A Jar of Change & Cable TV – See it Ain’t So Bad!

Southcoast, MA - It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to heaven, we were all going direct the other way - in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only. These are the immortal and classic words of the first sentences of Charles Dickens’ A Tale of Two Cities.

Gas prices are going up and up and up and as with a rising tide; lifts all boats. The Middle East is in turmoil. Not again!?! What else is new? The Korean War raged from 1950 to 1953. Spiking gas prices helped torpedo the already shaky introduction of the (Ford) Edsel in September of 1957 and opened the door for smaller, fuel-efficient models for a short while. Among them, the Nash Metropolitan, the first American car marketed specifically to women. U. S. Marines stormed the beach in Beirut, Lebanon two months before my sixth birthday in July of 1958. And, that was just the beginning. Construction on the National Highway System began as part of the national defense plan spurred on by the Cold War to empty out major metropolitan cities in case of a nuclear attack. Elvis helped us though this decade of wisdom and foolishness, belief and incredulity, Light and Darkness, hope and despair. We indeed, had everything before us and, we had nothing before us.

The Sixties gave us Vatican Two and the birth control pill, AKA "The Pill", and one of the first enclosed shopping malls was opened in Chicago’s Mt. Prospect in 1962. The Rolling Stones’ 1965 hit, Mother’s Little Helper was banned on some radio stations. The Stones, the Pill and malls are still with us today. Also in 1965, we escalated our involvement in Vietnam. Three years later the Chicago police and National Guard create a battleground outside the Democratic National Convention in Chicago. A president, his brother and a civil rights leader were assassinated, just to name a few who were taken from us in this time of upheaval. There was so much more to shake us to our cores and more yet to come in the next decade. The Beatles helped us though this decade of wisdom and foolishness, belief and incredulity, Light and Darkness, hope and despair. We indeed, had everything before us, we had nothing before us.

The Seventies brought us into reality about where we get our oil. In 1974, increased gas prices along with the gas resulting shortage created havoc with long lines at the pump and odd and even (last number of license plate) numbered fueling days. This, and the first Earth Day, caused changes in energy consumption consciousness and use. Speed limits were reduced on highways. Japanese cars, smaller and more fuel-efficient than American cars, were in high demand. Solar energy panels shared roof lines with television antennas. Houses were insulated. Help Wanted columns for men and women were abolished in 1975 as the result of the women's equality movement. VCRs were marketed for home use at just about $1,000. Cable would replace free television with DVRs as a bonus of sorts. The Vietnam War’s Selective Service Lottery sealed some fates. My draft number was 70 out of a possible 365. Another story for another time. The musical artists of the (1969) Woodstock Music Festival guided us though this decade of wisdom and foolishness, belief and incredulity, Light and Darkness, hope and despair. We indeed, had everything before us, we had nothing before us.

In the Eighties, the national divorce rate doubled and introduction of microwave ovens increased the demand for prepared frozen foods – just heat and eat and put on the weight. Just nine years into the decade, the first of the personal computers were already in twenty-percent of all homes. School and office work were changed forever. The first computer games were also part of the technology. These technological advances would pave the way to a whole new way of life. Greed was good or so some thought. Disco, depending on your point of view, fouled or fueled the musical landscape of this decade of wisdom and foolishness, belief and incredulity, Light and Darkness, hope and despair. We indeed, had everything before us, we had nothing before us. However, our own homegrown disco super-group Tavares, did Southcoast Massachusetts proud.

By the Nineties, two-income households were the norm and professional babysitting businesses (day care) were sprouting up on nearly every street corner. This decade gave us the Gulf War, the fall of the Soviet Union, Joey Buttafuoco, Waco, OJ, the Oklahoma City Bombing; good president/bad president Bill Clinton and Columbine as if enough wasn’t enough. The mixed bag of music from the B52s to Madonna helped us dance to this decade of wisdom and foolishness, belief and incredulity, Light and Darkness, hope and despair, and into the new millennium.

