I Forget....

how to do this. In preaching that the REAL NEWS is always a block away, I ALWAYS find it is best to use an example. So here goes!

 

 

Sure we took a nice trip on Spring Break. We saw some wonderful sights, ate some wonderful food, walked in some wonderful tide pools, kicked up some wonderful sand.  But you know what?  If I hadn't been paying attention I'd have missed the REAL NEWS!

In case you've never been there, Oregon is a GREEN state, both real and figurative. At the Eugene, Oregon airport, I assume to be envrionmentally pure, all the lights are OUT in the restrooms.  They (the lights ) pop on automatically as you enter. It is as  if you are making a stage appearance at the beginning of ACT 1. 

They also automatically dispense soap to make sure you don't get more than your fair share.  I'm pretty sure they still use two ply toilet paper.

Now as interesting as this trip to the john  may be,  it is still not THE REAL STORY. This description merely sets the mood.  We LISTEN to, and WATCH and sometimes READ the news. We know the price of a gallon of gas is approaching four bucks. So being both frugal, and GOOD CITIZENS we tell Hertz we want a COMPACT.  I think the brochure says we'll get a Ford Focus.  But reality hands us this mode of transportation, a CHEVY COBALT.

 

 

Surprisingly it has more leg room than the plane we flew in on. The acceleration isn't bad. I certainly wouldn't want to play bumper cars with a lumber truck in it.  But I digress.  We are getting closer to the REAL STORY.

 

Follow this routine with me.  You grab your keys with the remote automatic door lock. You push the open button and get that funny little noise that tells you, "YOU ARE NOW FREE TO ENTER THE VEHICLE!"

You slide in behind the adjustable steering wheel, and put your keys in the ignition.  Meantime your mate hears that familiar "the door is unlocked 'ding ding'."  She/he slides into the shotgun seat, shuts the door. You crank the engine once, hit the accelerator until you get up to a comfortable speed, and then set the cruise control.

With this particular COBALT? Uh, uh. Nothing is automatic. It is like revisiting the '50's. I mean get this.  I have to actually put the key into the hole in the side of the door and turn it.

 

 

 

Once inside?  If I want Peggy to join me?  I can't slide my hand down to push the universal electronic door lock. NO! I have to do a lateral reach across the seat further and more strenuous than you'd have to do in an extreme yoga class.  Why? To push the automatic passenger side door lock control?  NO SUCH THING.  I have to reach to the furthest horizontal distance I can manage. Then using my thumb and index finger I must find the strength to vertically lift this stick like device upward while Peggy waits, not so patiently, outside in the rain.

 

 

So HERE IS THE REAL NEWS, at least the first part of it. We are evolving.  And like the tailbone, the tonsil, the appendix and the baby toe, we are slowly giving up the functionality of our upper limbs.  Let me ask you this.  What exercise, what machine, what physical fitness routine trains us to perform this manual unlocking of the door business?  None that I know of.  But that is not the most dramatic twist of THIS REAL NEWS STORY, that is a block away.

Once inside and settled down, I am looking for a little fresh air?  So I reach for the lever that makes the windows go down?  Look at this thing. 

 

 

 

I reach down with my left hand, grab this little device that looks like an ancient butter churn handle, and begin the process of manually lowering the glass. When I've completed the task  my elbow hurts, my wrist hurts, my thumb and forefinger are cramped.  And then I get to thinking.  What do I do in a day that involves this particular distorted rotary motion? Nothing! What do I do in a month that would call up on me to move my arm like the cam that moves the wheels on an old steam engine.  Nothing!  I'm going to lose that function. So are you.  I don't even know of a dance that calls for such a gyration.  SO THAT'S THE REAL NEWS.

 

But not all of it.  Remember MEN when we had to open the door on the passenger side for our dates and mates?  Well with the COBALT, ITSSSS BAAACK. Peggy, holding two cups of coffee in the rain, is in no mood to have me practice my door lock stretch move,  followed by the butter churn crank maneuver.  "OPEN THIS @#%%#^& DOOR NOW!" might be pretty close to a verbatim quote.

 

 

So, like it or not, we are evolving both physically and cuturally.  And, outside of Oregon and a Chevy Cobalt, I don't really care if I can ever manually unlock a door, roll down a window or romantically open the door for Peggy.  I don't know how she feels about it. AND THAT MAY BE THE REAL NEWS! 

"Thar She Blows..."

