DAD-GUMMIT [David’s blog on saturday morning smack-dab]

This is what I am learning. It doesn’t happen all at once. It’s a slow erosion on the outside while the inside maintains a healthy denial. “One weird thing after another,” IS the process of aging. It’s not really weird; it’s a direct challenge to the delusion that IT happens to other people…not us. Not me!

“Things don’t work like they used to…” I say to myself, after trying to race across the street “like I used to”. That other part of myself, the sassy part that is always right, responds, “They’re not supposed to work like they used to. Be grateful that they work at all!” Sassy, realistic, but with little or no bedside manner. I can’t wait for THAT part of me to hit the surface. People will think I’ve grown cranky but I will know that my aging body facilitated a weakening social editor. My new-old motto: If your body is going to hurt non-stop then you might as well give the world a piece of your mind! If, then.

Of course, I can only give the world a piece of my mind because, in keeping with the theme, a piece of my mind is all that I have remaining. DAD-GUMMIT! Now, where did I put my sweater?

Jes’ kidding. I’m as healthy as a horse! Out to pasture. Nibbling on grass. Lolling in the meadow grasses…(see? Denial, denial, denial)

read Kerri’s blogpost about ACHES AND PAINS

smack-dab © 2024 kerrianddavid.com

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Sing A Love Song [David’s blog on KS Friday]

“Watch for all that beauty reflecting from you and sing a love song to your existence.” ~ Rumi

Deep in the night the thunder rumbled and shook the house. The rain came in buckets and reached through the open window. She leapt out of slumber to close it and then retreated beneath the blankets. She was almost as quickly fast asleep. A leap both ways. I counted the space between the flash and the boom. One-one-thousand, two-one-thousand…Sky’s grumble.

Needless to say, I was awake and on a mind-wander. I remembered students who were invested in the belief that something was wrong with them. Young artists and visionaries desiring to fit in. When young, it’s hard not being one-of-the-crowd. My job at the time, I now believe, was to help them recognize that they were unique in all the world. To flip their perspective. To love in themselves that which made them stand out, that which they feared and rejected.

I understood them because I had walked their path. At this age, I continue to walk the path.

In my mind-wander I reviewed my day. Once, I thought a love song to my existence was somehow a product of achievement. I’m no longer confused about that. Twice today, the dogga came to find me and I was moved to tears. Kerri and I sat on the deck watching the cardinals and she took my hand and I knew to my core that I was the luckiest man alive. She showed me the photo of a daisy drinking in the sun. I am surrounded by generosity and friendship. Rob sends a daily pun in an attempt to keep our spirits high. Dan brought a plastic bin with all the fixings for Southern Comfort Old-Fashioneds – and seed for our lawn because he had extra.

Watch for the beauty.

The lightning flashed. The sky rumbled. I reveled in the sounds of my love song, marveled at my existence.

In A Split Second/As Sure As The Sun © 2002 Kerri Sherwood

Grateful/As It Is © 2004 Kerri Sherwood

Kerri’s albums are available on iTunes and streaming on Pandora and iHeart Radio

read Kerri’s blogpost about THE DAISY

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It’s About Time [David’s blog on saturday morning smack-dab]

What more is there to say?

read Kerri’s blogpost about LOVE MORE NOW

smack-dab © 2024 kerrianddavid.com

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Trouble Maker [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

“The truly creative mind in any field is no more than this: A human creature born abnormally, inhumanly sensitive.” ~ Pearl S. Buck

“What did you take a picture of?” he said enthusiastically, crossing our path on the trail!

“The cattails,” she answered, showing the stranger her photograph. “They’re glowing!”

“Ah! You’re seeing! Most people walk these trails to get through them. Very few people are curious enough to learn. It’s only when you see that you can learn. It’s only when you learn that you can see!”

His name was George. I couldn’t place his accent. We guessed his age to be near 80 though he was more spry and alive than people half his age. Pulling up his AllTrails app, he shared stories of the local trails that he’d walked. “This one is gorgeous!” he exclaimed.

As we parted he turned and shouted, “Remember, you’ll never get in trouble if you are learning! Only ignorance will get you into trouble!”

And odd parting sentiment. An apt parting sentiment for our times. I wondered if we just had a happy visitation from a wizard. A forest sprite. A wise hermit.

For the rest of our walk I thought about his parting sentiment. Trouble. John Lewis said, “Get in good trouble.” There is a kind of trouble that only comes when you see – when you learn. Artists and academics, seekers of truth, are problematic for authoritarians and bullies. Seeing – truth – learning – is problematic for purveyors of lies and promoters of ignorance. John Lewis got into plenty of good trouble in his life and our lives are better for it.

Kerri and I both have been branded “troublemakers” at various points in our lives. We are too sensitive, some have said,”… too sensitive for our own good.” We have artist natures. As premises go, George’s parting comment is accurate: ignorance always leads to a whole bunch of trouble. Ignorance is loud and, these days, wears a red hat.

