• Opening a statement from the Social Security Administration did not get my day off on the right track, and it began to go downhill from there. Fortunately, I was able to recover a bit by putting some good sales moves on the Republican candidate for Boyle County Judge Executive, who will definitely need a high-credibility graphic image as part of any success campaign to unseat the entrenched incumbent. After that, I attended the opening of “4 Seasons — 4 Directions,” Kathleen’s inspiring collage exhibition at Danville’s Community Arts Center. By evening, Dana and I were in Berea with Lee and David, eating delicious Thai food and learning English Country Dance—so the day ended fully back on its proper rails.
Archive for the ‘Dana’ Category
Tales of the Graybeard Prospector VII
Friday, February 10th, 2006Various & Sundry, part thirty-two
Wednesday, February 1st, 2006— Month of January workout totals: Swim-5; Bike-2; Run-2; Lift-8; Yoga-13
— Most who know me are aware that I ran—this is where I always have to stop and clarify or say something like “traversed under my own power,” since “ran” is not appropriately descriptive nor entirely accurate—50 miles on my 50th birthday. Later that same year I finished the Chicago Marathon under five hours. That’s my experience with long-distance running. At times I wonder why I didn’t keep it up, but usually I just wonder why I still feel any need at all to stay in running, biking, and swimming condition to be within striking distance of performing a triathlon. Well, it’s important to cross-train, I tell myself, and besides, staying in triathlon shape is not extreme, it’s just what I consider the baseline of physical fitness. I used to think of extreme as my friend who completed over 80 marathon runs, including one in all 50 states and all 7 continents (yes, I know, Antarctica). Or maybe extreme could be defined as competing in “Ironman” triathlons—a 2.4-mile swim, followed by a 112-mile bike ride, and then a 26-mile marathon on top of it, all in one day. And then I heard about the Hardrock Hundred, a 100-mile race that takes place in the mountains of Colorado. Is that extreme or what? Actually there are those who don’t think that’s enough of a challenge, and push the idea of extreme out to the borderlands of madness—the World Championship Quintuple Iron Triathlon. Believe it or not, that’s a distance equivalent to five Ironmans. There’a guy from Louisville who did it. He finished seventh, with a time that set a new U.S. record. A 12-mile swim, 560-mile bike, and 131-mile run. After four days, nine hours, and 40 minutes, he hobbled across the finish line, his body well into the process of cannibalizing his own muscle tissue. Do you think that’s extreme? Now try this—next November there’s a race in Mexico that requires ten Ironmans in ten days, and the Iron Kentuckian is thinking about an attempt. When I heard that I thought about the Athenian warrior Phidippides, who ran what’s considered to be the first marathon in the year 490 BC. He expired. We’ll keep you posted.
— The previous blurb brings to mind a recent article in Money Magazine that one of our clients brought to our attention. Jason Zweig explains in “The Thrill is Wrong” that the new science of “neuroeconomics” is helping investors understand that brain metabolism may cause us to make bad money decisions in much the same way we make bad decisions about food, drink, drugs and sex. Maybe they should add exercise to that list.
— After delivering my finished exhibition print to the Carnegie Center, Dana and I had a nice carnitas dinner in Lexington and then settled down to watch a late screening of Memoirs of a Geisha. I knew I’d enjoy it—actually, much more than Marshall’s “Chicago,” even though it’s garnered less acclaim—as I knew I’d enjoy “The Last Samurai,” because I can easily overlook the flaws in a picture like this. When the production design for a Japan-based story is this awesome, I can never leave the theater disappointed. I must make a note to check out any movie with set decoration by Gretchen Rau. It bothered me that they cast the two female leads with Chinese and Malaysian stars, but I think I was bothered more by the idea of it, going into the theatre, than during the feature. Ziyi Zhang deserved an Oscar nomination. It’s a powerful story, probably a better book, and almost worth the outrageous ticket price. Ken Watanabe is excellent once again, and I always get a kick out of seeing Mako pop up with his trademark scowl, even for less than a minute of screen time.
