Vitamins P and D

Yesterday my youngest daughter had her 15th birthday. After being showered with gifts already, we asked her what she’d dinner. She asked us to go downtown to the Chinese Barbeque place and get her a Barbequed Duck and some Barbequed Pork. (Her oldest brother said she needed vitamins P and D.)

After lunch across the street at the Vietnamese place, we wandered over to the barbeque place. We ordered, and waited for our stuff. I saw a cup of toothpicks suiting on the counter, and having just finished lunch, I figured I could use one of them. I leaned over to take one and the proprietor stopped me and said they were for trial pieces, and would I like to try the half-fat pork. I had already said we wanted lean pork, not half-fat for our dinner but he seemed so intent on our having this delicacy, I could say nothing but yes, and I wanted a toothpick anyway.

In Chinese, he ordered his cook to cut us two pieces of the pork. He chopped several pieces out with his large chopping knife, reminding me somewhat of John Belushi doing Samurai Butcher. He proudly handed us the toothpicks with this precious morsel stuck on top.

I expected hot and juicy, what I got was room temperature and fat! It was a piece of cold, cooked pork fat! I smiled as best as I could and chewed as little as I could and worked my way out of the building. My wife, also receiving this morsel, was much better than me. She almost looked pleased. We took our many parcels and went back to the car.

I know every ethnic group has their own specialty, and not everyone appreciates everything. They had a chicken foot special which we avoided.

But still, cold pork fat!

Yuk!!

My father speaks of Tom Mix.

My father spent many years living in Dubois, Pennsylvania. I have no idea when, as he always told me about these things and I didn’t necessarily listen, as kids will do. So, there are gaps in my understanding. I was a late in life baby, as my father was 43 when I was born. He lived until July, 1970 so I certainly knew him as an adult (me, not him) but I guess I never asked all the right questions because I was used to having him around to answer.

However, he did tell me one fascinating thing that I never researched until today; he was invited to Tom Mix’s wedding. He said he didn’t know Tom Mix but he knew his parents. So, as you can see, he had lots of opportunities to be invited, but most of them would have made no sense.

Tom was married in 1902, 1905, 1907, 1918 and 1932. Given that my father Harry was born in 1899, it is difficult to imagine that he was invited to the first three weddings, he would have been a baby or a small child. The wedding, in 1918 is a distinct possibility, as he would have been 19. I have no idea how he would have known the Mix family, but I will give my late father the benefit of the doubt, he had no reason to make this one up.

Even when he told me as a child, it was way too late for me to have ever even seen a Tom Mix movie. The 1932 wedding was more likely, but it was less likely that the Mix parents would have been alive to invite my father.

Thomas Edwin Mix (born Thomas Hezekiah) Mix; January 6, 1880 to October 12, 1940) was an American film actor and the star of many early Western movies. He made a reported 336 films between 1910 and 1935, all but nine of which were silent features. He was Hollywood’s first Western megastar and is noted as having helped define the genre for all cowboy actors who followed.

Tom Mix was born in Mix Run, Pennsylvania, about 40 miles north of State Colleg, Pennsylvania. He spent his childhood growing up in nearby Dubois, Pennsylvania learning to ride horses and working on the local farm owned by John Dubois, a lumber businessman. He had dreams of being in the circus and was rumored to have been caught by his parents practicing knife throwing tricks against a wall using his sister as an assistant.

In April, 1898, during the Spanish-American War, he enlisted in the Army under the name Thomas E. (Edwin) Mix. His unit never went overseas, and Mix later failed to return for duty after an extended furlough when he married Grace I. Allin on July 18, 1902.

Mix was listed as AWOL on November 4, 1902 but was never court martialed or apparently even discharged. His marriage to Allin was annulled after one year. In 1905
Mix married Kitty Jewel Perinne, but this marriage also ended within a year.

In 1907 he married Olive Stokes.

He co-starred in several films with Victoria Forde and they fell in love. He divorced Olive Stokes in 1917.

Mix and Forde married in 1918 and they had a daughter, Thomasina Mix (Tommie), in 1922. They divorced in 1931.

Tom was married to Mabel Ward from 1932 until his death in 1940. In 1932, Tom Mix married aerial performer Mabel Ward, at Lutes' Gretna Green Wedding Chapel in Yuma. The two met while Mix was touring with the Sells-Floto Circus

I’m sorry my father didn’t attend one of these ”Hollywood” weddings, but the story stays with me, and now, I hope, with you.

I guess it would have been a bigger story if he had attended.

and it shook when she laughed like a bowl full of jelly

I was the new Art College President in Massachusetts, and had been in my position just for 2 ½ months. My birthday was coming up, and I vowed not to say anything because I didn’t want the staff to feel obligated to do anything, and it wasn’t a special birthday, so who cared.

My old friend Jerry Grove called the school a few days prior to my birthday and asked to speak to my secretary. He told her that it was going to be my birthday, and that I was particularly fond of belly dancers, about as far from the truth as one could get.

