Archive for the ‘Death’ Category

Saturday, August 12th, 2023

“We know that for most healthy people, Omicron is nothing more than a cold and for the young is usually a very mild cold and often asymptomatic. To use a gene-therapy-technology-based vaccine with a high-risk profile and uncharacterized long-term effects against a mild variant is the height of scientific ignorance and arrogance. It is time to stop.”

Robert W Malone MD MS, Lies My Gov’t Told Me: And the Better Future Coming (Children’s Health Defense)

The world without her remains a world full of Mombo.

Sunday, January 1st, 2023

This past month was dominated by the earthly departure of my mother. The role she played in my becoming an artist and the approach I bring to my practice cannot, and should not, be understated. What a debt I owe to her, and to pay it forward will require that I live as long as she! I might’ve started “giving back” much earlier, if it had been my basic nature. I can be a quick study for most things, but it often takes me far too long to learn the rest, especially when it involves stepping beyond my own creative urge. Her life was a lesson in putting others before self. In order to support her parents’ household in a world at war, she turned down a full scholarship to the same University of Cincinnati that I would eventually attend. Decades later, in a nest recently emptied of seven children, and just as she was about to explore her own personal interests, she followed her family to a remote part of a rural Kentucky county. As a widow, she built an ethical foundation for a land-based legacy that is now set to endure for generations. When she faced a grim medical prognosis that would break the spirit of others, she maintained a zest for life, an obvious concern for how it might affect others, and an astonishing diligence to push back against it. The world of my youth had shouted, “Be cynical, or pessimistic, or both,” but she would always be my reliable source of optimism, like a spring which never dries up. I could’ve become a quitter early on, but she helped me to overcome discouragement born of self-doubt and to fulfill commitments. If something is worth doing, it’s worth doing well. Why not always do your very best? And then you will automatically get better. Along with my siblings, everything was done to provide the care she needed to continue living at home, until it became no longer possible. Those years — what could be mistakenly judged as sacrificial — strengthened our family bond in a way that will last us for the duration. To separate that from my activity as an artist was unnecessary at the time and foolhardy in hindsight. Above and beyond the value of artisanship, she taught me that a creative life without love for others is devoid of meaning. Of all the souls I have intimately known, hers is the most worthy of imitation.

Tuesday, December 13th, 2022

 

March Ex(clusion) — sixteenth day

Wednesday, March 16th, 2022

“Plutarch states that Cato ‘undertook the service of the state as the proper business of an honest man.’”
– Thomas E Ricks, First Principles
 

When the belligerents are making overtures to de-escalate the conflict, why are many so-called leaders failing to soften their hawkish stance in favor of advocating for peace? When the president of Ukraine (still alive) invites a negotiated settlement based on the offered demands, why is the elite “influence class” pushing emotionalism and reckless militarism? Who will benefit from instability, destruction, bloodshed, and death in excess of what the Russians have factored into an achievable outcome? Another potential question: why didn’t Volodymyr Oleksandrovych Zelenskyy stop playing the NATO card long before his nation was ruined? Was he naive, complicit, or merely a dupe? What happens next is unknown, but, without a doubt, analysts will argue over all of this for the rest of my lifetime. The hellish suffering will forge new cadres of radicalized youth and hardened ideologues. Welcome to the ancient steppes of Eurasia.

We won’t go into what Iñigo Navarro says about seeing multiple crows.

Today’s sight bite— Five crows resting high in the “Simon Kenton” maple, —c-l-i-c-k— as they noisily greet number six and seven to the murder.

March Ex(clusion) — sixth day

Sunday, March 6th, 2022

“Thank God there’s no justice in this world.”
— Tim Considine, on the undeserved richness of his career
 

Nearly anything that promises forward progress requires a period of rest, and this is clearly a recovery day. Got a few things done outside before the rain blew in. Chipping away at a new miniature keeps an element of intuition in play, but no major advancements have taken place in the studio so far this month. Dana and I cleaned the living space and the corresponding boost in “vibration” is always a welcome result. A wave of well-being marks another Sunday here at the Town House, and I’m feeling especially thankful.

Today’s sight bite— Bricks and broken rubble strewn along a flat ditch, —c-l-i-c-k— as my project to extend a paved walkway out to the birdbath resumes for 2022.