My friend Larry Ramos, with the musical group The Association, tells me Wendy is not the most played of all The Association singles.  Rather it is "Never My Love."  And when he shares that with me, he adds "Never My Love" is the most played on the air (radio) single in history. But you know what?  If everybody had been on Spring break with me and Peggy?  "Wendy" (WINDY) would have knocked "Never My Love" right out of the running.

 

A few years ago we discovered this modest resort on the Oregon coast named "The Inn at Otter Crest."  Sounds kind of gentle and romantic, eh? 

Let me fill you in on some things before you give it a thought for your second honeymoon. One of the discount packages for the Spring?  That package includes two rain ponchos in every room.  You get from check-in to the front door of your room in a plastic covered golf cart. Oh, there is a giant thermometer on each of the balconies? On this occasion the mercury never got above 40 over a four day period. 

They had a wonderful, friendly greeting for us at the front desk.

"Hey, at least we have a GREAT STORM for you this year."

 

 

 

This Great Storm lasted our entire stay and included rain, snow, sleet, and rain, and wind, and sleet and wind.

I know what your thinking. 

"Quit your whining Paul!"

Don't bother getting out the crying towel.  We LOVED IT! The storm produced the most dramatic surf I've ever seen.  When the sun did peek through it generated  this amazing blend of gray, blue, green, black, browns and tans.  It made the ferns and moss on the evergreens really stand out.  It turned lighthouses into incredible works of art.

 

 

 

 

The huge cross current waves broke through holes in rocks creating instant geysers. Gulls, Bald Eagles and crows danced all over the sky.

 

 

Seals are huddled together on offshore rocks (probably not for warmth). 

 

 

 

The only whining I'm going to do must come in the singular. Despite the "foul" weather Peggy got to see about 8 grey whales spit in the air about ten feet.  (I was otherly occupied at the time.) And she says one of them surfaced.  She didn't get a full breach. This is normally a great time of year for whale watching.  But you need a little break in the weather to get a good view.

So anyway, that's how we spent our Spring Break.  And we left feeling tough and seasoned.  And there may be some historical precedent for feeling that way?  This area is best known for being discovered by Captain James Cook in the mid 1700's? Well he, his boat and crew stayed long enough to name a few rocks, and then got the "heck" out of there.  On his way out he could  be heard shouting, "I dub thee CAPE FOUL WEATHER."  He must have been there during Spring Break.

 

 

The name sticks and so do the images.  And the chowder ain't bad either. 

"On Top of Old Baldy....

All Covered in Snow......"

I'm pretty sure I was a Freshman in college when I first ascended Mount Baldy, just outside Los Angeles. It might seem a mean feat for those who climb all the 14 thousand foot peaks (The Fourteeners) here in Colorado.

But when you consider you are coming up from Sea Level to 10 thousand feet Mount Baldy gets a little more respect.

Anyway I was a little short of oxygen and pretty high on nitrogen when I got there.  And they had this little guest book? You are asked for your impressions?  So here is my direct quote which is surely sitting in some archive with the Sierra Club.

"It makes one wonder about the existence of God."

Go ahead and write something like that if it is what you are feeling. But here is some advice. Do not include your home address, your phone number or email address. That is unless you are a big fan of crank calls, spam and/or junk mail.  You cannot believe how many people have climbed MT. Baldy who are deeply concerned about YOUR eternal soul.

If I were to do it again? I'd write something like, "hey dude! I made it!"

This is as close as you'll ever find me discussing "religion."  I pretty much respect and suspect them all.  They all (established religions) inspire great food, music and holidays. I've sampled them all.  And didn't they all invent (fasting) dieting? Don't they all practice meditation?

Ah, I'm getting off track.

There are places all over the world that inspire me to tremble at the feet of what must be a greater power.  That is one of them up there. 

While I'm sure it doesn't match up with anyone's dogma, I typically and selfishly try to keep a few of these places JUST for myself.

 

 

This one is not a big secret.  It's shared by family and friends and quite a few other people.  But it is not a huge tourist spot. That means if you do come upon it? There is a decent chance you can have some time alone with a consistent force of nature.

I just thought in honor of Easter I would share this much with you, and maybe even give you some hints on its whereabouts.

 

[REAL PICTURE]

 

 

I can tell you it is along the Central California coast.  I can tell you the surf breaks like that a good portion of the year. If it is not breaking? There are plenty of other dynamic forces in play to capture your senses.   I can tell you there is a nice calm beach nearby.

