Dana put it best in her brief notice to family—
“Born in ’66, Bruce turns 40 years of age today, due to your intercessory prayers, no doubt.”
HAPPY BIRTHDAY to my stalwart son. I love you, forever…
Archive for the ‘Family’ Category
Stout of heart, carry on
Monday, August 21st, 2006A murder of crows and David without his rook rifle
Sunday, August 20th, 2006You know you’ve found a bit of heaven when you can have berry pie with your early morning coffee, while sitting on a porch that overlooks a natural pond, and then complete a pen and ink sketch of a woodland path in time to be served a broiler-fresh asparagus frittata for brunch.
Janet and Jerome didn’t get to stay over last night and missed the patented Simpson Cabin Lazy Sunday, which, come to think of it, ranks right up there with the patented Yorkshire Estate Lazy Sunday.
Open That Bottle II
Saturday, August 19th, 2006Janet and Jerome joined us at the Simpson cabin to open some bottles and indulge our Epicurean leanings. We stared with crack-&-peel shrimp and a zesty gazpacho, added a plate of fruit and cheese, which was followed by a main course of grilled ka-bobs with garden vegetables, marinated lamb and venison (from the 2004 Martini-Henry buck), plus asparagus pinwheels, red-cabbage slaw and Mexican jicama, closing with a frozen strawberry dessert. To accompany our extraordinary menu we tasted a merely satisfactory Californian chardonnay, an interestingly ancient South African cabernet, and a magnificent Sonoma Valley pinot noir, in addition to a bright, smooth sherry from Texas. Before our “guests” arrived, David provided me an opportunity to shoot my Enfield military .303 rifle and British “foxhole” revolver, both surprisingly accurate, once I learned the peculiarities of the sights. While we were up at the range, he tested his .577/450 double rifle and quickly nailed a small iron target at 300 yards—twice. This man is a sharpshooter. Maybe I can get Jerome to come earlier next time. I know he’d also enjoy shooting targets with these antique arms.
Large Marty
Friday, August 18th, 2006Marty was here to interview me for a writing assignment, and it’s impressive to see how seriously he’s taking the school project. I filled one side of a cassette tape during our Q & A. That should give him plenty to work with for his rough draft. After a hearty supper of turkey burgers and sweet corn, we hauled more loads of brick from across the street. Since Marty started lifting weights, he’s gotten noticeably stronger. He matches my height now and, judging from his big shoe size, he still has some growing to do.
Back to the rockpile
Thursday, August 17th, 2006Today is Bill’s birthday, and I just saw him yesterday morning. No present or card this year… nothing for Jay either. That’s just how things are these days, and it’s quite a contrast from that 200+ handmade-cards-a-year era not so long ago. Much of today felt like decompression from yesterday. I wanted to swim laps, but Centre’s pool is closed for maintenance, so I ran a bit and lifted. As if that wasn’t enough exertion, after Dana and I attended the Chamber’s Business After Hours reception, I used Dadbo’s old concrete-hauling wheelbarrow to start retrieving stone and brick rubble from the site across the street. Please tell me I look like Mack building his rock fences and not Clem the Gem with another load of scrounge.
My brother, my mate, and my true friends
Wednesday, August 16th, 2006Last night I stayed in Tipp City with my chum Bill and we enjoyed our shared anticipation for a September fishing trip to Michigan. Even though I failed to reach him by phone and he was bone tired from a day in the sun (after clearing fallen trees from the Great Miami with a chain saw), he welcomed me with a bear hug and set his last Bud Light in front of me—that’s what I call a friend.
It took me ten hours to get home from Ohio today. The joint in my rear drive shaft broke south of Kenton County, but I was able to arrange a tow and successful repair before the end of the day. I felt like I’d sweated off a couple gallons, baking on the shoulder of I-75. It was almost the exact spot where years ago a state policeman pulled me over after the Cincinnati Marathon to test my sobriety. Old “Ned” continues to give me fits if I don’t keep spending money on him that I’d rather not. I’m glad this didn’t happen yesterday with Mike.
