POP 3 Server

There was my grandfather, 

I called “Pa";

65, retired railroad man;

Known as “Pop" in the yard.

Then came my “Dad"

as I called him.

"Pop" he was dubbed by his grandchildren galore.

I took respite in a small restaurant, 

Feeling hardy and spry;

No “Hon" or “Sweetie" from this guy.

"What’ll you have, Pop?"

My Pop 3 server. 

Reminding me time marches on.

Responsibility?

A British soldier is hacked to death by an extremist. A reaction, aired on CNN, from a friend simply condemns the British government and its continued involvement in the war in Afghanistan. "All war involves killing, and the government is to blame for the tragedy!" There is no condemnation of the hackers' actions.

So, where does individual responsibility enter into the mix of violence after violence. The government is a big group with many players. It is easy to blame it. It is easy to condemn it. But does it really take away an individual's responsibility for a crime upon another person using the faulty reasoning that because a nation wages war, therefore, it is okay for an angry radical to do violence on an innocent person, off duty, who had previously served his nation.

To take a life is wrong. It may be mitigated by true self-defense. It may be altered by circumstances such as defending the innocent or securing rights for people who are oppressed. Clear vision is usually obliterated when it comes to the action of killing. The welfare of the country, the depravity of the enemy, the suffering masses, uncertain battle lines all help to obfuscate the cause of righteous.
At times, individuals rise up and protest against the government's actions. Men and women declare themselves conscientious objectors and make a statement against actions of war. This stance has been respected by governments. Objectors have made and continue to make their statements by demonstrations, hunger strikes, and other non-lethal actions. They take responsibility for what they do.
That is what should happen. No one should be excused for murder. Murderers  should be condemned, not apologized to. Everyone has responsibility for his/her actions. "The government made him do it" does not excuse, but only compounds the violence.

Where does a person learn personal responsibility? I think it is often taught negatively. When you do something wrong, you pay the price. More should be said about paying the price for doing the right thing, not always for the immediate prize, but for a better future. When individuals take responsibility for their actions there will be fewer murders and fewer suicide bombings, and maybe a responsible culture will prevail over  whomever or whatever, might be the agents of irresponsibility.

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.

St. Patrick's Day pride

We are poised at the beginning of St. Patrick's Day weekend... yes weekend this year, just like all the other great holidays we celebrate. A weekend of Irish pride and more. And why not?

I went to St. Patrick's school as a kid. We proudly wore green every day, shirt and corduroy pants. We knew St. Patrick tamed the heathen in the country he came to call home. He drove out the snakes. He explained the burning issue of how there can be three persons in one God by using the simple illustration of the national flower of Ireland, the shamrock.

There were a few facts in that last paragraph. He did a number on the heathen, and he used a shamrock to teach. The snakes? No.

I think if I were ever captured as a kid, and enslaved as Patrick was, I would have been angry. I may have sought revenge if I ever dared to go back. But Patrick, after having been a slave for several years, did go back to those who enslaved him, not to exact vengeance, Rather he embarked on a mission to change the lives of his former captors. This was not an easy thing to do. When you start talking about freeing all slaves, and letting the women be free to join the nunnery, the chieftains got more than a little upset. Maybe this is where the Irish get their moxie, their chutzpah, their pride. This Patrick, staring the elders in the face, and, to use a modern phrase that comes from old testament times, saying "Let the people go." He wrote a letter to a brigand named Corticus demanding that he free some men whom he had enslaved. Corticus ridiculed Patrick, who would not back down from his demand, and Corticus was excommunicated. Powerful, guy, that Patrick. It is hard to determine the effectiveness of the action, but Patrick stood his ground.

A real cool tidbit about Patrick is his own proud ancestry. His father was a deacon, but his grandfather was a bishop. I wonder what would happen if the men who are bishops and priests today had legitimate sons and daughters. Would there be more men and women like Patrick, ready to stand up for the right things; really on the side of the down trodden and the poor. Would there be a kinder and gentler approach to all people, an appreciation of all that is beautiful and good in everyone.