The day of my birthday, I was called into the staff room, which was unusually full of faculty and staff, all grinning. I asked what was going on and they laughed, and brought in a cake. They sang happy birthday but everyone still looked oddly at me. Suddenly, I heard strange music flowing through the air, everyone was smiling in anticipation. Then, the sound of finger cymbals began to develop, and lo and behold, here she came, a vision of loveliness dancing her way into my heart. Veiled and belly out, she had Happy Birthday Arthur written on her belly in marker. I froze…what to do?

I went along with everyone and danced with the dancer as she played with her scarf around my body. I didn’t want to seem ungrateful nor too over excited.

As it turned out she was one of our students who did this for a living. She was very good, and I recovered in a few minutes, and rushed back to my office relieved.

I asked them to refrain from doing that again, as it just wasn’t my favorite activity.

Those good old Hamilton days!

Our interim Development Director, Joan Nelson, is a great lady! She is a no nonsense, nose to the grindstone worker, who works in Development for a number of places. Our “regular” Development Director is still out on maternity leave but is almost back. She does appear from time to time and I am happy for both of them.

Joan is with us on a part-time basis with her major focus being grant writing although she has been taken far afield from that due to our “needs du jour”.

We have been working on a newly minted federal grant assuring accessibility. We have been trying, for some time, to get enough money to build an elevator onto our 1836 building. This is a $300,000 project and is proving much tougher than we thought to raise, especially because of the current financial crisis everywhere.

We have been collecting letters from friends and important people to add to our grant, and Joan figured we needed a letter from our mayor to help “sweeten the pot”.

While she was researching the subject, she put together some sample letters for people to use as guidelines for writing their own letters. She ran into an accessibility focus as developed by the Hamilton Mayor and City council, and asked if we should include this with the information that we pass on to the mayor, and I, of course, agreed.

We included the wording and sent it on, hoping we could have something back asap.

I received a call from the Mayor’s assistant on Friday, letting me know that we had to change the letter. Why, I asked? It seems that the City Council’s passing and the Mayor’s endorsement of the letter are still being questioned.

They did approve it, it seems, but in Hamilton, New Zealand!

Just standing there with nothing to say...

As young men in art school, we were always influenced by the popular art stars of the day. The most powerful movement for us was the Bay Area figurative school of the 50’s and 60’s. This included such artists as David Park, Elmer Bischoff, Richard Diebenkorn, Nathan Olivera and Paul Wonner . These were the guys we scanned the art magazines to see. I’m not sure if we ever really saw anything but magazine photos before we graduated.

We also had Warhol, Johns, Rauschenberg etc. to give us heroes to admire, but we seemed to have a place in our hearts for the Bay Area guys.

For me, it was Richard Diebenkorn whom I most admired. I love his work and have seen it in person many times, not just the art books and magazines.

And there I was, at some art association dinner, and there was to be an award given to Richard Diebenkorn. “My heart be still!” I was excited. Finally I would get to see this childhood hero. I must have been in my 40’s, so I didn’t wear a t-shirt with a “love ya’ Richard” splashed over the front, but I was elated.

After the food and awards, I went to the men’s room and used the urinal. There, standing next to me, was my hero, Richard Diebenkorn. I was frozen, I wanted to say something meaningful, but here we were, side by side by the urinals. This is not a possible situation. Men’s room etiquette is quite specific; you do not talk to the stranger next to you!

I thought about my possible opening lines:

I’ve always admired you

I love your work

You meant a great deal to me

You mean a great deal to me

I enjoy looking at your……

I said nothing. Richard Diebenkorn zipped up his fly, washed his hands (thank God, I couldn’t have handled it if he hadn’t) and strolled out into the night. He has since passed away and I never will get to say anything to him.

But I still think about the possibilities:

You do meaningful work.

You always make me want to see more……….

I know it's kind of a rant, but...

I want to talk about resumes.

I don’t want to post mine; it’s a little late to look for a job (although I still look once in a while at the ads). I am interested in the whole phenomena.

I once had a student at the Maryland Institute show me her resume. She had listed; Salesperson, Exxon Oil Corporation. When I asked about the job she told me she’d worked in a gas station.

A few people who have seen my resume noted that I must have had a great plan to go by because it all fits together so well. Of course I had no plan, shit happens! It just sort of worked out this way and I followed an unwritten path. Hind sight is always 20/20.

My oldest daughter has taken a career course at high school; something I believe is mandatory, as she never would have taken it on purpose. They explored career fields as well as had to put together a portfolio. This is a super resume with all the documents and awards she had won and received. If I had to do this when I was in high school I would have little or nothing to include, or certainly a small portfolio of a few jobs and volunteer things I had done.

As I think about it, I did sell sticky apples in back of school #87, on a card table, for some guy in a truck. I was paid for it.

I did help play bingo with some elderly people in a nursing home, as well I did some entertaining for the elderly (singing), which may or may not have been entertaining as I think about it.

I worked at a furniture manufacturing company on Reisterstown Road (Baltimore) in the office putting together catalogs and getting lunches.

I can’t remember doing much else of a work nature.

My daughter said one day, as we were driving, that she realized that most of the jobs she had, and her friends had, had nothing to do with resumes, but who their parents knew. It was about whom you knew not what you knew. (I can’t write the Valley Girl accent) Ye-ah! Big woop! Surprise! Life isn’t exactly fair! Discovery time! Light Bulb goes off over the head!