It is equally as accurate that learning, calling out ignorance, speaking quiet truth, brings its own brand of trouble. Good trouble. The kind of trouble that actually makes people’s lives better.

read Kerri’s blogpost about TROUBLEMAKER

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Redeem It [David’s blog on Merely A Thought Monday]

The closet in Kerri’s studio is just like my grandma’s purse. Anything and everything can be found there. It is a clown car of surprises. Need a snack? A kitchen sink? A wrench? A pile of napkins? An idea? Simply reach in the magic closet and what you seek will be found.

“What are you looking for?” I asked.

“The stuff I had hanging on the previous refrigerator.” She smiled, reading my mind, “Did you really keep the stuff that was hanging on the old fridge? Oh, yes I did!”

“Of course you did.” I confess, I was surprised. She reached into the magic closet and in a nanosecond pulled a shoebox from the void.

Opening the box, she rooted through the contents. “I can’t find it.” She frowned.

“What?”

“The Huggy-Huggy sticker. It used to be on the fridge!” Now the search was getting serious. When she gets that tone, I know she will not rest until she’s unearthed what she’s looking for.

“What’s a Huggy-Huggy sticker?” Her look tells me that my question is inane. I knew better than to ask “Why are you looking for a Huggy-Huggy sticker?” Her reasons are her own and the question might have inspired ire.

She rattles around inside the box. “Oh,” she whispers. “This might work,” she says, handing me the small piece of paper. “I think my mom sent this.” On the backside there are two coupons – one for a fuel injection cleaning. The other for auto-air-conditioner-inspection. On the frontside is a coupon for free hugs. Redeemable from any participating human being.

“This week is Valentines Day,” she says by way of explaining her reach into the void to find a Huggy-Huggy sticker that once stuck to the fridge.

“Oh,” I say, thinking of Albert, the last time I saw him, in Los Angeles, standing outside a conference room with a cardboard sign that said Free Hugs. He was a good sport, a good friend, and was doing me a favor. I was about to co-lead a training in the room and wanted to stir people as they came in. To my surprise, although intimidating, Albert received several Free Hugs from several participating human beings. It opened people’s hearts. We had a good session with so many open minds following the example of their hearts.

“It’s from the 90’s,” she said, bringing me back to now. “A simpler time.”

“Yes,” said. “Not so long ago.” I re-read the coupon. My favorite phrase: it expires the day after eternity. Open hearts opening minds. No real expiration date.

“This week is Valentines Day,” she repeated. “Don’t you think it will be a good thing to write about?”

Yes. Yes, I do.

read Kerri’s blogpost about FREE HUGS

when we were babies…

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buymeacoffee is a hug; not quite free but the impact is just as powerful

See The Unseen [David’s blog on Not So Flawed Wednesday]

20’s collections are surprising and always thought-provoking. For instance, he has a rich collection of images from the world that he calls “It’s good enough.” Jobs done poorly. The least amount of effort necessary to address a big job. Solutions that merely shift the problem. Beneath his series is a potent observation: this is what the world looks like when no one cares. Good enough. He is an artist of subtle yet powerful statements.

Another series that always makes me laugh is his “found faces” series. Electric outlets, manhole covers, utility plates, door knobs, that, once seen, gaze back at the viewer and can never be unseen. Now, it’s become a group sport. Kerri will stop suddenly, saying, “Oh! A face for 20’s series!” She adds to his collection. He adds to her collections.

It’s what artists are supposed to do for each other and the world. Open each others eyes to the whimsy and worth that surrounds us. To make the unseen seen, the familiar new.

Recently, at a coffeehouse near Madison, I heard the scuffle. Kerri and 20 both saw the face in the door and leapt to capture it. “Did you see it, too?” they simultaneously chimed, snapping away, bobbing around each other to capture the found face.

They are like siblings, a brother and sister competing to get the first photo. Laughing and jabbing ribs. My job is to sit back and appreciate the beauty of being surrounded by so many artists’ eyes – wide open and helping each other – and me – see and fully experience this surprising and mysterious world.

read Kerri’s blogpost about FOUND FACES

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buymeacoffee is a “tip jar” where you can support the continued work of the artists you appreciate.

Open The Binder [on Merely A Thought Monday]

He was referred to me because he was failing. His English teacher told me that he was impossible, that he rarely came to class and he “just wasn’t interested in writing.” At the time I was working at the “alternative school” running an independent study program. My job was “to catch the students that were falling through the cracks” or “to retrieve the students who’d already fallen.” To this day, the language kills me.

We talked. We laughed. The assignments I gave him were about fun and breathing space. After three sessions, when he trusted me not to judge him, he came to our appointment with a thick black binder. It was very old. The seams were ripping. It was a sacred object. He tapped his fingers on the cover, still deciding whether or not to share it with me. He wriggled in his chair, vulnerable.

