Happy birthday, USA!

The nation — OUR nation — needs a little pick-me-up, I think, these days.

Just cuz we’re looking rundown, tore back, a little worse for wear, or as some might opine, divided, doesn’t mean we’re licked, done for, washed up or even close to finished. So let’s wish her a good GOOD birthday. We need to feel good about our home, this old U.S. of A., in order to mount the counterforce to the cheaters, fibbers, disingenuous thieves of justice who currently appear to have a temporary stranglehold on our country’s government (see: recent Supreme Court rulings on the EPA, guns, women’s rights and of course, corporate over-extension of rights).

Unpacking the US’s “Birthday”

So, the “birthday” of the U.S.A. turns out not to be as tidy as we might like. It didn’t just happen all of a sudden on one day. It was a process, and it breaks down like this.

     249 years ago, in 1776:

April 12 — in the Province of North Carolina, town of Halifax, clever lawyers among that colony’s governing committee draft the “Halifax Resolves” as part of their new rules governing the conduct of their delegates to the 2nd Continental Congress that convened that year up in Philadelphia. The Resolves gave the NC delegates the authority that no one in the Continental Congress had yet been given to join with their fellow delegates to declare independence from Great Britain’s Empire. A necessary first step toward what could legally happen later.

May 15 — about a month later in Williamsburg, Virginia, the local provisional governing body (necessitated by the Royal Governor’s ominous dissolving of the 150-year-old Virginia House of Burgesses in 1774) issued official instructions to its delegates to the Continental Congress to start the ball rolling on the whole independence thing and propose official separation from the British Empire for the 13 colonies.

June 7, 1776 — a Friday: in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, Richard Henry Lee, one of the seven Virginia delegates, per his operating instructions, makes the proposition for independence to the 2nd Continental Congress.

June 11, 1776 — four days later, Tuesday, a motion is passed creating a committee to write up the reasons for the move for independence. Much politicking takes place in Philadelphia and probably via horseback up and down stretches of what’s now highway I-95 from NYC to Virginia. The house seen in the picture to the left is a reconstruction on site of the house Jefferson lived in when he wrote the Declaration over the weeks following June 11th.

July 2, 1776

— a Tuesday, in Philadelphia, the 2nd Continental Congress tallied a unanimous vote of 12 of the colonies approving delegate Lee’s resolution for independence (only 12, because New York’s delegates were not yet authorized to declare the colony independent of Great Britain, and so abstained from the vote, thereby allowing it to be approved).

Thus, thereby, forthwith, evermore and just like that declaring and making in fact the united states such as they were, of America a nation of its own. This was the day the USA was born. (Massachusetts delegate John Adams was certain for a time that July 2nd would henceforth be massively revered and celebrated for generations.)

  July 4, 1776 — Congress votes on and approves the document drafted by the committee (primarily by Virginia delegate Thomas Jefferson) created on June 11 which announced this new independence. It is signed and endorsed by only the President of Congress, John Hancock of the Massachusetts delegation, and the secretary, Benjamin Harrison, of Virginia.

This was the day that the brand-newly independent US of A DECLARED itself independent. Not a big big difference, and technically still very much “Independence Day”. (Git on out there and enjoy watching some fireworks!)

July 8 — in Philadelphia, the Declaration of Independence is officially read aloud publicly for the first time in the town square in front of the State House where Congress met.

July 9 — General George Washington has the Declaration read to his troops in New York City. As well, a German translation is published in Philadelphia (perfectly analogous to a Spanish or Chinese translation being published if it were happening in California, today).

July 20-August 1 — a fancy-schmancy permanent version of the Declaration is printed again on parchment.

August 2 — the document is formally endorsed by the 2nd Continental Congress with each delegate signing his name to it (a few adding their signatures later.)

Fascinating, no? History is always more muddy and complex than it appears — or is shown to us — at first.