The first ten years of 2000, whatever we call them, the tens? The early years of the 21st Century; is front-loaded with wisdom and foolishness, belief and incredulity, Light and Darkness, hope and despair. The U. S. Supreme Court rules that Microsoft violated anti-trust laws. The 2000 Presidential Election hangs by a chad. Tiger Woods becomes the first to win all four major golf titles. Islamist fundamentalist terrorists attack the United States by flying commercial jetliners into New York’s World Trade Center and the Pentagon. The U. S. is spurred into unleashing its military shock and awe in the search for Saddam Hussein’s weapons of mass destruction. The terrorist intervention spreads to Afghanistan. American troops, the most technologically equipped are killed by low-tech I.E.D.s (improvised explosive devices). The American economy is rocked by the real estate sub-prime mortgage meltdown. The I’s have it with Apple’s iPod, iTouch, iPhone and now the iPad.

In 2007 world markets are affected. Stocks collapse. Greedy, innocent and ignorant Americans alike are directly or indirectly affected by their actions or those of others and lose their homes and their retirement funds. Gas prices climb, food prices are affected and thousands lose their jobs. We continue to Facebook and Tweet our way through this decade of wisdom and foolishness, belief and incredulity, Light and Darkness, hope and despair, and into the next decade of a still new millennium.

There’s so much more history that I left out in just these almost sixty or sixty years plus or minus years, depending on when the first wave of Baby Boomers was born. Today, as of this writing, gas prices are near or at $4.00/gallon – here we go again! But, as a child of the Great Depression of the 1930’s told me, “As long as you have a jar of change and can afford cable TV – it ain’t so bad. You see, the difference is; we didn’t have as much to lose as you kids do.”

It’s time to pump up our local economy instead of waiting for the state or federal government to do it. Time to make do or do without. Time to save more than we spend. Time to invest in the local banks. Time to stop sending our college educated children somewhere else to make a living. Time to get the trains rolling instead of just talking about it to death. Time to give it up or to give in on gambling – you do realize now that it’s not recession-proof - right? Time to create new neighborhoods or rebuild the old ones. Time to stop talking out of both sides of our mouths about diversity. Standardized educational testing flies in the face of true diversity. Time to walk to somewhere instead of just for our health. Time to start developing taste buds.

It's time to network socially at the dinner table and over the back fence. Time to slow down. Time to put down the phone and pay attention when you drive. Time to start raising our kids instead of paying strangers to do it. Time to teach our kids instead of relying on the school system. Time to recapture the common sense of previous generations. No, they weren’t perfect! Time to ask why we gladly pay for what used to be free. Time to ask ourselves why, if we have no time, we can Facebook, blog and Tweet? It’s time to make the best of the worst of times and to make the most of the best of the time we have left.

Let Go of the Peanuts & You’ll Be Free!

Southcoast, MA - We’re no different than our primate cousins it seems. My first boss whose Army enlistment was about to come to an end was anxiously waiting for the ceremony to start. It was December 7, 1941 and he was getting out! The commanding officer asked every other man to step forward. “Welcome to the 1st Cavalry Division gentlemen. Pearl Harbor has been bombed and you’re shipping out to the Pacific.” While in the Pacific, Ed spent quite a bit of time in the Philippines where, he said it was hot, rainy and miserable. The reason for this post is because of a less than fruitful day in my first class of the day.

It’s a lethal combination. I’ve been told by colleagues that it's one of the toughest subjects to teach (I won’t mention the subject here), it’s spring semester, mostly seniors and, class is at 8 AM. Teaching, even on the best day is sometimes a challenge. You’re in competition with yourself to deliver more and more and at a higher level. You want your students to be interested, engaged and enthused. But, no matter what happens, or doesn’t, in the classroom, I’m responsible. It comes with the job. I’ve previously described the challenges of teaching as pushing string, corralling cats and trying to get the horses to drink. The biggest challenge, for me, is based on the concept of teaching old dogs new tricks.

One of my friends and colleagues calls what we do in class – edutainment. We’re comics, seers, parents, and a number of other things all rolled into one. I thought of Ed because he told me an interesting story about how the native Filipino people captured monkeys. It seems that monkeys are no different than us. Their habits are based on the same reasons we get into the habit of doing things.

