Lest we forget

In the wake of the Boston Marathon terrorist bombing, the name calling and suspicion that results from it, I propose that we revisit a great author to remind ourselves about some fundamental realities necessary for living in this, our only world. I read this to my kids when they were small. It was fun to read, fun to listen to, and it packed a great message. As I reread it today, it was still fun to read out loud, even to myself, and I remember the message.
The Sneetches, by Dr. Seuss 
Now, the Star-Belly Sneetches had bellies with stars. 
The Plain-Belly Sneetches had none upon thars. 
Those stars weren’t so big. They were really so small. 
You might think such a thing wouldn’t matter at all. 

But, because they had stars, all the Star-Belly Sneetches 
Would brag, “We’re the best kind of Sneetch on the beaches.” 
With their snoots in the air, they would sniff and they’d snort 
“We’ll have nothing to do with the Plain-Belly sort!” 
And, whenever they met some, when they were out walking, 
They’d hike right on past them without even talking. 

When the Star-Belly children went out to play ball, 
Could a Plain Belly get in the game? Not at all. 
You only could play if your bellies had stars 
And the Plain-Belly children had none upon thars. 

When the Star Belly Sneetches had frankfurter roasts 
Or picnics or parties or marshmallow toasts, 
They never invited the Plain-Belly Sneetches 
They left them out cold, in the dark of the beaches. 
They kept them away. Never let them come near. 
And that’s how they treated them year after year. 

Then ONE day, it seems while the Plain-Belly Sneetches 
Were moping and doping alone on the beaches, 
Just sitting there wishing their bellies had stars, 
A stranger zipped up in the strangest of cars! 

“My friends”, he announced in a voice clear and clean, 
“My name is Sylvester McMonkey McBean. 
And I’ve heard of Your troubles. I’ve heard you’re unhappy. 
But I can fix that, I’m the Fix-It-Up Chappie. 

I’ve come here to help you. 
I have what you need. 
And my prices are low. And I work with great speed. 
And my work is one hundred per cent guaranteed!” 

Then, quickly, Sylvester McMonkey McBean 
Put together a very peculiar machine. 
And he said, “You want stars like a Star-Belly Sneetch? 
My friends, you can have them for three dollars each!” 

“Just pay me your money and hop right aboard!” 
So they clambered inside. Then the big machine roared. 
And it klonked. And it bonked. And it jerked. And it berked. 
And it bopped them about. But the thing really worked! 
When the Plain-Belly Sneetches popped out, they had stars! 
They actually did. They had stars upon thars! 

Then they yelled at the ones who had stars at the start, 
“We’re still the best Sneetches and they are the worst. 
But now, how in the world will we know”, they all frowned, 
“If which kind is what, or the other way round?” 

Then up came McBean with a very sly wink. 
And he said, “Things are not quite as bad as you think. 
So you don’t know who’s who. That is perfectly true. 
But come with me, friends. Do you know what I’ll do? 
I’ll make you, again, the best Sneetches on the beaches. 
And all it will cost you is ten dollars eaches.” 

“Belly stars are no longer in style”, said McBean. 
“What you need is a trip through my Star-Off Machine. 
This wondrous contraption will take OFF your stars 
so you won’t look like Sneetches that have them on thars.” 
And that handy machine working very precisely 
Removed all the stars from their tummies quite nicely. 

Then, with snoots in the air, they paraded about. 
And they opened their beaks and they let out a shout, 
“We know who is who! Now there Isn’t a doubt. 
The best kind of Sneetches are Sneetches without!” 

Then, of course, those with stars got all frightfully mad. 
To be wearing a star was frightfully bad. 
Then, of course, old Sylvester McMonkey McBean 
invited THEM into his Star-Off Machine. 

Then, of course from THEN on, as you probably guess, 
Things really got into a horrible mess. 

