Sketchbook Project's Illustration Friday

The Sketchbook Projects Illustration Friday theme for 3/21/14 is "RED."
This is my entry, which I created as an ATC (Artists Trading Card) using a real playing card. I created Henry VIII and his wives from online paintings, and did everything else digitally in Photoshop.

"The King of Broken Hearts"

2013 - A Nostalgic Year

Until a few days ago, it had been nearly a year since I have posted on this blog.  I got caught up in several huge projects that ate up nearly all my time.  However, as the year is coming to a close, I am thinking back over the year 2013, but I am also thinking back over the last 50 years. (See my previous post about Kennedy's assasination in 1963.) 

Besides adding two new posts within the last few days, I refreshed my image by creating a new header/banner for this blog.
 

2013 was a milestone year for me.  It marked 50 years since I graduated from high school, the year I began college, as well as the year JFK was assassinated.

In some ways I can hardly believe 50 years have passed.  Sometimes I look in the mirror expecting to see myself at about age 35 and am surprised to see an older woman staring back at me, one that increasingly reminds me of my mother.

My high school class has had 3 reunions, a 10th, 25th and 50th.  I attended the 10th.  I felt completely out of place.  Few of my best friends attended. I am a very talkative person, but I didn’t seem to know what to talk to people about.  I think, perhaps, I felt like I hadn’t accomplished what others had.  I had gained weight. I didn’t feel  comfortable in my clothes. Now, it seems silly to me, because, for one thing, I realize that every person takes a different path and our successes as human beings have little to do with our jobs or education.  It is all about who we are, who we care about, and how we behave.

I had done some good things (graduated from college, become a teacher, got married) and one rather remarkable thing.  I had served for two years in the Peace Corps, teaching in a high school that had opened at my Peace Corps' site only 3 years before I arrived ---therefore I was teaching teens, but also adults who hadn’t previously had the opportunity to attend high school.

When my 25th came around, I didn’t attend.  I told myself I wasn’t interested, but I think I was afraid my previous uncomfortable feeling would return. By that time, I had divorced, remarried, and was still teaching.

Earlier this year, I offered to help to find people for my 50th reunion.  In 2011, I had searched for members of my Peace Corps group for a reunion in Washington, D.C. to help commemorate the 50th anniversary of the Peace Corps.  So I figured I had some experience in online searches.  Soon I volunteered to scan our yearbook pictures to create name tags for the reunion, and before I knew it I was creating a private blog for my classmates.

I scanned the entire yearbook. I made a blog post for each of our 254 classmates. I scanned programs and memorabilia from our high school years, and took photos of our now-renovated high school. I posted photos of our city for those who hadn’t been back for years. I scanned articles from our school newspaper when they were about members of our class and, when I found them, I posted obituaries of deceased classmates. (Approximately 14% of our class is gone.) It took me just about every waking minute for three months to create the blog and people are still sending items to post, so the work continues.

At one meeting with a friend on the reunion committee several months before the reunion, I found myself encouraging her to write a bio that was requested by the committee.  She was feeling as if she hadn’t accomplished anything. As they were received, the bios were sent to the committee, were going to be sent out in a mass email closer to the reunion, and I was posting them on the blog, which didn’t go public until after the reunion.  

Some of our classmates had done pretty remarkable things.  They are doctors, professors, lawyers, and authors. They founded successful companies and made millions. But I told my friend that the first people to respond were the ones who had accomplished great things.  They didn’t even have to think about what to write ---their bios had already been written for other purposes. 

She had been on the commercial tract in high school. Her parents never encouraged her to go to college, which she now regrets.  But I reminded her that she had worked for some of the biggest and most successful international companies with headquarters in our metropolitan area.  When I taught school, there were times when the principal was at a conference for a week and I didn’t even know he was gone.  But if the secretaries were out, the place fell apart.  So she had done important work.  She got married and stayed married and raised two children who both attended college. She and her husband had been able to retire early and had spent several years traveling across the country, something I’m sure others would love to do but most don’t have the courage to even try.