Crucial to getting out of my predicament: 1) Dana insisting on Monday that I carry a cellular phone. 2) Being able to talk through the details of the breakdown with my brother Jay, an expert truck mechanic. I was so focused on his long-distance analysis and advice that I completely forgot that today is his 45th birthday.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY to my brother, “Bub.” I love you, forever…
Sitting for a long time at a garage in what barely passes as a “waiting room” can be a strange experience. I watched part of a “Gunsmoke” episode featuring Anthony Zerbe playing opposite himself in a split-screen double role, but my mind was on a personal crisis more critical than a broken pickup. I thought about the counsel of my best friends from youth. Each has his own brand of wisdom, having survived his own chapters of adversity. Both genuinely care about the particular challenges it’s my turn to face.
Dadbo once said to me after his buddy Joe died that a man is lucky to have one or two true friends in life, and now I know what he meant.
Optimizing enjoyment through actual occasions
Sunday, August 13th, 2006I gathered with friends at the cabin early for Shared Silence and Milton’s summary of what we’ve learned about Process Theology—how the language of religion and the language of science can be translated into a third, new language that integrates spiritual, philosophical, and metaphysical concepts with the most current understanding of quantum physics and string theory.
I lent a hand picking up litter and trash along our adopted highway, Chrisman Lane (Kentucky 1273). When I first started doing this I figured I was making up for the candy wrappers I tossed on the ground as a kid and the beer bottles I threw at speed limit signs after I turned 18. I don’t know how many garbage bags it took before I figured I’d balanced my karma. Now I do it in tribute to my friend Mack, who I miss every time I travel his favorite road, one of the prettiest in Boyle County.
After sending out an email notice to areas cyclists, I made the drive to Blue Bank Farm. I mowed the Clan graveyard, helped Jeffrey pick garden vegetables, and brought some apples down from the orchard for Mombo. When I got back home, Dana and I finished cleaning up the porch and front yard before munching down on fresh tomatoes.
God — Friends — Community — Family
When it comes to the important things, days probably don’t get much better than this.
Distinctively Frondybo
Thursday, August 10th, 2006• He’ll answer to the name of Jeffron, GrandyFron, or possibly Stenchpit, or maybe even Crocboopdile—if he’s had his nap.
• Erstwhile Innmaster, he had no trouble explaining to his disgruntled tenants why he cut me so much slack. That was a long time ago, but he still does. The generosity of his father resides in his heart.
• Like his father, he’s a gardener, outdoorsman, family man, and natural leader. Unlike his father, he became an errant Elizabethan and perhaps the truest Thespian in the family.
• He was the first of the Clan to “go back to the land,” but he’d already won my admiration by then. Soon after, he showed me what it meant to be a stepfather. He continues to help me understand ideas like ingenuity, self-reliance, and fidelity.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY to my brother, “Fron.” I love you, forever…
Prospecting the high country
Monday, August 7th, 2006Despite the difficulties in punctuality I had pulling myself away from the Dixons of Broadwing Farm, we managed to arrive on time at our appointment with representatives of Lincoln Memorial University. Our primary goal was to follow up on Jerome’s prior contact with the dean of the new DeBusk College of Osteopathic Medicine, but due to understandable concerns about the comprehensive visual identity of the parent institution, other administrators wanted to sit in. We had no problem with that—it dovetailed with our own philosophy of image management and it gave us the opportunity to promote our creative services to a wider audience. The meeting seemed to go well. I’d never heard of LMU, but it’s a beautiful setting and progress on the new College is moving along rapidly. Faculty will be in place next winter and the first incoming students are scheduled to begin classes in the fall of 2007. Now is the time for them to invest in projecting a high level of graphic credibility. Dana and I are ideally suited for this work. Will they choose wisely?