Walk ahead with strength, my son
Monday, January 30th, 2006Bruce‘s visible energy level was dramatically better today, a relief after several days of obvious discomfort and fatigue. This morning we had a visit from ND, who was kind enough to spend some time telling the account of his own horrible ordeal with pancreatitis, defiance of death, and long recovery. Believe it or not, his personal saga dares to upstage even Bruce’s amazing story, proving the adage that someone else has always experienced something worse—two years in the hospital, with a year of that without food, and over 80 surgical procedures. Even though his wife was a nurse, she couldn’t handle the intensity and walked away after the first two months. His internal organs were kept outside of this body in plastic for days until his abdominal cavity was clean enough to accept them back. His weight dropped from around 225 to under 70 pounds. He had to overcome countless temptations to give up or take his own life.
ND is an incredible man, with a depth of belief that was thoroughly tested. He is enormously blessed and gives full credit to the grace of God, without reservation. Very new people on this earth are alive to tell such a story, and I’m withholding his name to honor his privacy. He doesn’t talk about this on a regular basis and only to those he thinks will be receptive to the meaning of his personal testimony.
Sitting with ND and experiencing Bruce’s reaction has started to work some kind of quiet change in my attitude. Last year, Bruce always told me he’d get well enough to come back to Clan Valley. I have a new level of trust and respect for his ability to make judgments and decisions about his own life and the difficult challenges he’ll continue to face in the months ahead. Dana and Terie are driving him home, and how he chooses to deal with the various dysfunctional situations in his Indianapolis environment is something he’s capable of handling in his own way and in his own time. I believe he’ll do the best he can, and he’ll ask for help or advice if that’s what he decides he needs. Otherwise, he has my love, encouragement, and prayers for his complete recovery.
If you don’t think it can happen, it’s probably because you haven’t met the man who sat in my living room today, who lives each day as a gift from the Almighty, runs his own small business, and is back to benching more weight than I’ve ever dreamed of putting on the bar.
Double Homecoming
Sunday, January 29th, 2006In spite of a lengthy planning meeting at the Clan Hall, our soldier celebrated being at home with his family. During a break in the deliberations, Rita took a group portrait outside, and then the cake was cut. Joan insisted on eating Joshie’s head. The long day ended with Dana taking Bruce to the ER after his visit to the farm. Jerome put in some overtime to help identify symptoms of medication withdrawal that were alleviated. Bruce improved so rapidly that he walked home from the hospital.
Various & Sundry, part thirty-one
Saturday, January 21st, 2006— When I got up at 6:30 to check the weather, the wind with light rain was enough deterrent for me to call off my scheduled run. I guess I have to admit I’m not as hard-core as I used to be. Dana and I did yoga instead, with the Charles and Lisa tape, waiting for live TV coverage showing the return of the Kentucky National Guard’s 623rd. Josh and his unit had some initial delays in getting out of Iraq, since they had to fill up a plane first, but he’s been back in the States for a number of days now, and was supposed to fly into Louisville this morning. When he touches down and is greeted by family, it will mark the end of his perilous overseas deployment. Welcome back, Josh!
— Last night Hayley’s team met its match with some athletic, high-pressure ball players from Lincoln County High. Our Belle displayed some skilled moments, but most of her minutes showed a hesitancy that comes from inexperience with competition at this level of intensity. She faced a energetic, senior-dominated squad. I think she also defers too often on the floor to older teammates, rather than place more confidence in her own leadership, which she’s more inclined to do when she’s not nervous, and then she shoots more, finishes her powerful drives to the basket, or finds an open player. When she performs that way she usually has a high-scoring game. The consistency is sure to come, but she needs to find a way to bear down and trust her own abilities. I wish she had a better coach, and some day she will. She has a lot of basketball ahead of her. It will be a joy to watch.
— I made more progress today on remodelling the small kitchen off our upstairs conference room. It’s hard to explain why it’s been so neglected over the years, but this is the year to complete the project. It’s proven in many ways to be the log jam that impedes the last phase of physical organization that has to take place for us to have the kind of studio space we always intended for the Town House. I also wrote an email to the chairman of the Library expansion committee describing our desire to recycle some materials from the demolition of the church to take place across the street this summer. We’d like to take stone, brick, or both, and create a rubble-style paved driveway. I think there’s a good chance the project will get a green light, but it’ll take some “Clan-Power” for me to pull off my end of the deal.