I will always remember the moment he asked, “Can I show you something?” I felt honored. It is what I always feel when an artist comes out of hiding and shares their work with me.

He gingerly opened the binder. It was literally bursting with stories that he’d written and alive with illustrations that he’d drawn. This young man was ditching English class so he could hide in the football stadium and write stories.

I asked him to read to me. As he read, he made marks on the page. “What are you doing?” I asked.

“Making changes.”

After a few sessions I asked questions about the characters. He shared his illustrations. One day, he came to our session with a new story complete with sketches that we placed in sequence across the floor. As he read, we stepped to the next drawing. And the next. He made more marks on his pages. He made notes on his sketches.

One day I asked if I could read one of his stories to him. As he listened to me read, he began to coach my reading. “Whoa! Did I write that?” he said, grabbing the pages from my hand. And then he asked, “How can I write that in a better way?”

“I don’t know,” I smiled. “What does it mean to be better?”

read Kerri’s blogpost about BE YOU

See The Signs [on saturday morning smack-dab.]

“You know you’re getting older when…” you delude yourself into thinking life used to be simpler. Lately, I am a festival of delusion. Or, perhaps, I’m a keen observer of social trends! Yes. That must be it. I can’t possibly be like other people!

Case-in-point: most people have muses or angels that sit on their shoulders. I have a “Savvy.” My Savvy tells me things like this: we live in app mentality: the notion that we can personalize our “screens” with an infinite selection of choices is post-modern bubble madness. Choices for the sake of choices but not necessarily meaningful choices. Personal preference run amok!

Of course, my Savvy might be taking advantage of my weakening eyesight. Just like angels that perch on shoulders, I have two Savvies. A Good one. And a Savvy with a sense-of-humor dedicated to making me the butt of every joke. Actually, the good Savvy has probably already retired and is sunning herself in Boca Grande. Bad Savvy is having too much fun to retire. I can’t really tell if Good Savvy is still around because I can’t see like I used to.

In addition to seeing Good Savvy, I mostly want to see the traffic signs at night. That’s it. How many choices are required to achieve my simple desire?

read Kerri’s blogpost about GLASSES

smack-dab. © 2023 kerrianddavid.com

Do The Important Thing [on saturday morning smack-dab.]

These are the short days of the year. The moment I’m finished with work, we head out the door for a walk before the sun disappears. Sometimes, like this week, when the weather is gorgeous, we walk the neighborhood during my lunch break. We are walk-opportunitsts.

It’s easy on the weekends to fill up the days with the-things-that-need-to-get-done. The gutters need cleaning. The leaves need raking. Winter is coming. Generally, we build the list around a walk but occasionally there is an inversion. The walk goes on the list.

I know we have our priorities straight. Even on the days of inversion, even if the list is lengthy and incomplete, we recognize that the most important thing is not the door that needs fixing or the deck that needs repair. The most important thing is to hold hands and take a walk. Together.

It’s how we appreciate our moment of life. The list can always wait for another day.

read Kerri’s blog post on this saturday morning smack-dab.

smack-dab. © 2022 kerrianddavid.com

See Beyond [on Two Artists Tuesday]

Breck, the small aspen tree in our backyard, is beginning to change its colors for the season. Although we have yet in our neighborhood to smell autumn in the air, Breck is giving us a heads-up.

A decade ago I wrote that, in order to see beyond preconception (thought), artists and entrepreneurs need to master two skills: pattern recognition and metaphor. Look for patterns and you will eventually see beyond them. See beyond the pattern and, as Ash Bhoopathy said, “The familiar will become strange and the strange will become familiar.” What an amazing definition of metaphor.

In this pattern cycle, the green becomes brilliant golden yellow as Breck turns her summer attention from the sun and sends her focus into the root for winter nourishment.

Kerri’s photographs are often extreme close-ups. She has a bit of Georgie O’Keeffe in her artist’s eye. Often, when showing me the latest photo, she pulls the-already-close-up-image into a detail. I am always amazed at the pattern beneath the pattern beneath the pattern. The plumes of the grasses are a festival of pattern. The many feet of the caterpillar, perfect suction cups.

Despite our dedication to our perceived differences, we, too are a festival of pattern. The operative word is “perceived.” Pull the lens close-in and our divisions disappear as rapidly as our skin color. Pull the focus farther out and we move together in a sweet-and-sour ballet. Koyannisqatsi. History repeats, a pattern, like the cycle of the seasons. Order moves to chaos to order to chaos…mainly in our minds. Order is what we crave, so purblind are we to seeing the ubiquity of pattern.

The plumes explode pink and red on the grasses The chipmunks have picked up their foraging pace. The geese have reappeared. The miracles are in the familiar, strange and surprising when seen again for the first time. The feel of the hand of the one you love. The moon on a clear cold night. The yellow rim reaching through the green quaking leaves.

read Kerri’s blogpost about BRECK’S LEAVES