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22
Oct 13

There is a great rhyme below

I rotate things onto one of my office walls, just like everyone who has large, blank walls. Recently I decided to make a World War II theme. I have two V-E and V-J editions of Stars and Stripes, dusty, yellowed pieces of newsprint from France and Italy. Sometimes they allow me to talk about the appropriate time to use the 72-point font. Sometimes they allow the opportunity to demonstrate how language we use today might be frowned upon in the future. Also, they are just terrific relics.

Some time back our friend Adam gave me a lithograph of his cousin’s World War II plane. And since I decided to make a themed display, this seemed like a great place to put it. You may recall that I met Adam while asking him about his cousin, Dean Hallmark. I wrote a piece about Dean for TWER. Adam is a military man himself, a historian and we became fast friends. So I learned more about the Doolittle Raid of which Dean was a part, and then this poster tube arrived with a sharp print of The Green Hornet.

People should give each other more framable works, I say.

So I wanted to take a picture to send to Adam, since I have a series to show off. This meant moving a piece of furniture. This meant stowing that table elsewhere. This led to me destroying the wire archiving system we use for newspapers. This allowed me to recycle some old stuff I didn’t need to keep anymore. And that brought me back to rebuilding the wire crate structure which grows more precarious by the year.

That led to me cleaning a corner of the newsroom, looking under the sofa for runaway joiners for the wire-crate-frame-finger pincher device that had to have been developed in Eastern Europe.

And, finally, the picture I’d wanted to take.

frames

That’s Dean on his way to deliver — and in this configuration on the wall, the Japanese are ready to accept — his payload. I think about Dean now and again, and what he and some of his compatriots went through:

It was a choppy day at sea and the deck was wet when Dean flew to Tokyo with the rest of the Raiders, dropped his bombs, made a second pass to drop more bombs, and finally made his way to China.

He ran out of fuel though, a by-product of being forced to launch early, and had to put his plane into the sea just off the coast. Dean was catapulted through the windshield in the crash, the pilot’s seat still strapped to his body. He was hurt, but he and his fellow officers survived. The two enlisted crewmembers on board drowned.

Once ashore the officers evaded the Japanese for eight days before being captured.

They were tortured and malnourished. Dean’s navigator, Capt. C. Jay Nielsen, grimly wrote of his time as a POW at war’s end.

“They had put straps on (Dean’s) legs and arms and pulled them until he thought his joints were coming apart.”

Nielsen would also tell of having bamboo shoved under their fingernails. Their captors would light the bamboo on fire, demanding to know how they’d gotten to occupied China. Another captive would later write of being water boarded shortly after their capture.

They were about to be executed, Nielsen said, but the Japanese soldiers’ orders suddenly changed. That meant more torture.

Dean came down with beriberi and dysentery. The Japanese military tried Dean, his surviving crew and five crewmembers from another bomber on trumped up charges. Nielsen said Dean dropped 50 pounds and was on a stretcher, because of his illness, during the farcical court martial.

We met Lt. Col. Richard Cole, who was Doolittle’s copilot on the Tokyo Raid, at Adam’s wedding a few weeks ago. We saw Dean’s marker at Arlington this summer:

Hallmark

He was 28 years old at the time. He would have been 100 next January.

I guess I’m thinking about that as I’ve wrapped up the big family project I’ve been working on. I found the last details I’ll likely ever be able to find on my great-grandfather’s time in the ETO. Now I just have to copyedit the text and finish assembling the presentation. I’m disproportionately excited to show this off in a few weeks. Between that and the new book I’m reading I just have the period on my mind.

Had a nice run this evening. I said on Facebook that it was a 5K that didn’t feel like a 5K and, thus, I did not know what was happening. I said that after my run, before dinner and before I had the opportunity to go down a set of stairs.

And then it felt like a run. Now I have the impression it is going to feel like one tomorrow, too.

I did this on a treadmill this evening, because it was already dark and threatening to be coolish, and I’m just not ready for that. On the treadmill there was a television. And on the television I watched a closed caption longform feature of a young baseball player doing something special, saving a life halfway around the world. You’ve got an All American kid, leading his college on the football field and on the baseball diamond. Then, with scouts watching, he gets a call that his bone marrow is a match for a girl in Ukraine. And then you met this beautiful little girl and you spend the next few seconds trying to keep it together on a treadmill in public.

What a good story.

Things to read, which I found interesting today … First a chunk of stories, if any of these headlines intrigue you:

Mobile is the ‘first screen’ for half of 18-34s

Twitter Overtakes Facebook as Teens’ Most Important Social Network

Louisiana police department will post photos of people who exploited food stamp glitch

Down and out: the French flee a nation in despair

From the multimedia blog: What is important is the money

Perhaps you heard about the student in north Alabama that recently killed himself. It has been in the news a bit because of some indirectly related things. Now his father has come forward, telling an incredibly moving tale:

Adamek said blaming Christian’s suicide on one event is “terribly over-simplistic” and called the national publicity over Christian’s streaking and subsequent death a distraction from the more important story. He explained that his family had been struggling in vain for months to find Christian the help he needed for depression.