Through the bios, I found it interesting that some people turned out just as I had imagined.  B, the high school math wiz, was a mathematics professor.  No one ever expected K to be anything but a doctor.  I knew A would have something to do with physical education or sports ---her dad had been a university coach and it was in her blood. I expected N to become an artist and E to become a nurse. I never did figure out what J had done with his life, but his bio was extremely witty and I remember him as the star of hilarious class skits that he wrote himself.

But some people’s lives took odd turns.  Our 1963 graduating class was full of men who had the choice of being drafted during the Viet Nam war or to enlist.  Many enlisted and ended up staying in military careers.  There were lots of classmates who were in the commercial or general tracts that had no intention of attending college, but many worked for a few years and then decided to earn their degrees. Two women with whom I had walked to high school nearly every day had done so. A woman who I remember as being mostly interested in classical music, ended up with a husband interested in auto racing ---now they sponsor some big-name race car drivers. A woman who had been a close friend in high school is involved with the committee that sponsors rodeos in TX ---a path I never imagined for her. 

So I attended my 50th reunion, was happy to be there, and had a great time. Some of our classmates look like they are 20 years younger than the rest of us.  A few look to be somewhat older than most.  Many have gray or white hair or almost no hair at all, and there are a surprising number of blonds among the women. One guy who had been overweight during high school (and even on the 25th reunion photo) has apparently given all his weight to some of the rest of us. 

I recognized most of my classmates immediately, and if I didn’t, a quick glance at a name tag gave me a name, and then I saw the face from the 1963 yearbook gleaming through. As soon as we started to converse, the years simply melted away. Behind the wrinkles and gray hairs no one had changed much at all.

My only regret is that I didn’t have the time to sit down with every individual to spend an hour catching up.  We’ll just have to stay in touch through the blog.  

______

A year ago, E, an old friend from college got in touch.  We had been in the art department with me, but he was an “older” student. He had worked and been in the military before attending college.  We went out together once in a while in college, but were never really romantically involved.  So after several phone calls in which we caught up, I took a short drive (about 90 minutes) to visit him one day about a year ago.  We spent an afternoon catching up on old times.

E called me last week to tell me that J was in bad shape and not expected to live. J was another older student who shared a tiny cottage with E near the university.  Like E, J had spent a few years in the military and worked at civilian jobs before college.  J and I also went out sometimes, but again, nothing serious. He was 7 years older than I was and was very smart and had in infectious sense of humor. We kept in touch while I was in the Peace Corps and when I returned, he invited me to attend homecoming with him in the fall of 1969.  He was working at the newspaper in our university town. That was the last time I saw him.

In 2000, I had retired from teaching and had signed up with a temp agency to keep myself out of trouble.  I was working at a business that did, among other things, gold leaf application, and they had been contracted to apply gold leaf to the cupola of the old courthouse in the town where I attended college. My boss asked me to call the local paper to see if I could persuade a reporter and photographer to go to the site.  It was a newsworthy story, but would be free publicity for my boss, too.  I told him I knew someone at the paper, if he was still there.  He was.  After we caught up with each other’s lives, J and I got down to the business of my call. As an assistant editor, he sent someone to cover the story.  That was the last time I spoke to him.

But even when I haven’t seen someone for decades, if we were once friends, I know we still are.

A couple of days ago, E called to say J had died, at age 75. I found a lengthy article about him in the town’s newspaper where he had worked for more than 40 years.  The writer interviewed E and also S, another guy I had gone out with in college, but I hadn’t seen since graduation.  J, E, and S, all in the same article. E and I both hate funerals, so we decided not to attend. I found J’s daughter’s address online and sent her a note including my memories of her father, along with a sympathy card.  

So, besides the 14% of my high school class who are deceased, another old friend has passed. And it will only get worse in the coming years.

However, I am still kicking and happy for those old friends who are still alive and well. I’m only sorry I didn’t stay in touch with most of them during the intervening years.

The Day JFK Died - 11/22/63

When a friend died a few days ago, I read a lengthy online article about him from the newspaper in the town where I attended college. He had worked as a columnist and assistant editor there for 40 years.

I happened to notice that the paper was collecting stories from readers, asking where we had been on November 22, 1963 when we heard the news that Kennedy had been shot.  Below you will find an expanded version of what I submitted to the paper.