After leaving LMU, we headed through the tunnel into Kentucky and found a decent Mexican lunch in Middlesboro. (Home of Lee Majors, who Brendan’s dad always liked and I still admire for his work long ago in “Will Penny.” He got his start, like my pal Andrew, at Pioneer Playhouse, here in Danville.) We decided to go through with our idea of making a cold call on the University of the Cumberlands. The weather was awful, pouring like a sonuvagun, and I was trying to safeguard the portfolio. All the time I wondered if the whole thing was a forlorn hope. Quite the contrary. The timing seemed almost perfect, and we sat down with the director of community relations just as he was thinking about severing ties to a big expensive outfit from Iowa (the same kind of specialized organization that nearly recruited Dana and me back in the 80s). That meeting seemed to go well, too, and I found myself getting more and more comfortable with that KY-TN border region as fertile ground for the graybeard prospector.
Finally… our return to the high valley of the French Broad
Sunday, August 6th, 2006Drove to Hot Springs yesterday via 25-E, which, during the daytime, is a much more pleasant route than the Interstate. It gave us an opportunity to locate the LMU campus and learn that it’s quite close to the Cumberland Gap tunnel. Much of the way I read to Dana from “Simple Loving,” a book that used to belong to Joan and Joe. By the time we arrived at Broadwing Farm, we were thinking sufficiently “outside the cube” to make our short breakout worth it, even if nothing comes of our appointment tomorrow. Bob and Carol had a delicious supper prepared and we talked until sleepiness held sway. Typically, we spent today in deep conversation, fueled by natural foods, fresh air, a majestic view, a run to the nearby coffee hangout, and a dip in the spring-fed pond. Carol turned us on to Sarah Susanka, Bob convinced me to start watching the series “Band of Brothers,” and Pete gave me some hemlock slabs from the sawmill for my woodcut experiments. The regional infestation has worsened to the point that he’s been forced to harvest a lot of hemlock from the forest, but the timber is being put to good use in building a horse stable and a third rental dwelling. This one will be called Cedar, and will surely add to the success of Poplar and Pine at Broadwing Natural Bath Cabins.
Various & Sundry, part forty-one
Tuesday, August 1st, 2006— Month of July workout totals: Swim-6; Bike-7; Run-2; Lift-3; Yoga-2
— As I continue to thoroughly enjoy my peak cycling season, I notice an increasing level of muscle tightness and pelvic inflexibility due to a decline in periodic yoga practice. Balance and discipline. Why is it so difficult to calibrate?
— On Saturday, when Dana baked Terie a birthday pie (Blue Bank blackberries plus organic red raspberries), I decorated the crust with her favorite thing that makes her happy.
— I seemed to need every available minute yesterday to meet my evening deadline, but I managed to complete three mixed media collage artworks, including a “Fifteenth Cosmosaic,” the largest composition in the series so far and the first to be executed specifically for public exhibition and sale. Dana and I hand delivered them to Kathleen, the coordinator for the Lexington CONNECTIONS show, and she accepted all three on the spot. Even though it was getting late, she was kind enough to spend some time providing framing advice. I’ve been concerned I haven’t yet developed the ability to frame my work in a manner commensurate with the quality of the art. I intend to rectify that with these pieces, which are due in the city next month.
strut and race, cut and paste
Sunday, July 30th, 2006Began the day with an early 31-miler with nine of my best cycling chums—out to a remote area of Mercer County between Harrodsburg and Perryville, and then back to Danville in a hard pace line on U.S.150. Mark M mentioned a trip to the Appalachian Trail north of Hot Springs. It got me thinking how we could blend that with some out-of-state prospecting and a long-overdue visit to Broadwing Farm. Then I devoted most of my Sunday to further progress on three mixed media collage pieces that I need to have finished by Tuesday. I knew it might be nice to visit Joan during her final shift at the book seller, but I just don’t have an extra penny to spend. I’d like to start “Huck Finn” soon, but I can just borrow it across the street at the Boyle County Library.
The Summer of 42
Saturday, July 29th, 2006• Sometimes I call her “Toots” and sometimes she calls me “Pop.”
• Many, many moons ago she was minding her own business when her mother started spending a lot of time with a young man who had nothing to do with a daughter’s life. Or perhaps he had everything to do with her life, but didn’t know how to do anything except miss an opportunity. Can an audience forget a bad note, no matter how good the performance that follows? Can a jury disregard a piece of evidence, no matter what the judge says about ignoring it?