Too gnarled a realm for this cautious blogger
Friday, January 20th, 2006I have a desire to do another detailed Bruce Update, since his medical situation continues to improve, but the conditions of his personal life are too harsh for me to present in this format, at least for now. Perhaps in time I’ll write something for the permanent record, but, for those of you who read this log and care about Bruce, if you want to know the specifics of what’s going on, please contact me or Dana directly. I encourage you to do so, and then to communicate your best regards to him.
There’s no people like show people
Wednesday, January 18th, 2006Tonight Dana had her book club, so I took the tickets Jeanne gave me and went to see the Harlem Gospel Choir at Norton Centre with my friend Danny D. The people on stage were very accomplished professionals, but the performance was too loud, too packaged, too “Show-Biz” for me. I get extremely discerning when it comes to worship-based music, but I can’t help it.
Obscure celebrities of Nordic history
Saturday, January 14th, 2006Ian’s face-recognition blog entry is hilarious. I had to try it, too. So I uploaded a recent picture of me that Dana likes.
Who the hell is Christian IX of Denmark?
Sulking, I looked through a few more pictures, and—you guessed it—I selected a picture of my notorious alter ego, Headley Lice.
No picture of Admiral Lice would return a result at the MyHeritage.com site. Very curious. The fear of this pirate’s dreaded wrath extends deeper than I ever presumed.
And so I used my old Muscle Club shot.
—Theodore Roosevelt— YES!
Then I took the big plunge. Uploading a photo of Dana in high school, I sought scientific proof that ever since the night I first watched El Cid, I had spent my youth trying to lure Sophia Loren into the pillows.
—Isabelle Adjani— Hmm, not bad…
Who the hell is Sophia Loren?
Lord, I was born a ramblin’ man
Monday, January 9th, 2006As Dana and I worked our way back toward Danville, we found ourselves near the Kentucky Theater, with the chance to catch a showing of “The Squid and the Whale” during its last week in Lexington. We hadn’t been in the adjacent State Theatre since the screening of Andrew’s movie last summer. Seeing this kind of film reminds me how much I appreciate the full spectrum of cinema, from the huge spectacles like “War of the Worlds,” to small literary pictures like “Squid.” I’m not enough of a groupie to outline any details, but I recognize the quality of the creative output coming from this particular circle of film makers, including Noah Baumbach, Wes Anderson, Jennifer Jason Leigh (Vic Morrow‘s daughter), the Wilson brothers, and others. The nature of the circle’s connection to talents such as Bill Murray, Gwyneth Paltrow, and Kevin Kline are unknown to me, but serves as a clear reminder that the movie biz is a relatively “small world” at the nontechnical level. “Squid” has obvious parallels to “The Royal Tenenbaums,” but it also triggered some reflections on “The Anniversary Party.” Beyond the dynamics of the artistic circle (usually behind the camera, but occasionally in front as well), these kinds of low-budget, quasi-autobiographical pieces tend to fascinate me when well executed, not so much because of the typical, self-reflective focus on dysfunctional relationships, but the way in which the art affects me at an emotional level and stimulates personal objectives. For me, that’s what movie-going has always been about—the lingering internal ripples of the following day (and beyond, if I’m lucky, or did a decent bit of homework before making my choice of feature). For instance, in spite of all the attention to the unattractive snobbishness of intellectual elitism, I come away from “Squid” with the distinct desire to reverse my practice of keeping at arm’s length the major works of great novelists—Dickens, Melville, Proust, etc. It brings to mind the words of Michel Seuphor, which I copied in my journal a while back: “You can never see too many things in a work of art. Itself, the work is a means for discovering what is already within us. The true work of art is more than its creator; it is always behind him; soon it enters another orbit not his, because the artist changes, he dies, while the work lives in others.” Twyla Tharp takes it a step further, examining the potential power of sub-art, with her story about Jerome Robbins: He was “a true man of the theater, who made a point of going to see everything because he could find something useful in even the worst productions. He’d sit there, viewing the catastrophe onstage, and imagine how he would have done it differently. A bad evening at the theater for everyone else was a creative workout for him.” No bad art, only bad observers? I wouldn’t take it to that extreme…
Completing another weekend circuit
Sunday, January 8th, 2006We drove to Indianapolis yesterday to deliver late Christmas
presents and spend some time with Bruce. He seems to be doing quite well at home. I can’t describe how marvelous it was for Dana and me to eat supper with him, seated at his own dining room table, which he hasn’t been in a position to do for almost ten months. Source of all blessings, be praised!
