Point Au View

Tips on the Care and Preservation of Vintage Postcards

2010-01-15T09:53:00.001-06:00

The care and preservation of antique or vintage post cards can be challenging, however, the reward for doing so correctly is aesthetically pleasing and financially rewarding. Not to mention the contribution on a societal level whereby nostalgic memories and historical facts are preserved for posterity.

Antique postcards may be especially brittle, worn thin from viewing or carelessness, and the once bright, vibrant colors are faded. It is especially important to arrest any further deterioration Ideally the postcard is in fine to pristine condition after years of careful handling and all that will be required is their gentle transfer to archival quality materials.

A small financial investment is required when upgrading to archival quality storage or display materials. A combination of top quality materials will protect postcards from natural hazards of sunlight, water and/or humidity, mold, fire, dust and dirt. Natural skin oils from fingers can also add to general deterioration.

Storage albums and boxes with non-PVC(poly vinyl chloride) plastic and a pH level of 7.0 or higher will prohibit further card deterioration or damage. Most types of manufactured paper do contain chemicals that raise the pH level and acid content resulting in faded, discolored, and increasingly more brittle postcards.

Maintaining a humidity level of between 50 to 65% is imperative and should be a factor in considering whether or not to begin a vintage or antique postcard collection. A too cold temperature will contribute to brittleness and a too hot temperature will cause further general deterioration and invite the growth of microorganisms.

Keep framed collections tastefully displayed in the interior space of a home or studio, away from direct sunlight. Professional framing with a firm request for museum quality mounting is recommended. Before leaving your collection with the framer make certain that they have experience in handling techniques and that any application with the postcards is easily reversible, i.e. securing corners using only stamp hinges, paper tape, etc.

Extreme care and patience is required when removing postcards from their original old albums. You may find they are mounted on green or black construction paper which may leave some residue or be stubbornly attached to many of the cards. Using a blow dryer on low heat is an option when faced with this particular circumstance.

A postcard collection, vintage, antique, or otherwise can become a major investment especially when you are targeting a specific genre. As soon as possible, protect the collection in a fireproof box, cabinet, or vault. A safety deposit box should be considered depending on the appraised and/or insured value of the postcard collection.

Humor in Home Subdivision Names

2010-01-14T15:54:00.001-06:00

Eagle Run, Hollow Ridge, and Bear Creek. Recognize these titles as names of home subdivisions in the area where you live? Do they strike you as odd or humorous, even scary?

Personally, if I saw an eagle doing anything other than flying or nesting in a tree I would be taken aback, even fearful. I certainly don't want to see an eagle run because then his wings must be broken and it may need medical attention.

Why would I want to live in a subdivision with a Hollow Ridge? To me that name indicates the ridge is either defective or possibly about to implode and destroy my home by falling on it. Will the homeowners insurance cover this damage since the insurance company can make a case for the implied defective ridge? Don't buy a home there because the builder obviously has low standards for quality.

As far as the subdivision name Bear Creek is concerned, don't bears kill people? This scares me. Also, I don't think a bear would want me to own a house at their special creek. This will make for an angry bear and not a Gentle Ben. I would have to live in fear each day. There are already way too many scary things in this world to invite that kind of trouble.

Many subdivision titles have the word Ranch or Village in them. Now if I am living at the ranch or the village with hundreds of others isn't that actually a commune?

What we need are more realistic and truthful subdivision names that tell you what the subdivision is really about like Rental Row Condos, Mortgage Run Out, Flood Zone, and for the more pricey homes Up The Creek. Of course, this will never happen and most times we don't want to know what we are getting ourselves into and even choose the false sense of security promoted by some of these subdivision titles.

I once rented an apartment named Bayside Village. It was a brand new gated community on the water in Tampa Bay. Three weeks into the lease there was a big drug bust in the unit right above me and the door was jack hammered in by the Sheriff. Lots of commotion as the suspected drug dealer was led away. It was then I realized that for all of my diligence in selecting the apartment complex I had foolishly locked myself in with the bad guys.

Yet our search for the perfect abode in the perfect subdivision continues and with that name seems to come the potential for the true happiness we seek in finding what we believe is our special place in the universe.

The Meander Motif in Art and Architecture

2010-01-13T07:38:00.001-06:00

Turnabout is more than fair play since it is also a method for creating the steady, ornamental patterns in art and architecture known as the Meander. Named after the Meander River in South Western Turkey, a river that is not to be slighted as it is mentioned in the Iliad by Homer. The twists and turns of this great river include U shaped Oxbow lakes formed when the river changes course. The course of the Meander River begins as a single path that then twists back and forward again on itself. This same description is the epitome of and precise description of the Meander art motif.

One of the most recognized and historically important Meanders is the Greek Key or Greek Fret as decorative border, on friezes, and some porticos. Fortunately for us, there is quite a variety of different versions and each is a visual delight. The basis for all Greek Keys does remain that the square protruding pieces resemble the shape of key.

The term Greek Fret evolved in that the same design, at least in theory, may have been patterned and cut with a fretsaw, therefore a fret. Both terms are meant to describe the same simplistic, geometric shape, a shape that can also be construed as infinite or even a definition or symbolic description of infinity itself.

Comparisons of the Greek Key to the style of a labyrinth abound, however, other theories include the symbolism of the bonds of love, eternal life, friendship and devotion and also the meander of life. It seems the theories, as well as the motif pattern, are also infinite.

The aesthetics of the Greek Key were pronounce enough that the ancient Romans adopted the pattern for their mosaics. The centuries long, cross-cultural appeal of the Greek Key includes the Nation of Dongson in what is now modern day Vietnam and even the Hopi Nation of North America.

The Meander as a motif is not limited to the Greek Key but provides many other examples of the same twisting and turning basic element. The Chevron is a V shaped pattern that is often used as an insignia for heraldry, a design on flags, road signs, and especially reflected in architecture. When the symbol is linked and repeated it becomes a Meander since it does technically turn back on itself.

Another Meander that was popular in the Medieval Age is the Twisted Ribbon motif. More intricate that the standard Greek Key, the Twisted Ribbon motif includes continuos bands, or ribbons, in a rectilinear, three dimensional pattern.

From ancient Greek temples to modern neo-classical art and architecture, the Meander continues to thrive as a popular ornament and decoration. Perhaps what we generally appreciate is the general quiet constancy of the patterns and motifs, as well as the aesthetics.