My youngest son started his career by working for my oldest son’s father-in-law. My first teaching job came from the woman who lived across the street from me who was a supervisor in a public school system.

Both of my daughters worked for me at one time or another. My oldest daughter and now the younger one work for someone who works for me.

What it takes kids a long time to realize (and sometimes they never get it) is that their parents pay for them to go to school to be with the “right” other kids. This holds true for public school, where you pay a premium for a house to be in the “right” neighborhood. It is certainly true for private schools, and all College and Universities. Because in the big, bad outside world it’s often, or mostly, who you know that counts.

I am not discounting talent or smarts, all of which make a huge difference as well. But, it all matters. Talent and smarts seeem to matter later, when the rest of the stuff it took to get you there wears off. But you need to get there first.

Where there are fraternities and sororities, it makes a difference. Hell, everything matters.

Yes Virginia, there is a Santa Claus and he's probably a relative.

In two recent experiences, the movie “Contact” with Jody Foster, and a book I was “reading” (listening to on my MP3 player, in this case a British mystery called “Dust”), there were references to Ockham’s Razor. Knowing this was not a Gillette, I had to dig farther. I knew within the context in which these were found that it referred to the idea that the simplest solution to a problem is probably the correct one. I decided to investigate, and here’s what I found:

Ockham's Razor is the principle proposed by William of Ockham in the fourteenth century: ``Pluralitas non est ponenda sine neccesitate'', which translates as ``entities should not be multiplied unnecessarily''.

In many cases this is interpreted as ``keep it simple'', but in reality the Razor has a more subtle and interesting meaning. Suppose that you have two competing theories which describe the same system, if these theories have different predictions than it is a relatively simple matter to find which one is better: one does experiments with the required sensitivity and determines which one give the most accurate predictions. For example, in Copernicus' theory of the solar system the planets move in circles around the sun, in Kepler's theory they move in ellipses. By measuring carefully the path of the planets it was determined that they move on ellipses, and Copernicus' theory was then replaced by Kepler's.

But there are are theories which have the very same predictions and it is here that the Razor is useful. Consider for example the following two theories aimed at describing the motion of the planets around the sun

The planets move around the sun in ellipses because there is a force between any of them and the sun which decreases as the square of the distance.

The planets move around the sun in ellipses because there is a force between any of them and the sun which decreases as the square of the distance. This force is generated by the will of some powerful aliens.

Since the force between the planets and the sun determines the motion of the former and both theories posit the same type of force, the predicted motion of the planets will be identical for both theories. the second theory, however, has additional baggage (the will of the aliens) which is unnecessary for the description of the system.

If one accepts the second theory solely on the basis that it predicts correctly the motion of the planets one has also accepted the existence of aliens whose will affect the behavior of things, despite the fact that the presence or absence of such beings is irrelevant to planetary motion (the only relevant item is the type of force). In this instance Ockham's Razor would unequivocally reject the second theory. By rejecting this type of additional irrelevant hypotheses guards against the use of solid scientific results (such as the prediction of planetary motion) to justify unrelated statements (such as the existence of the aliens) which may have dramatic consequences. In this case the consequence is that the way planets move, the reason we fall to the ground when we trip, etc. is due to some powerful alien intellect, that this intellect permeates our whole solar system, it is with us even now...and from here an infinite number of paranoid derivations.

For all we know the solar system is permeated by an alien intellect, but the motion of the planets, which can be explained by the simple idea that there is a force between them and the sun, provides no evidence of the aliens' presence nor proves their absence.

A more straightforward application of the Razor is when we are face with two theories which have the same predictions and the available data cannot distinguish between them. In this case the Razor directs us to study in depth the simplest of the theories. It does not guarantee that the simplest theory will be correct, it merely establishes priorities.

A related rule, which can be used to slice open conspiracy theories, is Hanlon's Razor: ``Never attribute to malice that which can be adequately explained by stupidity''.

As I guessed, the simplest solution to a problem is probably the correct one.

I'm just a kid again and the return of Paul Ferguson

It was a good day. However, it didn’t start out that way.

Remember Paul Ferguson, our Treasurer (“Channeling the Spirit of my Late Mother”), some days ago, well Paul was back yesterday. He offered to introduce me to his barber.

Paul is challenged tonsorially. He is the last guy to need a barber but although he was right I was resisting. However, today I decided to go the route and see my own barber to get a haircut.

I say this like I have a special barber I go to but it’s a chain called First Cuts. It’s close and cheap and when you have good hair they can’t do too much to screw it up and sometimes it’s real good.

The important points of this story are not really the haircut or the barber, but it was what happened afterward.

I went to pay and asked for a senior’s discount. The barber, a really nice young woman said, “I’m sorry sir but you have to be over 65 for the discount!”

It really didn’t matter what happened next. I was stunned and in love and elated! My day was getting great! (I did get the discount of course, but after I offered to show her my license she capitulated.)

