boys would “Out Fish the Old Guys”, he described with a wink, remembering the first time I had “Out Fished the Great Fishermen Uncle Harry as a boy when I hit 12-ish… He winked to me and said; “The point was for you boys to have fun and enjoy fishing, and that was part of it, teaching you all how to catch big fish, which was something some of you always enjoyed and some never did, thinking to your Dad and a few of your cousins”…

He continued telling me to follow him to his desk, pulling out a few of his old fishing journals, opening them up to show me some of the pages of notes- Charlie-3, Harry- 4 at Nelly’s Hole, page after page of the two together or of others Uncle Harry had fished with over the years… Then he continued telling me what they talked about then- the war in Europe…  He pulled out of his desk a sketch then from another of his Fishing Journals, there was my Uncle Harry but young- a great pencil sketch of him smiling holding up a tiny brook trout and some other loose sketches of him, this huge man with a huge smile, broad chested man in flannel shirt with a funny hat fishing near a log or eddy behind a large rock that the streams and creeks of the area have near Brantingham Lake… Some old black and white photos of the two together as kids with cane fishing poles… He told me how hard of a choice it

for the two of them make together, to leave our family’s and all you knew to fight for our country… He laughed as he showed me the sketches, then more of his journals, 60+ years of fishing, small pocket journals with sketches of maps of streams, near by restaurants and what kind of pies were good, with a star system next to the names…   What he said was the 2nd most important thing to a good weekend fishing was a good piece of pie with a mug of hot coffee before and after…

The Letter No Mother or Wife ever wants to receive… This one addressed to my Great Grandmother…

Was then he looked to me and smiled, “Glad you chose to go into college”, as he handed me some topographical maps that had the streams in the area trout streams… He winked and said; “Let me know where you’re going, I’ll let you know where the best coffee and slice of pie is between here and there are”…

So with each memorial day, I get sad thinking tot he pain, remembering the sorrow in my Gram’s eyes, and also remember the happy times she shared with him…  And then I sit how it was some of those Memorial Days and understanding my Families history that helped shape my life…

April 24, 1945 the USS Frederick C. Davis DE 136 was sunk by German submarine U-546 in the North Atlantic 115 men lost…

Tester from the iPad

A first test using the WordPress App with the iPad 3 in my personal blog…

Going to test out the linking to my biz site- ArtistPrints.Biz/blog

So just testing things out… Next is setting up the Studio Biz-Blog

Old Books with Memories and Meanings…

Ah the smell of old books on shelves, row upon row, stacked on the floor, in boxes and under tables and in piles above… The local Book warehouse in the city I went to college in was an amazing place to spend an afternoon just wondering the many rooms and areas of this large old warehouse…

While I was in college, I would often come here to locate good deals, getting even tot he point the owner would recognize me, or really knowing my grandfather and uncle who also enjoyed to come to this book store… Here is where I would find great deals on old books or used books while I was in college… The cost I often found for an afternoon of looking would often allow me to save a fair share compared tot he new softcover books in the campus bookstore…

So while taking a few classes on poetry and being rather thrifty, I bought my books at the local Book Warehouse, often old hard cover books… I came across a signed edition of Archibald MacLeish, an American poet… This one poem I found to be interesting to read, and my grandparents and Great Uncle and Aunt also very much enjoyed it after supper’s end, while sipping coffee or tea and enjoying some of Gram’s pie or cake… They having me read it aloud for them…

I had done a photo and added this poem to it, matted and framed for my Aunt & Uncle’s 50th anniversary… And then just a few days before my Gram passed, I sat reading softly to her some of the poetry we had shared while I lived with them while going to the family university…

I still have this signed edition, one of the 500 he had signed so it says, the edges of the cover a bit worn of the 20+years of use… I think to the number of times I have just taken this off the shelf, quick reads of words that paint images in my head, touching a memory or touch of an emotion…

The Old Gray Couple

They have only to look at each other to laugh–
no one knows why, not even they:
something back in the lives they’ve lived,
something they both remember but no words can say.