Ed said the Filipino monkey hunters would make a hole in a coconut small enough for a monkey to squeeze their hand into. The coconut would be staked to the ground. Inside the coconut was a monkey-sized fistful of peanuts. Smelling the peanuts, the monkeys would cautiously approach the coconuts. The hunters would be waiting nearby watching for them to stick their hand in the coconut for the peanuts and then would run out from their hiding places yelling and clapping their hands. The monkeys, in a panic, would refuse to let go of their fist-full of peanuts. The only way they could escape was to let go of the peanuts in order to pull their hands out! They imprisoned themselves and were captured as a result of their habitual thinking. They screamed and hollered but would not let go of the peanuts!

No, I’m not comparing my students to those monkeys. I am, however, correlating their behaviors. You see, my students, even the best of them, are the products of our standardized educational environment. They have been conditioned to sit, listen, record and retain. Or, as I’ve mentioned before – read, remember and regurgitate. They are prisoners of an instructor-centric environment. My classes are learner-centric. That means that they must become involved and invested in their educations. Even at the peril of not getting a good grade, they will not “let go of the peanuts” and save themselves!

Yes, they’re seniors (whatever that means). Yes, it’s spring semester – their last semester (whatever that means). Yes, it’s eight o’clock in the morning and it’s Monday (whatever that means). They have an opportunity to engage themselves in a course project that will enhance their resumes, as well as, their (professional) social media sites (Linked In) and, with enough effort, self-promotion and good timing – who knows where their well-executed project will take them or give back to them.

Ed told me that the monkeys weren’t the only stubborn creatures he saw during World War II in the Pacific. He saw his comrades constantly complain about constantly being wet, yet they did nothing to change the outcome of their circumstance. He was not just my first boss; he was one of the best bosses I ever had. He taught me how to notice how and why people do or don’t do what they need to do. He said you needed to know this if you needed them to get something done or, figure out a way to get it done. He once came into the building saying how the air conditioning unit shed needed to have the leaves cleaned out of it.

It was spring and the days were getting warmer. He told us when he went to inspect the job; he found a ten dollar bill. He showed us a rumpled and dirty ten dollar bill and wondered if anyone wanted to volunteer for the job. You see, it wasn’t the ten dollar bill he showed us because there was no ten dollar bill.

Ed had more volunteers than he needed and the job got done. Yup, some of the volunteers found a few dollar bills. He had planted them there for motivation. Ed had learned on December 7, 1941 to let go of the peanuts but many of his buddies didn’t. They continued to complain about how unfair it was that they were back in the Army and how they hated the heat, bugs and rain for starters. They never learned to let go of the peanuts.

On that note, here’s an old story about two Buddhist monks who were on a journey. It had been raining and the roads were very muddy. They came upon an elegant lady who could not cross the road lest (don’t get to use that word much) she get her feet, shoes and dress full of mud. The elder monk picked her up with the protests of the younger monk ringing in his ears. Stopping to help the woman was delaying their journey he shouted. The young monk continued grumbling about stopping to help the woman for quite some time. Finally, the elder monk said, “I put the woman down about five miles back but you’re still carrying her – why?”

He obviously wouldn’t let go of the peanuts! My class has to do their “big” course presentation in two days. Let’s see if they can let go of the peanuts and get down to the job at hand. [AUTHOR’S NOTE: Ed was Ed Picard and he was the manager of Gulf Hill Parlor in South Dartmouth – thank you Ed!]

Aha! – Eureka! – OMG!

Southcoast, MA - As I was pondering my approach to my new blog site – RON FORTIER'S Anyone Can Draw! – I was thunderstruck by the realization that as I was attempting to explain what drawing really was (really to me that is) that I discovered what indeed it really is; spiritual. Now if that thought hasn’t scared you away; consider this – what other purpose would it serve? Why a new blog? I need to start focusing on my return to teaching drawing and doing art again. Through the years I developed a system of teaching drawing but really never had a name for it until I watched Ratatouille with my grand kids and saw how Chef Gusteau believed that, “anyone can cook!” So, why wouldn’t the same hold true for drawing and that’s how Anyone Can Draw came about.