• She has a father, and I never believed she desired another. So I became something else. I’m still not completely sure what it was or is. Maybe it’s time I find out.
• She is the little girl I never knew. She is the struggling teen I could never comfort. She is the adult who never stops trying. She is the mother of a wonderful grandson.
• She probably understands things about me that I can’t see in myself. We probably need to share words with each other that we don’t know how to say.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY to my my one and only daughter. I do love you—forever.
Scholars and Palsies
Friday, July 28th, 2006It might have been one of those ideal days, had I not left up in the air my potential plans to attend a rifle match with David. Eventually the uncertainties seemed to resolve themselves by default, and I was able to focus my creative attention on preparing artwork for the Layerist exhibition scheduled this autumn in Lexington. At lunch there was an enjoyable Rotary program with bright, bubbly representatives from the “graduating” GSP class. Tonight we had a delightful dinner with Joan—lamb chops, sweet corn, plus Fron’s tomatoes with basil and cheese. To that we added red wine, soy yogurt over mixed berries, and good conversation about how our families ate when we were all kids.
Response to Brendan’s Challenge
Thursday, July 27th, 2006
Le Christ des Barricades
“Hear them?” Henri the carriagesmith asks. “How many, do you think?” Anselme cocks his head, adjusts the filthy bandage, and exposes an ear, crusty with blood. He listens.
“Two dozen riders, maybe three. Wearing cuirasses. With torches, perhaps?”
“Yes. I see the glow now.” He hefts the musket to check its priming in the failing light. “We must withdraw to the square and warn our citizens.”
Anselme lifts his hand from the exquisite frame and places it on his partner’s shoulder. “Go alone, my friend. I have strength only to delay them. You must safeguard the sacred icon—for the barricades!”
( 101 words )
Matriculators, matriarchal matters, and mature ’maters
Tuesday, July 25th, 2006Tonight’s supper was simple, yet incredibly tasty, thanks to the addition of my brother’s garden produce. He offered us a couple buckets of veggies last night when we visited the Blue Bank Farm to dump yard clippings and pick a container of blackberries. It’s sad that I nearly forgot how good a tomato can taste. The generosity of Dadbo lives on in the heart of Fron…
Saw Nic with his long hair on the way into the Valley, and he helped me unload Ned at Ivan’s old repository. Mombo wasn’t home, but I picked up my copy of the legal papers, and got to see the Virginia E. Dixon Revocable Trust documents in their final form. Turns out that our family meeting wasn’t rescheduled after all, so we actually did miss it while getting settled in Michigan on the 16th.
Much of my time today was spent preparing to lead my first B.I.K.E. | Boyle County meeting in two weeks. With respect to this type of public service, my reflections during the recent southbound trip, after leaving Barefoot’s Resort on Saturday, have me convinced I need to focus on the tasks at hand and avoid the temptations that come with community prominence. This ego needs to be kept on a particularly short leash, so just get the job done.
It was fun to talk to Seth when I saw him briefly in the driveway upon arriving home—on questionable leave from GSP, but in the company of his smiling mother. That he was totally engrossed in his “eye-opening” academic adventure was evident. It’s great to see him grappling with his dreams. Set your sights high, lad…
A memorable year for the most awesome annual athletic competition
Monday, July 24th, 2006After being home from our trip some 36 hours or so, I finally found my house keys. One of those quantum warps in space or existential blind spots, I suppose. I was miffed to the point of near obsession, but discovered them at last, in a place I’d already searched three times. Madness…
I’ve also had an unsettled feeling all morning, wondering if maybe there was a Clan gathering yesterday that we missed. Nobody told us if the Council had been rescheduled or not, due to the cancelation of the Seitz family reunion. We got back pretty early Sunday morning and didn’t have much energy yesterday, but we would have made the effort to attend. I guess I should have inquired, but didn’t think of it until I found myself in the midst of a restless sleep.