Fathers, Veterans Poetic

A couple years back I asked my kids if they knew why they had no school that November 11th. After a minute the older one answered “Veteran’s Day!”, and then I asked if she knew what that was about.

Not surprisingly, they didn’t, so I commemorated Veteran’s Day by informing my kids (as nonchalantly as possible ;-) why it was they didn’t have school that day. And that their grandma’s daddy was actually there at the event from which the holiday was carved; ie, he was a soldier of the American Expeditionary Force stationed on the Western Front at the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month in 1918 when a cease fire was declared adn Word War One ended. More on that is below, if you want to read it.

Before that I’d like to just skip to honorin the vets in my life.

So both my kids’ grandfathers served, (which includes my dad), both of my own grandfathers served, as did my two uncles on this side of the Atlantic, and one of their sons, my first cousin.

Each story of each of these guys is a fascinating one, and framed their lives in one way or another.

Some of the most moving words I’ve ever come across came to me in a correspondence with a relative some years back. That person had been intimately acquainted with life in the military, and conveyed to me with a slap-down honesty that even when military personnel and their families disagreed with or disapproved of the wars or actions with which they’d been charged — as the person in question and their family did of certain conflicts — that indeed because of the price that real people pay in the service, that supporting our troops in all and every way possible was not merely their (and our) duty, but that it’s the kind of responsibility akin to keeping a dog on a leash on a busy street, of feeding your newborn baby. Because just like in those cases, it’s life itself, on the line that they were talking about.

Lee H. Campbell (grandfather)
US Army  1st Division
WW I; Occupation of Germany – 1917-1920

John J. Dunn (grandfather)
British Royal Navy
Ireland; England; Hong Kong – 1921-1929

John J. Dunn (dad)
British Army & Commando Unit
Egypt & Libya – 1945-1949

George F. Campbell (uncle)
US Navy
Philippines; Pacific Ocean; San Diego – 1965-1977

Joel G. Campbell (1st Cousin)
US Army, 82nd Airborne Division
Hawaii – 1994 – 2005

Warrington C. “Red” Cobb (uncle by marriage)
US Naval Academy, Annapolis
US Navy – 1960s

Robert P. Sheehan  (father-in-law)
US Air Force
Kentucky; Northern California – 1957-1963

 

Background of how it came to be “Veteran’s Day” after being “Remembrance Day” and “Armistice Day” by telling how someone fairly close to them – their gramma’s daddy – had been “on site”, so to speak, for the Armistice that started the holiday, by telling them, in other words, the story of my mom’s dad — complete with pictures — of how he was this extremely funny guy who loved to joke around, whom everyone loved. Of how he grew up in the fields and farmland of Minnesota, same as their gramma, my mom, had. Of how he then became a soldier who was sent with so many others to a place that in his letters home he could only refer to as: “somewhere in France”. Of how he lived in the trenches, was part of a crew firing a big cannon, of how 20,000 people died in one day, and above all, of how he lived. And I told them of the signing of the agreement that led to the cease fire that occurred, and I read them the words he had written home in a letter about what it was like on the Western Front that fateful night at 11pm, November 11th, 1918.

I think the pictures and the fact that they know their gramma (my  mom) really well, and that I emphasized that this person I was talking about was her DADDY, that she actually KNEW this guy, could remember being held by him, and maybe that I had WW I sounds playing in the background…anyway, I was able to actually hold their attention telling that story, reading the bits from his letters, and they were into it.

I also then charted out so they (and I!) could see just how many of our relatives were and are veterans. Only the one I just mentioned, my grandfather Lee H. Campbell participated in WW I and experienced the Armistice of 11/11/1918, but practically every male relative has served. Here, then, is a list of my relatives who’ve served. In the cases where I don’t have a picture of the individual in question, I’ve put pictures instead representative of their service (read the captions for specifics).

To those who have served, serve now and will serve.
God’s speed and Amen.

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Changing of the Guard…& a Song

For my mom

A relatively long life which projected much love into the world ended its journey at the end of this August past.