I think we need more people like Patrick, men and women, straight and gay, of every persuasion. We could use more humility to accompany our pride of being a scion of St. Patrick.

Someone has forgotten

In a couple of weeks, I am taking my first plane trip in several years. I will squeeze it in before the "new" TSA regulations go into effect which allow pocket knives and other items that are lethal on the plane.

Apparently pocket knives that have been part of life as we grew up are not considered a threat. We used to play with them as kids, and the play could turn bloody quickly, and unanticipated. None of us tried to kill each other with a pocket knife, nor were we ever threatened with one. They could be sharpened with a stone, good enough to whittle, gouge holes, puncture tires, and now we are getting into some serious stuff.

What is the difference between a finely honed pocket knife, a sharp razor, or a box cutter? To a person, intent on doing harm, there is none. All of these, even when you are shaving, aimed at the throat or the jugular, pose a threat to life, to hostage taking, to bringing down an aircraft. It was not a bomb that caused the horror of 9/11, but the box cutter, that is still banned. Box cutters that were smaller than the knives TSA are proposing to allow passengers to carry in a few weeks!

I will get my flight in before lethal "weapons" often used for play are allowed on board like golf clubs, hockey sticks, whiffle bats, pool cues, etc. Where will people put all this stuff anyway. It should go into baggage.

When I travel, I like to relax. It is important to feel safe. Flight attendants try to assist with this. As the first line of defense in an emergency situation, such as dealing with an angry passenger, they will certainly have more things to worry about. Although you never know when someone is going to snap, it is better for all of us not to have access to even small or foolish weapons in a closed compartment. Some rules have been in place for a long time, and passengers have gotten used to them. Why can't the TSA just continue to say no. Have we forgotten?

To quote my son: " Never Forget? I don't think so. Seems like it only takes about 12 years for people to forget,"

Not the Carousel

Round and round they go. Some are up, some down. Colorful, fanciful names for each. Moving counter-clock wise. Oops! One breaks away from the others, and moves quickly around the elliptical track, catches up to the others, and tries to break through the pack; tries again, and another way, and another yet, and eventually is in front of the pack again.
A mysterious type of carousel; actually a roller derby bout as the Troy Hellions took on th Green Mountain Derby Dames at the Rollerama in Schenectady Saturday evening. Baby Nuclear and Bloody Knuckles Betty alternated as Jammers for the Hellions, breaking from the pack, attempting to lap members of the opposition, who in turn tried to impede the jammer from passing any  of the  Dames. The blockers  for the Dames had names like Evbyn Slapt and Strawburried Jam. It was a night when the Hellions could not win. The jammers for the Dames, Teminate Her and Nancy Nightmare overwhelmed the home team as they skated the 130 foot oval at speeds over 10 miles an hours. Disharmony and Haidee Hellhound and the other blockers could not prevent that dynamic duo from outscoring the Hellions 220 to 110.
The bout as they call it in Derbyland lasted about an hour, two thirty minute periods, and a rare timeout. The clock kept running most of the time, thank goodness. Five players at a time per team. Eight referees, including Lethal Injection and Malcom Sex, each with a whistle,( and they used them,) kept order. Anne Persand, a person who I know in an another world as a talented  creative artist and author, was the referee leader. They  could penalize the players if necessary so that there were fewer players than refs on the floor at one time. Despite the almost constant body contact, the only injury that kept anyone from continuing for the evening was to a referee. They had to skate one person down for the rest of the evening.
The Roller Derby has its rules. The program attempts to spell them out. A commentator, Eloda Sarcasm, delivers a blow by blow description of the bout. Despite these efforts to inform the crowd about the "game", perhaps "show" is a better term, the attendees seemed to have trouble knowing when to get excited and cheer. Baby Nuclear waved her arms to the audience as she circled the track attempting to draw them in as she made a run at the opposition to score points. It worked a little.
I think for the most part, the audience was new. The atmosphere resembled a country fair. People moving about, talking, paying scant attention to the action; kids running here and there; a contest for the little ones at half time; photo ops; nachos and cheese dip. The jam timer did what might be described as tai chi during the time outs, perhaps portraying what everyone else thought "When will this end?  What am I doing here?"