Thanks For the Memories

2010-01-12T10:49:00.001-06:00

I have a theory that God made me at the end of the workday when heaven was waiting on a new shipment of parts. The supply chain angels may have fallen down on the job. After God had already put in a full day of making miracles, listening to a multitude of problems and a variety of special requests the production day was drawing to an end. The plant thought they would crank out one more human being then call it a day. I can make a strong case that this last human being was me and believe this because I have a large round head placed on top of a long skinny neck. Not exactly an engineering coup d'etat. My poor delicate little neck has been holding up a big bowling ball head for more than forty years. I feel sorry for my neck so I give it a lot of extra time on a pillow while I am lying around watching television.

When I was little I had short white blond, stick straight hair that my mother cut for me to save money on a hairdresser. My mother was a ahead of her time, no pun intended, because she had the forethought to cut one side shorter than the other sidea cut that came into fashion about twenty years later. Go MOM

My skin was very pale white and I just can't describe how attractive this looked with my hair. I had loads of freckles on my face and my two front teeth inverted inwards. Let's not forget the scar in the middle of my forehead from the after affects of chicken pox. I had little spindly legs and arms and a distended stomach. My eyelids had almost no fold in them and I was asked several times by neighborhood children if I was an albino Japanese or Chinese. There are many beautiful Japanese and Chinese people but suffices to say, I was not one of them.

My siblings, especially my sister, constantly teased me and told me I was adopted so when my parents sometimes left for short periods of time I would desperately search for my birth certificate in order to identify my true heritage and birthright. I suspected the parents in the TV show The Adams Family were my true parents and I feared they may come to get me and make me live in their spooky house.

Imagine my shock and surprise when my parents returned from a shopping trip to sears with a full size wood rickshaw. I realized that they were beginning to lay the foundation for telling me about the adoption and I worried and awaited the dreadful day when I would surely be told. Meanwhile, I gave the neighborhood children constant rickshaw rides in an effort to get them to play with me. Time passed and soon the rickshaw was broken beyond repair, then discarded.

As I grew and matured physically I began to resemble my maternal grandmother quite distinctly. It was then I finally realized it had all been much ado about nothing. I did develop into a beauty with no end of offers for dates. My sister was soooo jealous as the tables had completely turned in my favor. Since there was nothing she could do about the situation she tried several times to sabotage and embarrass me. Often she just tried to beat the stuffing out of me.

As I have aged, many strange things have begun to happen with my physical appearance but I will always have the memory of how I was once an ugly duckling that did change into a beautiful swan.

Kentucky Covered Bridges

2010-01-12T07:54:00.001-06:00

A charming view so complementary to the rich, fertile landscape yet the scene is further enhanced with the broadened experience of country simplicity and steep rustic flavor. The preceding sentence is just one more feeble attempt to describe the indescribable natural beauty and sublime character of the covered bridges of Kentucky. Oh, how these historic bridges seem to cradle our Mother Earth with a certain tenderness and depth of feeling as they appear to be both a constant nurturer and eternal protector. A remarkable storied legacy accompanies each remaining covered bridge, as current generations seek to preserve these invaluable state landmarks.

Covered bridges first appeared in Kentucky around the late eighteenth century and were intended to shield the main wood timbers from the decaying influence of the natural elements. Over the next two hundred years the bluegrass commonwealth boasted of approximately seven hundred wooden structures with around fifty surviving to the mid twentieth century. Now roughly thirteen covered bridges remain standing in Kentucky, but they are a clear and tangible testimony to the spirit of community that we long for today.

Burr truss is one particular architectural style for covered bridge construction whereby the roof design includes an arch and the interior is reinforced with an intricate wood truss that allows the bridge to remain rigid and bear unevenly distributed weight. The Beech Fork Bridge in Washington County, Kentucky is a keen example of this type of bridge that was modified to include two spans. While no longer in use due to decay and loss of structural soundness, it is still the longest covered bridge in Kentucky at 102 feet long.

In Bourbon County, Kentucky the Colville Bridge has crossed Hinkston Creek since 1877. Well constructed in the architectural style of double post and brace with required repairs in 1913, 1937, 1966, with a full restoration in 2001. A little white house up on the hill adjacent to this bridge was actually the original toll house with tolls excluded on Sunday, or when traveling to back and forth to school or a funeral.

A truss bridge seems somewhat skeletal in nature, or as triangles connected by single wood timber spans. The design is efficient and you can easily count where the beam chords, vertical, and diagonals the connection points. The design seems ghostly and impersonal and lacks any semblance of character or feeling, however, it is a remarkably strong structure that resonates functionality. In example, the Switzer Bridge in Eastern Franklin County, Kentucky built in 1855 and rebuilt in 1997 due to being knocked from the foundation because of the high waters of the North Elkhorn Creek.

Economy of design includes a private covered bridge in Mason County, Kentucky built in 1864 at a scant 23 feet in length. The Valley Pike Bridge is in the quintessential kingpost truss architectural style with a king post, a.k.a. crown post, emanating vertically from the crossbeam to the connecting apex of a triangular truss. This ornate, complex truss system lends credence to a sense of strength and safety for anyone charged with using this bridge to cross the relatively short distance over the creek.

More than several of the still standing Kentucky covered bridges are no longer in use for safety reasons and also in a final effort to preserve the remaining dignity of the structures. This is a well deserved rest since they have served so faithfully and so well over more than one hundred years. I hope to be able to say the same for myself, imagining that I may someday acquire status as an centenarian.

Sources:
Kentucky Atlas & Gazetteer
Vox-Girl Interrupted Blog

Johnny Appleseed:American Original

2010-01-11T13:26:00.001-06:00

With the raw earth and wild terrain of the Ohio Valley beneath his bare feet, John Chapman kept the same-metered stride whether trekking through thick bramble or wide-open fields. The oversized knapsack he carried was filled to the brim with apple seeds intended for planting near and far to create nurseries, such was the life of the man who quickly became known as Johnny Appleseed.

A true American original, Johnny Appleseed was by nature a kind and generous soul. Compelled to put others before himself, he relinquished all the vestiges of the material world to become an emissary for the protection of animals and nature, as well as a Christian missionary and sometime preacher.