All the rest of that day, on those wild screaming beaches, 
The Fix-It-Up Chappie kept fixing up Sneetches. 
Off again! On again! In again! Out again! 
Through the machines they raced round and about again, 

Changing their stars every minute or two. They kept paying money. 
They kept running through until the Plain nor the Star-Bellies knew 
Whether this one was that one or that one was this one. Or which one 
Was what one or what one was who. 

Then, when every last cent of their money was spent, 
The Fix-It-Up Chappie packed up. And he went. 
And he laughed as he drove In his car up the beach, 
“They never will learn. No. You can’t Teach a Sneetch!” 

But McBean was quite wrong. I’m quite happy to say. 
That the Sneetches got really quite smart on that day. 
The day they decided that Sneetches are Sneetches. 
And no kind of Sneetch is the best on the beaches. 
That day, all the Sneetches forgot about stars and whether 
They had one, or not, upon thars.

The Marathon

Boston, the Marathon, the Red Sox, the heart beat of America, and the heart will continue to beat for freedom and justice. The heart will beat for life for the survivors, the first responders, volunteers, Doctors and nurses, and all sorts of hospital workers who administered to the victims of the horrific scene at the finish line yesterday. The heart beats for the investigators who are working swiftly to bring the perpetrators to justice, and a swift speedy trial in America's courtroom. I want that to happen.

I have read some pretty nasty stuff on Facebook over the past few days. For the most part, it is not well thought out. Some of it engenders hate, and encourages me and others like me to be hateful and vengeful. I will not bow down to intimidation from any quarter. I will not rush to judgment against anyone. I will not join a chorus of wrongful demands that are basically aimed at smearing entire nations or races because of a few nor will I not cast aspersions on those who do so.

I would like to see less bravado and more thought. Facts are important. More bravery and fewer aspersions. The folks who really hurt, the victims, maimed for life should be our primary concern, and also ourselves. We should take care of each other. We can assert our common dignity and lift each other up. Difficult to do? Right! Easy answers? No! But it is important for the heart to be beating, not for death to anyone, but life for all.

Just Visiting

Saturday provided me with the opportunity to go to the Berkshire Carousel as a visitor. I was pleasantly surprised and excited all over again, similar to my first visit about a year ago. But I was also an insider this time.

My son Dan, daughter Meg and grandson Hannibal accompanied me, and I gave them the grand tour as I have come to know the carousel. My first observation was that something new had been added to the work space. Since Thursday, some thing new had been added; the shipment of the anxiously awaited rounding boards had arrived and were occupying the front section of the workshop. The boards, neatly cabled together,  are primed and ready for painting. These will hold lights, special paintings of life in the Berkshires, and large photographs depicting Berkshire County history. It will take a beefed up crew of painters to get these ready over the coming months. The mechanism on which the horses, chariots, and rounding boards will be placed is also scheduled to come soon. I have learned that soon is a non-specific word that means maybe later than sooner.

I was able to impress my family with what I knew about the rounding boards. Then we headed to the carving area. There were probably about fifteen volunteers working on some of the projects that had begun weeks ago, that were also worked on by me and others of the weekday crews. It is impressive that there is such continuity from one group of volunteers to the next. Several of the Saturday workers had been there on Thursday with me moving forward on projects that were dear to them, the horse Magic, and the donkey, Missy.

My family enjoyed meeting some of my co-workers, and they in turn were happy to meet Hannibal. He put up with their funny faces and sounds, smiled as only a 7 month old can, and won their hearts.

We looked over the carcasses of Malinda, Rusty and Thunderbolt, all still being worked on. Dan and Meg remembered reading about them in my previous blogs, and then we went back to the front of the shop and explored the finished horses. We observed the things that made the horses different, flowers, a cat or dog nestled behind the saddle, decorous blankets and bridles. Then it was Hannibal's chance to shine as we perched him on one horse and took pictures, and then on another horse. He seemed to fit, but had trouble holding on by himself. Maybe next year, when the Carousel is actually up and running.

The real difference this time for me was that I have been part of the project for a few months. I felt a great sense of pride in the accomplishment of all the volunteers, and I enjoyed showing off their/our work. The wonder of my first visit when I felt like I would like to be involved had turned into a new wonder that I have been involved in a world of carving and painting that is wonderful for me and for my family, and for so many others.