Bob Donlan Photo

So what was I doing there? I didn't go just to have something to write about. Rather a friend is about to begin a "career" with the Hellions. I think they need her. She requested my presence, and several other of her inner circle. So friendship made me go.
I will share with you a line from the program that seems incongruous with the whole scene of Roller Derby as described above, yet it is at the heart of the action in the modern Derby:

" It's the DIY foundation and love of the sport that keeps these local librarians, nurses, artists, analysts, students, sales associates, and any other profession you can think of, coming back week after week and bruise after bruise."

It was one more new experience as Fabulous Fill travels the back roads of culture.

From gluing to carving...Malinda

Yesterday, after doing a quick writing assignment, I got back to the work of creating the horses that will make up the Berkshire Carousel. There was a need to create a glued up block for a headless horse. Phil gave me the dimensions, and my experience from some previous days kicked in. It is amazing how quickly you can become somewhat skilled in these things. My first full day at the carousel, I learned the gluing technique as I put together Malinda's head and neck blocks. Perhaps I am a fast learner.

Photo by Katy Levesque

Then I got to carving on Malinda's body. All of the body parts for this horse are spelled this way, and in some cases, the traditional "e", the second letter, has been crossed out, and changed to an "a". Some other "newcomer" volunteers, who had been used to the traditional spelling of the name inquired about this. (Some of us had been in teaching before coming to the carousel, and we are very aware of names and spelling.)

There is a story behind the name, and I am finding out there is a story behind every horse. The name is actually Ma-Linda, in memory of a wonderful woman named Linda who was also a great Ma to her kids. Malinda is a large horse, and will be one of the more ornately decorated horses on the carousel.

I marvel at how carving is done. A drawing is traced onto the blocks with anatomical features such as eyes, jawbone, nose, teeth and mane. Bridle and straps are drawn, and flowers or other decorations on top of all of it. It is the carvers job to remove wood with a variety of chisels so that all of the features of the drawing are apparent. Determining the center line is critical so the anatomical parts and straps match up. The right side of the horse will be the decorated or romantic side, and also the more challenging side for the carver.

A good three dimensional eye is required as the carver determines where the deepest parts of the carving will be, usually the body skin of the horse. Material is removed gradually down to that level, leaving high the saddle, blankets, straps, flowers and other adornments. The article closest to the horses flesh or perhaps the jawbone, is the next level to carve to, and so on until the three dimensions are carved to the drawings, and the original blocks of wood are rounded into a shape that resembles the structure of a horse.

It takes the patience that I spoke of earlier. And since this is a huge volunteer effort, involving hundred of people over 6 or 7 years, lots of collaboration on the part of the master carvers. It was described as the largest volunteer permanent art project ever attempted in Massachusetts. It is good to be part of it.

First official assignment

Recently, I was asked to write a couple of articles for the Berkshire Carousel Newsletter, which will appear mostly online, especially on Facebook.

A creative young lady named Katy has been posting progress reports on the horses, mostly through pictures that she snaps as she roams through the workshop while she takes a break from painting the horses. Her latest effort is forty photos of  horses that have been completed and are ready to mount on the mechanism that will arrive soon, and several that are works in progress, still needing paint, and additional carving. From Facebook, Berkshire Carousel Horses one can get an idea of the amazing work that is going on there.

My first assignment completed was about the rounding board that is to represent the Cummington Fair, which has taken place in the town of Cummington, 20 miles east of Pittsfield, for the last 144 years. 145 is coming up in August. I will probably go there this year. The truth is I hate fairs, but every time I go to one, I have a great time. Maybe, I like them more than I will admit.
My knowledge about rounding boards is minimal, nil actually. There is an example of one hanging in the workshop. I had the opportunity to talk with the artist Terri who is painting the board.