Next, feeling so good I went over to the Bulk Barn to get a treat for me and the office. I had a $5 gift card and decided to get some candy. I took it up to the counter. A very nice older woman took the candy and rang up the register. I get a senior’s discount, I said.

She said, “I’m sorry sir but you have to be over 65 for the discount!”

I fell in love again, this being two times in twenty minutes.

I walked on a cloud the rest of the day.

I grew no younger of course in this process, but my self esteem grew exponentially by this experience.

I was young and in love!

Christmnas Story 2000

Late in the year in 2000, I received a package at home from Chapters, the largest Canadian bookstore. Chapters also is a large Internet site with books, audio and video. A week before, I’d ordered 2 books and a video (Hook) as Christmas presents, so the box was expected.

As I took the box downstairs the next morning, I decided to open it, just in case there was something wrong or missing. To my surprise, it contained seven videotapes, with Hook among them. My first thought was that my boys had pitched in and bought us one big Christmas present, and with about $20-25 US each, it could buy seven videos. Since it contained my wife’s favorite movie, Dr. Zhivago and one of two movies that always makes me cry (Mr. Holland’s Opus, the other being Field of Dreams) along with Hook and a bunch of appropriate cartoon movies, I assumed a knowledgeable person carefully selected them.

The others were the Grinch, Murder by Death, Land Before Time VII and Joseph and his Coat or something, also a cartoon. I figured all of my sons had purchased them for everyone, and that Chapters had failed to include the card, as they are prone to make mistakes. But, just in case this was wrong, and a generous son had done this himself, I decided not to email all and make someone feel bad. So, I decided to call the Internet store to see what happened.

After 10 minutes on hold (thank God for speakerphones) I spoke to a guy who assured me this was my partial order, and that they had shipped Hook.

He laughed about my predicament, informed the warehouse of their error in overshipping and wished me a Merry Christmas. He said it’s up to them to take care of it.

They, of course, ignored the response, and that it would cost more to send UPS or someone to pick it all up than it is worth. Who knows?

I was honest, and perhaps I’ve lived in Canada too long so I respond without larceny in my heart. However, by Christmas, this was all mine.

Is this a Christmas Story? I kind of doubt it.

They said it couldn't be done but we managed a front page story again!

Last Wednesday we did the story posted yesterday, and today we have the story below.

This one was not a front page center one, but a color picture on the side bar of page one and a page three story.

A news story, not an art story. Very hard to do without a killing or some other type of mayhem.

The story follows:

Mystery painting fetches $2,900

Buyer gambles that it's a Lawren Harris
April 20, 2009
The Hamilton SpectatorDUNDAS (Apr 20, 2009)
A painting hyped by speculation that it could be by Group of Seven artist Lawren Harris has sold for $2,900.
The painting was up for grabs at the 39th annual Dundas Valley School of Art auction, held Saturday night.
It was purchased by a local doctor who plans to look into whether the painting is actually a Harris, said DVSA executive director Arthur Greenblatt.
Greenblatt said the painting went for "more than I would've gotten for it if we'd never had the publicity," but he said it was not as much as he'd hoped.
The minimum bid on the work was $100.
The mystery painting, which is unsigned, is simply dated "1921 Canada."
Greenblatt said that before he received the work of art it was shown to leading Canadian auction house Ritchie’s, which was unable to verify that it was a Harris.
The auction house did authenticate it as a Canadian School painting from the early part of the 20th century, he said.
The painting was not the most expensive piece sold at the auction, though.
That honour went to a large acrylic on canvas painting, a landscape by E. Robert Ross, which features a view of Dundas Valley. It sold for $5,000.

This was the front page story in the Hamilton Spectator on Wednesday morning.

Mystery painting: Is it a Lawren Harris?

Dundas Valley School of Art auction
April 15, 2009

The Hamilton Spectator(Apr 15, 2009)

Is it or isn't it?

The buzz around this Saturday's 39th annual Dundas Valley School of Art auction, or at least one of the buzzes, is whether a certain unsigned painting, dated "1921 Canada," might actually be by Lawren Harris, of Group of Seven fame. The painting has the look, and DVSA executive director Arthur Greenblatt says, "Some people believe it's a Harris."
He's not saying whether he's one of them.
And, of course, there are skeptics, too.
But, adds Greenblatt, "There's no way to know for sure."

Yes or no, however, the very possibility enhances the overall entertainment value.
Greenblatt says there are always finds to be had at the Dundas auction.
"In 2006, there was an old, four-foot-square landscape attributed to Gustav de Briansky, a Polish artist working in Scotland, that I knew had a minimum bid of $600. But it caught people's interest and went for $4,000."

On Thursday, the first day of the previews, after TV coverage all day Wednesday on the mystery painting, I decided, due to a bit of hype and a bit of security, to remove the painting from the frame and replace it with a digital copy. I put up a sign letting customers know that the painting will be replaced on Saturday evening, in time for the live auction.

On Saturday, I dutifully took the painting to my office and removed the digital copy. I went to get the original and realized I had put it in a “safe place” and I had no idea where it was!

I searched for a few minutes, and then I calmly spoke to myself and carefully retraced, in my head, all the steps I took to lead me to hiding the piece.