They go off at an evening’s end to talk
but they don’t, or to sleep but they lie awake–
hardly a word, just a touch, just near,
just listening but not to hear.

Everything they know they know together–
everything, that is, but one:
their lives they’ve learned like secrets from each other;
their deaths they think of the in the nights alone.

She: Love, says the poet, has no reasons.

He: Not even after fifty years?

She: particularly after fifty years.

He: what was it, then, that lured us, that still teases?

She: You used to say my plaited hair!

He: And then you’d laugh.

She: Because it wasn’t plaited.
Love had no reasons so you made one up to laugh at. Look! The old, gray couple!

He: No, to prove the adage true:

Love has no reasons but old lovers do.

She: And they can’t tell.

He: I can and so can you.
Fifty years ago we drew each other, magnetized needle toward the longing north.
It was your naked presence that so moved me. It was your absolute presence that was love.

She: Ah, was!

He: And now, years older, we begin to see absence not presence: what the world would be without your footstep in the world–the garden empty of the radiance where you are.

She: And that’s your reason?-that old lovers see their love because they know now what its loss will be?

He: Because, like Cleopatra in the play, they know there’s nothing left once love’s away…

She: Nothing remarkable beneath the visiting moon…

He: Ours is the late, last wisdom of the afternoon. We know that love, like light, grows dearer toward the dark.

-Archibald MacLeish

Inspired by Photographer Yousuf Karsh

I spent a bit of time this evening looking through one of my books of portraits by Yousuf Karsh- “Karsh Portraits”, that I’ve kept in my studio now for about ten years now… A book that once was my grandfather’s, and my Mom felt I should have with the copy of the portrait of Grandpa that I have now hanging on the wall over the Giclee Printer… After Grandpa had passed she told me that he had wanted me to have them…

I sat here in the new studio, legs up on the milk can I use as a drawing stool, reclining some in my computer chair, the hardcover book in my lap… Opening carefully the now worn hard cove, as to not loose any of the article clippings that are within, as well as the letter to Grandpa from Karsh he had taped inside… I read the letter again, and then all of the articles, remembering grandpa sharing this with me so many times over the years…

My Grandfather- Vernon deTar, Past Professor Juilliard School (organ and church music) from 1947 to 1982 http://www.countrygraphics.us/VernonLdeTar.html

The look on Karsh’s face when Grandpa let him push the some of the keys to the great organ in the Church of the Ascension in NYC… The deep note you could feel deep within your chest that shakes every muscle and bone from within and the look of wonder and childish joy on Karsh’s face made me laugh I recall… He watched as Grandpa played a few pieces, then after took some photos of him near the the keyboards and he looked up and said, That’s the one…

We spent some time after, sipping some coffee as he admired the church, Grandpa telling him of the artwork and great stained glass illustrations that the church has within…

Then Grandpa told him I wanted to be an Artist, and had an interest in photography… Karsh looked at me with a smile, then very stern, as if his dark eyes where looking into me deeply… He asked if I had a camera and was shooting photos, and I pulled out my kodak 620 film camera that once was my father’s in the early 50’s… He smiled as I told him of spending hours feeding chipmunks and chickadees to get them to eat out of my hand, so I could get a close up photo with the camera of them…

Karsh Portrait of Robert Frost

Karsh laughed, telling me that was a good idea, then said with a serious look; “To be a photographer, you need to understand light and shadow, and be able to capture your subject eyes in a photo, tell a story with it, capture their soul- practice and keep practicing”… He asked if I had been to the Met and recommended I should go, which Grandpa said we where planning on going the next morning, Karsh approved…

Karsh Portrait of Picasso

He then looked at me and said; “You need to study the great artists and how their works where created, study as much Art as you can, look to the great Renaissance Master’s, learn through their works and keep practicing”… He then reached out and ruffled my hair and winked at me, then started talking with my Grandfather again…