I am in awe of what goes into a painting: the imagination, the flights of fancy, the basic structure, the color, the joy. Terri's concept of this board represents the merry-go-round with flags flying, children screaming and playing. You can imagine the screams and shouts of joy if you let yourself be part of the action. You can smell the husky animals of the exhibitions as they are paraded on the fairground. And you can enjoy the sunshine and rolling hills of the Berkshires in this nostalgic setting.

Terri gave me some literature about the merry-go-round, its history, its demise. The Fair supervisors are attempting to rescue artifacts from the dispersed carousel, and certainly are evoking memories as they obtain memorabilia. It is a daunting project.

I learned about history, art, and rounding boards from this first completed assignment. I also gained much in my appreciation of the craft that goes into creating the wonders that give pleasure to so many, through the years and even centuries.

Collaboration to make ends meet

One productive virtue that comes to mind as I work at the Berkshire Carousel is collaboration, or working together in a consulting sort of way, where workers offer an approach to a problem, and then patiently listen to or watch another come at the situation in a different way. There is thankful acceptance of the other's idea, and work goes on.

This is most noticeable when it comes to deciding the best lines to use when carving a neck, head or torso of a horse. It went sort of this way. I asked Art if  I had carved deep enough on one part of the neck of Malinda, if it was rounded sufficiently. Of course the answer is usually, "You can go much deeper, but let's attach the head, to check the alignment and depth." He pointed out the importance of the windpipe, saying "The physiognomy of this horse demands that it be accentuated." "Wow!" I thought, as he uttered that word that I hardly have heard used since I read Jane Eyre about forty years ago.(Photo below shows the neck of Malinda as Art draws an area that needs carving; my hand holds the chisel in bottom left. The sawzall in the foreground is not a tool used in carving.)

photo by Katy Levesque

After I had worked on that for  a while, going deeper, rounding, preserving one aspect, eliminating some high spots,  Art came by to check again. This time, Becky,  conscientiously working on the head of  Malinda, had noticed some lines for belts  that seemed to be out of whack with lines on the other side of the head. Art checked it out. He redrew some lines, and was about to move away. Becky, however, recognized another problem (Becky has been carving at the Carousel for about five weeks when she volunteered for this duty with her husband John, who continues to meticulously carve the dental work for Thunderbolt). "If I carve those lines, then how will it line up with the neck. It will be different." I suddenly realized that her question affected what I was doing, so I perked up. We put the head back on the neck, and checked it out.

At this moment, a carver named Sue came on the scene, and in a flash recognized not only the problem, but the solution. With a pleasant "May I?", she picked up Art's pencil and drew on the neck the connection that needed to be made. My job was simplified again as she repeated the  phrase, "Go deeper along this line, and round it" and added  "just like your own jaw bone." We separated the head and the neck. Art picked up his pencil and gently erased some lines he had drawn, and smiling said: "Perspective is important. Thanks, Sue !" Problem solved until next time.

The collaboration among the four of us was important. The mighty horse Malinda will be well fashioned, bedecked in roses as she jumps on the carousel.

Horse Dental Work

The dentist pressed a gauze pad into my cheek, and injected a dose of Novocaine  A few moments later, he was drilling out the old filling, and soon into the decay that could eventually cause a big problem. The main discomfort for me was the slight aroma of smoke caused by the drill grinding on the old filling and the decayed part of the tooth. All this was done in preparation for a new crown that will probably last the next 35 years of my life. Then he pressed in some goo to make a mold, and finally placed a temporary cap on the tooth.

In the middle of all this, I told him about the Berkshire Carousel, how a team of master carvers were able to explain to amateurs, exactly what had to be done to render a likeness of a horse, and the amateurs were able to produce high quality carousel horses with some instruction and oversight. It seems to me, that the master carvers are great teachers.

I thought then about John, who has been carving at the carousel for a little over a month. A short time before that, he was a security wonk at a pharmaceutical company. He volunteered at the Berkshire Carousel, and suddenly he is working on a horse's head, and more specifically, over the past two weeks, on the horse's mouth. He talks to one of the main carvers, prowls around the finished horses. He gazes into each mouth, attempting to figure out the intricacies of how the lips, the teeth and the tongues of the horses interrelated, so that he can do the dental work on the horse called Thunderbolt. He notices the number and size of the teeth, the position of the tongue. Will the horse have an overbite? How much of the teeth will show behind the lips?