“Nobody should have to make more than one phone call to get that kind of help, because there’s just not that much time,” Adamek said.

Adamek declined to go into specifics about Christian’s problems, saying “it doesn’t matter anymore,” but said that the family had tried for months to find the right mental health professionals for his son. They were met with obstacles like insurance issues and a lack of the right doctors.

“We followed every avenue apparently available to us, through the medical community, through the hospital system, but still couldn’t get the necessary diagnosis, treatment, and monitoring that he so desperately needed,” Adamek said.

“We needed to know what he needed. That’s the help we were looking for.”

How heartbreaking that must be. And if the text didn’t get you, the video at the link, will.

And now for something funnier, healthcare and the highly efficient rollout! Jon Stewart:

Surprised he didn’t make a “Glitches don’t get you stitches” joke.


20
Oct 13

Catching up

For whatever it means, and whatever it is worth, everything about today has been like this picture:

sun

I woke up eight minutes before the alarm. The donut shop had all of the donuts I wanted. And when I ate them I wished I had one less. We had an Internet connection problem but that was going to require a tech. And the tech couldn’t come for several days. So what are you gonna do? And then they called back and said, yes, they could come out today. I had this nice ride, getting home just as it got dark. We had a delicious dinner and I’ve enjoyed terrific snacks today. I had to make a trip to Walmart, but they had everything I needed. The only problem was in waiting in line to check out. And when that’s the worst part of your day, well, everything has been like that photo.

Anyway, this is the weekly post of extra photos and videos from the week that was. They didn’t find a home, I need content for the day, it all works out well.

More of the art I discovered last week. This is called The Mediator, by Bill Brown, who was working in steel. There is a QR code on the nearby sign, it will take you to this page which discusses more about the artist than the work. So we’ll never know what this is mediating. There is an audio recording, too. Brown says the arch, as a strong architectural piece, is symbolic of addressing a modern lack of communication. So there you go. It earned second place in this juried show.

art

In the background there’s a solar panel and one of the campus emergency call posts. Those aren’t art. In the foreground there’s a phone booth. Only it isn’t a phone booth. If you saw just the side panel, as I did at first glance, you might think it was a hand washing station, which would be both odd and random on a sidewalk. Then you read that sign.

art

And then you read this sign. The fine print of which discusses facilitating and controlling prayer, which is an odd formulation. Anyway, you flip down the bench and pray fast. Because the bench isn’t that comfortable on the knees:

art

Ahh. “There is no literal affiliation with any particular faith per se, rather the piece aims to question the idea of prayer in the public domain. The piece fuses humor, sarcasm and sincerity, and aims to highlight and spark further discussion about the contemporary expression of religion within the public community.”

Seems the artist has been trying to sell this for a few years. Maybe if the bench was more comfortable.

It is a house. A framework of a house. A set piece from the Beetlejuice movie. Who knows.

art

It was inspired, I’m guessing, by episodes of Wile E. Coyote and The Road Runner. Walk inside and you can feel the world closing in on you. And good luck getting out the other side.

Says the artist: “With my Bridge sculpture I created a tunnel where viewers experience the shotgun house at a human scale that then expands to the outer limits of the building, activating space outside the structure. I want the viewer to be part of an intimate space defined by walls and of another type of space defined by implied limits and exterior devices.”

Looking at this photo of a previous installation, I’m sticking with the Roadrunner explanation.

art

One of the bluegrass bands that played at Syrup Sopping yesterday:


18
Oct 13

Art off the bike

I managed to get on the bike just in time for a quick 20-mile evening ride. When I got home there was about 15 minutes of daylight left, so that was well-timed.

I rode my bike to the bank. (I’m doing errands! On a bicycle! So ecologically sound!) I did the local time trial route and then climbed up one side of the town’s biggest hill. (Big is relative. It is actually fairly small.) At the top of that hill I changed my plan and turned left instead of right. And, before long, I saw this:

art

What is that? And where is that? You can almost make it out in the pond’s reflection. The building behind the art is the local art museum. It is now 10 years old. It is a fine museum. It has this weird, rusted, house.

art

And the house seems to have thrusters attached. Which explains the satellite dish on the side.

art

But not the spare tire or the cinder block on the front porch of the rusted house space ship.

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Or the chicken wire and large (for scale) water valve:

art

The medium is, in part, called Found Objects. Which means the artist, professor Robbie Barber had this stuff in his or his neighbors’ yard or an abandoned lot, repurposed it, or recycled, or re-used it to earn an honorable mention in this juried art contest. And we’ll get to see it for a year.