On the job training: Magic

Today, the Berkshire Carousel started earlier than usual for me, a day full of learning opportunities, from formal instruction on carving to practical answers to situations that develop.

There was a carving class, the second in  series, this one given by Joe Tournier, one of the floor managers dedicated to the production of that great horse Malinda. I found some themes in his presentation that reinforced most of what I had learned thus far. The notion of planning ahead came out as “What is the next step?” Carving is done in “comfortable stages.” Each stage builds on the previous one. Each cut of the chisel leaves bare a surface for the next part of the piece. There should be a continuous awareness of where the body of the horse is, which body parts are exposed, and which areas may be covered by straps or saddles or other adornments. So in the comfort zone, the carver leaves enough wood in areas for all possibilities that are defined in the drawings and etchings on the carving block. “Only do it once,” is one goal according to Joe. “It is easier to take away wood, than to add it back.” He encouraged us to do constant editing and to practice.

An urgent assignment came to several of us. The horse named Magic needed some intensive work so the horse may be completed for a special event coming up in June. Magic’s four legs were carved, but had to be sanded, today. I learned all about sanding today. Coarse paper to start, finishing off with a fine grit. The standard was no scratches, no dips, maintaining the features of each leg. That was the easy part. I quickly learned two other things about sanding: don’t breathe too deeply (I held my breath most of the time), and don’t sand with your mouth open or your tongue out, unless you like the taste of fine wood dust.

Just being in the room with the variety of activity is an encyclopedic world of information, probably found nowhere else. In an earlier blog, I mentioned a neat trick called glue sucking where a glue can be drawn with a shop vac through a crack in a wood block and then reclamped to get a tight unbreakable bond in the block of wood. Today, the glue sucking was brought into play again, this time to repair a body area on a horse that had split off, not completely. That is one amazing application that I have had the privilege of witnessing twice now. I was informed that a similar shop vac technique has been used to facilitate the worming of electrical wire through a conduit for up to half mile. Wow! Just tie a long string on a cotton ball, and suck it through the tube, carefully threading the string as it goes through the tube.  Remember to tie the other end to the wire, and then you can pull the wire through. These guys come up with everything.

A final tidbit that I learned today is first aid for a cut. To stop the bleeding, apply black pepper to the cut. It serves as a coagulant. It seemed to work. Thankfully, I wasn’t the person who got cut.

So it was a productive day. Learning occurs at many levels, at any time. Carpe diem!

Impossible to Possible:Not Magic

After a two week break, I returned to the Berkshire Carousel yesterday. I like to see quick progress, and expected to see a big change. I wondered if Malinda was ready for the paint shop, or Missy had been painted and was on display in the window. I looked for Magic to be ready for showing and a beautifully carved head for Rusty.

I guess I live in a dreamworld where things happen quickly; sometimes within twenty seconds, an entire life changing event happens. Such is not the case at the Carousel. Progress is made in small increments; hardly ever quickly; always carefully. Speed is not a virtue, but rather a hazard, which can cause problems like "do overs", thereby wasting hours of time. It happens.

But the horses were making progress towards completion. Rusty's head was being meticulously carved by Phil. I witnessed several conversations about the correct procedure for carving the ears and the floral trappings around the mane, and Phil consulting with fellow carvers to assure that the lines were accurate. Rusty's elaborate tail decorations were also a big topic, but that could not be immediately resolved. Carving by collaboration and consensus takes time.

Malinda's head that Becky has been working on received her eyes yesterday. Jim guided Becky through the process of mixing the epoxy filler that would bind the eyes in the carved sockets. It was a messy, sticky procedure, and I am pretty sure that Jim did not swallow any of the epoxy, despite the fact that he had to lick his fingers as he moved the eye into position. The eyes make the head come alive, and it was a great step forward.