It was wrapped in paper towels and put into an 11” x 14” envelope in a filing cabinet drawer. I did find it and was able to get it back into the frame.

We did get $2,900 for the painting.

My Girls can't read Fahrenheit.

Rosie called from Boston two days ago and asked me how much is 62 degrees. I said, “About 16”. (It’s actually 16.66) She was happy and knew what the temperature was.

The truth is clear; my kids have a strange education. They can’t do Fahrenheit or inches or miles or pounds. Actually, because Canada has a love/hate relationship with the US, pounds are still used, but so is the metric system. Everything fresh you buy in a grocery store is shown in both pounds and kilograms. Cheese is sold in 100g amounts and in pounds. Much like lumber lengths and widths (2”x 4” etc.), food remains unmoved.

I have been asked to visually demonstrate an item size when we say it’s about 9" or so or we talk about and old 45rpm record, and the question always come up allowing us to demonstrate. Another favorite (favourite in Canada) is about a foot long and I have to demonstrate with my hands.

In the end I guess size matters!

Sunshine came softly, through my window today...

In 1969 I was driving up Reisterstown Road in Baltimore, approaching the light at Old Court Road.

I was 27 years old, lookin’ pretty good and at the wheel of my new VW bus. This was a big status symbol in ’69 for the artsy folks. I was wearing flared, faded jeans and a great big collared shirt and I can probably, in my head, still hear Donovan playing loudly on the radio.

Anyway, I was toolin’ up the road, going to get some missing things for my son Brian’s birthday party (he would have been three).

Two girls pulled up next to me and shouted, “What a great car!” I smiled and laughed along with them. They were beautiful, sun drenched ladies, blond, probably in their late teens. The closest one leaned out of the window and said, “Want to come with us?” They had California plates on their car.

I quickly considered my options. I had two plus one on the way children, my car payments, my mortgage, my job and my responsibilities and waved at them, smiled and said “Thanks”, and the light changed.

I thought about making a decision (sort of) on the spur of the moment.

I am still thinking about it……….

Paul Ferguson channels the spirit of my late mother!

Paul Ferguson is the Treasurer of our Board of Governors and a good guy! He is funny, in a most quirky kind of way. He is an accountant; which pretty much says it all. His business is financial planning here in Ancaster, and he is new this year to our Board.

Obviously, Paul would have never met my mother who passed away in 1987.

Sitting in my office yesterday, Paul and I were going over figures when I told him that I was going to be on the local TV news in the morning. He looked at me questioningly and said, “Are you going to get a haircut?” It was an immediate, from the gut response. I heard the question, but the voice I heard was my mother who would, if she were alive, had expressed the same question. My immediate response was, “No! I don’t need a haircut!”

Even if I felt the need for a haircut, my response would have been the same, to Paul or to my mother. “No”!

I may get one later this week, of course.

Truck Drivin' Man

I guess I finally hit a home run, even if I didn’t know I was at bat!

I will admit to being scruffy. This is a long cherished look, derived from business Bohemian, a look I’d acquired some years ago when I got a respectable job requiring a tie and a coat most of the time. In those jobs where I was CEO of a post secondary institution, it was appropriate to dress casual but academic with an art school flair if possible. I guess I dressed up once in a while but usually my tie was skewed, but usually there.

Since moving to Ontario, I think I’ve gone downhill and moved toward artsy, scruffy etc. As I’ve gotten older, it seems to work OK for me. The Dress for Success people said that Deans could look casual, academic, and it was fine for the 11 or 12 year I was a Dean. Now, it’s pretty downplayed.

Today (my home run day) I had to go to Guelph to pick up 32 cases of beer from one of our sponsors, for our auction. Ed Young went with me to lend a helping hand. We came to the shipping dock and I backed uphill into the last space, the one reserved for pickups by locals, all the rest are loading docks for the big rigs picking up and delivering from Sleeman/Sapporo. However, everyone walks through the same door to give and get paperwork and beer.

I walked in with Ed, but it was lunchtime and there would be no forklift drivers for another 20 minutes. The warehouse man asked me if I had a rig to unload. I was stunned! He had mistaken me for a truck driver!

I had hit the homerun! My disguise had finally worked!

I'm Not Touching That #2

If you know that my wife and my daughters refuse to read this blog, you can understand some of my problems. My recent story, "I'm Not Toucing That" read:

"The other day my wife asked my youngest daughter to go upstairs and look in the hamper and bring down any additional dark clothes for the wash, as she was doing a dark load. My daughter went up, and quickly came down holding a pair of my underpants, at arms length, on the end of a bamboo pole (a Chinese backscratcher).

That was the only item upstairs and she was not about to touch it! "

This story was illustrated by a mens underware graphic because I never found the right illustration, even though I tried.

We were leaving for Easter brunch on Sunday when my oldest daughter, just up from using my computer, quietly leaned over and asked,

“Why did you Google "Underwear on a Stick?”

The old days...

Lois Wolfe was the French teacher at the Junior High and we both started at the same time. I think she stayed two years and moved back to Massachusetts and married her boyfriend Andy. I am happy to say they are still married and life has been good for them.