These are pictures from the Memorial which I held for my mom. About 75 or so people came for it in mid October. It took place literally just across the dramatic rock jutting out of the desert in Phoenix that forms the “head” of the camel of Camelback Mountain from her home and which she loved and we lived near since our arrival there in 1979.

If people one knows can be said to be our reflections, then from the folks who attended and spoke, it would seem she shone brightly and warmly indeed. Uniformly, they noted how she paid keen attention to people, and was possessed of a genuine modesty, given the lucid and sharp mind everyone also observed. And laughter, we all talked about how much laughter played a part of her being.

As such cycles go, the beat goes on, and the two grandkids–my kids–she loved so dearly, embody the Great Rule of the Cycle of Life: the future takes root in the present.

 

To my mom, a freedom fighter for justice, for the right for everyone to enjoy the gifts and benefits of learning, and a case study of the value of paying attention to each other, of being here now. And to my kids, loving and sweet creatures learning to navigate this crazy thing we call “life”. And to everyone else who attended as well. The four others in this picture below are my four cousins from my mom’s younger brother. They’re awesome. A wonderful friend I’ve known since 7th grade (!!!) took these shots (and, btw, totally just volunteered to do it. Amazing!)

 

Here’s a poem I wanted to read but forgot to that the lovely ole Internet allows me the save of passing on in some fashion.

It embodies one of the things she prized most and spent her life spreading the joy of: reading, words and books.

 

Notes on the Art of Poetry
by Dylan Thomas

I could never have dreamt that there were such goings-on
in the world between the covers of books,
such sandstorms and ice blasts of words,,,
such staggering peace, such enormous laughter,
such and so many blinding bright lights,, ,
splashing all over the pages
in a million bits and pieces
all of which were words, words, words,
and each of which were alive forever
in its own delight and glory and oddity and light.

___________________________

And finally, she requested this song be played at her Memorial, which wasn’t possible. So I pass it on as I know she would have liked. It embodies her view of life…and the sadder part of the cycle.

Love and light.

Sound and Vision–or: Strange Fascination

Various pictures to delight, today.

Pictures of the sounds and visions of the lives growing and roving forth. Some of which show the people responsible for the sounds which the kidlings are into these days, others of which show the kidz themselves.

The elder of the kiddiewinks is loving Marina and the Diamonds these days. Headed by Marina Diamandis, who was born in Wales in the UK (Greek dad, Welsh mom), she broke in 2009 and I think accurately describes her sound as “indie artist with pop goals”. It’s melodic in that theatrical way that’s in the tradition of glam rock (from T-Rex and Roxy Music to Elton John, Bowie and Queen). This quote from her seems appropriate:

“I created the name ‘Marina and the Diamonds‘ 5 years ago and I never envisaged a character, pop project, band or solo artist. I saw a simple group made up of many people who had the same hearts. A space for people with similar ideals who could not fit in to life’s pre-made mold. I was terribly awkward for a long time! I really craved to be part of one thing because I never felt too connected to anybody and now I feel I have that all around me.”

– Diamandis describing the concept behind the stage name “Marina and the Diamonds”, 2010.

 

And she (the elder of the kids) is also deep into a musical called Be More Chill, which is now off Broadway (she just enjoyed her 1st trip to NYC to see it) after a previous run in New Jersey, based on a novel. It’s about a high-tech pill that enables a sort of Faustian way for teens to finally be cool, conform etc, with predictably catastrophic results, triumphed by the one character who doesn’t “drink the Kool-Aid”, as it were. Rockin!

 

Mr. Jolly Younger Progeny (who readers of the blog & others might recall from last summer, was at that time into electro-swing, specifically the group Caravan Palace from France; taking him last June was his first concert)…anyway, he’s currently into David Bowie as well as Queen.

And yes, their epic, legendary collaboration “Under Pressure” (in which, IMHO, they together hauled down the very cosmos to caress our souls through the speakers) can be said to be a sort of wellspring of his getting into the harder rocking of that pair.