Then with the sharp chisel and knife, he gently scrapes away small bits of basswood, eventually forming the basic structure of Thunderbolt's  "smile";  such patience and attention, with definite pride as John works steadily at his practice of "dentistry."

I asked my dentist if he could explain his procedure to another person so that that person could do the dentistry. He thought about that for a minute, and said "You wouldn't want that to happen." I think that was a no, and he is right.

Complex simplicity- Missy's Tail

As I walked into the Berkshire Carousel workshop yesterday, I spied Phil who was smiling holding an object that he described as one of the strangest things he had ever produced in his workshop. I suppose it would have produced some curious answers at a "What's this" forum.
It was a small piece that was a series of glued up 3 inch blocks, lapped together, and twisted, the rough carving as it turned out, for Missy's (the donkey on the Carousel) tail. He demonstrated how this was going to work. It was about a 3 inch square piece , that twisted out to about 18 inches long. It would be mortised into the back side of the torso, with the twist going to the right, and anchored at the other end to the donkey's thigh. It is difficult to conceive, let alone write about.
I asked about the mortise, "Would that be square as the block is currently?" He demonstrated that there were several possible ways the tail could go. "I think it will be round, so it can be adjusted easily. A square mortise would not allow any room for adjustment." And I remembered the first rule of shop class, plan ahead.
I left that to him after a while, and proceeded to work on Malinda's head. Jim gave me some perspective on how a horse's head was designed by its creator, with a jaw bone that was "D" shaped, and prominent in the carousel horses, and the face which receded a bit behind the jawbone. Respecting the line distinguishing the two gave depth and personality to the horse, not to mention realism. That's the way horses are.
As I chipped away, carving Malinda's face, a co-worker was at the table near me. I was not paying attention to his project, intent on my own efforts, realizing that the chisel was very sharp. A real face of a horse was beginning to emerge as I carved. I felt pleased with this. And then I got distracted. A twinge of pain, and blood seeped from my thumb. I had not noticed before the large box on the counter in the center of the work area  that contained a supply of band aids and other first aid equipment. Several other people who  already knew where it was, perhaps victims also of a wayward chisel, directed me to the box, and offered to help.
After I had applied the band aid, I looked around at some of the other projects. But it was the one next to me that caught my eye. That glued up twisted block that was Missy's tail had been shaped, and rounded and flattened near the end so that it really had become a serious looking tail. It was miraculous. From concept to reality, almost in a matter of hours.
In a few days, the tail will be sanded, and inserted in its proper place. Missy's tail, not as large or ornate as the horses on the carousel, but certainly distinctive in its complex simplicity.

Gluing Rusty

Last Thursday at the Berkshire Carousel I again had the opportunity to do body work with the former shop teacher, and master carver, Phil. (check out his website Custom Carving ). The master taught me a lot.

Our project was to build the blocks for the spare horse Rusty. I say spare horse because the plan is to build about forty steady steeds for the carousel;thirty-three will be the operating number, eleven rows of three, plus two chariots; and an additional seven horses that will serve as backup when others may need repair. Rusty will serve as a backup.

Phil made sure I understood the plan, and how the head, neck and tail were to be formed, the dimensions and quality of the boards to be cut. "Watch out for split boards, or knots." "If you can get a full six inches in width, it will work." And as I dutifully carried the saw from one room to another, anticipating my job, he congratulated me on one of the first rules of shop education, "You are planning ahead."

We talked about school as we worked. I confessed to him that as a guidance counselor, I always tried to work the shop teacher to accept the thirteenth or fourteenth student into a class. Often I was successful. Sometimes I was rebuffed by the argument that there was a wide range of students in the class, each of whom had access to a weapon: a variety of power tools, or  a hammer, screwdriver, saw, etc. Despite all, my relationship with the shop teacher was very good, as even then he taught me about small engines and construction techniques, a perk of working in a comprehensive high school.