The son of an itinerant farmer, around 1786 John apprenticed as an orchardist in his hometown of Leominster, Massachusetts. As a young man of eighteen, he heard the call of the frontier and decided to take advantage of a resolution giving land to Revolutionary War veterans on behalf of his father who had served under General George Washington. Licking County, Ohio was the proving ground for John's first test as a nurseryman with trees large enough to transplant by 1802.

It's easy to envision Johnny Appleseed nonchalantly walking state to state, including Indiana, Pennsylvania, and Illinois, while randomly dropping apple seeds with some hapenchance notion that most of them would grow and take root. The facts speak to a master plan where specific nurseries were planted with protective barriers to keep out the intrusion of livestock and allow the seedlings the best opportunity to grow.

With zeal Johnny Appleseed continued his travels, by foot or by boat, to acquire additional acreage and plant as many apple tree nurseries as possible. He would strike a deal with local neighbors who would manage the nurseries in his absence. In trade for this service the neighbor, acting as manager, would receive later receive grown trees as shares of interest. Johnny would faithfully return to the area within one or two years to gauge the progress of each nursery.

Johnny Appleseed preferred to use any money he made to save abused horses then give them away to families that promised to care for them. He chose to go barefoot rather than use leather and would rather brave a freezing night than see a mosquito burned by the flame of a campfire. The enduring legacy of Johnny Appleseed is one of conservationism, Christian brotherhood, and service to others.

Revolutionary War Women

2010-01-11T08:39:00.001-06:00

The equally admirable goals of marriage and motherhood were the only realistic options available for American women prior to the Revolutionary War. As the war approached, then fully materialized to stark, unavoidable reality, many women were either forced to or sometimes willingly surrendered their previous limited roles.

In a full time effort to almost single-handedly support the war effort by securing the home front, including running entire farms, making military uniforms or knitting stockings, and managing the family blacksmith or carpentry business, women of the American Revolution began to establish new, broader roles with an intrinsic value superceding gender.

Rarely mentioned in the annuls of history is the "midnight ride" of sixteen year old Sybil Ludington. She valiantly rode on horseback some forty miles through New York and Connecticut to sound the alert that the British army was burning Danbury, Connecticut. Enough patriots mustered to Danbury to beat back the British to their ships in Long Island Sound.

Lydia Darragh, a Philadelphia Quaker, deliberately eavesdropped on the private conversation of several British officers. What she heard was the outline of a plan to have British troops covertly leave Philadelphia for a surprise attack at the American encampment at White Marsh. This knowledge stirred something deep inside Lydia whereby she summoned the courage to travel on foot the five miles to Frankford and warn General George Washington.

Transforming the family home into a field hospital or offering unconditional medical aid is a noble undertaking. This is exactly the action taken by yet another Quaker, Margaret Hill Morris of Burlington, New Jersey, who left a journal that has proven an invaluable source of information about the Revolutionary War as seen through the eyes of a woman.

Women were no stranger to the battlefield either, considering many were camp followers serving as cooks, nurses, and laundresses. Consider the well known story of Mary Hays, a water carrier dubbed Molly Pitcher, who took up arms and continued to fire a cannon after her own husband fell in battle.

Many more examples of female valor exist in the complete telling of the American Revolutionary War. While some stories contain images of physical gains by the gentler sex there are also a large number stories where women sought to apply their cultivation of words.

As wordsmith to express important issues of the time after the war, some women used any independence they had gained to seek social change. Abigail Adams wrote to her husband imploring him to stand for the rights of women and ensure their representation in the laws of the new land.

Stating the obvious, the Revolutionary War could not have been won nor an independent nation built without the physical and emotional strength of colonial American women.

I Am Zen

2010-01-10T10:53:00.003-06:00

There is a meek gentleness that slowly descends upon me, like a haunting melody without the limits of spatial boundaries, and contentment dwells within the epicenter of my soul. I am in touch with a profound happiness and also infused with a gentle, serene spirit that overtakes, even pervades, my own physical presence.

When I feel at peace and tranquil I imagine the experience is described, by definition, as a Zen Moment. I am completely relaxed but yet "in the moment". Zen is such a great word, very matter of fact but simple, so why is there such a complexity when attempting to succinctly or efficiently capture the meaning of the phrase Zen Moment?

Thinking and feeling become one without the usual chasm separating these two actions. "All is one and one is all" and any further attempt to describe the experience borders on fatuous. I, myself, before birth even, have forgotten the language and vocabulary that will allow me to fairly express the complete experience of a Zen Moment.

Yet, there soon ebbs in the unfortunate mental voice chastising "wake up-begin again-move!". I begrudgingly become like a fat domestic cat sitting erect with hindquarters efficiently tucked in behind neatly starched front legs, eyes caught in a semi open/closed position. Slowly I succumb to the ancient paternal voice, not knowing when I might opportune to revisit the next precious Zen Moment. I am cheated, robbed, with no judicial recourse. I mutter as if under my breath " The mind trains too well."

Days, even weeks pass and I wonder why my logical mind struggles to prevent my spirit from rising above the monotony of constantly calculating my world. The mind will do all that it can to control the spirit, fighting and unending battle to reign supreme in my conscious state. The mantra always "never to lay down the sword". So my spirit slumbers in a twilight sleep state awaiting any next opportunity to renew itself through me and also renewing me as if we both appear as a single united image in the mirror.

Oh, poor spirit! You are my most kindred and so dear to me containing my earliest known essence from the womb to the present mature woman. If I possessed the power to set you completely free, I would do so now and forever. My decree, written on archaic papyrus in the most beautiful ornate gold leaf by an ancient scribe, would dictate that all remaining moments would be Zen Moments.

Fleur de Lis as Multi-Cultural Symbol

2010-01-09T09:08:00.001-06:00

The fleur-de-lis is a magnificent, multi-cultural symbol with a rich and intricate history that spans the millennium. Adopted as a venerable symbol by many countries, cities, organizations, and religious orders, the fleur-de-lis symbol also champions a wide variety of noble causes, including some military insignia.
Shrouded in mystery, the origin of the fleur-de-lis symbol is unknown, however, it seems to be a common denominator in most early civilizations. Literally translated from the French as "flower of the lily", it is possibly a very stylized example of a species iris pseudacorus. Additional testimony may include likeness to the lotus flower but what about similarities to the trident, a double axe, and arrowhead or a multitude of other possible matches to the outline or pattern?