Friday, July 16th, 2021

Gwen Heffner, master artisan of Kentucky

Gwen Heffner
1 9 5 2 – 2 0 2 1

master artisan of pottery
major force in the Kentucky arts
my pal from our first encounter
R
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Saturday, February 6th, 2021

 
Earlier this week, Dana and I traveled to Ohio with Terie to pay tribute to her grandmother, Jane. I like to point out that Dana found only one satisfactory mate in life, but she was blessed to have two first-class mothers-in-law. Saints, like all human beings, have imperfections, although they best emulate the only perfect example known to us, and show us how to live. Jane was that kind of person.

It was an emotional trip for another reason. Jane’s street-level funeral procession, from Moraine to North Dixie Highway, will stick with me for a long time. I can’t recall ever having seen such a disturbing progression of urban blight than what I witnessed from the back seat as Dana drove. We were all acutely aware of our surroundings. Every red light was bypassed within the supervision of local police. The steady, harrowing vision outside was that of a sad wreck — a city that I knew so well in the ’80s as Dayton, Ohio.

“Oh, the humanity . . .” (in the true spirit of the original lament)

 

 

Wednesday, February 3rd, 2021

Jane Booton
 
Jane Booton
 

Jane Lou Hovis Willoughby Booton
1 9 2 5 – 2 0 2 1
a life of faith, kindness, strength, and dignity
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A successful venison harvest at the farm

Monday, November 23rd, 2020

I arrived at the Valley on Saturday, opening day of modern gun, but one thing led to another, including a satisfying visit with old chum “Bilbo,” and I was still puzzling my way through scope adjustments into Sunday. With the help of a spare box of factory .44 magnum from James, I didn’t finish getting Dadbo’s Marlin sighted in to a level of satisfaction until late Monday morning. I admit to feeling like I had already botched the whole process to some degree. I went out in the afternoon to a couple of different spots that had concealed observation points facing hay fields, including Joan’s expanse where we had held our “safari.” No luck with either one before sundown. Did not see a single deer. For me, it seemed like being “in the right place at the right time” would rule my hunting time, because I gave up tree stands a while ago to adopt a more primitive, admittedly random approach.

The next morning I had the success for which I’d hoped. I went back to the same area before daybreak and chose a high point underneath a bushy cedar tree. By around 9:30am, I was stiff and a bit numb in the ankles and feet. I was ready to give up that location, find another for a spell, or try to flush something from cover. It was sunny now, but cold and breezy. I was standing up from my hiding place, getting ready to sling my rifle over my shoulder, and a medium-size buck came out of the brush near Robin Lick. I was right out in the open, but he didn’t spook. I couldn’t tell if he saw me. He was moving slowly across the field, left to right, up toward the road and wooded knob. It was about as slowly as a deer moves with any kind of deliberateness. For some reason, I was immediately convinced he wasn’t going to pause, so I got iron sights on him and shifted up to the telescopic cross-hairs. He was moving gently enough that my instinct was to take a shot, even though I had a corresponding doubt about it being wrong, or in bad form. All of this without really thinking. Ka-pow.

I had matched my motion to his pace, aiming just a bit in front of his fore-shoulder. He bolted for the road and leaped into the woods. A voice in my head cried, “Blew it. You blew it! Why weren’t you more patient?” Instantly dejected, I knew I’d better check the area at least. It was 75 to 80 yards away. I levered another cartridge and took a moment to pick up and pocket the empty one, putting everything back into safe status. I found what might have been a few spots of blood in the field. When I got up to the road, I saw more clearly a blood trail across the crushed stone. Needless to say, my attitude was transformed. And then I saw him in the woods, looking at me. There were multiple limbs and saplings between us, but the deer wasn’t that far away, certainly less than 50 yards. I had no idea how wounded he was. Should I try to shoot again or finally be patient?