I said I’d record some notes about the Tour de France, which could not have offered more interest to bicycle fans this year. Floyd Landis won the race after being declared out of contention, pulling off one of the greatest comebacks in sport so far this century. His Alpine performance on Thursday bordered on the superhuman, and he left no doubters concerning his place as Lance’s rightful successor.
When he first started to compete as a cyclist, my pal Brian (who gave me a nice pair of his pedals earlier this year) used to race against Landis, the Mountain Bike Cross Country National Champion at the time. In a recent article about the Tour, several of us local cyclists were asked to make a prediction about who would win the event. I hedged my bets, and the Advocate Messenger printed this quotation from me:
“With Armstrong’s top four challengers from 2005 out of the picture, predicting the victor this year will be harder than picking the winner of a Kentucky Derby. Team Gerolsteiner’s Levi Leipheimer, from the United States, may be the man to beat, but it’s hard not to like the chances of Aussie Cadel Evans or Phonak’s Floyd Landis, another American. However, my hopes are with one of the Discovery Channel cyclists—Ukrainian Yaroslav Popovych, Italian Paolo Savoldelli, or, if I had to pick a favorite, American George Hincapie. This is a team that knows how to produce a champion.”
In contrast, Brian didn’t beat around the bush, and he placed a single public bet on Floyd Landis with his own statement to the same reporter. It was a great call, the same kind of smart, gutsy, no-fear attitude he shows the rest of us every week, and that’s what it takes to be a competitor on two wheels.
Safely back in Can-tuc-kee
Sunday, July 23rd, 2006Arrived home after a day-long 700+ mile drive south yesterday, passing through areas in Indiana that we now learn were threatened by sniper fire. A man was killed on I-65 a couple hours after we drove that same stretch. And here we thought we’d picked the more favorable route, as opposed to the multiple construction zones and heavy truck traffic of I-75.
Anyway, it was good to back and find everything in order, although for a spell I thought someone had ripped off my favorite little galvanized bucket that I keep by the back door, until I discovered that Terie had used it to kindly water our flowers. She’d hidden it on the front porch.
Other than unpack, reply to a few emails, do a bit of yard work, and go for a cross-country run over at the Kentucky School for the Deaf campus, I didn’t accomplish much else today. Caught up on the Tour coverage at ESPN.com, VeloNews, and then watched the recap on CBS at 5 pm. Tomorrow I’ll have to do an entry on the race and start transferring my recent hardback-journal jottings to this log.
Departure from Barefoot’s Resort
Saturday, July 22nd, 2006We’re heading south from Michigan, having made the decision to avoid I-75 to travel down through Indy. One of the great blunders of our stay is not getting any pictures after Marty and I slew the perch yesterday. Even Dana didn’t think of it. Stupid. It would have been a good memento, plus a potential Website shot for the Resort. Our “coach” took control of the cleaning, and we just went with the flow, in a state of joy and satisfaction, neglecting the obvious documentation. Oh well, sometimes you just get caught up in the moment, so “you had to be there.”
Lot’s of little things stick with me about the week. Like playing “Grand Theft Auto” with Marty and realizing that, although the premise of the plot-line is criminal in nature, the video game has an extraordinarily broad range of programming modules that include driving, motorcycling, bicycling, boating, and flight simulation for both planes and ’copters. In other words, the play experience is, to some degree, what the player brings to it. The level of violence is largely discretionary. Although it may still be true that it has a negative influence on younger users, for most in the target age group, it’s probably no more depraved than the average action movie that same age group thrives on. My conclusion— the criticism neglects the balance of features that make it a technical wonder and which undoubtedly contribute to its success as much as any perceived focus on the violent aspect that underlies any “shoot-em-up” video game.
I also remember talking briefly to the old mechanic fixing a Chris-Craft engine at the Hessel marina. He replied to my question about horsepower with a somewhat dismissive yet still friendly answer that indicated his attitude regarding the supremacy of horsepower— “It’s all in the gearing. But you can’t get these young guys to understand that.” He told me how he used to race boats when he was young and how he would beat boats with more horsepower by generating more torque. What will happen to all these awesome vintage boats when the generation that worshipped them as boys is gone?