The earliest known reference to the fleur-de-lis image is ancient Mesopotamia as a decoration on a type of fabricated cylinder. Knowing no geographical boundaries, similar images appear on early Egyptian bas-reliefs, Gaulish coins, Mycenaean pottery and many, many other ancient cultural references. Perhaps the image gained popularity after having been introduced by conquering armies.

Divine intervention is said to have prompted heaven to send a vial of oil to both anoint and sanctify the conversion of the Frankish King Clovis in 493 A.D. This event then resulted in a lily to appearing at the baptismal ceremony in conjunction with a special blessing of the Virgin Mary who is known as a benefactress of the lily flower. Hence, King Clovis required the image of the lily flower, or fleur-de-lis, placed on his helmet before the victory at the Battle of Vouille. Forever more, the Fleur-de-lis remained the chosen symbol of this king and court.

Later generations chose to directly connect the adoption of the fleur-de-lis as symbol for all Christian Frankish kings, most notably Charlemagne. Subsequently, the fleur-de-lis would remain eternally connected with not only the French empire but with Christianity, as well. The strength of the fleur-de-lis symbol includes reckoning as the Trinity; Father, Son, and Holy Ghost yet also hand in hand with the scruples of faith, wisdom, and chivalry.

More than French kings have sought to use the fleur-de-lis as a symbol of heraldry and class distinction. The symbol also features significantly as ornament to Scottish and English noblemen. Italy and the entire world knows the fleur-de-lis as part and party to papal crowns and the papal coat of arms. The Bosniaks, Serbs, and Spain consider the fleur-de-lis as their very own national symbol of heraldry.

It seems that the fleur-de-lis belongs to all civilizations, in some context or other. Akin to all peoples and emanating from all continents, countries, and peoples. Like all that born of our good values, ethics, and integrity, the fleur-de-lis continually reminds us of all we hold dear and all we value in this world.

The Evolution of Movie DVD Rental

2010-01-08T14:00:00.001-06:00

The evolution of movie DVD rental is in the midst of a peaceful and welcome technology driven revolution. While picking up a prescription, shopping for groceries or grabbing a burger, you simply approach an approximately six foot tall box-like structure and for just $1 plus tax, applied to either your debit or credit card, pick out a new movie release for the evening. After making your DVD choice, the entire transaction takes about sixty seconds.

Self service video rental is a growth industry that has allied itself with high traffic consumer heavyweights like Publix, Food Lion, Kroger, McDonald's and Walgreens. Moviecube, a division of TNR Entertainment headquartered in Houston, boasts of over 2100 locations housing about 700 DVDs in each of their blue colored kiosks while Redbox, jointly owned by a McDonald's subsidiary Coinstar, also offers about the same 700 DVDs in each of their bright red colored kiosks at approximately 4800 kiosks including, of course, McDonald's.

The concept of self service kiosk movie rental DVDs began around 2003, however, a lot of trial and error initially occurred with placement of the kiosks in poor locations with inconsistent repeat traffic. Also, the pricing plan was around $2.99 per rental plus late fees which is about what you might expect to pay at one of the chain movie rental brick and mortar establishments like Blockbuster or Hollywood Video. Yet many industry visionaries pressed on with their ideas while losing money in the venture, hence refining the process and technology to the current impressively marketed system.

Whether renting a movie DVD from Redbox or Moviecube there is no mistaking the convenience and value of choosing from hundreds of titles, including many new releases. In these increasingly tough economic times you can literally rent ten DVDs from a kiosk for the same cost of a trip to the movie theater, popcorn not included!

Customer service is offered either via website or 800 number. Digging their heels in, Redbox recently opened a new 24,000 square-foot facility in Downers Grove, Illinois that employs over 200 customer service representatives. Expect to receive an automated reminder confirmation email after renting and after returning your DVD from either vendor.

Many people avoid fads or anything that may appear to be a short lived proposition. It's no fun to become attached to something then left with the void when that something disappears. Self service movie DVD rental has definitely found a strong niche market in a thriving industry that will continue to grow, even evolve as it continues to meet a fundamental need in society for inexpensive and readily available entertainment.

Cranberry Facts

2010-01-08T10:39:00.003-06:00

Cranberries are the new perennial favorite fruit of this modern generation. In spite of their small size, they have an abundance of both tart and sweet flavor while equally rising to the very top of the list of nutritional "superfood". Popular as an ingredient in more than 1,000 food and beverage products, cranberries are also a staple in a variety of countless winning recipes the world over.

A brief history of the cranberry includes the Native Americans who named the berry Sassamanash as they began to use them as a food source and also as a base for wound medicine and dye. Thanks to the Native Americans, the starving pilgrims in the New World colonies were introduced to the cranberry and cranberries, in some form, may have been at the first Thanksgiving.

By the early 19th century cranberries were a farm crop in the Cape Cod region of America and then an export to Europe. Wild harvesting of the cranberry then became common place in the Nordic countries and in Russia.

The flowers of the low, creeping cranberry evergreen dwarf shrub are a trademark dark pink with what is described as reflexed petals. Pollinated by the honey bee, the berry grows white before turning a deep, luxuriant red when ripe. Cranberries are first cousins to the blueberry, huckleberry, and bilberry all being of the genus Vaccinium.

Acidic sandy bogs and marshes are historically fundamental to the growth and parturiency of the cranberry. Current methods for farming cranberries include massive beds in upland areas with shallow water table and where dikes surround the perimeter. Impressive irrigation systems protect from autumn frost while a strong drainage system allows for frequent drainage, as necessary.

With the advent of fall comes harvest time for the multi-million dollar cranberry industry with close to 7 million barrels produced in the United States in 2007. During harvest time the bogs and marshes are flooded with water so that the cranberries, each containing a pocket of air, rise to the surface whereby they are scooped up by industrial harvesting equipment. Wisconsin leads in cranberry production by supplying about 57 percent of the total U.S. Crop.

About 95% of the cranberry crop is frozen then later used for juices, sauce, or dried for application as a garnish or trail mix. Fresh cranberries must be delicately stored in shallow containers with perforated bottoms.

Well known as a natural aid for urinary tract infection, cranberries in some form have also been used for stomach ailments and liver problems. A powerhouse of antioxidants, cranberries are in the top five when it comes to the greatest antioxidant benefit, per serving. As part of a heart healthy diet, cranberries are a no fat, no cholesterol, very low sodium regimen.