A couple of weeks ago, Phil taught me about gluing and clamping, and I had to remember that as I sawed and put the parts of Rusty together. After an hour or so of clamp time, I presented Phil with four blocks of wood for him to plane. Three were fine, but the fourth was pulling apart in one corner about 1/32 of an inch. Additional clamp time did not help. I offered redo. "I think I can save it," he said.

He grabbed the glue bottle and nodded me to the back area. There he treated me to the most amazing demonstration of gluing that I had ever seen, as he put glue into the gap, and applied the nozzle of the shop vac to the side of the wood where the gap extended down;  the glue was sucked deep into the gap so that it coated the interior sides of the boards. He clamped it again; excess glue sqeezed out, and the piece was saved.

So Rusty will be on his way to the carving table this week, soon to be part of the array of backup horses. He will get his chance to shine, and with him, all the carvers and painters who are working on the Berkshire Carousel. Of course Phil and Phil, too.

Carousel- the unlikely derivation

As we gathered for lunch at the Berkshire Carousel yesterday,  Jim, one of the instructor/carvers, was asked about the derivation of carousel, and he waxed eloquent on this topic. He apparently has learned much about the every aspect of carousels, from how to build and carve the horses to the history of the carousel as we know it today.

Putting together what Jim said yesterday, and verifying spelling and facts on Wikipedia, I pass on to you what I have learned.

That soft mellow word carousel that we have come to love because we have often gone up and down and around on one derives from the Italian, a mellifluous language that can make even bad things seem appetizing. Carousel comes from the word garosello which means little battle. Knights and warriors whether Arabian, Italian, French or Spanish had to train to be accurate with their spears. A training device was invented, a huge circle with rings dangling from it, suspended somehow, was turned by slaves or work animals. The warrior on horseback would attempt to thrust his spear through the ring, as if it were the heart of the foe.

Eventually, the term carousel became linked with the musical ride at state celebrations  and weddings where knights and guards paraded their horses in formation in demonstrations of horsemanship. The Place du Carrousel in Paris was named after a choreographed horse event including colorful floats took place there in the 1600s. (  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Carousel )

From about the mid- seventeenth century on the carousel became identified with the ride we love so much. It is a ride that makes us all knights, all jockeys, all guards parading in formation. Childhood dreams of riding out are accomplished. The fear of not returning is abandoned. We leave from one spot, and return. But it is not the same. We have won a victory over fear. We have gone out, conquered and returned. We have experienced the leisure of riding carefree, with a slight breeze cooling us, cheerful music surrounding us, the applause of our adoring public as we go round, and alight, a little wobbly, but safe with those who encourage and care about us.

We have been trained to win our battles with uncertainty through the carousel.

Learning Patience through the Carousel

There are many benefits from wood carving as it is done at the Berkshire Carousel, but the highest benefit that I have found is what it teaches, over and above wood carving. The word patience comes to mind.

Getting a project to go from the drawing board to reality takes an immense amount of patience. I only came into the project a few weeks ago. The project has been going on for about five years. Somebody had the idea back then, and did some things to get it going; raised some money; found space; and volunteers with the desire and time to stick to the project all these years.

As I said, I am new to the project. In a small way, I have been able to see concept move closer to a reality. Starting with a drawing of horse, transferring that onto a block of wood; the block of wood was made in the shop; a block for the head, another for the neck, and a big one for the body. The tail and legs each have their own blocks too.

The blocks are drawn upon according to the main drawing, and then a variety of workers, all volunteers, go after the parts with mallets, chisels, an sand paper. It takes days and weeks to get the horse carved. Everyone works with patience because they know the result will be wonderful when finished. there is no hurry. The process cannot be rushed." Chisel this out, leave that part," the floor manager says. "Call me when you get that much done." The floor managers treat everyone with respect, and are even tempered when dealing with the both novice and expert carvers. At the end of any given day, progress is hard to detect, but several days later, there is more form and definition in the horses. The parts are put together and made to match, exactly by persistent carving and sanding. Sometimes, a separate item, like a quiver of arrows or flowers are carved separately, and added to the body block later in the project.