For a second time I had the hammer back, safety off, and trigger in contact. He snorted loudly and took off up the knob, still apparently strong. I lost sight of him. There was significant blood when I examined his standing ground. Well, I had no choice but to begin tracking now. “Dadburnit, the Sweeneys have their dwelling site up there” was the next thing in my mind. I set off up the hillside, looking for more sign. I didn’t find it. I was pretty far up when I heard some thrashing behind me, off to my left side. There he was, less than the distance I had seen him climb. He must have collapsed and slid downhill, before or after I made the decision to follow up the knob. Or perhaps I just hadn’t heard it when I made my own noise clambering up off the road through the dried leaves. At any rate, I’d misjudged the trajectory. When I descended to his location, the rib cage was still heaving, with a bullet entry past the shoulder and heart zone, but it was now evident that the blood had come from the mouth and nose, not the body. Presently, the animal expired before I needed to end it for him. It seemed like barely a minute since practically giving up on the outing, but now I was looking down during the customary prayerful moment. Ever so quickly, the next two days were unfolding in my mind. I had pulled it off. My hunt was over for the season.
 
 
 
 
 
 

Glaser’s “Ten Things I Have Learned”

Sunday, June 28th, 2020

You can only work for people whom you like.

If you have a choice, never have a job.

Some people are toxic.
Avoid them.

The good is the enemy
of the great.

Less is not necessarily more.

Style is not to be trusted.

How you live changes
your brain.

Doubt is better than
certainty.

On aging: It doesn’t matter.

Tell the truth.

Milton Glaser
1929 – 2020

Sunday, May 31st, 2020

“But at the same time, it is as necessary for me to be as vigorous in condemning the conditions which cause persons to feel that they must engage in riotous activities as it is for me to condemn riots. I think America must see that riots do not develop out of thin air. Certain conditions continue to exist in our society which must be condemned as vigorously as we condemn riots. But in the final analysis, a riot is the language of the unheard.”

M L King, Jr — Stanford University, April 14, 1967

Saturday, February 8th, 2020


 

Robert Conrad
1 9 3 5 – 2 0 2 0
the quintessential
television star

R
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Sunday, March 17th, 2019

Stephen Rolfe Powell
1 9 5 1 – 2 0 1 9

master of hot glass sculpture
exceptional teacher
friend to all who knew him
R
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Thursday, June 21st, 2018

“I made a promise to myself on day one [after my injury]. I was not going to allow it to alter my life. All it means is whatever I do is a little bit harder and probably a little bit slower. And that’s basically it. Everybody has their cross to bear — everybody.
— Charles Krauthammer
 
“I would think about Charles any time I started to feel sorry about myself for any reason, and that would pretty much snap me out of it.”
— Brit Hume
 

Charles Krauthammer
1 9 5 0 – 2 0 1 8
a giant among
conservative thinkers
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Monday, May 14th, 2018

Tom Wolfe
1 9 3 0 – 2 0 1 8
a peerless observer
and communicator
R
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Sunday, July 16th, 2017

Martin Landau, RIP

Martin Landau
1 9 2 8 – 2 0 1 7
an actor’s actor
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Farewell, Wallace . . .

Sunday, May 14th, 2017

After a rapid decline, Wallace died this morning. Tomorrow I shall bury my fourth Yorkshire Terrier. Dogs have been with humankind from the time we deserved to be called people. Perhaps they had something to do with us becoming more than the clever devils we must have been. Dogs are perhaps the purest form of love, and Yorkies are another order of magnitude. Somebody once said that we are doomed to outlive all of our dogs — except the last one.

Tuesday, August 23rd, 2016

Steven Hill, RIP


Steven Hill
1 9 2 2 – 2 0 1 6
legendary actor
Shabbat-observant Jew
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Saturday, June 4th, 2016

“I am a Muslim and there is nothing Islamic about killing innocent people in Paris, San Bernardino, or anywhere else in the world. True Muslims know that the ruthless violence of so called Islamic jihadists goes against the very tenets of our religion.

We as Muslims have to stand up to those who use Islam to advance their own personal agenda. They have alienated many from learning about Islam. True Muslims know or should know that it goes against our religion to try and force Islam on anybody.

Speaking as someone who has never been accused of political correctness, I believe that our political leaders should use their position to bring understanding about the religion of Islam and clarify that these misguided murderers have perverted people’s views on what Islam really is.”

Muhammed Ali

Monday, February 15th, 2016

“If Scalia’s interpretation of the Constitution held sway in the land, the Court and the government would have much less power over our lives. And that, more than anything else, explains why the Left hated him so much.”