Special Victims Unit: The Death of Our Utopian Dream

2010-01-07T21:21:00.002-06:00

Murder, pure and simple. A premeditated crime expressing maximum hedonistic passion. Although the crime scene was vast, no finger prints were ever lifted. An investigation was not conducted nor criminal charges ever filed.. Maybe Manu Dabbing's Soul Makossa was playing in the background as the alleged victim tried to hold on to dear life. The hypnotic, steady four on the floor beat, hi-hat pattern with an open hi-hat on the off-beat and syncopated electric bass line may have been enough to heighten the excitement or mesmerize, even immobilize heretofore normal sensibilities.

We learned about "the day the music died" from Don McLean but what we never heard mention of was the day, or even the hour, when Disco killed our Utopian dream. You remember...in the sixties and early seventies how we spoke about creating a new Utopia. We were mostly all on board with the idea believing it achievable, if not directly at hand. As close as turning the next corner on the next block in any given American neighborhood.

Whether you believed in a specific form of Utopia or just the dream itself. Some thought it would be communal living while others envisioned it as just peaceful and tranquil independent living without cumbersome rules or quotas. " Peace, love, and happiness, man!" the mantra for the cause. From college campus to university campus, then to the streets of a nation. It was immanent, wasn't it?

Reverberating rhythms lulled us as we consciously decided to take a break from pursuing the noble dream. Electric pianos and guitars supercharged the atmosphere as the corruption mounted when Discotheques began popping up everywhere to promote , accommodate, even feed the newfound addiction. Quavers and semi-quavers soared and multiplied. Mood lighting and mirrored disco balls hung from the ceilings captured our spirits and would not let go. We soon forgot about our Utopian dream, albeit we settled willingly for less than our original expectation.

The death of a dream is tantamount to the demise of any great historical figure or leader. There is a period of silent or even overt mourning, then anger, then gradual acceptance. Yet this dream was a particularly beautiful one, therefore, much more difficult to work through in any logical fashion. A lifetime is not enough time to forget that awful day when the music genre of Disco killed our Utopian dream. We demanded nothing in return while losing something irreplaceable.

History of the Appalachian Dulcimer

2010-01-07T13:01:00.002-06:00

When you think of ingenuity combined with functionality in composition, consider an Appalachian dulcimer made from a cigar box and a broom handle running through the center with one to three strings for playing.

The musical ancestry of the Appalachian dulcimer is fashioned from the same hybrid stock as our own American heritage. Appalachia was predominately settled by early Irish and Scottish immigrants, the descendants of whom adopted the modified diatonic, fretted zither to celebrate their homespun, folkish culture and simple way of life. What began as anglo-celtic dance tunes readily accepted the influences of African rhythms introduced by the slaves.

Beginning with the very origin of the word dulcimer, "dulce" a Greek word meaning sweet and "melos" the Latin word for song, we begin to establish a sort of genealogy with the biblically referenced hammered dulcimer. The great links between this ancient reference and the Appalachian dulcimer are the "scheitholt" from the northern European cultures of Germany, Holland, and Sweden and the "langeleik" or Norway. The instrument is easily modified and embellished to assume flavor of local cultures, within countries and continents.

Blessed settlers in the late 18th century introduced the dulcimer to the Appalachia region witnessed a transformation or evolution of the instrument to fit the needs and natural talents of local players, most of them probably self-taught or playing by ear. Some rural musicians decided to simultaneously pluck or pick and fret the strings while others preferred to use a bow but mostly all sat face up and flat in the lap of the musician

Craftsmanship using hardwoods found within the Appalachian region, like maple, pecan, and walnut, created the Appalachian dulcimer, or mountain dulcimer. From the rustic no frills but functional to the ornately sublime with finely done patterned etching and attention to each detail.

Versatility of the Appalachian dulcimer allows for either three or four strings running the length of the fretting and instrument body. A wide variety of body styles with each producing a distinct and recognizable quality of sound. The lovely teardrop shape with a slightly stronger bass, the hourglass shape with less bass and more treble, the backpack similarly shaped to the hourglass but smaller with a "higher voice".

Clearly the Appalachian dulcimer, like the native folk songs of the settlers origin country, aided with what can only be described as a difficult transition to their new way of life. It allowed them to savor the good memories from the past while embarking on a greater journey to create the foundation for a new nation.

A Faithful Bargain

2010-01-04T15:42:00.006-06:00

"To the dearest daughter a mother could have. May you be as happy as you have always made me. God bless you and pray for me. All my love-Mother" read the inscription on one of the several blank pages preceding the forward of the Saint Andrew Daily Missal. The plain,black matter-of-fact leather bound missal was a gift to Patricia in the remaining days just before she entered St. Walburg convent as a novitiate.

This feigned declaration of support was supposed to keep up appearances since her mother vehemently disagreed with her decision to accept the religious life as vocation. "Who will take care of me? Who else can I depend on but you?"and then, "I love you, please don't." The words echoed in Patricia's thoughts daily after she revealed her decision to her mother. Another stray memory she hadn't invited but came as an unwelcome yet constant visitor.

"This medication is strong, but since you're going home to rest for awhile it should do very well for you now," were the last words to Patricia from the attending physician before she left the diocese infirmary. In the six months since entering the convent, her usually sharp and informed mind had become tired and unfocused. She sat solitary and wilted, hands tightly clasped in her lap, on the corner edge of the single bed in the small, sparse room at the convent.

A Purple Martin rested on the outside window ledge, deep in thought about where it might fly to next, perhaps exploring his options. In the midst of getting her few scant possessions packed to leave the convent and return home, Patricia's thoughts again wandered the trail of her young life.

"You'll never amount to anything anyway." her father told little Patsy when she was just six years old. He was drunk, but she was too young to understand what that meant. Later she adopted the practice of sleeping with a hammer under her pillow just in case he became so violent her mother might need defending. Life had seemed so very frightening and uncertain except for the almost daily attendance to mass at St.Walburg church.

As far as Patsy was aware, the church had always been there and always would be there. It was an imposing, austere structure with a mystical and magical presence. Larger than life statues of saints, beautiful stained glass windows depicting the stations of the cross. Lighted candles for prayers, holy water for blessing yourself and more protection against the many perils in the world. Nothing bad could ever touch you in church, but outside the walls was to be feared.