Missy continues to be prepped for painting, and Magic continues to be sanded. Magic will probably be on display at a fundraiser at Macy's in a couple of months... "the magic of Macy's"

I worked on Rusty's body most of the day, and had a great talk with Rusty's sponsor, a neat elderly man who is honoring his wife with the sponsorship. Rusty was a horse on her farm back in Texas during the day.

So, during that two weeks, I did miss something. I also came to understand the value of careful attention to tasks. Details are important. Progress on the carousel is not measured by quantity, but by care and quality. The impossible is possible.

Florida: to go or not to go

Going away for a late winter/early spring week in Florida has put a damper on my blogging, and I hope no one is too disappointed. I needed to rest up from my life in retirement. There is nothing like a great vacation, visiting old friends who take care of you from the moment you step off the plane until you finally enter the terminal to board the return flight. I am forever grateful to my friends who took such good care of me and treated me so royally. There is a charm about Florida.

Since I have returned, I have been asked the same question, over and over.  Are you going to move there? I don't like to say never. Anything can happen.

During my visit, I stayed in relatively decent shape by walking daily about 3 miles early in the day. I stopped at Joey's Place, a neat little diner in a shopping area along the way, one day. The walls were covered with licence plates from all the states that I could think of, and a couple of foreign countries like Brazil and Canada. It seemed like a popular spot for young workers and retirees.

I first sat at the counter and ordered a cup of coffee and an English muffin, and then was invited to sit in a booth by Mike, who welcomed me with the words "Tell me your story." I got as far as "I'm from upstate New York..." and then he began to tell me his story, about Port St. Lucie- how it was begun. "So and so bought 5 or 10 thousand acres of swamp land... divided it into building lots...which he sold  in the early fifties for $10 down and $10 a month for life...unless you sold it...it worked, eventually, and the city was born, growing to about 150,000 people today." "Hurricane Andrew showed how vulnerable the supply chain is. It all depends on trucking. There is about two weeks of goods in the line. When the emergency hit, the folks from Miami picked the shelves clean in their area, did the same in the county just north of them; the folks from there did the same to West Palm Beach area, and so on, picking the shelves clean further and further north, like the invasion of the locusts." His story ranged from his own short life in New York State, the politics of emergencies, and walking on the roads around Port St. Lucie.

It was walking on the roads that really caught my interest. I mentioned the road I was walking on. "You shouldn't walk there," he said. "Why not?" I queried. "You'll get run over." he replied. "I walk on US 22 in New York," I said, "18 wheelers  wide loads, roll by all the time." "But these people driving around here are blind and drunk... you're gonna get killed." he insisted. "I watch the cars and step onto the grass when they come," I said, trying to calm him down, "I actually worry more about walking on the grass than on the road because of the millions of ants that might kill me." "You shouldn't walk on these roads," he said. I decided that I had to get back on the roads to complete the walk.

As I walked, I thought about that conversation. The roads are straight, no curves, no hills, no shoulders; nearly endless sight, designed for speed. There were empty beer cans and bottles littering the grass; no bottle return policy in Florida. (I actually thought of collecting the bottles and shipping them to NY and collecting the deposit, but after examining one container, I realized that the deposit tag that is on the bottles and cans in NY and the northeast was missing.) As people exited their driveways, which are fairly close together along the road, they seemed to be intent on doing almost anything other than driving: texting, phoning, applying make up, shaving, computering, drinking, eating, hugging. The guy was right. the roads are dangerous, and you could get killed.

I learned from my friends that there was a wild area under some high power lines which is inhabited by wild pigs..."Stay out of there!"; that if you encounter an alligator...."Do not run in  a straight line to avoid him, but zig-zag."; that there are moats along I-95 that swallow cars that go off the road which might leave a driver dead and lost for weeks.

The real charm of Florida, besides the people I met and stayed with is the weather, especially in the winter. I suppose the same can be said of the Northeast where the people also are endearing, and the weather has its own attractive four seasons.

And the bottom line is, comfort zone. I think I am settled in for the long haul here; at any rate, I will not be moving to Florida soon.