While on the road today, we had lunch in the highlands of Louisville, at an eatery recommended by Brendan and Bob H, too. Although we had to wait awhile for a table, it was a tasty meal and a unique setting. There’s only one word that can adequately describe Lynn’s Paradise Cafe— PSYCHEDELIC!
Lifetime friends and fallen timbers
Saturday, January 7th, 2006I hope everyone knows what it’s like to enjoy the continuity of a
friendship which effortlessly picks up where it left off, no matter how much time has passed—that’s the kind of comfortable bond that I have with Mike Menke—and I probably don’t need to say much more than that about spending a day with him and his parents at the cozy home Mike grew up in near Greenville. I don’t know if he came to love my folks as much as I came to love his, but I wouldn’t doubt it. In any case, I’ve been privileged to participate vicariously in many of the Menke family developments over the years, especially since I lived with his brother Tom for a year before I got my design degree and left Cincinnati. We drifted apart during my time in Chicago, but had an opportunity to solidify our “buddyship” when I got a job at Wright State without knowing that Mike was there getting a graduate degree in behavioral science. Mike’s life has had some strong connections to our Clan. At an age when we both should have known better, we were still climbing trees together at the Blue Bank Farm. He took a severe fall that directly influenced his pursuing a new career in chiropractic care (a legitimately outstanding one). In recent years he sold a successful private practice in Silicon Valley and moved to the Southwest, where he formed an association with Andrew Weil, became an expert on smoking cessation, and began working on another doctorate. Last night Dana and I were part of a family dinner in town and stayed awake ’til late to catch up on news. I spent most of today helping Mike and Tom cut firewood with their father, Stewart, who, despite some recent health challenges, can still drop a desirable tree precisely where he tells us it will fall. The brisk day was perfect for the task, and there still aren’t many things as satisfying as looking at a big stack of stove wood that wasn’t there a few hours before.
Various & Sundry, part twenty-nine
Sunday, January 1st, 2006— Year of 2005 workout totals: Swim-73; Bike-28; Run-41; Lift-22; Yoga-9
— Month of December workout totals: Swim-4; Bike-0; Run-4; Lift-3; Yoga-8
— I’m satisfied with how I was able to maintain a good momentum of swimming during an unsettled 2005 that didn’t exactly lend itself to regular exercise; plus I’m pleased with how I managed to regain regular yoga practice at the end of the year (it helps to be watching Lisa Bennett-Matkin). Nevertheless, an odd tenderness in the right knee will cause a delay in my return to running form, but I’m expecting it to be a huge year for cycling instead. Brian M gave me his “hardly used” Shimano pedals—look out!
— Once again, my family had its annual Hot Wheels car race. When I try to explain this event to the uninitiated, the listener nods politely and probably can’t get past the idea of little boys playing with toys. My description fails to capture the rich generational traditions, the competitive repartee, and the comedic tone, not to mention the feast of delicacies, snacks, and tempting junk-food delights. And we have our announcers—two of them—so jaded and sarcastic that “real-life” fans would have long ago beaten them to a pulp in the parking lot after their summary dismissal by speedway executives.
— I humiliated myself last night by making the classic blunder of bringing a movie that I’d never watched to a get-together with friends. William H. Macy let me down with his dreadful “The Cooler,” and who in the world wants to see his saggy buttocks anyway? I suppose we salvaged the evening to some degree by attending the wildest midnight scene in Danville—the annual three-inches-of-confetti-on-the-floor bash at the Hamlins. It’s rowdy, loud, and lots of fun, if you don’t mind digging the little colored stuff out of all those personal nooks and crannies that WHM so gratuitously displayed to the whole world.
— I finished another Grandy-bo piece this morning (my tenth) that Caitlan ended up getting during the Clan’s Chinese (Chine-Yine) gift exchange. I’m finally achieving the loose, spontaneous style that I’ve been after for quite a while. Rita’s photo show was particularly moving for me, as though my torch had been passed to a new generation of documentarians. She’ll get better at editing down her images to a more focused presentation, but it was the kind of montage that I used to have such a passion for, and I’m happy that someone else wants to pick up where I left off. Now, if I can only convince her to take over the Seitz Reunion portrait…
— Our family gathering today was filled with much love, perhaps more that usual, if that’s possible. The gesture of generosity that was extended to Dana and me took us by surprise, and brought emotional closure to a holiday season that had seemed somewhat diminished by an inability to carry out our usual traditions at the Town House. What a thoughtful, caring thing to do! It made us realize that a tough, draining year was behind us at last, and how much everyone has missed Bruce.
