Should I say hello before or after he drops his pants?

For centuries artists have practiced their observation and drawing skills through
Life Drawing.  At Sheridan College and University of Toronto, I had drawn,
painted, photographed and sculpted the human figure many times.



When I was at Teacher’s College in Toronto, a small group of us would share
a pizza and beer dinner at a local restaurant once a week then attend a free
life drawing session afterwards.  It was a frigid winter night when we
clipped various papers to our easels and arranged our conte and chalk.

A figure appeared, bundled with so many layers we could not discern whether
we would be drawing a male or female that night.  Cropped hair and a five
o’clock shadow were revealed when the wooly toque and tattered scarf
were removed.  He entered the back room and we heard him fumbling about,
no doubt changing into his bathrobe.

He emerged a few minutes later, but still fully clothed in jeans and a paint-
splotched sweatshirt.  When I saw his face, I knew immediately that I
knew him but from where I was unsure.  My memory raced over the
possibilities, was he from Sheridan? a friend of my brother’s?  maybe he
was in my youth group at church? perhaps someone I met at a friend’s
cottage?  And suddenly it hit me, Boom!
He was my next door neighbour from childhood.  We had played together
for many hours in his peddle car, hiding and seeking, building snow forts
and challenging each other at board games.

But now the predicament hit me, momentarily making me dizzy; should
I say hello to him now or after he drops his pants?
I sat on the hard wooden stool staring at my drawing paper and decided
it was best to introduce myself now.  As I approached the front of the
makeshift stage, the door flew open and in walked another man,
apologizing for his tardiness and quickly stripping off layers of clothing.

I said hello to my childhood friend who, to my relief, explained that it was
his first day on his new job as a studio monitor.  As we planned to catch up
on our past, the hired model sat down, fully naked, on the aging upholstery
chair; swung his knee over his leg and froze his gaze on a spot at the back
of the studio.  The scratching of drawing tools measuring proportion, form
and nuance settled my nerves.

I picked up my chalk and started sketching.

Thanks Google for the Images.

The Roadrunner stood sentinel

The roadrunner stood sentinel with one wing in a sharp salute as we left the SKP RV Park
near Benson Arizona.  Whenever I see a great siting in nature when I am en route
somewhere, I consider it as a lucky charm.


I decided at a young age that lucky numbers were of no use to me.

I reached up and lay down my precious quarter confidently on the number six. 
As the bells rung out, the neon horses began their race around the track along the inner
walls of The Derby at the CNE, Canadian National Exhibition, in Toronto.  It seemed like the
race would never end but when it finally did, bright yellow lights flashed and the vendor
called out “Number six, six is a winner!” 


My heart pounded as I scanned the six-foot high stuffed bears, dogs, apes and snakes.
How would I ever choose?  Before I could catch my breath, a three inch high, plastic
Topo Gigio in a cellophane wrapper was tossed towards me.  I forced my tears back
enough to ask in a shy voice, why did I not get to choose a large prize?  A gruff voice
filled my ears as he shouted “ the light must turn RED for the big prizes but it was YELLOW
for you!  I turned away shaken and disappointed.  I have never liked the colour yellow much
and perhaps that is the reason for it.  After I had a good cry and explained the whole thing
to my Dad, I carefully opened the bag to retrieve the soft little mouse whose fame, like
The Beatles, had been made on The Ed Sullivan Show.  I was determined to love the wee
rodent as if he were as good as a large plush animal and from what I remember, I kept
my promise.  After all, I had always loved the way Topo said “Keese Me Goodnight Eddie”.



I think it was shortly after my adventure into gambling with my 25 cents that I adopted the
practice of associating luck with seeing neat things in nature.  As I do not believe in any gods,
I tend to turn to nature for my life lessons and inspiration.  That power grew as I matured
and I continue to draw my strength and joy from the natural world on and around Planet Earth.
I had to walk though a large field on my way to high school and the siting of a hawk or a rabbit
or even a mouse, provided a small charge of hope.



I did not expect those moments to produce luck or success but consciously noted that
my day would be good.  Driving to work in adulthood, I always noted the appearance
of a fox or deer or special bird as a sign that my day would be fine.



I am not in the least bit superstitious.  Science and logic are important to my decision making,
however, I still find myself experiencing a palpable thrill when I spot something cool in nature
as I travel somewhere.  And that is what I experienced when I saw that Roadrunner standing at
attention at the end of our road as we drove out of Benson RV Park a few days ago.

By the way, my little plastic Topo is worth $25.00 today….but who
knows where he is at?
*Thanks to Google for all the images in this post.

I Never Feel the Newness of New Years

Growing up, we always had a special family gathering and meal on

New Year’s Day. We had a kewpie doll that stood ten inches high
who came out of storage every year as our New Year’s Baby.
Dad had made her a top hat and cane and he would boldly letter
the year onto a wide piece of ribbon and attach it across Kewpie’s
chest. She stood proudly on the dining room table wearing her
New Year’s Banner like an award winner of a beauty contest.
Kewpie was surrounded by an arrangement of striped paper-ribbon
confetti, hornsand other noise makers that cranked loudly when spun
or filled with air to emerge from the mouthpiece as brightly
coloured paper snakes.  The occasion was always fun but lacked in
meaning except for the joy I always felt (and still do) hanging up
a new calendar and opening it to January.

You have to imagine the top hat and ribbon banner 2018.
A few friends think of Spring as a more appropriate “Beginning” or “New Year”.
In Canada, it is the season of rebirth as underground bulbs push fresh leaves and
fragrant flowers up through the melting snow, animals come out of hibernation,
people emerge from their winter layers and lairs and birds migrate home. 

I however consider Autumn the spiritual beginning of my “New Year”.  I have
a few friends who feel the same way as summer’s heat gives way to cool
energizing days where the warm sun filters through coloured leaves and
silver grey skies and tumultuous clouds produce the best sunsets.
Years of being a student and then a teacher set my inner clock for an energy
burst and fresh start each Fall.  And, it is harvest time and  sweater weather;
what more need I say?