This is all but the surface of layers of interesting as far as a ridiculously proud daddy’s meta view is concerned, because of the following: they both play instruments in school band (older on flute, younger on keyboard bass), and I’m trying to figure out if the pieces or styles of what they like to perform bear any discernable relationship(s) to what they like to hear. (So far, hard to tell…)–and secondly, because since they were 4 and 2 years old I’ve had music playing pretty much literally 24/7, all kinds.

And it’s just such the ultimate joy to watch and listen to them and the tunes they respond to as they change. Mr. Bowie’s words again (yet again!) ring true for them (in 8th and 10th grades) just as they did when they ran in my 10th grade yearbook.

And then here’s some fun from last year’s Halloweens…ya know, catching the heck up before this one. Confession: none of us knows yet what we’re going to dress as this year! Lol

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

So Recently Summer

I’ve been playing a lot over the last year or so with the camera settings on my phone camera, things like the white balance, the shutter speed and the ISO (light sensitivity). Mostly I’ve found a lot of interest with the white balance such that mostly the blue end of the spectrum shows in pictures.

Such as in this one.

 

However, these recent shots resulted when I switched to the other extreme of filtering out the blue end instead.

 

 

 

 

 

Me and the ever-steadily-ascending kidlings. Enjoy.

 

 

 

Xmas 2017!

Ahh puppies!

 

 

 

 

And so here are shots of MY puppies from this recent Christmas.

 

 

 

 

It naturally always begins with the Christmas eve one-gift-each tradition. She (the elder) got kitty stuff–er, rather, a calendar and a book we’ve loved in bookstores for years called “I Could Pee on This”.

 

 

He got the puppy iteration: “I Could Chew on This” with his calendar.

 

 

 

 

Per the usual, we spend the winter holiday in Phoenix, Arizona, where I grew up and where my mom still lives.

 

 

 

A chunk of our usual extended family wasn’t there this year, which made it a little different – they were missed –  but it was lovely all the same.

 

 

In fact next year will be the 40th xmas together with the group that couldn’t make it this time around.

This is my mom. :-)

And of course, Santa Kylen Claus!

 

 

 

 

 

 

Preliminary Portfolio

Basic images I’ve shot on film and digitally (as indicated).

TRACES OF ANTIQUITY

The view up to the top of Capitoline Hill in Rome, looking into the Piazza del Campidoglio (designed by Michelangelo, among others); an equestrian statue of Emperor Marcus Aurelius can be seen in front of the Palazzo Senatorio. On the other side of that building is the Roman Forum.

 

A statue of Hapi, the God of the River Nile that sits next to the stairs leading to the top of Capitoline Hill.

 

 

Two of the pagan statues that line the roofs of the buildings that frame the Piazza del Campidoglio.

 

Columns in the Roman Forum remaining from the 2,000 year old temple of Antoninus & Faustina; on the extreme right can be seen the church that was built inside to”reclaim” the building from its “pagan” past; the Church of San Lorenzo in Miranda.

 

 

 

Two of the Swiss Guard at the gates of St. Peter’s.

 

 

 

The “Pigna”; the 15 foot bronze sculpture of a pinecone that sat in front of the Old St. Peter’s Bascilica for 1,000 years before the St. Peter’s that we’re all familiar with was built. This was what a thousand years of Christian pilgrims and top dogs saw as they entered the “capital” of Christianity for a milennium. It’s now in the Vatican musuems courtyard.

 

Also in the Vatican museums courtyard are these two sculptures: one, the head of a colossal statue of Augustus, carved 2,000 years ago, the other, “Sfera con sfera”, decidedly 20th century.

 

THE FOREST

In the Berkeley Hills after a night of rain, 2016.

Virtual Reality 1: Muzik…Non Stop

Ahh, yes.

Music.