Lois and I were friends, as were many of the teachers at the school. It was a very friendly, harmonious group, who enjoyed doing what we were doing and complaining about it as well.

Sometimes, usually right before school breaks, we would get together, and once in a while we would go on a Friday after school to a local bar to have a beer or two before departing for home.

This was perfectly fine with the administration, as there were no rules to stop us, but in those days one would try and have some decorum. We certainly did not want the kids to know we were going to the bar.

There was a lovely bar and restaurant right down the street from the school, but it was owned by parents of one of the kids, and seemed like that was not where we wanted to be seen. However, about a mile away down the old route 1 highway, which had become a secondary road in modern times, was a Motel, Bar, Restaurant and I think a trailer park called Strickland’s. It was a nice place, cheap and cheerful, and an easy drive for anyone of us who wanted to go.

One Friday we were all going out, and when I reached the Strickland’s parking lot there were a few cars I recognized already there.

As I was stepping out of my car, Lois pulled up into a spot near the highway, and I walked up to meet her so we could go in together. Just as we turned to go to the bar, a school bus streamed by with lots of kids at the windows, screaming and waving, “Miss Wolfe! Mr. Greenblatt! Hello!”

There, in plain sight were two of their teachers, after work, walking together into a motel! This was not a situation easily explained.

"The one on the right is the teacher!"

I‘ll probably stay in the 60’s for a few days now that I’ve reached back here. It’s an area ripe with stories I’d all but forgotten.

I had a boy in class, Steve, who was difficult for most teachers. Steve was about 6’2” and weighed about 190. He was very strong! They thought he’d work well with me, and his whole class was a bit wild, but I liked them anyway. I got them as a group in the 8th grade and kept most of them through the 9th. The bottom end of the scale tended to migrate in and out of school due to moving, bad family situations and juvenile courts.

My most descriptive memory of Steve happened as he was leaving class one day and I watched him rip a small metal tag off of the side of a fire door with great gusto. I confronted him with this seemingly senseless act and questioned why he did such a thing. The simplicity of his answer let me know we were not from the same world. He held up his slightly ripped shirt sleeve and exclaimed, “What would you do if someone had ripped your shirt?”

In 1965 Steve was graduating and going on to the high school. All of the 9th grade classes came to the assembly hall to meet the principal of the High School. I had the bottom end group that afternoon and Steve and I walked together into the auditorium. We were about the same size (I was much thinner then) and I was wearing black jeans (yes, I do remember because I dressed somewhat differently than the other teachers and my hair was somewhat longer then most and I was 23 at that time) and Steve and I came in and sat down.

This story was told to me that afternoon by my principal:

As we walked in the High School Principal said to my boss, “What will we do with those two?” My boss told him not to worry, “The one on the right is the teacher!”

The Citizens Arrest!

From September, 1963 until June, 1970 I was the art teacher at Waterloo Junior Hugh School in Howard County, Maryland. Somewhere in that time we became Waterloo Middle School, and sometime later, when I was long gone, the school was torn down to make way for a new road.

Many of the experiences, and the stories I was to use for the rest of my life, stemmed from my time there. It was a great place to experience life and to enjoy teaching. I owe most of the rest of my life to those times.

I was on a free period one spring day, probably in 1965, when I wandered into the front office to say hello to the school secretary and see what was going on.

I heard a commotion coming down the hall, and I want to the office door to see what was happening. Running toward me at full speed was Mike, an 8th grader with a great sense of humor and a wiseass for sure. I liked him and was able to easily deal with him in class. He saw me and started screaming, “Help! Mr. Greenblatt, help me!” I was startled,. “What’s wrong?”

He told me that a substitute teacher, a retired Army Colonel (I think) was after him. No sooner than I had gotten him into the front office to calm him down than the retired Army officer came running, at full speed yelling, “I’m making a citizen’s arrest!”, and he lunged for the student.

The student lunged for me to protect him; I fell backwards trying not to be killed by both of them and backed into the principals’ door.

The three of us crashed through the Principals door, first there was me, falling backwards, the student hugging me and the substitute, clinging onto the student.
We were a human sandwich, and the Principal was on the phone with the superintendent of schools!

I scrambled to my feet, smiled and mouthed quietly that it was not my issue and got out of there as quickly as possible.

Real users intuit!

I am a reasonably technological person. I have been on a computer since 1980 and have most of the normal toys. A few things have passed me by, and being an old guy I get sensitive here, as I want to be able to do everything! However, some things do get away from me. Friends of mine complain that they need a teen aged boy, preferably a geek, to be around when they get new stuff.

I usually go to Les Drysdale, sculptor and tech guy, when the going gets rough. As well, he was the one who walked me through Torrents, with not only directions, but a detailed explanation. Les is a young guy, relatively speaking, but he can be a great source of tech knowledge.

I never did figure out how to get the right time on my VCR for all those years, and I never cared if it blinked. I was not fastidious about me tech stuff.

I have had cell phone since 1993. For five years I had a car based one, with a hands free device, so I was able to easily drive and talk. Now, that’s become much more difficult, and I do understand the desire to change those laws.