(Tim Ewing and I slept there in sleeping bags back in the ....0's.)

Two days ago Peggy says to me out of the blue, " I want you to paint a wave." 

It wasn't easy.  And I had to mix mediums ( watercolor and acrylics).  And for what it is worth?  It is yours to ponder. And if you ever find this spot? I can tell you on this Easter Sunday, the very least it will do is "make you wonder about the existence of God."   

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Nice Legs

I shot (got this picture) this guy about a year ago, and just filed it away.  This past week I came upon it and decided HE should be painted. If you were to see the entire photo frame? You would clearly see his behavior represents a rite of Spring. He's not just up there chasing rainbows.

I hope you join me in being impressed with his flexibility and force.  And I hope it takes you a few seconds to realize what I was forced to face. 

I'm learning that one's best artistic feats come from drawing or painting WHAT one sees.  And if you look at this guy carefully?  Like Peggy did? You might see and say what she did?

"Paul, it only has three legs."

I didn't even notice it when I sketched it.  I went back to the photo I used for the model?  Sure enough there was no fourth leg in the picture.

I won't evaluate the veracity of my short and long term memory at this age.  But I will SWEAR by my emotional memory....and I clearly recall the SENSE of speed and energy being employed by this dude in search of a mate. I just can't believe for a minute he could do that on three legs.

So what do I do? Add a leg for the heck of it?  AND CLASS...that reminds me of a story I tell now and then about an old fellow employee, Andy Schaeffer. 

If I'm repeating myself? Sorry! Paul's Heimers again.

I was with Andy (a news photographer at the time, now in promotions for another TV station) at the old Stapleton Airport in Denver.  Our mission was to get a quick sound bite from then Denver Mayor Federico Pena before he headed on to a Continental Airlines Jet Way for a trip to Washington. 

The station also wanted some shots of the plane backing out and taxing out to the runway.  Well we were late, barely got a shot of the mayor and couldn't get an angle to shoot the plane.  A woman waiting for a later flight was sitting behind us.

She sees Andy's frustration and says kindly, "Why don't you just shoot this plane over here? It looks just like the other one."

The poor woman.  Andy puts his camera down, jumps a row of seats and gets right in this poor woman's face.  He gives her a good five minute lecture on journalistic integrity and honest photography and a whole bunch of other sermons she doesn't deserve.

This is a long way around to tell you I WILL NOT BE ADDING A FOURTH LEG  to old speedy up there. 

Actually Peggy and I have been speculating the antelope is SO flexible he must have that fourth leg tucked up under his right shoulder.  SO?

If you need that fourth? No three legged jokes please! Let's just accept it on faith its up there somewhere.  All we can do is just paint what we see, and see what we paint.  Eh?

Aren't you getting tired of all this POLITICAL COMMENTARY posing as journalism? I am!.

Lights, Camera, Check Book?

.....show business....

 

It's been an eventful week by my standards, and I'm guessing a SUPER week on Melissa DeBaca's chart. That's Melissa up there, a former student. She is an actress.

Why is she beaming? She is "beaming" because she is showing up at the premier of "IN YOUR DREAMS," an independent (indie) movie shot around here.

(Should you be ready to make light of that? Remember that South Park started with two LOCAL guys who decided to poke fun of a 19th century LOCAL guy accused of eating human flesh.)

Now Peggy and I have been to some Indie Premiers where we felt WE should have been compensated for showing up. 

(In fact, we surreptitiously disappeared from one of them right in the middle of the movie. Luckily we were seated in the rear.)

There was no need to crawl out of this one.  I can't think of any better way to say it than it was a TRUE DELIGHT to watch.

First of all, Melissa, who'd I'd praise no matter what, is in FACT, terrific.  She is the leading dreamer, but this was just a terrific ensemble performance. I'm not sure I can give you a comparable to help you relate. 

There is a little bit of a "Neil Simon" nuance going on, but "IYD" is not nearly as predictable. 

"In Your Dreams" dialogue is fresh and seemingly very revealing of a generation about to bloom.  ( I'd say IS revealing of a new generation, but I'm clearly not qualified to make that statement.)

(The producers of Jeanne Ever's concept, Veronica Roland, Erica Jaffe, Rob Rehberg and Sarah Mauldin have all grown up together, and just dedicated a summer to fulfilling a long simmering group vision.)