And I took great pleasure in watching Marty’s director’s-cut DVD of “Mohicans”. Savoring Mann’s skillful blend of style and substance again has easily convinced me to skip his much-criticized “Miami Vice.”
Most of all, I revisit moments out on the Sartoris boat, hearing Marty’s quiet chuckles of satisfaction as we hooked perch after perch, and I flash back to some great beach frisbee, with the realization that my grandson isn’t a kid anymore.
Memories like that take the sting out of departure day.
Day Six at Barefoot’s Resort
Friday, July 21st, 2006As of last night, I think that Mr. Sartoris could no longer take it, so he invited us to go out on his boat this morning to demonstrate successful lake perch methodology. Long story made short— Marty and I brought back a basket of 34 keepers which resulted in an “all-you-can-eat” beer-battered fry later in the day.
Suffice it to say the Sartoris Technique works! I’ll be looking forward to using it again in September. What a difference a little know-how makes. As they say, “Close only counts in horseshoes and hand grenades.” Everything has to be exactly right and then… WHAM. Most catches don’t require a new bait setup. WHAM. Again and again. That man thinks like a fish. And the current conditions in the Les Cheneaux allow for a satisfying reward, if you take the proper approach.
After our big catch we went into town to get tartar sauce for Marty and also visited the Hessel dock, concluding that the weather was right to take out Walt’s Sylvan, so we had a nice boat ride when we got back, circling Government Bay, motoring out the Yacht Entrance, and then coming back around Gravelly Island. Marty got his chance to take the wheel out in open water. We had the familiar geography all to ourselves and it was really enjoyable. As the sun set, it was a classic Barefoot’s Resort scenario… campfire, frisbee on the beach, marshmallow roast, a slice of Dana’s blueberry-peach pie with a scoop of Laurie’s homemade ice cream.
Packing luggage that night didn’t even feel so bad. What a week!
Day Five at Barefoot’s Resort
Thursday, July 20th, 2006Marty hooked an eleven-inch channel cat yesterday morning while I took my conference call out in the boat, but otherwise, zero perch. Then I botched our precious panfish morsels in the kitchen when I mistook Dana’s sweetened whey powder for flour. Today’s luck was even worse, and, as Marty put it, it was a “demoralizing” day on the water. Meanwhile, Tom P is routinely bringing in 15-30 perch per day himself and his daughter Tracie was catching keepers with her little boy only 50 yards away, while we sat and watched. Hard to figure. I know there are several variables to juggle (plus Marty is a bit green and I spend a lot of time dealing with his tangles, etc.), but we should be doing better. We’ll keep trying. They’re out there. One foot-long perch jumped out of the water so close to me I should have grabbed it. All in all, no complaints. We’ve had some pretty nice days this week after the wind died down. Up to now, I’ve been getting in a good channel swim each day, but by the time we’d gone down to the lake today, the breeze had picked up again. I made an anxious crossing with loud, choppy waters that made it tough to hear any potential boats that might put me in danger. Later we watched “Master and Commander” on Marty’s console and it was even better than I remembered it, a truly great story with exceptionally well-developed characters. Seafaring in 1805 makes my dodging little motorboats look like a tame occupation. Why is it we men must find some element of daring to feel fully alive?
Day Four at Barefoot’s Resort
Wednesday, July 19th, 2006It’s early. Marty and I are getting up to go perch fishing. Dana is kindly making pancakes for us. It just dawned on me that I have a Bicycle Commission conference call this morning which I may need to join by cell from out on the lake. That’s too wild for me—I don’t even typically carry a mobile telephone in my “day job!”
Speaking of wild, I had a dream last night about getting stuck in an unknown J.J. Abrams TV series (from when he was younger) called “Submission,” and it was a phantasmagoric mix of “Baron Munchhausen,” Twyla Tharp, William F. Cody, and “Alias.” I thought, “Wow. This guy is a damn genius!” I had to laugh at myself when I woke up and realized it was a dream.