About the art, called Dreams of Flying:

Influenced by science fiction, toy design, both folk and outsider art, and found objects in general, Barber fuses these influences to create hybrid objects of fantasy, the results of which are often humorous, ironic or visually poetic in nature. Dreams of Flying depicts a shotgun shack that is transformed into a spacecraft of dubious reliability. While reminding us of the inherent dangers of space travel, this sculpture also depicts the ultimate escapist dream of flying.

What did you get out of it? I perceived the inherent dangers of going into space in a poorly conceived home. (This was Prince Lonestar’s other spaceship, I guess.) I liked the curved display stand best of all.

Earlier this week Lileks said:

I was going to say something broad and silly like “every type of modern art has failed, except architecture,” but that sounds simplistic. Except it’s true. Atonal music? No one cares. Abstract painting? It had its vogue, reduced everything down to a canvas consisting of one color (Red #3 – a title of a Great Work, or an FDA additive designation?) Modern literature flirted with styles that required no particular aptitude – automatic writing, cutting up bits of newsprint and rearranging them – but words require structure, or it’s phoneme salad. Modern sculpture masked its irrelevance by substituting size for detail, so you’d be overwhelmed into thinking this enormous hunk of metal that looked like the Hulk broke out of a boxcar had significance, but eventually it turned into “installations” and “assemblages” that relied on the artist’s ability to recombine instead of create.

And you nod in understanding, even if you don’t agree. But most of us do. And the rest of us are just too good to acknowledge it, maybe, or smarter than others. You may not know what art is, but you know that an assemblage of pipes, siding and shingles and rust. You know that stuff when you see it. And now you know it can remind you of the perils of interstellar travel

Other works are on display outside the museum. I’m going to show them off on Sunday.

We ran into the owner of our local bike shop out and about tonight. It was every bit one of those situations where your mind recognizes some facial aspect in an encoded memory file. But the file is locked away because you are actually in the next town over. It is night. He’s in a nice shirt. This is a Chinese restaurant (I wanted soup) and he belongs in a polo behind a counter tapping keys and turning wrenches and talking about races.

Context means so much, but you’re relieved because you can see the neurons in his head scrambling to make the exact same connections.

We’re all constructs to one another, in some ways. We were at a dinner party last week and talking about this very thing. When was the first time you saw a school teacher of yours in some place that didn’t have “School” at the end of the name? Mine was at a movie theater. Changed my relationship with that lady forever. She was suddenly more than the person with a classroom at the end of the hall. Now she had interests, great passionate pursuits and a crystalline sense of humor.

I was young. It took a lot to overcome that teachers-exist-only-at-school construct, but only a little to prove the point.

Then earlier today we saw one of the other guests at that dinner party walking down the street. “She looks familiar … Oh that’s … ”

I wonder if she knows Danny, who runs the bike shop.

I wonder if either of them have seen the art at the museum. Probably the woman has. She was an art professor.

Things to read, which I found interesting today … One of our students wrote this about another student. It is a moving piece on a challenging topic. I’m pretty proud for her. Breast health: sophomore’s high risk leads to tough choices.

Matt Waite flies his drone at a journalism conference, and he makes a keen observation.

Here is Waite’s drone journalism manual, if you are interested.

Three tremendous paragraphs, in Life Magazine, written about one of the most contemporaneously important photographs published in the middle of the 20th century. Still important, too.

Why print this picture, anyway, of three American boys dead upon an alien shore? Is it to hurt people? To be morbid?

Those are not the reasons.

The reason is that words are never enough. The eye sees. The mind knows. The heart feels. But the words do not exist to make us see, or know, or feel what it is like, what actually happens. The words are never right. . . .

Quick hits:

Hard numbers, chilling facts: What the government does with your data

Teaching media entrepreneurship: What works, and what gets in the way

And one from the multimedia blog. You saw that one here, first.

Hope you have a great weekend! Come back here tomorrow for football. More in between, of course, on Twitter.


13
Oct 13

Catching up

The post where photos, and the occasional video, finally find a home. And we call this Sunday, and Catching up. On with it then.

The bride and groom had a string quartet just off to the side. We offered them cash to insert a new song into their playlist. This didn’t cost as much as you’d think:

This was one of those weddings where the guys in tuxes looked underdressed:

We had a great time at the reception:

At the after-party:

Since I forgot the media card for my DSLR I shot everything this weekend on my phone. Most of them were bad. But, anyway, meet our new friend, Dru.

The OK Cafe, in Atlanta. Haven’t eaten here in several years. It is named after a restaurant in To Kill a Mockingbird.

There is nothing wrong with anything on this plate:


12
Oct 13

The Hallmarks

His eyes were red. His gaze was sure. His voice never trembled. Next to him was a beautiful woman we liked right away for all of her many personal traits. She looked up. He said, “I most certainly will.”

Today I stood near my friend, a gentleman whom I admire greatly, at a big moment in both of their lives.

Jessa

Jessa

Also, he fired a Civil War cannon at his wedding.

(Since I was in the wedding party I obviously didn’t take these pictures. The father of the bride took the first one. The Yankee took the second one, with the saber arch.)