Now I'm not sure I should even tell you this part, but I'd be a pretty sloppy journalist if I left it out.

Okay, I know you haven't seen this movie and may never see it.  But here are some things that ought to blow your mind. Feature length movie, right?

Production time from concept to DVD? Three months!

Total shooting days? Twelve!

Camera and lighting gear? Donated!

Shoot locations? Donated!

Professional Actor's Pay! Time donated!

Total cost of production?    $400.00 (yeah, the decimal is in the right place.) 

Oh, you could fix some of the audio, maybe touch up a few of the scenes with some fill light.  I might add a dissolve or two here and there, but the editing could go as is.  You know why I think I liked it so much? I think it could get a PG rating without feeling like you were at a Disney movie.

So here I've given it this glowing review? Are you going to run out and see it? Not for a while at least.  You see they took a few "jabs" at Target. And I guess the Target "suspenders" are giving it the once over. Whatever happened to "just spell my name right!"

 

 

Now I know Melissa is going to succeed with her dreams. (By the way she has a new dream guy, former student and actor/musician Matt Daren.)

 

But I'm going to go out on a limb and say we haven't seen the last of the "IN YOUR DREAMS" team. They were just having too much fun.

www.MYSPACE.com/MovieInYourDreams

 

Avian Integrity"

...and let me play among the stars...."

I once wrote for the air, "let us all vow to be Hornbills." The reference was a tribute to the Hornbill on Valentine's Day. Zoologists tell us the Hornbills mate for life, and tend to live some pretty long lives.

The same character description is offered up for Storks and Cranes, like the two above.  And when you say FOR LIFE? That's impressive. Why? Because on average they all live longer than we do. What IS THEIR SECRET?

Well before somebody jumps in and says, "WELL, IT HAS TO BE THEIR COMMITMENT TO FIDELITY?"

Come on, all we have are a bunch of geeky scientists professing that trait. Let's think about it. The one thing we know for sure?

"WHAT'S THAT PAUL?"

"COME ON YOU GUYS, TAKE A WILD GUESS!"

"SORRY, YOU GOT US ON THIS ONE PAUL."

"OKAY, BUT YOU'RE GOING TO BE UPSET YOU DIDN'T THINK ABOUT IT. WHAT DO ALL THESE BIG OLD LONG LIVING BIRDS HAVE IN COMMON?"

"TELL US PAUL, PLEASE!!!"

"ALRIGHT, HERE IT COMES. Nowhere in WRITTEN or SPOKEN history is there any evidence of any one of these octogenarian BIRD BRAINS, RUNNING FOR PUBLIC OFFICE."

That's it.  These are Sand Cranes!

 

".....let me know what spring is like on Jupiter and Mars!"

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"'Risky Business"

 

 

"You can't be too careful!"

I made a rather unimpressive attempt to find the origin of that phrase. If I ever get an answer to my academic wonder I'll appropriately edit this entry.  Meantime I'm just going to RISK using it. Why? Because that is today's theme.

In fact you CAN be too CAREFUL in my judgement.  Life can't be very interesting without risk.  And I'm not talking about Evel Kneivel type risk, or climbing Everest. But if we are born with helmets and foam padding and an endless supply of  number 80 sun screen, we'll never know the ecstasy of taking a risk and WINNING the day.

Please Paul, give us an example?

Thought you'd never ask.

When I started sketching about three years ago I was warned not to attempt producing a likeness of any significant other. 

"Oh, POSH," I ventured.  And so I set about to immortalize my dear Peggy.  And so I did, I thought.

"YOU MADE ME OLD AND UGLY," I'm pretty sure she said.  And I'm pretty sure she didn't talk to me for a minimum of 24 hours.

So I put my helmet on and decided " I can't be too careful. I won't do THAT again."

But I really am a man of risk.  About a month ago Peggy is looking at my photo file and sees a digital likeness of herself.

"I like that picture of me."

Well, bright or not so bright, I decide right then and there I'm going to take my helmet off and risk it AT LEAST ONE MORE TIME. And I'm going to take it a step further.  I am going to attempt to reproduce her glorious features in WATER COLOR.  And it would be my FIRST WATER COLOR portrait.

So there it is up there.  And you'll note I remain healthy enough to be typing this posting.  You know I think she actually LIKES IT.

So there you have it. There is the object lesson for the day on Risk. You'll never feel really good about yourself until you take one (risk) and succeed. 