My 2005 Highlight Reel
Friday, December 30th, 2005
— Josh comes home to his Clan for a mid-deployment visit.
— Mack stops by the Town House and we talk about my old saxophone.
— Gov. Fletcher appoints me to the Kentucky Bicycle Commission.
— A major international Arts and Crafts exhibition unexpectedly comes to our attention.
— We hike back Horse Lick Hollow for Marty’s first visit to the Clan’s little “Pine Forest.”
— Seth and I complete the long-overdue “Pirate Revenge” video.
— I experience my first artistic fellowship with a group of Layerists.
— The exalted Plastic Mullet Series honors yours truly.
— I have the opportunity to design the poster for Sheldon Tapley’s painting.
— David treats me to another great hunting weekend in the Knobs.
— Jay and Glenda make their vows at a wedding ceremony in Liberty.
— Dana and I thoroughly enjoy listening to Gates of Fire on tape.
— After Aunt Alma’s funeral, Dana, Jerome and I pray at the Shrine of the Holy Relics.
— Caitlan takes us all to Oxford with her captivating England Blog.
— I discover the extraordinary young writer Paul Watkins and hook myself on his work.
— Marty and I conduct our first camp-out on “Widow’s Knob.”
— The Clan gathers for Mombo’s 80th-Birthday tribute at the Boone Tavern and Hotel.
— Dana and I celebrate our 23rd Anniversary in Augusta, Kentucky.
• • • and the top highlight of 2005 • • •
— Bruce battles through kidney failure, septicemia, and the various complications of severe pancreatitis to defy—by the grace of Almighty God—the medical odds against his survival.
It was some blonde… I don’t know who she is
Saturday, December 24th, 2005I laugh to myself every time I think about it, and I’m not sure if I should, or whether a bit of angst is the more logical response—as if angst ever had a thing to do with logic. When I was finishing my last stint as a 2005 Red Kettle bell ringer, Jeanne saw me at the Wal-Mart grocery entrance. She told me she was thinking of Grandy-bo because I was wearing the Hudson Bay coat that originally belonged to William Breidenbach, and she remembered that Dadbo wore it for a few years after Dana gave it to him. She didn’t realize it was me at first. We were having a sweet brother-sister moment when my Rotarian replacement arrived, a lady who’s a top employee at one of our client businesses. Jeanne put her arms around me and gave me a kiss. I said, “See you tomorrow night.” It wasn’t until later that I recalled the odd look on the woman’s face when I handed her the bell and wished her a Merry Christmas…
Dr. Tam — Paging Dr. Simon Tam
Tuesday, December 20th, 2005With less than a week ’til Christmas, it’s not happy news to find out that Bruce is being admitted back into Methodist Hospital tonight. He started to run a fever after Dana left this weekend, and his temperature climbed above 103 degrees by the end of his dialysis treatment today. Something undesirable is clearly working again on the inside, so it’s best they get to the bottom of it promptly.
Clean and shiny
Saturday, December 17th, 2005Day started out great when I got tricked into an eight-miler, even though my head meter was stuck on six. By the time I got home, I was psyched to make some art, and then I found out the good news—Dana had just blown town and would be back to Danville by evening, which means Bruce has improved enough to say “Go home, Mom.” Better tidy up the kitchen!
And the nominees are
Monday, December 12th, 2005Dana made the trip back to Indiana today so she could help Bruce get acclimated at home again, hoping there’s truth in the old saying, “third time’s a charm.” Uncertainties about the security of his pain medications required her to personally sign and take responsibility for the powerful drugs, but I won’t be going into all that here. Suffice it to say—the long saga continues in Hoosierland, and this woman deserves to receive the 2005 “Mother of the Year” award.