Patsy remembered once getting a nickel from her aunt to go see a movie show. A real treat until she glanced around the theater only to see her father there with another woman. Patsy remembered how content the woman was there on a date with her father. Confused and shattered, she left the theater telling only her oldest brother what she witnessed.

"How are the little cross backs today, Mary?" and "the little right handers." were how her father's mother, her grandmother, described the family. It wasn't often though, they mostly kept their distance in the same uncaring way her own father did. Patsy and her brothers never knew whether they would come home school and find all their possessions out on the street because their mother couldn't pay the rent that month.

Just one more prayer, one more saying of the rosary, one more day of fasting to prove that she did have faith enough to move her mountains. Had she missed the mark by one of these only? This possibility weighed on her like a tremendous anchor cast down in a vast, volatile endless sea. Hadn't she done enough, given enough of herself to compensate for anything that might be missing or overlooked in the formula ?

Pleading, tearful eyes cast upon the only ornate item in the room...a finely detailed Roman Catholic silver plate cross with an oversized stark, dark wood base. Silence filled every corner, nook, and cranny in the room. "No more mysteries, please."screamed Patricia into her own thoughts. "If you don't do this I WILL stop believing, I mean it this time!" More silence before she realized again, as she had so many times before, there would be no negotiation and the terms she believed she had earlier struck were just that, her terms only, never His.

It had all come crashing down around her just a few days ago but Patricia couldn't remember the cause nor the exact moment. She really couldn't remember the whole of the last week very much at all. Nothing had changed since she entered the convent. Father was still carousing and mother still needed her home and the money she could bring in by working.

So she simply just let go. Her spirit crumbled like a wadded sheet of paper where there were penned too many rejected ideas or misspelled words. Patricia then fully realized her father would not experience the miraculous conversion she had sacrificed herself to attain. There was no controlling her emotion. Tears multiplied into constant, uncontrolled sobbing then fear and hysteria. "What have I done? It's over, all over."

Patricia forced herself to move past the fog in her thoughts knowing that her mother would be anxious at home for her. She reached down where her habit, with the heavy black tunic, scapular and white veil, was laid out on the bed and lightly stroked the fabric in a consoling, apologetic manner.

There was so much here she had truly loved but she would now have to find another way to honor that love and reclaim her faith. Just now though, she knew God would allow her to rest her mind from so many perceived burdens. They would speak again, she and God but this time the words would be met with equal listening and a new discovery of purpose.

Her youngest brother, Glenn, was waiting for her just outside the convent gate. With no words between them he reached for her bag as Patricia surrendered it willingly and without notice. In unison they began to walk the many blocks home. Her legs moved clumsily without rhythm or stride, unmotivated to make the journey, yet she pressed on.

In the Time of Gargoyles

2010-01-03T10:39:00.002-06:00

Imagine an age of unabashed fear within a society polarized by the isolation of class and status. Add to this equation the personification of good vs. evil or heaven vs. hell mixed with the prospect of eternal damnation as symbolized by the ever-imposing gargoyles of the medieval ages.
By definition, gargoyles are merely a carved stone drain-spout with what is known as a "grotesque" surface decoration or ornament attached. As a point of interest and fact, a grotesque, also referred to as a chimeras, may stand alone as decoration but may not be described as a gargoyle without benefit of the necessary drain-spout.
The name gargoyle is from the French derivative of the word gargouille meaning "throat" or "gullet" with a Latin root gar "to swallow" and a prefix for words suggesting the gurgling sound of water.
Before the 18th century, drain-spouts were the standard method for dispersing the rainwater collected on the roofs of tall buildings. Drain-spouts extended or protruded from the roof at the parapet level, whether or not then further adorned by a grotesque. Gargoyles later fell out of favor with the advent of the more logical down spout for water drainage.
Gargoyles were meant to provide visual warnings about the evils of a carnal world while also encouraging the safety and protection of the church as manifested in the Christian religion. During this period of rampant illiteracy, gargoyles were meant as a literal etched in stone instrument to "scare the hell out of its beholders".
Keep in mind that the medieval age was a time of wide held belief in demons, monsters, and the supernatural. For instance, people did believe that those gargoyles resembling griffins, with the body of a lion and the head and wings of an eagle, came alive at night to fly around and protect the villagers.
Cathedrals such as Notre Dame in Paris, one of about 100 medieval cathedrals in France, and the Dornach Cathedral in Dornach Scotland are famous for the many ornately carved gargoyles. There are certainly a wide variety of gargoyles on ancient cathedrals all throughout Europe but whether the image is half man and half beast or hideous monster it seems gargoyles may have distinct pagan roots. It is probable the church used these familiar symbols as a tool to build a figurative bridge aiding in the conversion of people from the pagan belief to Christian.
Sources:
Wilkipedia
Northstar Gallery

Return to Ocean Beach

2009-12-28T12:08:00.002-06:00

Waves from the incoming tide carelessly slap the weathered post and beam foundation of the pier at Ocean Beach. The now-familiar sound jerked at the memory of when Andy first saw an ocean. That day was just six months ago.

An effervescent blue sky, deep as the color of Texas grass sage- growing wild on the endless prairie- guides Andy as he walks the remaining street blocks to the Danceland Coliseum on the Connecticut coast. Tonight will be Andy's first social event of any kind since joining the navy as a sailor six months ago in Dallas. It hadn't been a difficult decision to enlist, quite frankly, no decision at all when every other option ceased to exist with no work available for itinerant farm boys without prospects and a tenth grade rural education attained in a small, one room schoolhouse in the Rock Creek Community.

"I want to see you so bad, but if we never again meet in this world I want us all to meet in the next." were the greivous words written in a letter to Andy from his older sister, Sarah. An abundance of love in every letter from family helped make the bitter truth of hard times back home seem almost palatable.
Time seemed to stand still during basic training, allowing Andy to catch up with his peers in manners and social custom. He'd worked hard to lose the west Texas twang in his speech. Looking back, he felt a hot rush of embarrassment for that ignorant boy whose existence seemed like a surreal dream. Someone he had heard about but had never met and who seemed now a separate being from himself.

The concentration of these memories aided the impetus of a vigorous stride when suddenly the salt air in a cool, Atlantic breeze jolted Andy back to the reality of his purpose this evening. He could see the impressive Coliseum in the distance and was approaching the boardwalk. The shops on the boardwalk are closed now but there is a little time to look through some of the windows, lighted by a full moon.