I hope those of you just starting out in adult careers will remember that.  Some, of course, can't ever hear me. That's because you CAN'T hear through those helmets.

"I see heaven when I see thee Dulcinea...!"

In Runic Memorium

Let me make it clear I am in a dark mood that I am dramatizing for affect. Do not prepare yourself for deep sorrow.

To many of you the cause of my mourning will seem trivial. Some of you I am sure will relate.  Here goes!

Let's start this on a high note.  This week I finished my watercolor of "Robin in Nest." And irony of irony, I complete it in the same week Robin Hoffman comes and visits my journalism class. (Robin is the Senior Executive Producer of the ABC affiliate in town and students love her.) 

And, hey, my announcing students got to chat with two of the main anchors in town, Jim Benemann and Adele Arakawa and were duly impressed.

 

 

  

 

 

So those are the highlights. And I'm sorry, but they may not help balance the events of the past few days at home.

Want to know how to make a Viking cry?

(Peggy gets mad at me whenever I drop my Norwegian heritage into the conversation. Perhaps that's because she knows I'm really more Irish than Norwegian.)

But today I feel totally justfied in my heritage dropping.  The only official "right of passage" I remember going through with my Norwegian father? Oh it was a proud but cruel and grueling event.

I am ten years old and he is taking me Deep Sea fishing out of Oceanside, California.  We have to be on the pier at FOUR AM in the morning. That's so we can have pancakes, and eggs at the little dive at the end of the pier before boarding the boat.  

Now at home I'd have washed all that down with a glass of milk? But unbeknownst to me, this is "right of passage" day. Dad speaks to the waitress for me.

"He'll have a CUP OF COFFEE."

"Huh?"

"Cream and sugar son?," the waitress says.

Dad answers for me.

"He'll take it black."

So anyway coffee has been my only admitted addiction in life.

So imagine my dismay today when I head down the stairs, grind up some Colombian, pour the water into the 20 year old Braun....and...?

 

 

It bit the dust, it's a gonner, it is off to meet the big coffee pot in the sky, it has percolated its last crushed bean. Oh, the pain. Oh, the suffering. What will I drink this morning? 

Maybe if it had happened later in the day, but in the morning before first light.  AND....get this...IN THE SAME WEEK...IN FACT JUST A DAY AFTER the main lever on the toaster popped off.

 

Go ahead and laugh at my grief if you must.  But I feel confident that there are some among you, of real or dubious Scandanavian descent, who will relate to my lament.

And please, should I visit you today, please be kind and respectful enough to utter, "Paul, can I get you a cup of coffee?"

You'll be rewarded in Valhalla. 

No So Fast

....where the deer and the antelope play..."

 

People will tell you all the time that the cheetah is the fastest animal on earth.  Only sort of.  The cheetah can haul 'bum' in a really short sprint.  So maybe in a context we can relate to, it likely holds the record in the 'hundred meters.' 

 

 

But the real track star is the good old American pronghorned prairie antelope.  From 200 meters right through a marathon the ANTELOPE RULES.  Why bother to bring it up?

That's just one of those things you learn doing news stories that one of my former students calls "Paul's Huge List of Useless Information." 

 

 

Just for the record no information is useless. And to actually be in a situation to see a herd of them up close and personal (via helicopter) RUN,  and move as a single unit just takes my breath away thinking about it.

An odd thing occurred while painting this guy.  When I got to his right front leg, from the knee down to his hoof it looked like everything was backwards, so I painted it that way.  Then I said maybe I ought to check.

You know at the time I thought that guy let me get awfully close to him?  I checked about 100 other shots I have of antelope?  Sure enough this guy had a dislocated and probably broken leg that had his hoof pointed in the opposite direction.   I still wouldn't have wanted to race him.

 

It was just too painful to leave it that way, so I healed (heeled him maybe?) by straightening his leg out.

Don't know if it's still true, but I'm pretty sure there are still more antelope in Wyoming than people, and Montana may have a similar distinction.  Just some more useFUL information for you.

Got to run!

Delegate!

I love dogs of all breeds and talent...that is I love them when they are on somebody else's leash....

I  like to paint them too, but sometimes they have really funny legs and feet....

And Wow! Do they have a lot more variation in the outword structure than our species.

Let's hear it for dogs.

I'll do cats some other day.

Snakes are cool, but the jury is still out on koi and gerbals.

Looking for a road map?   Maybe tomorrow.