Currently, when my cell phone rings, I have to turn off my MP3 player which is broadcasting the latest book that I am listening to, and it just can’t be turning off the sound, because the story will continue, so I have to turn off the player itself, no mean feat. Then I have to find the phone, slip it out of its case and get it to my ear before the caller gives up. I do this usually while negotiating the curves up or down the mountain here in Hamilton, through the woods. The luckiest creatures on my way to and from work are the deer I have yet to kill while doing this.

So, for almost four years my wife and I have had our cell phones, and they have gradually been losing parts. They have been held together by epoxy glue and it’s obvious that we needed new ones. Finally, last week, on Sunday, we took the plunge. First, on Saturday, I had to cancel my existing service, which is no mean feat itself because they will do anything to stop that from happening. I played the “old guy” card which I find now works as well as “dumb husband”, which I will get to in a later rant.

On Sunday morning we were ready to go after our new phones. Our kids already had phones from Koodo, a TELUS company brand, which was a good deal. I liked their way of working and it had proved successful for us so I was sure what we wanted and which plans we needed, so our questions were few.

We went to Future Shop where the same guy that had sold us the kids phones worked, and he walked us through the process easily.

We left with our new Samsung Slyde phones, chosen so we could use the text feature so used and enjoyed by the kids. Neither one of us had ever used text before. I once had to use it and asked our secretary Deanne to do it for me because I didn’t know how to do it myself. I felt like a jerk, and sounded like all the old guys I knew who couldn’t do stuff.

I was sure it would all be intuitive. Of course it had better be, because the book and downloads are hard to decipher, and are made for some other persons. The real users intuit! I knew this.

It is now a week later (almost) and I can use my phone (sort of). My wife can text with the best of them. I have sent text messages, but only one was ever returned, and that was to and from my wife. The kids refuse to respond, maybe because I sign off, XOXO, Gossip Girl!

I have unlimited texting, in case I ever need it. My daughter will go away to school on August so I can send stuff then but for now, I have nothing! I got my voicemail up and running today, and will someday get to the camera etc. I have cameras and M3 players (several) so I could care less about this stuff, but it must be good for me to know this.

I did install my own huge TV and all the paraphernalia, what the hell. I am tech man!!!!

I received this email today and had to publish it!

It’s from a woman friend who must remain anonymous. It’s too good to keep to my self (and I have her permission to let you see it):

Ok...so I am out running errands one morning and wearing these VERY HOT jeans (my favourite ones that make me feel ready to really kick ass...) I get home, ready for a cup of tea, sit down....and there is more ummm.....air back there than there should be with these tight jeans on....I feel back there and yes, there is a rip along the back seam for oh...a good 6 inches...BUT WAIT! The best is yet to come! This was a morning when, feel EXTRA sexy, I decided to go commando! I have no idea at what point during my running around today the pants split and wonder to this day if anyone got an eyeful!!!

This is great literature!

My Dinner with Atwood

Again in Detroit, somewhere lost in the 80’s, we had a faculty member, Judith McCombs. She taught in our Liberal Arts program, and was quite an intense, bright, young woman. Her biography today says:

Judith McCombs is the author of two books and numerous articles on Margaret Atwood, and several books of poetry, most recently Against Nature: Wilderness Poems (Dustbooks), and Territories, Here & Elsewhere (Mayapple). The Habit of Fire: Poems Selected & New is forthcoming in 2005 from The Word Works, Inc. Individual poems of hers have appeared in Calyx, Red Cedar Review, Nimrod, Poetry, Poetry Northwest, and River Styx. She teaches at the Writer's Center in Bethesda, MD, and coordinates a poetry reading series at Kensington Row Bookshop.

As a faculty member with a fascination for Margaret Atwood, she worked on me to see if there was a way to bring her to Detroit. While an art school is a great place to be, it was very difficult to imagine bringing in a major author, even a Canadian one, to speak to us. My readers who have read the John Updike memorial will remember my difficulty in trying to bring him down the street, and he even knew who we were.
However, not to be undone, Judith managed to get the neighboring Wayne State University to sponsor a Margaret Atwood talk, and we would participate. The Canadian government may have been involved, but it’s too long ago to remember.

The night of her talk, we had a dinner in a local restaurant, with a VIP guest list (or as VIP as we usually got). I was invited, and had the honor (honour for my Canadian colleagues) of sitting next to Margaret Atwood.

At that time I had never read any of her work, (I have read most of it by now and love her work) and was set up to meet this great genius, this gothic novelist, and I was concerned that I was not worthy!

When I arrived at the table we were about half there and there were, of course, some Wayne State professors in attendance. I looked around for the guest of honor, and not seeing her took a seat next to this sort of cute young woman with curly hair, wearing jeans and a turtle neck, and I said, “Hello, I’m Arthur Greenblatt, Dean of CCS”.

She smiled and said,” Hello, I’m Margaret Atwood.”

I was dumb struck! Not knowing what to say, I came up with something like, “I never expected you would be so young and good looking”, or something to that effect!
She was gracious, I was blushing, and we both sat down.