I was a Freshman at Indiana State College in Pennsylvania in the fall of 1963.  (The school would become Indiana University of PA before my 1967 graduation.) That year, I had graduated from high school and had a fun-filled summer.  I was disappointed when my parents would not allow me to go the March on Washington for Civil Rights  (August) where Martin Luther King gave one of his most-impressive speeches. I started college, made new friends in my dorm, and had met and dated several college guys. Most of my classes were rehashes of what I had learned in high school, so I was doing well without having to study much. The fall had remained beautiful and warm until early-November. It seemed like all was well with the world.  


On November 22nd, I had stayed up into the wee hours of the morning  to study for an 8:00 a.m. mid-term exam, so I took a nap before heading to my 3:00 test. I remember  having an odd dream in which the other girls in the dorm were upset because a war had started.  I think someone heard the news on the radio and ran from room to room to announce that Kennedy had been shot. I probably heard the frantic tones and turned them into the dream.  When I woke, my roommate told me that the President was dead. 


My family lived in a highly-Republican suburb of Pittsburgh.  In high school, I was the only student in my class to volunteer to take Kennedy’s side in a social studies' class debate.  Other students had to be assigned to help me.  My friends had teased me on the day before the national election in 1960, because in our school’s mock election, Nixon had won with about 90% of the votes.  

On that November day in 1963 at 2:45, I walked in a stupor  to the English Department building. The campus Oak Grove had been stunning in all it's autumn beauty just weeks earlier, but by the third week of November, the branches were bare and sad-looking. 

The professor had not canceled the exam but gave us the option to take it at another time if we were too upset to concentrate. I decided to stay.  It took my mind off the national tragedy that had unfolded in Dallas, at least for an hour.   

When I graduated from IUP four years later, I honored the memory of JFK by joining the Peace Corps which he had established in 1961. I served in an underdeveloped area of Brazil, living for two years without running water, electricity or a sewage system while I taught English as a foreign language and worked on community development projects. I still consider it the best thing I've ever done.  Returning to Brazil to visit old friends and former students in 2011 came in second. 

On that November day in 1963, the country seemed to have lost its innocense and optimism. However,  I remember Kennedy as an inspiring and witty speaker.  And I will forever honor him as the founder of  the Peace Corps which provided me with the most-rewarding experience of my life and the opportunity to do something important in the world.

Sensational Haiku Wednesday - Photograph

Find Sensational Haiku Wednesday by clicking on the link.

This week's prompt is PHOTOGRAPH.

This is a great theme for me because I carry a camera with me all the time and love to take photos.

a moment in time

never to be caught again

aim, frame, focus, snap

soft fuzzy petals

moist with morning rain or dew

such exquisite blooms

I catch many birds,

without a cage, net, nor trap,

only images

(The first 2 photos were taken at parks near my home. The first in February 2012. The next in July 2012.  The third photo is from the Bird Park near Iguaçu Falls in Brazil, August 2011.)

WHAT I LEARNED IN 2012

What I learned in 2012 was mostly from reading.  I've been an avid reader since I was a child. If there were a black belt in reading, I would have earned mine in elementary school. 

I usually have an audio book in my car and another on my ipod and at least one real book handy to pick up at any time. But I learned, too, from personal experience, from TV, from documentaries and other films, from taking free credited classes (for seniors) at my community college.

IN 2012 I LEARNED:

That my point and shoot camera is convenient to carry, but doesn’t take great photos. But I still don’t want to be burdened with a huge camera and lenses. (Community College class in Digital photography.)

That Edgar Allen Poe bores me. (Community College class in Intro to Fiction.)

That Beatrix Potter was a very independent thinker and a mycologist ---an expert in fungi ---as well as the author and illustrator of children’s books. (From an online biography and the movie “Miss Potter.”)

That George Washington was a humble man of few words who set the tone that prevented our presidents from becoming lifelong monarchs. (A biography by Ron Chernow)   

That about one-third of humans never fart. (“Packing for Mars” by Mary Roach.)

That William Still, who few have heard of, was one of the most successful Underground Railroad operators. (PBS video.)

That author André Dubus III grew up in terrible circumstances and became violent in his teens and as a young adult. (From his memoir, “Townie.”)