There’s a recent author (must look this up!…update: Jennifer Sessions) who described the experience of being a parent as “having a piece of yourself in someone else’s body.” ~ crxn to: “your heart running around in somebody else’s body.”

Just so, indeed!

And music, one of my favorite things, has presented an occasion that illustrates this through my little ‘uns. (Though–as the saying goes–not to little anymore.)

I consciously connected to music when I was about 16, but my intertwining with music occurred later, beginning a little before I turned 18. Certainly within a few years I became intricately lost in it to the point that I realized the truism once stated by Mike Manumission (host of a big club in Ibiza) that “if you keep finding that you’re the last one at the party, that’s a sign you should be the one throwing the party.” This has over the years taken the form of working sales for an underground music label and dance music distribution company, DJing, producing and hosting musically based events (nightclubs), composing and producing music and being a music journalist.

Even though I’ve made music, I’ve done so with no musical training or practice on a traditional instrument as such.

And so watching my kids both engage with music through school is just the sort of thing, IMHO, that parenting is about. That is, adding to the traits, strengths, etc that your kids inherited from you with things you didn’t get or have the benefit of. In my view, this works best when it isn’t forced on them, and so it is that both kids have independently chosen to participate in music and carry on with it. Big yay!

It’s like watching a part of yourself do the thing, or maybe closer to a VR experience of the thing they’re doing since the thing they’re doing is thing beyond your own actual experience. It’s the thing you would be doing, could be doing but for circumstances. The beauty of  it is that your extensions–they get to do it, are doing it and that’s just why kids exist–are had at all.

In short, it’s quite thrilling, life-affirming and great to see, for instance, my kid in the sort of all-school concert like I did some days ago and at which these pictures were taken.

She’s 13, now, and has been playing flute for two years. They sounded genuinely terrific.

 

 

Some Art

 

An artist friend of mine turned me on to an amazing mobile app several months ago that allows drawing and picture creation within a series of what you might call the parameters of digital visual rendering. I’ll explain more in another post, but for now, here are some recent things I’ve done, in two categories: Shape Ruminations and The Grid.

You really need to click on the images to see them large to see what they have to offer.

I.   Shape Ruminations

II.   The Grid…

 

Chakras and more

Other

90!

Today, December 20 here in 2016 my dad turns 90.

Ninety frikken years old! That’s crazy! And kinda really great too, of course.

So I thought I’d showcase some pix of the old guy.

He’s dedicated much of his life to the doing and teaching of art. I admire that. And I’m proud of him for it.

So along with that and in the general interest of longevity and of his making it that long here on planet Earth and what he’s weathered (in the last 15 years: a heart attack, broken hips, a minor stroke and this year a major one, which he unbelievably bounced substantially back from… to say nothing of also living through Nazi bombing of England in WW-II & a harsh Catholic school education, his own stint in the army immediately after the war ended, decades of the vagueries of art sales, a black widow bite and the ups and downs of almost a century of temper tantrums and human rights rollbacks and degradations by political conservatives & the intolerant on both sides of the pond)–I offer up a WooHoo! and a happy birthday to him, born lo those many years ago on December 20, 1926.

Now for the nifty pix

The earliest picture I have of him, he was 13 when it was taken, visting, apparently, Shakespeare’s hometown. The girl to his left (on the right of the pic) is his older sister Winifred (she passed away about almost a year ago).

Seven years later, he was in the British Army, stationed in Egypt; he’s the tall one.

This is how I best remember him (and had the best interactions with him).

But…we do all age, of course, and this is a more recent shot, from a few years ago, taken by my nephew.

Happy personal anniverary dude!

Of Cats and Kings

“Well, it’s official: cats have taken over the internet.”

That opening line from an appropriately feline angled representative of the cat-weight of the web is just too appropriate not to pluck out to start today’s message.

Because one thing I’ve never done in my life is write or really in any way go on about cats. That’s probably just a function of my being allergic to them. I love cats, but am definitely not a “cat person”.