Karsh Portrait of Georgia O'keeffe

I was suddenly started watching one of the men that was with Karsh, take his large camera apart putting it in boxes… I remember how fascinated I was with such a huge camera that would need a tripod to take photos with, and not just hold in your hand and that you would need two men to help take just one photo- so simple the thoughts of a 14 year old… A few months later I got my first 35mm camera from Grandpa, as he later told me that Karsh had recommended he get a camera a bit more up to date and easier to process to keep me interested in photography… Grandpa often referred to Karsh over the years, when ever I was visiting…

Karsh Portrait of Einstein

It wasn’t until my senior year of high school I started to grasp who this photographer truly was, that enticed my Grandfather to buy my my first 35mm camera… I started to laugh a bit to myself, as I at the time only looked to Grandpa deTar as “Grandpa”, and this fellow was just a photographer, not then having much of a clue just how much that that day would influence me in the future…

I sit here in the studio now, just looking at the photos, the faces, the eyes and wrinkles upon the faces, the eyes again, then the fullness of the locations and how he was able to capture not only the light, control the light but to also show the person from within- these great people of history…

Each time I do this, I notice more and more and understand what Karsh’s advice meant- I want to learn more, see more and practice more… A memory Yousuf Karsh, and what an inspiration he was in my life…

For more information about Yousuf Karsh

 Visit his website at: http://www.karsh.org/

If I could be a Storyteller…

A good story can draw the attention of anyone, if told in an interesting way… Just to state facts seems very dry, with no enjoyment, and also no way of sharing your life, your experiences and the chapters of your life to share with others to earn trust… But not just tell your story, but be your story…

If I could be able a tell a story, I would hope I might be able to some day be able to write them as some of my favorite story tellers would tell… Not so much as a literary correctness, but to be able to paint images within a mind through words types and read aloud…

Of all the storytellers and writings I have enjoyed listening to, I think to Garrison Keillor in his way with words and small town descriptions of simple but deeply thoughtful descriptions is so visual in his use of words… He who said once; “You start with what you know, but writing is a matter of discovery… It is an act of Discovery”… How I enjoy his morning highlights of The Writer’s Almanac on the radio in the mornings or later from the podcast and his show “A Prairie Home Companion”…

Garrison Keillor: Movie: The Man on the Radio with the Red Shoeshttp://bit.ly/dfsQjC

A Prairie Home Companion: http://bit.ly/cbWsma

The Writer’s Almanac: http://bit.ly/9kZqG0

Of those storytellers that cast the most descriptive stories printed into whimsical and creative words, my mind thinks to many, but I keep coming back to Robert Fulghum (http://robertfulghum.com)… Often as I was in my teens while at our family cottage at by the lake in Northern New York, I would sit upon the back porch or in the evenings near the fire reading his books… How the way he could write such simple stories giving examples of his life and all simple things we all should learn young, and then describe it almost as if you could close your eyes and live the simple times… Often casting the memories I learned of my own memories of youth giving me a smile…

His Books: “All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten”, “What on Earth Have I Done?: Stories, Observations, and Affirmations”, “Uh-Oh“ and “Maybe (Maybe Not) (Maybe Not : Second Thought”…

“We alone are answerable for what we think and so when nobody else is around or involved. Categories of “Fact” and “Fiction” are irrelevant in here. Are dreams true? Is what you imagine accurate?”

“Inside these tight boundaries of flesh and bone is a borderless jungle in which clearings exist. In these open spaces, there may be an amusement park, a zoo, a circus, a library, a museum, a theater, or a landscape stranger then Mars.”

Now if I could inspire to be able to paint within words such descriptions as these two authors do, I would feel I have just begun, as there are more things to write about and share…

What is your story?

