I once had a roommate in college who told me of his narrow escape from conscription into the armed services during the Vietnam war. The last doctor to see him had finished examining him and had signed off on his fitness for military duty. The doctor was unexpectedly called away from the examining room, and Alfred (not his real name) stuck the doctor’s notes down the back of his pants, and managed to leave without his appropriation being discovered. Consequently there was eventually a re-examination. This time the results were more “favorable,” and Alfred never saw a barracks.

Decades later, remembering his story, I decided that the best way to avoid Hell is never to show up at its entrance. That is the official theme of my latest page, but truth be told it is mostly an excuse to do some fun doodling:

Here are the not-quite-nonsensical words:

Half a haberdashery from now, a registrar
Enters Armageddon like a danseuse to the barre
Registration info isn’t obsolete nor hidden
Entrants should’ve paid but some meticulously didn’t

very like a meteorite

it came from my mouth

after decades of clinging via cementum

to my lower right twelveyear molar

now it’s under my pillow

and i await the filling fairy

in 2002

the potter’s hands lent axial symmetry to the clay

the painter’s fist slathered white slip on the dark clay

and the sculptor’s blade carved away a pattern on the slip

it was cooked to 1850 degrees

dipped in clear glaze

and cooked again to 2200

now the clay is a vessel

There’s an adagey acronym applicable to public speaking and other forms of persuasion: KISS. The mean-spirited version is “Keep It Simple, Stupid;” the kinder, gentler, Humphrey Bogart is “Keep It Simple, Sweetheart.” Trying this blend of word and image was both a KISS and a KITTY. KITTY is “Keep It True–Thank You.” But of course it is not true. These people do not exist. The trees in the background are not even close to oaks. The box framing the words is a box of expedience.

But the KITTY came from constant erasure and retry, attempting to channel something real without superimposing personal baggage. (Is that possible?) The couple look like no one I know. I like these two. It looks like they struggle and win, and being together helps big time. The words are their essence.

Sought and found
Soft and sound
Oaks’ milieu
Oft says you
Urge and place
Ups her grace
Lo, tonight
Love is right

On August 16 I participated in a Tug-O’-War at the Jacot family picnic. Later I drew what I thought it looked like, and acrosticized some related thought, thus:

For the record, and to show how different the Mind’s Eye is from The Truth in this instance, here is a photo I saw after I made the drawing:

My drawing serves the storytelling purpose, perhaps, but I’ve long been disabused of the notion of “photographic memory.”

Here are the words:

The freeflown feather has a softer touch than lacquered jackstraw
Upon a daemon schmendrick doffing hatted candelabra
Gesundheit cures aloofness–good example is the answer

Wanted to post. Got nearly nothing. This is a near-doodle. JC and BD loved each other. I’m more a BD fan than a JC fan, but admire them both. That’s all, folks!

More than half a month after the picnic my cousin Bob put on, I’m still blissed out from it. When I posted a photo of Bob and me on Facebook and expressed my gratitude, he was quick to share credit with others, thus:

“Thanks for the kind words. Rosemarie and I are glad that so many people were able to come. It was nice to catch up with family and friends that we have not seen in awhile and to meet relatives that we’ve never met. There were many people working together that made this year’s picnic a success; Bob Sokol, David Hollis, Mike and Nichole Knotts Jacot, Dan Candelaria, Lisa Brito-Norrbom, Danny Norrbom, and many more picnickers and children that stayed late to clean up. Special shout-out to Diane Householder Norrbom for being the historian of the family archives and the glue that binds the many puzzle pieces that is our family together. And if not for Rosemarie Jacot’s tireless work and support, there would not have been a picnic.“

What a guy. Here’s my acrostic salute to him:

Just the fella for the job
And an impresario
Calls the Peeps and turns the knob
Oh, a HUNDRED? Hey, no prob
Taste the Sauce–you won’t be sorry

In the middle of Arizona, off one of her highways, there is an expression of concrete and bronze, cypress and glass, vision and grit. It is Arcosanti, the brainchild of the recently departed Paolo Soleri, and it may inspire hope or despair: the Dream is magnificent, but it seems to be languishing.

Soleri imagined a not-far-from-now with five thousand residents of his quasi-colony. At present there is a floating population that is usually barely into three figures. The last “new construction” began around 2001.

But there is enough interest, and enough revenue, to have kept the Dream alive for thirty years. I hope that the 21st century phenomenon of “going viral” happens in, excuse the play on words, concrete form, and more of Soleri’s vision sees reality–soon.

Paolo Soleri

Possessed of crazy vision twice as wild as Mardi Gras
Avid as a Pirate and as full of yo ho ho
One of F. L. Wright’s disciples full of wherewithal
Overboard he went and climbed the Arizona floe
Latterly some choose the Dream and stay to fight the folly–nor
Ollas cease nor rooms unlease–no need for a Svengali

Today I have celebrated my 60th birthday well. I was thrilled that the number of people I heard from was more than the number of years I’ve been alive. And my Sweetheart, Denise, took me to Arcosanti, fulfilling a long-time dream of mine, and then shopping for art supplies and then home for spice cake with coffee frosting which she baked especially for the occasion.

On Facebook, in my Notes, I published this:

****

The wishful-thinking portion of my brain hypothesizes that well before the end of my life we’ll be able to shape gravitational force to suit our engineering and/or recreational needs. Time will tell.

The words:

shaped forces

start with dubya add tee eff
hum the notes on Treble’s clef . . .
and with impact well-fell’d spar
passes must-err hyperbaric
ex/oh therm mix’ burny freeze
d i s s i p a t e s by slow degrees

“Shoot for the moon and if you miss you will still be among the stars.” Les Brown, Businessman/Motivator

Colleen shot for the moon, and hit, landing at the College of William and Mary, which has been around since the late 1600s and is the second-oldest still-thriving educational institution in the United States of America. (Now go find out who William and Mary were, and be wowed.) She’s earned an Associate Professorship, and in 2013 she won their Shirley Aceto Award. She gets things done.

So for a proper tribute to Colleen, I shot for the moon. I missed. I wanted the Definitive Colleen Page to be done in ink-wash. And, appropriately, I gave it the old College Try. But I am a month or more to get unrusty enough to be able to do so, as evidenced by this Reality Check:

So this time round I’m sticking to what I’ve been doing, which is Pencil, Plain and Tall. Here is what happened:

One more thing about Colleen: I asked her if she had any pictures of herself that were pensive and/or serious. Some time went by, and then she replied that she couldn’t find any. When I read her reply, a memory of her floated to the surface: at a Glendale High School assembly long, long ago, she was participating in a skit to stump for a candidate for student-elected office. (I forget the candidate.) Colleen’s line was “Chalk one up for Women’s Liberation!” She delivered the line with gusto, wetting her thumb and chalking the air with it. Chalk one up for YOU, dear Colleen!