After the sanding that renders a smooth surface, the horse is turned over to the painters who carefully apply five or six coats of colorful paint, paying attention to the minutest details, again with the utmost of patience.

That is what a person really learns at the carousel. The carving, sanding, painting and other skills are secondary to the patience needed to create an individual horse, and the overall project.

And then I think what if: what if  I had the opportunity to do this earlier in my career as an educator, or before I became a parent. How would that have changed me as I dealt with people in their formative years?  What if I had been part of a project like this and  learned to carve, to experience patience in action? It takes a long time to raise a child, a lot of forming and chiseling, and the work is long and strenuous. The carving experience would help us learn the patience we need as we do the task of  raising children, and probably in the task of forming ourselves.
Would we ever be finished?

Berkshire Carousel again

It is amazing how the project of the Berkshire Carousel just sucks you in. In the few days that I have been involved over the past two weeks, I have gone from watching and listening on my first hour there, then to sawing, gluing and clamping; soon I was carving with a mallet and chisel on the body of a horse I had never met. Today, it was the body of the donkey named Missy who got my attention for the first part of the day, and then the head of Melinda.

First, about Missy the donkey. A Pittsfield man named Kevin O'Hara wrote a memoir "Last of the Donkey Pilgrims" about his pilgrimage around the coast of Ireland with his donkey named Missy. An introduction to this can be found on Kevin's Blog    http://bloggingfromthebog.wordpress.com/tag/kevin-ohara/logging   Blogging from the Bog. It is a great story about friendship between a man and his donkey. It tells of a deepening respect that was mutually beneficial as Kevin grew to appreciate his companion over the weeks and months of travel. I find it fascinating that this particular donkey will have a place on the carousel. It is not just a cute name, but there is a history behind this one. Having had an opportunity to work on this donkey has carved an image and a story deeply into my personal memory bank. I am going to get back to the blog soon, and also get the book, and maybe Missy's hoof print on it from the carousel.

And now, about Melinda. I do not yet know the story behind Melinda. I am sure that will come out.  Meanwhile, I write my own story of Melinda. The day I signed on as a volunteer, Phil, a man who knows his woodworking and carving introduced me to Melinda. It was a drawing on maybe 6 feet by 4 feet paper. We taped it to a viewing board in the shop, and Phil showed me some of the lines on the drawing and what they meant. There were red lines that denoted the sections of the horse that had to be made separately and then carved and put together before the artists go to work at the painting.

Honestly, although I was fascinated by the drawing, I had trouble understanding how the concept became a reality.

My first full day on the job, as I said in a previous blog, involved body work on Melinda. This was cutting boards, gluing them together to make the various parts of the horse- body, head, neck, tail, legs. I took a vacation from Melinda to work on Thunderbolt (still on the carving table). Pieces of Melinda appeared soon in the carving area. I was surprised at the size of her, although I knew she was going to occupy the outside ring of the carousel.

Suddenly, today, I got the call. Melinda needed me again. Because I was so skilled at drilling a straight hole, and thoroughly acquainted with dowel points, I was chosen to drill the holes and match the head to the neck with dowels  Now this requires way more expertise than I thought I had. I saw it done last week, once. And today, I did it pretty much on my own.

That wasn't all. I was then told to get some tracing paper and a pencil and trace Melinda's head, with eyes, teeth and harness adornments, from the large drawing of the complete Melinda. This traced image I then retraced onto the wooden block, labelled Melinda's head. I guess the stunning part of it was that the supervisors tipped in with suggestions, a small amount of instruction, and for the most part let me be. I was so involved that I had to complete that whole operation before I left. I really felt responsible to prepare Melinda's head for the carvers.

Like I said, the Berkshire Carousel sucks you in. The floor managers know their stuff (it is more than woodworking and carving), pass it on and the project becomes your own. I can hardly wait for the day when I take my grandson there for a ride on the great animals that are becoming part of me, and I hope to be able to tell him the story of the Berkshire Carousel.