OK, I don’t remember the conversation sadly, and I was not versed in her work so we didn’t talk about that, but I do remember it was a very nice time and I felt like an idiot.

We were like two ships that passed in the night!

I'm not touching that!

The other day my wife asked my youngest daughter to go upstairs and look in the hamper and bring down any additional dark clothes for the wash, as she was doing a dark load.

My daughter went up, and quickly came down holding a pair of my underpants, at arms length, on the end of a bamboo pole (a Chinese backscratcher).

That was the only item upstairs and she was not about to touch it!

Recarpeting the Library

I remember recarpeting the library. Our librarian in Detroit had asked for new carpeting for a while, because it had really worn out. It was stained and worn through. The money was, of course, the issue. After months of discussion, I agreed to have it done. The total cost in those days, the early 80’s, was about $4,000. This was a lot of money for us and I had to use all my political clout with our Board to get this done.

The big problem turned out to be moving all the books in the library, in order, so that we could move them back in without having to re-order them.

This job took a team of 6 to 8 moving men two days to box and moves the books out.

The carpet people came in put in the carpet, and left.

The moving team returned, and spent another two days putting the books back.

In the final analysis, the cheapest part of recarpeting the library was the carpet.

Dave Campbell and the Ladies Room

If you know about CCS in Detroit, and you know the building as it used to be (changes have occurred which may make this story no longer possible), there were floors where there was either a men’s or a ladies room, but not both.

In the dimly lit past, probably around 1984, I was the Academic Dean and Dave Campbell was the Dean of Students. Dave’s office was on the floor below mine, and I had come downstairs to talk with him. This was the summer, so there were not a lot of people around.

At some point, I just had to go to the bathroom, and the closest one was the ladies room down the hall from Dave’s office. However, as Dean, I felt somewhat concerned about using the ladies room as it wouldn’t look good for me if I got caught.

“Don’t worry”, said Dave, I’ll stand out here and make sure you won’t be disturbed”. I felt relief, as I had to go very badly and I would never make it up or down to another bathroom in time.

I got in and went to a stall and pee’d forever! Standing next to the bowl and peeing in, I made lots of noise. A good thing, I believe, because the door opened and there was a silence.

“Hello”, I yelled, and a girl’s voice said, hello”.

“I’m sorry, I said, to the female sculpture student who had been working downstairs ,where there was no ladies room, “I’ll be right out”!

“OK”, she said and went out.

I adjusted my clothing and walked out and went to Dave’s office.

“You didn’t really think I was going to stand out there all morning”, he said.

The Intruder is unmasked!

At about midnight I had the call from ADT. The motion detector near the main office went off, and the police were on their way. I met them in about 10 minutes and we went into the building, however, nothing was disturbed. The doors were locked, and since no one usually steals art outside of a museum, nothing seemed to be missing.

This morning I caught the intruder and have and have included the photos.

Terror in a Temple Town

In October, 1991, I was invited to the Niiagata College of Art to give an address. The subject was a recent history of American Art, something that could translate pretty well and would not strain me or my audience. Their goal was to have me, as an American Art School President, appear at their convocation, and I did.

A part of my visit, a short, three day excursion, with 3 1/2 days of traveling, was to tour the area and get an overview of Niigata.

While out visiting, I was taken to what may be the oldest temple in Japan. It is, I believe after much research, Kannonji Temple or Saishōji temple, both in Niigata prefecture.

We wandered the grounds, buying souvenirs, when a priest came out and shouted through his bullhorn that the show was about to start (I was told) and we had only a few minutes to get there. My host asked if I wanted to go, but we didn’t really have the time to make it up the mountain and get to the Temple. However, the priest was insistent and said he’s waiting for us. We paid for tickets and hurried.

We reached the summit and went inside. The priest had already started and with the assembled group, a bus tour of older, small, Japanese seniors. They all sat on the floor. I wandered in, the size of Godzilla, and was taken to the front by the priest. He proceeded to fill me in on all I had missed. Since my native language was not Japanese, and since I was a visitor, he grabbed my arm and shouted the beginning of the story to me (I think).

Then he let me sit in the floor (not easily) and continued the story. As I understood it, sometime in the 12th century (maybe) a priest was forced to defend this temple from somebody’s army, and did so, and was killed by their shoving a spear through him. As I understood it, this was an important story and there was some lesson to be learned.

When it all was over, he stepped back behind this giant aquarium, no water involved, but it had a venetian blind cover to the side. He went behind it, shouted some prayers, tooted a flute for a bit, and then he proceeded to slowly bring up the blind, revealing the mummified priest, still impaled on the spear, inside this glass container.

We all went up to it and lit incense and then we left.

Driving away we decided to go to the town to see what there was to see. This is a photo of me in the town. We went to lunch at a local restaurant, and filling the seats were mostly the people visiting the temple, the bus tour.

We ordered lunch and had a nice conversation in a very lively restaurant. The people were very animated about their conversations, which was unusual.

On the way back to Niigata I asked my host why the people were so seemingly excited, and he said, with some embarrasement, it was because they were talking about me. It was unusual for a Westerner to be visiting this area, and I was bigger than the average visitor.

I had brought Terror to the Temple Town!
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