:::: “Thank you. Merry Christmas. God bless you.” :::
Saturday, December 10th, 2005I’m tired. It was a long day that started out with Dana preparing to drive to Indianapolis, but I found out after I’d been in Liberty for a while that it was a false alarm, and Bruce wasn’t really going to be released, because his blood pressure had dropped too low during dialysis. I spent a lot of time on my feet in the cold ringing the bell for the “no shows,” but it was nice to see members of the Clan, and the red kettles felt heavy at the end of the day (especially the Pamida one), and I also had a good conversation with Kyle Durham, Seth’s mentor, after we’d shut down our Saturday operation for another week.
It’s a grand slam
Tuesday, December 6th, 2005Dana and I decided to just go all the way with a “biopic grand slam,” and so we borrowed “Ray” from the library. Every so often I watch an Oscar-winner at work (Nicolas Cage in “Leaving Las Vegas” comes to mind) and I think, “Is this truly a performance that deserved an Academy Award?” This was definitely not one of those times. I’ll leave it to others more gifted than me to characterize Jamie Foxx’s phenomenal achievement.
As far as the movie goes, it makes “Beyond the Sea” look anemic by comparison—the difference between an obvious indie project and a big commercial picture with the highest production values. “Ray” is one of the best sounding Hollywood products in recent memory. The sound mixers deserved their awards every bit as much as the lead actor. Superbly directed, designed, and edited, the film is a technical masterpiece, but was it a better picture than “Million Dollar Baby?” No—because Clint delivers the full package that your heart is yearning for when you choose a movie like this. “Ray” has its moments—quite a few, and they’re exceptional—but failed to sustain a deep emotional connection for me. I cared more about whether Johnny Cash overcame his addiction in “Walk the Line,” and I really don’t think it was a function of who Ray Charles was or how good a job Jamie Foxx did.
I’ll continue to contemplate the similarities and contrasts of the four musical biographies I’ve discussed in my last two entries, and why one or another excelled in a particular area. In any case, each one of them is well worth the time, but now I plan to accept a couple new assignments in the spare-time department—the complete “Firefly” collection plus an early Paul Watkins novel…
The Manifesto
Saturday, December 3rd, 2005Someday I’ll have to detail the story of how Dana and Pam, exasperated by the red tape and bureaucratic idiocy of the Medicaid system, decided to pick up the phone and call the Governor of Indiana. Long story short—his office cut through the nonsense and Bruce got the help he needed. My take on it was, “This is how government should work when government doesn’t work.”
Not long after that happened, I read George Will’s column about Mitch Daniels and the possibility that what he’s doing with Indiana state government is the wave of the future in the political world. I suddenly had this consuming desire to reassess my role as a Kentucky Commissioner—to develop a comprehensive vision and philosophical position with respect to my advocacy of bicycle and pedestrian issues. If I don’t have a coherent stance in support of non-motorized infrastructure enhancements, I run the risk of coming off as just another pork-barrel Republican or free-spending Democrat. I have to be able to articulate the advantages of increased exercise as a disease-reducing activity worthy of public investment versus the unchecked explosion of costs to maintain the Medicare/Medicaid entitlement promised to aging baby-boomers.
The way I see it, we have a window of opportunity to be proactive. If we don’t address the current and future demand side of the equation, we’ll never be able to handle the supply side commitments without screwing our combined standard of living and quality of life in America. We’ve concocted a scheme to overwhelm a health-care system that’s already too expensive (read my log entry from Thursday).
I’ve got to make sense of this. Maybe it could become a Clan project!
• Uncle Jerome could summarize the latest empirical evidence on exercise.
• Caitlan could investigate the macro-economic cost/benefit relationships.
• Brendan could explore how to communicate the practical aspects of alternative transportation.
• Ian could reinforce it all with an easy-to-digest philosophical paradigm that would fit on a 10th Planet T-shirt!
Relax, Uncle John… You’re really getting carried away this time.
Expecting a decision
Saturday, November 26th, 2005It looks like Bruce will find out on Monday how soon he’ll be having surgery, so I’ll be returning to Indianapolis with Dana tomorrow.
The augury of birds
Tuesday, November 22nd, 2005When I saw huge crows crisscrossing above me, settling noisily into the tallest tree at McDowell Park, I knew that there was more than crisp November in the air.
…three, four, FIVE—the numerological indicator of change.
I found out Dana had called 9-1-1 so Bruce could be rushed to Methodist Hospital, and later I learned from Mombo that he was back in the critical care unit.
My prayer request is for stability and the resumption of his steady improvement.