While preparing to write the first post of the new RON FORTIER'S Anyone Can Draw! blog, I wondered, if "cavemen" were drawing as early as early as 32,000 years ago – why? I teach art history (and marketing; what a combination, huh?) and I’ve heard all of the theories about Paleolithic cave art such as target bonding where drawing the intended prey transferred the prey’s strength to the hunter. [PHOTO: Lions - Chauvet Cave in France] Another theory involves a finite inventory where the spirit of the slain prey, if rendered (drawn) on the communal cave, would continue on to assure an adequate stock of that species. There are many other theories. I don’t have one. Just an opinion based on the observation that although the experts considered this art a part of a religious or or spiritual act, I realized it was more than that. It was the act, the ceremony and the rite – and it connected all or most of the theories. Drawing then was a spiritual act and it still is!

I came upon this concept on a walk. I was walking to review how I was going to approach this new blog site. As I was reviewing the concept of two-dimensional space in relation to Picasso’s statement that, “Every act of creation is first an act of destruction,” I realized that by violating the pristine white space, the illusionary negative space or the blank space – all the same by the way – we take control of “our space” in a very primal manner. It’s almost like scent marking. I’ve always compared graffiti tagging to scent marking because it is exactly about space or territory. I know, I can hear some of you saying, but I just like to draw. My answer to you is; did you ever really wonder why? No, no stereotype based answers. Why do you really, really, really like to draw? How does it make you feel and why do you feel that way?

Why are you happy when you draw or why does drawing make you happy? Is it because the act of drawing gives you a feeling or an illusion of control? Is it because you feel very affectionate towards yourself. No, not that! Saint Paul said that in order to love others you had to first love yourself. So what better way then? Or, is it because it gives you a feeling of belonging? By drawing, you express yourself in some manner and if the drawing is accepted so are you. I’ve often wondered why incredibly well executed, life-like drawings left me cold. Perhaps it’s because the artist was so exceptionally technically apt that the spirit of the drawing was muffled. “Oh, it’ so lifelike.” “It’s just like a photograph.” Some are mesmerized by the technical acuity because it does represent an incredible skill. I’m not so easily swept away. I’ve got a lot more to say about that but not here and not now. Discussing art; like politics and religion can be a slippery slope.

Looking at the earliest of the cave drawings, as beautiful as they are, they are not realistic in the true sense of the term, yet they seem teeming with an energetic life force. If you look at the cave drawings closer (they are referred to as paintings or art but for this post, I prefer the term drawing) you'll notice that the more crude drawings are actually from a much later (closer in time to us) period. The more realistic or less childlike of the drawings are actually from the earliest Paleolithic period but, I'm getting off the true focus of this particular post, which is that drawing is a spiritual or religious act. I know you may think this is a stretch but, the virginal, two-dimensional space is sacrificed the moment the first mark blemishes or destroys (or, graces) the surface. All of the marks made thereon delineate from and mass, depict the illusion of spacial depth, weight and perspective. While I'm getting it together for the new blog, I consider what Picasso said about action being the fundamental key to all success, so I'd better get going and get the new RON FORTIER'S Anyone Can Draw! blog site ready for my first posting - Drawing the Line; a New Way to Learn How to Draw.

Please Note: There is an Any One Can Draw based in Canada authored by Stephan Baker. When I last searched to see if anyone else was using the term, phrase or title a few weeks ago, nothing came up. Based on this new information, I will proceed as RON FORTIER'S Anyone Can Draw! As such, I have edited this post to reference: RON FORTIER'S Anyone Can Draw!

A Twisted Finger of Fickle Fate

Southcoast, MA – A few years ago, about six to be exact, I found a hard lump just above the large knuckle of my small finger on the palm-side my right hand. At first I thought it was somehow related to my past occupation as a cook where I would have a chef knife in my hand for sometimes twelve or more hours a day. In one of the places I worked, everyone, from the executive chef on down the line, peeled roomfuls of Macomber turnips, the size of bowling balls, for almost the entire day. We fed hundreds of people in one sitting.

The doctor I went to said it was a trigger finger and to massage it. That didn’t work. My new doctor (had nothing to do with the finger) said they weren’t sure what it was but it was getting worse and the finger was now at a permanent ninety-degree angle. No fun since washing your face became an exercise in avoiding poking yourself in the eye. The new doctor referred me to an orthopedic specialist. The first words out of the specialist’s mouth were - it’s a genetic disease you’ve inherited from your Viking ancestors.