Jonah Goldberg 2/15/16

Friday, November 20th, 2015

“But last week’s Paris attack was different. It was about radical, violent Islam’s hatred of the West and desire to kill and terrorize its people. They will not be appeased; we won’t talk them out of it at a negotiating table or by pulling out of Iraq or staying out of Syria. They will have their caliphate, and they will hit Europe again, as they will surely hit us again, to get it. So again, the only question: What to do? On this issue the American president is, amazingly, barely relevant. The leaders and people of Europe and America will not be looking to him for wisdom, will, insight or resolve. No commander in chief of the U.S. armed forces can be wholly irrelevant, but to the extent one can be, Mr. Obama is.”

Peggy Noonan 11/19/15

An Ideal Day

Monday, September 8th, 2014

There are different types of ideal days.
For me, surely today was one of them.

After what may have been the best night’s sleep that I have had in two or three months, I woke up with a cool breeze above my pillow and came downstairs to discover a nutritious breakfast smoothie and a pot of hot coffee to go with it. Thank you, Dana, for getting my day off to such a positive start. TSLA, YHOO, TJX, and FEYE took over from there, when the market opened, and I spent a productive morning managing my active trades for four separate accounts, including the Trust investment. I may have gotten a suitable entry price for a long position in VMW, but only time will tell with that. When the office intercom beeped, I was the beneficiary of a delicious roast turkey sandwich with a bowl of fresh gazpacho. It has been a fine season for tomatoes, and I am still working on getting my fill. Dana said that aging Walie was having one of her most lively days in a long time. After lunch, I noticed a new Ommatidia story by Brendan (which always makes my day), checked email, and worked a bit on my Spotify playlists, now that Marty has me successfully making the transition from Pandora. Some time ago I figured that eventually one would be able to watch any movie or TV show on demand, but I had not expected so soon to see the same be true of music. Yes, I have to listen to commercials now and then, but they are not as obnoxious as those on the Pandora site, since most of the Spotify ads are about the musical offerings themselves. Then it was into the painting studio for another session on the GAB portrait (with a few Danny Darst tunes for good company). I can say that I finally overcame the wall of fear (compliments of an old pal named perfectionism) that became attached to this commission, but now the pressing need is to find a route to the summit by the end of the month. I have pledged to myself to complete the artwork for Greg’s and Lynne’s return from their trip to France. At 4 o’clock, I crossed the street to play chess with the library group: one win, one loss (strangely enough, it usually works out that I beat the people I am capable of defeating and lose to those I am not capable of defeating). Although I rediscovered chess through vision therapy a while back, I am getting more serious about it this year, now that I can regularly match wits with local players right next door. Before I left, I checked out Is He Dead? (I admit that I wanted the Mark Twain comedy primarily to study the engravings by Barry Moser). When I got home I crossed paths with Dana, leaving to meet her spiritual group at the library, and then I jumped back into my yew-trimming topiary project in the front yard. With each passing growing season, it is easier and faster for me to keep them in shape, but more difficult to make significant changes or refinements. Nature will provide an occasional opportunity for a new direction or interesting detour, but it is mostly about keeping the whole effect under control. When the “skeeters” decided it was time to bite my ankles, it was off to Centre for some weight lifting before dinner. Being settled into the gym groove has always been a confidence-booster for me, and that goes back nearly 45 years. Peter Lupus emphasized that 100 twists a day kept his waistline small, although I have not been able to achieve the daily habit yet. In the workout room, I combine strenuous twists with the “ab chair” to manage my own belly, plus a circuit of machines and dumbbell exercises, in addition to the trusty bench press (where is that best buddy to spot me?). As I entered our back door after a brisk walk home, a blend of magnificent odors told me that Dana had been baking up a storm — sourdough bread, chocolate cake, and apple pie! We are preparing to celebrate Marty’s promotion to full-time employment at Hitachi in Harrodsburg. I am not the only member of the household on a roll. Well done, Grandson (and he got an A in his first course at the Technical College). Marty happened to be catching up on sleep (I cannot imagine handling a night-shift + school schedule the way he does), so Dana and I split a Red Hook and enjoyed a bowl of Swiss-chard-lentil soup with raw-tomato-basil-cheese salad. All that was left for me to do was to record my ideal day at this blogsite, and now I am ready to hit the sack. Tomorrow we shall begin again!