That Michael Moore received so many threats that his family had to live with armed guards after he made remarks about President Bush at the Academy Awards when he won an Oscar for “Bowling for Columbine” ---remarks which turned out to be true. (His memoir “Here Comes Trouble”)

That Patrick Bronte, the father of the Bronte sisters, outlived his wife and all six of his children. (TV mini-series "Brontes of Haworth")

That J.D. Salinger was even stranger than I had imagined.  He loved very young women and became a religious fanatic and recluse. He found his second wife repugnant while she was pregnant. (Biography by Kenneth Slawenski and a memoir by Salinger’s daughter)

The pun has been around for millennia and is NOT the lowest form of humor. (“The Pun Also Rises” by John Pollack)

That even though Pearl Buck was the daughter and wife of missionaries, she disapproved of attempts to convert people instead of teaching them new agricultural methods and other useful skills. (“Pearl Buck in China” by Hilary Spurling)

That Roger Ebert is not gay, as I had always thought. Due to cancer and several operations, he can no longer speak, but can still write. He contracted a Scottish company to use old tapes from his TV shows to create a computer voice that sounds like his own. (His memoir “Life Itself”)

That Grand Central Station is a great monument to American progress and beauty. (Video “Inside Grand Central”)

That Frank Schaeffer proves that a former member of the Religious Right can become a reasonable, rational, and humorous person. (His memoirs "Sex, Mom, and God" and "Crazy for God")

That Thomas Jefferson had more negative qualities and John Adams had more positive qualities than I formerly thought. That Alexander Hamilton was possibly the person principally responsible for the U.S. being the greedy, warmongering country it is today. (Several books about the early years of our country)

That I hate politics. And even though there is enough guilt to go around, I dislike the Republicans more than the Democrats. (From two years of ceaseless campaigning)

That in Michael Connelly’s series about the Lincoln Lawyer, that the protagonist (at least so far) has always discovered that the person he managed to acquit, was guilty after all. Connelly needs to mix it up so these novels aren’t so predictable. I still love his Harry Bosch series.

That the War of the Roses went on for decades in England and were basically fights between the houses of Lancaster and York, whose symbols were the red and white rose. They sound much like the fighting between various faction of Muslims ---Shiites and Sunni’s. (“The Red Queen” and “The White Queen” by Philippa Gregory. These are novels, but do include a lot of real history. However, I suggest reading the true stories as well as the fictional versions.) 

That I would never want to be a monarch, wife of a monarch, or president. (Books and videos on various monarchs, presidents and the endless 2012 election)

Despite popular belief that Mark Twain's final years were sad and bitter, that they were not. (“Man in White” by Michael Sheldon ---a good read)

That I liked Jeff Bridges in “True Grit" much better than John Wayne. Actually, I don’t like John Wayne in much of anything.

That I am in love with British TV crime: “A Touch of Frost,” “Midsommer Murders,” “The Last Detective,” "Inspector Lewis,” “New Tricks,” “Hetty Wainthropp Investigates.” “Inspector Lynley,” “Inspector Alleyn Mysteries,” “Murphy’s Law,” ”George Gently” ---among others.  I’m enjoying seeing all the “Prime Suspect” shows with Helen Mirren again.

My current favorite TV shows are “Person of Interest” and “Elementary.”  Although I have found most sit-coms to be lame and haven't watched them for years, I am enjoying "The Big Bang Theory" and "Three and a Half Men" which I started to watch for the first time in September of 2012. Lucky for me, they all air on Thursdays, so that is my TV night.

I still love “Jeopardy.” I wish I had applied when I was younger.  Now that I am a senior citizen, I still know a lot of answers, but could never be quick enough to beat younger contestants on the show. 

I will probably never watch live TV again.  I record what I want to watch and view the shows after midnight. Through most of my life I've been a frustrated night owl who had to be up by 6:00 a.m. ---so now that I'm retired, I stay up as late as I want.

That even after reading the entire Encyclopedia Brittanica and doing everything possible to become fit and healthy, one cannot know everything and can still die young. ("The Know-It-All" and "Drop Dead Healthy" by A.J. Jacobs ---both informative and humorous reads)

That I never want to be in a mental institution. (“Voluntary Madness” by  Norah Vincent)