But I recently had a relationship with a cat in my neighborhood call me to arms–or to keyboard, anyway–on the occasion of his passing away a few months ago.

He lived next door to me, my kids and I had known him for years.

So, without further ado, this is for Taz.

~~~~~~
Of Cats and Kings

I came across Taz a few days before my kids did, but they’re the ones who learned his name when they stopped on our walk up the block to pet him some summer day several years ago.

“Taz. Cool name,” I said. “This is the one I told you about who’s the king of the block.” This delighted them and they turned their attention back to him with even more of that particular brand of warmth and affection unique to little kids. But kings of all stripes behave, it turns out, much the same, and Taz had had his fill of the oblations of these three of his subjects.

I’m a history buff and know a decent amount about kings and potentates of yore. I’ve watched newsreels of kings, watched video of Queen Elizabeth II speak, but I’m an American and frankly have never seen a king in person. But I believe pretty firmly (the author says lightheartedly) that I learned much about how kings behave–both good and bad kings–from watching Taz; as much, I believe, as if I’d spent years in the court of one of the French Louis’s…or a Chinese emperor, or even…the kings whose kingly manner shaped for all time how we two-legged types think about rulers: the Pharaohs of oldest antiquity.

The reason I preferred calling Taz our “king” (instead of just mayor) was his demeanor: 100% absolute cool. Every other cat I’ve ever seen reacts, usually somewhat skittishly, when a sound punctuates their environment, such as when someone walking appears from around a corner. But Taz did so only rarely to my observation. I got to thinking: is he deaf? No, didn’t seem like it. I then figured by sitting outside so much he would have become familiar with the people who lived here on the block, versus the large numbers of others who were just “stopping by”; he’d have probably been able to distinguish our footsteps, maybe smells, certainly voices, possibly breathing rates, etc–all those animal things that people experience less of.

Anyhow, I saw that Taz indeed noticed everything. This became apparent when I was in a hurry one day and walked briskly past without saying hi and he turned to look at me, made eye contact and then turned away: the diss. Ouch. I’m not kidding when I say I felt it. Because as the subject of a king, you want to be in his favor, you need to be. So I made amends, stating clearly that I overlooked the acknowledgment. He was cool with that. (He was most decidedly a good king, and didn’t, it seemed, demand groveling from his subjects.)

It just so happens that the English word “cat”–and basically all other European languages’ words for them–is a borrowing from the Latin word for the adorable domesticated feline: catta (later “cattus”, replacing “feles”).

But the most amazing thing about the word we all use today is that it came to Latin from the source of not only our civilization, but more importantly, of the domestication of this animal to begin with:

“čaute”

was the Egyptian word for this amazing creature that they worshiped as long as 5,000

years ago.

And indeed, science chimes in with recent studies of the genes of domesticated cats confirming that the world’s population of them descends from wildcats from the Near East and Africa.

Some words take wild journeys through the mouths and minds of men and women, bifurcating into a myriad related words that diverge so wildly as to confound us for generations. But not “cat”. We’re saying basically almost the same word as any Ramses II or Tutanhkaman or Cleopatra would have.

Taz was the–very simply & with as little extra mumbo jumbo as possible–the coolest cat I or my kids have come across, and we felt honored and privileged to live in his kingdom. He even came over a few times, and that felt–I kid not–truly like a visit from a king is supposed to: like a treat and blessing unlike any other.

I never knew why his name was Taz: the only derivations I know are 1) short for Tasmanian Devil, like the cartoon character, or 2) the abbreviation for Temporary Autonomous Zone, a byword for the teeny slivers of free will that exist in life.

Taz was such a cat that I and my kids will be but three in the legion of those of us outside your family who will all be like the young boy at the end of the movie Camelot who King Arthur bades: “tell it loud and clear” that once there was a cat…
~~~~~~~

And here are my top cat videos:

 

Henri – Le Chat Noir

 

 

 

 

SloMo Guys: cat jumping