The Last Dance with Mom…

Dancing is such an important part of our lives; embedded as part of so many religions, a major part within so many cultures and our lifestyles… The wedding dance that a father does with his daughter or mother does with her son is considered a special prized and cherished moment to so many people, we look forward to this special Dance and then after remember with such deep care… Such a special moment with so much meaning for parent, grandparent and child…

Personally, I’m not one to often dance just for the joy of dance, use to only slow dance once in a great while with someone special… If I had deep feelings for that person, we can dance to music not heard by others, to a rhythm of the deep care and love shared…

A couple months ago while visiting my Mom who was fighting cancer, was up late night around 2am-ish, not being able to sleep and I shared a few hours just talking with her about memories shared that would bring her some laughter… We got talking about Dancing, something my grandmother who passed away had told me too- she had no regrets except one, to see me married and to have that extra special dance with her grandson…

Then Mom said she wished so deeply she could have this one dance too, that special Mother-Son Dance… She then told me that she had hoped to someday watch me get married and wanted to have that special dance that a mother has with her son… I tried not to think to this, and reaffirmed she would get healthy again and we would have that dance someday…

We both all teary eyed shared tissues together, till I got her laughing… I told her that I would only do a slow dance with her if she did another with me afterward, standing up showing her my funny dance – the “Uncle Chuck Dance”… I’d started doing this dance with and for my niece when she was barely able to walk, her baby body waddle to control balance just to stand and take those first few steps… Later she would shake her hinny to music in her little diaper, she would dance, swinging her butt around, and I started to imitate this balance act to the rhythm of the music… How my niece, Mom and sister laughed… It’s been now about 22 years that this dance has brought laughter to my family, even still to this day… At the time it was nice to hear my Mom laugh, when I knew even then she had so much pain…

I am still not married and that special moment is now something that will never happen except within my heart and memory…

Monday morning, we needed to bring in a special bed for Mom, so she needed to come out of her room while we took her bed down and brought in the special adjustable bed… Unfortunately she was in such deep pain get up to walk, she needed help…

Happily she recognized me with a large smile, as we often joked about she said; “My Favorite Son”, as I am the only son with two sisters- no competition- another joke we all enjoyed… She laughed for a moment as she put her arms around my neck, and I helped lift her to her feet… Slowly we danced without music, taking baby steps to where the wheelchair was at the doorway, my last dance with my Mom and seeing her smile, she now watches from heaven…

Voice of an Angel

Last night, my sister Wendy asked me what music and/or musicians Mom enjoyed listening to, her wanting to post some of the music within her Facebook page to share with her friends and people she knows… Wendy had been playing some that she knew of off the computer, as I talked with Rick our stepfather… The sounds of classical, opera, jazz and songs from famous musicals filled the room as the evening wore on… So I told her a few that came to mind, though I am often hard pressed to remember the names of songs or who sung them, often just enjoying the music or the story behind the words sung… There are just too many groups and musicians to recall, picturing the album artwork in my head relating to the musical sound, but not recalling the singer/s or group’s name…


Our Hunting Fathers (“Messalina”) sung by Phyllis Bryn-Julson

One of my Mom’s dearest friends from college and also my Godmother Phyllis Bryn-Julson (singing in the video above), whom is a very respected opera singer… Mom would play her albums, singing with her in harmony words I didn’t seem to understand then…

When I was very young one of my first and fondest memories of my Mom playing music, the old stereo just shaking the pictures upon the walls and make the windows shake… I recall is of Wendy as a baby, when she was crying once… My Mom singing to the Sound of Music to Wendy, when she was just in diapers before she could talk, the tears stopping and a look of wonder in her face… We lived in Rochester then, a large house that the acoustics would echo up the stairway to the next floor…

Some of the albums would be classical music that would include, organ or piano, then others with song, Hymns, opera, songs from classical musicals… Two of the albums included my Mom singing on them, my grandfather accompanying her with playing the piano in the background…. She had even originally gone to Syracuse University to be a voice major in music, but had later changed to get a teacher’s degree…

The memory is a song she would sing with is from an Opera, Lakmé… This opera includes a famous and popular part of the concert- the Flower Duet, a duet sung by two women… I recall my Mom matching note for note in perfect harmony her voice to theirs… I was still very young but the image and memory has ever been one I always cherished… For me her voice became what I would believe would be what the musical voices of angels should sound like…