Faded, thick, southern pine wood planks bordered by glorious white crystal sand , flavored the strength of the experience for Andy. He felt a powerful connection to the moment by means of the surroundings. The kind of connection one is lucky to feel maybe twice in a lifetime. Was this some ancient pentameter exacted by an ancestral primaeval force? A unity of purpose and motive with a supernatural drive? If so, Andy welcomed it.

Stopping to check his reflection in one of the shop windows, Andy didn't immediately recognize himself. Startled by this, he reviewed the features of the figure standing before him. The benefit of three square meals each day along with the physical training created a lean yet substantial appearance that now defined his 5'11" frame. The blue naval service uniform detailed a newfound fitness and muscle tone. A pride swelled in Andy that he had never known before, alien yet wondrous.

Andy knew that he wanted to keep the memory of this distinct moment with him forever. He was owed this, at least. Then he abruptly remembered all the other failed wanting of his life. Andy had wanted his mother to live, but she still died of tuberculosis when he was three and dad had died last year. Hard fought for crops had failed, the farm was repossessed, and his remaining family now separated. All had occurred, in spite of his tremendous wanting of an opposite outcome.

So he pressed the memory as hard as he could into an imaginary snapshot in his mind where he willed it to stay forever. Something dormant in Andy had now surfaced, affecting his normally easy going nature and pleasant demeanor. Not at all certain how to label the emotion, nor how to care for it, he tried to tuck it away quickly for later examination and thought, then continued walking toward the Coliseum.

Continuing to narrow the distance to about fifty feet between himself and the Coliseum. Andy could see the couples and singles pouring in through the double doors at the entrance. Many enlisted men he knew stood outside smiling and laughing together in anticipation of the evening festivities. In polite fashion, each one smiled and nodded a healthy "hello" as Andy's right foot nimbly secured the first step in the short climb to the platform leading to the doorway and through the threshold.

Each acknowledgment seemed to Andy as an eternal stamp of acceptance to a rank outside that of his current Seaman First Class. A rank that requires no special insignia or stripe, posing no personal limits in that regard. Entering the great Coliseum he was handed a program detailing the events and dances scheduled for the evening. The program was small, made of heavy parchment and bound in the left corner by a blue silk tassel. The ornate script lettering on the outside cover read:

Dance
in honor of the
Commander Submarine Force, U.S. Fleet
and Staff, and
Officers and Crew of the U.S.S. Bushnell
"Danceland", Ocean Beach
Monday, June 22nd, 1936
Dancing 9.00 p.m. to 1.00 a.m.
Music by Harry Neilan and his Orchestra

Andy held the program tightly as he looked around the crowded, noisy ballroom in an effort to regain his bearings. This is real, not some imagined third rate dream he reminded himself. The door to the future is open now and he was on the other side, ready to experience all that may come his way. Just then, a fellow enlisted friend motioned to him to join a table of seamen and their dates. Andy felt relieved at the invitation, then with confidence quickly sat down, blending right in with the company and conversation. He hadn't ever really been so far removed, after all.

History of the Asheville Postcard Company

2009-12-28T11:53:00.002-06:00

The majestic beauty of North Carolina and surrounding states was captured for all posterity in the iconic images of the Asheville Postcard company. Mere words seem lacking or insufficient when trying to describe the magnificence of "Bridal Veil Falls" on a clear spring day, as majestic waterfalls cascade over the ancient bluff. "Horseshoe Bend on Little Tennessee River Near the Great Smokey Mountains National Park" is a visual masterpiece of color and light as the mighty Tennessee River sojourns in a pristine valley before rejoining the main water flow. The exaggerated twists and turns of "Newfound Gap Highway" pull the viewer into the scene with a force stronger than any known magnet.

Lamar Campbell LeCompte began the Asheville Postcard and Pennant Company in 1910. The decade between 1900 and 1910 was a period of governmental deregulation for the postcard industry. Labeling requirements were relaxed to allow the application of the brief term "postcard" and now also permitted was a divided back for full sender and addressee information. These more liberal standards allowed entrepreneurs to explore innumerable possibilities for more visually stunning postcard photos, comics, and drawings. L.C. LeCompte had a keen eye for the natural beauty of the south with its' many parks, monuments, and tourist spots.

In fact, the early postcard industry had much to do with the creation of the tourism industry. The steam locomotive, then later the automobile, created more affordable and expeditious travel opportunities for the average citizen. As further incentive, what later became known as simply the Asheville Postcard Company was printing postcards featuring the early model tour buses of the Smokey Mountain Tours Sightseeing Company mildly cruising the challenging terrain on Little River Gorge. The perfect combination of inexpensive travel and the intriguing scenery of the southern states proved too great a draw for many. Rest assured, these new tourists of the twentieth century were not disappointed in their journeys and returned year after year.

Even the untrained eye can perceive the uncompromising quality with which the photographs for the Asheville Postcard company images were chosen. With so many photo offerings of the Great Smokey Mountains readily available it must have been a difficult choice, but somehow "Autumn Scene", "Moonlight Scene in the Great Smokey Mountains", and "View of the Mountains from the Train", among others, capture just the right perspective and allow us to see the essence of all that is beautiful in this cherished national park.

Imagine the unending struggle of guiding a young company through the Great Depression. Trying times even for companies producing basic needs and household staples, but postcards and similar purchases would have been considered luxury items and probably far removed from the daily thoughts of anyone just trying to survive another day. Yet somehow, L.C. LeCompte and his chief salesman, Allen Hall, were able to create a niche market by initially traveling a large territory to sell their unique postcards to souvenir shops, bookstores, five-and-dimes, and gift shops. Sustaining the company meant putting 340,000 miles on his 1940 sedan, said Allen Hall in a 1977 interview for an article in the Asheville Times by Nancy Brower.

Also noted in the article from 1977 is the fact that many of the notable landmarks in the postcards published by L.C. LeCompte had already disappeared. For instance, the Toxaway Inn was nearby to the remarkable splendor of Toxaway Falls, but in 1918 the dam broke and the ensuing flood waters washed away the inn. The quaint charm, country feel, and unspoiled landscape of seemingly isolated two land roads like US 70 over Old Fort Mountain had already become mega highways. The primitive regional meaning and early significance now all but lost to the ages excepting the enduring nostalgia of these rarified postcard images.