What, me a Viking? For some silly reason Viking trumped the word disease in my head. So, I couldn’t be over six feet tall with blue eyes or something. A Viking, what the heck is he talking about? Then it struck me. My father’s side is traced back to Normandy, France to the birth of our ancestor Noel Fortier dit Leforestier in 1593. The dit is kind of the same thing as an AKA. The family name was changed when Noel and his son Antoine arrived in Quebec in 1654.

Vikings, as we commonly refer to them today, was really a description for people whose occupation was sneaking up little streams and creeks, known as viks, to plunder whatever they could from the folks who lived in the area. The people who shared this occupation were composed of the Norse, seafaring Scandinavians from Norway, Denmark, and Sweden. These Norse were actually Germans who “visited” and remained behind on their “business travels” to Sweden and Denmark some time before the birth of Christ.

The Scandinavians were excellent shipbuilders. Noel was in the shipbuilding trade – interesting even if it’s only coincidental. Must have been in the blood! The Vikings then, produced light, swift sailing ships that could also used with oars called long ships. The design for these ships originally developed for trading use. But the Vikings were also fierce warriors who raided the European coast in search of wealthy, and undefended coastal communities. They were so fierce that we’ve inherited the children’s nightly prayer: Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep supposedly originated as a result of the Viking terror (can’t find a reference for this but I know I read it somewhere).

Now I lay me down to sleep,
I pray the Lord my soul to keep;
if I die before I wake,
I pray for Lord my soul to take.

So with that in mind, that’s how I inherited my twisted finger. Of course, eventually the raiding stopped and everyone got along. Somehow, in all of this history, I got the fickle finger of fate. It’s called Dupuytren’s Contracture – lucky me! Then again, I’m sure somebody out there would trade my finger for whatever they’re dealing with in a heartbeat. [AUTHOR’S NOTE: Photo is from the Mayo Foundation for Medical Education & Research. I would have photographed my finger but the one here looks like it. Mine is worse.] Hey, until I do a DNA test, for all I know, the finger could have come from the Sephardic Jewish side of the family.

In the movie, Forrest Gump, Forrest muses, "Jenny, I don't know if mama was right, or if it's Lieutenant Dan, I don't know if we each have a destiny or if we're all just floatin' around accidental like on a breeze... but I think, maybe it's both. Maybe both are happening at the same time..." The feather was a central symbol in this movie and, in my opinion; it represented both destiny and freewill. Forrest’s momma told him that, “Well, I happened to believe you make your own destiny. You have to do the best with what God gave you.” Forrest: What's my destiny, Momma? Mrs. Gump: You're gonna have to figure that out for yourself. Life is a box of chocolates, Forrest. You never know what you're gonna get.

In deed Mrs. Gump, indeed! If destiny then is something that will happen or has happened as a predetermined, inevitable or irresistible event, then who or what determines that event? Is a god (not capitalized because I’m not referring to any one god in particular) or a gene or luck and, if it is luck, what god or force is in operation? Luck swings both ways; for good or ill. But, does it determine a life, a circumstance or the quantity or quality of opportunities? Or, is all this about chance? Chance is about the absence of any intervention or plan or power. Why all this contemplation over a twisted finger? Doris Day had a hit song - Que Sera Sera – here are a few lines of the lyrics:

Que Sera, Sera,
Whatever will be, will be
The future's not ours, to see
Que Sera, Sera
What will be, will be.

My dad never saw anyone with a finger like mine and my older cousins in Canada haven’t either. I’ve scanned the family photo album from Canada that has photos going back to the 1860’s and, unless they were hiding it, I never saw anyone with one like it. I was self-conscious of it especially when shaking hands; probably a memory of some juvenile cultural behavior. Surgery will fix it but there’s no guarantee I’m told that it won’t revert to its present posture.

My ancestor, Antoine Fortier, Noel’s son, married one of the richest women in Canada, Marie-Madeleine Cadieux, but ended up being pulled to the bottom of the St. Lawrence River when his leg got caught in his boat’s anchor line. I talked about him in my Tangles, Bangles & Angles (02-18-11) post. Was it destiny, bad luck or chance? Now, how about genes? I’ve always been fascinated with untangling string – genetic memory perhaps? Hope I don’t get my finger caught in anything.