Collage Art as Spiritual Metaphor

2009-12-28T11:39:00.002-06:00

The Nashville area provides a nurturing environment for local artist Melody Evans. Her recent exhibition of collage art at the Hermitage Library appeared as a sophisticated adventure, channeling a variety of well-earned life experience. Suffice to say that the material in the exhibit was quite unlike the over-glued, poster board project collage of our elementary school days. Like a well-made quilt where each clothe block has independent meaning and value, but even greater meaning as a whole, this style of collage art achieves more than merely uniting independent images into a new whole image.

Sometimes real-life experience, and the emotional aftermath, can either culminate in a series of devastating aftershocks or it may bring about the spark for creative interpretation that can offer platitudes of real healing. I am pleased to say that the latter has proved true for Ms. Evans who, many years earlier, suffered through the breakup of a ten-year romantic relationship. Part of her grieving process included a desire to randomly cut out what she considered meaningful images from magazines. Not yet completely certain of the intrinsic meaning of each cut out, nor quite sure about why she was emotionally drawn clip them, Melody decided to buy a canvas backing and then began to apply each image using a collage format and spray glue. "It was almost like God had a message for me in that picture", says Melody as she now reflects on the completion of that very first collage.

While living in a rustic cabin in Northern Alabama, Melody proudly displayed her newly fashioned collage art. Friends began to take notice of the roughly 22" x 14" masterpieces and were quickly able to find their own personal meaning in each picture. Further reflection prompted these same friends to ask "how much would it cost for me to get one like this?", but it simply never occurred to Melody to charge anything over the actual cost to have the print shop reproduce the images, especially since she was "amazed that people were actually looking to buy" her uniquely inspired creations.

The mature, yet sometimes whimsical nature of Ms. Evan's work is filled with eclectic mysteries of light and dark where figures and objects float together in a surreal dream. There is something wondrous in each Daliesque portrait that allows the psyche to reach the playground-of-the-mind in a kind of thought provoking jungle gym. "Butterfly Woman" is a visually stunning picture that is emotionally soothing as the central figure, an highly stylized Native American woman, releases vibrantly colored butterflies emanating from her core self while she attracts, and then becomes one with, a variety of symbols of nature, including fawn, flora, and a natural stream. Melody feels that this particular creation is the one that singularly embodies the reflection of her own soul, as a narrative for her own desire to live with a sense of spiritual connectedness and freedom.

"My whole life has been about my spirit.", as Melody readily admits she does not pre-plan the theme of each collage, but yet allows her spirit to reveal the project as part of the creative process. The onset of a "red mood" was the inspiration for the picture entitled "Sleeping Fairy" where a child-like fairy slumbers atop an oversized mushroom as a patchwork, bright red background becomes the mortar for the suspended images of angels, mermaids and the like, as smiling faces from the heavens look down on the scene in happy approval. The play of color against the intensity of the red background is mesmerizing, making it difficult to consider the option of returning to your own reality.

The almost transparent Hand of God appears to reach down to mankind in "Fall From Paradise" as the Eve figure extends her own arm upwards with a loving, yet inquisitive gesture while all around her the earthly world tries to come together in a new found order. Melody uses this same analogy to remind "when something is fallen away you realize how important it is", a fact she knows all too well these days. She has been bedridden since February 09' due to a severe back injury and unable to complete her beloved collage art. She continues to collect material for future projects as she finds meaning in writing about her present circumstance, voraciously reading with an infinite subject matter, and marveling at the generosity of good friends who kindly, and without requiring anything in return, take her to doctor appointments three times a week while also grocery shopping and running errands. Bringing by little surprises like her favorite Moose Tracks ice cream is always considered a welcome and much appreciated bonus.

Tips for collage art beginners include finding images that "strike your fancy" and then applying the larger images to the background, while layering the remaining images by hierarchy of size with the smallest in the forefront. When she gets back on her feet again, Melody Evans intends to host workshops to help others in their own quest to create, and find personal meaning in, collage art projects. "The biggest joy in the world is creating something and thinking it only exists because of you.", she says emphatically, with a true passion at the prospect of sharing her art form with both the novice and the experienced artist.

Essential Qualities of the Modern Southern Belle

2009-12-28T11:31:00.002-06:00

Erstwhile but essential social graces of proper etiquette, penmanship, ballroom dancing, needle work and even mourning customs may be lost to the ages; however, the true and indomitable spirit of the Southern Belle lives on. Albeit transformed and reinvented to meet the demands of a twenty-first century modern society moving at warp speed, in comparison to the previous more thoughtful and genteel pace of southern life for young ladies.

Belle from the french "beautiful" does still apply and southern belles remain free to pursue the qualities of hospitality, the cultivation of beauty, flirtatiousness, and a certain upper class demeanor and taste. But this same package also allows for kindness, compassion, and care for her fellow men and women.

A strong sense of community allows the modern southern belle to leave behind the old stereotypes of the "sweet potato queen" as idle gossiper and flamboyant surface beauty with little or nothing on the emotional inside, as stale as she is selfish and self-centered. A knowledge of history reminds her to learn from the mistakes of the past, just don't repeat them. Curiosity allows new information to permeate fresh ideas and an ability to continually question motives and circumstance.

True "GRITS" (girls raised in the south) are now free from the vestiges of readying for the next cotillion and are interested and active in local and national politics. No longer riding side-saddle as part of a silent majority, these southern belles care about the important issues of inalienable rights, the economy, abuse of any sort, and world hunger. Better yet, they are actively doing something about these issues by participating in forums, letter writing campaigns, and fund raisers.

A "ya ya sister" may have lost the monogrammed stationary but has replaced it with greater symbols backed by real meaning, like the pink ribbon representing the Susan G. Komen for the Cure cause of eradicating breast cancer in this lifetime. The earlier concern of whether to wear white after Labor Day has given way to donating gently worn apparel to out of work women in need of neat, professional business attire for that job winning interview.

Striving to be a modern southern belle is full-time employment with no room or need for part-timers. "Bulldozers disguised as powder puffs" still desire to be your sorority sister, honorary chairwoman, and junior leaguer but fully expect to derive important meaning from all their activities. No longer satisfied to just be the window dressing, all hoop skirt, lace, satin and silk but now content with an ever evolving role with lots of prospect for personal growth.