

Well… here she is! I put the final touches on it this morning. I gave it a good coat of clear varnish and now all they have to do is hang it out on the front of the arts center. I can’t wait to drive by and see it from my car.


Well… here she is! I put the final touches on it this morning. I gave it a good coat of clear varnish and now all they have to do is hang it out on the front of the arts center. I can’t wait to drive by and see it from my car.
A couple of weeks ago Marcella and I went to a wedding in a church without air-conditioning. It was an experience I haven’t had since I was just a kid back in Garden City. The windows were open and how long has it been since I’ve been to anything or anywhere the windows were open. Everyone was fanning themselves with the program, just like in the old days.
Then last night, we went to the Ellinwood High School for a play. They had the air-conditioning cranked up and we got cold. We had debated whether we should bring our jackets, but we didn’t. We should have, but we didn’t.
Now, what the hell is the difference? In the old days we sat in the heat, we slept in the heat and we lived in the heat. Today we have the convenience of air conditioning and someone has to have it cranked up so high, everyone freezes. Fanning ourselves with the program doesn’t help. What’s next, are we going to have start a fire with them to keep warm? I guess humans have short memories and we’re all destined to just suffer at our own hands.
And by the way….
Domestic terrorism?
What is it anyway? I guess it isn’t hard to identify when it comes in the form of the Oklahoma bombing of the federal building or the murder of Dr. Tiller, but the weather bureau?
Last night at the play, someone came out and explained that the storm had go elsewhere and that they were going on with the play. Marcella and I looked at one another and asked, “What storm?” Hell we didn’t know anything about a storm. It was raining outside, but I would hardly call clouds and a gentle rain, a storm.
Well, we get back home later on and we have a phone call from a friend in Lawrence and they’re calling to see if we we’re okay! What the hell? I guess the television was full of radar and wall to wall terror trying to stir up the state for ratings. Domestic Terror is a better word for it. Marcella and I were not terrorized this time, because we didn’t turn on the television. There was a storm in Great Bend. Something blew over. It’s not like its the first time that’s happened. This is Kansas! The land of high winds, crazy late in the afternoon thunder storms. I’ve been in hundreds of ‘um, but today in the world of making money off of everything, someone has devised a way to make money by keeping people scared all the time.
I call that Domestic Terror!


Encouraged?
Just today I used the word, “Encouraged” in a sentence and it wasn’t that I hadn’t used it before, because I have hundreds of times, but I used it today and actually took notice of it. Wow! What a word it is! I can remember back when that word was used on me. I remember once when a friend told me they had been talking to this other person and that person said to them in reference to me, “Don’t encourage him!” Well… I remember my reaction to that statement and at first, it kind-of pissed me off. Now, after lots of years, I remember that conversation and today when I used those same words, “Don’t encourage him!” I realized what a powerful statement that was! Powerful then and I didn’t see the compliment in it (even if the statement was encouragingly unintended.) Look at it and say it out, “Don’t Encourage him!” “Don’t screw Bob up by giving him the courage to be couraged-up!
Wow! To actually be injected with courage! I wonder if they have drug test for Courage? I could be encouraged to run a race, maybe a Marathon and someone would say to someone else, “Don’t encourage him, because he could go off and win that race!” Don’t encourage him to do his art and become the greatest artist of the twenty-first century! When I’ve been encouraged, (injected with courage) by my own encouragement or someone else’s and I succeed… Will my drug test show that I cheated and will be stripped of my title of “Winner” or will the test show that I didn’t use enough?
Personally… I think I’ll go Shoot-up with some “courage” tomorrow morning and if you want to tell your friends not to encourage me, that would be Okay, because they might just be concerned that I’ll overdose.



6/7/2009
Robert Joy
What, me worry!
Every time I travel by airplane somewhere, (it doesn’t matter where) I go into outer space. I am encased inside a metal and plastic case, sipping at a pepsi and watching the miniature television hanging from the roof, while all the time I am traveling in the black of space. Sure I can look out the window and see blue and the white clouds below me, but by god if for some reason the skin of that flying coffin should tear, none of us would be able to live on the atmosphere outside. The only reason we are alive inside is because the pilot is watching the fuel gauge and keeping the aircraft going fast enough to make the thin air useful enough to keep us aloft. Its all just so fragile.
Last night while Marcella and I drove back from watching a film at friends home… I started thinking about how fragile it all is right here on the surface. What the hell keeps us so safe down here? A giant flash of lightening streaked across the sky and there was an encore of thunder. It reminded me of my childhood, when the same thing happened. The same dark starless night with a storm over head. The thunder rumbling in the distance. A bright flash that makes the lights in the house flicker. We would all count the seconds to figure out how far away the lightening stuck. Then the thunder would come and sometimes hail and the patter of rain against the windows. Back then I felt so safe and so endless.
Last night, when the lightening flashed it was frightening. It was almost a warning to me to go do something. Do something about all the poor people on this earth not having a meal each day. Not eating anything and I just watched a show on my television last night on the human impact on our planet. One of the little “blurbs” on the screen during the closing credits, stated that forty percent of all the grain grown on this planet is used to feed and fatten livestock and make biofuel to keep our cars and trucks running. Nearly half the grain produced on this earth is used for crap. Crap food. Crap food that feeds and panders to about ten percent of the worlds population while the rest have less and some have none. Ten percent of the people on this earth are spoiled, overweight and have the time, money and wherewithal to go off and squander a fortune gambling on the alien planet of Las Vegas.
Then I go to work every other day and toss out a hundred pounds of uneaten food. I drive my giant fuel guzzling car home, sit in my air conditioned home and I don’t have worry in the world. Why in hell should I be frightened about a tiny crash of lightening? Why should I worry about anything? I could just turn off the tube and not watch all that doomsday stuff. I could watch the Cosby Show, nothing dangerous there! That’s just the way I used to live. I lived a safe little existence. The government watched our shores and the policemen watched our streets and my parents watched our house. It couldn’t be better. The schools told us about all the wonderful things Americans have and our churches all told us what we had to do to get to heaven when we die. It was all so perfect. I thought that was all life was about.
Just being born, going to school, going to church, going to the army and defending our way of life, getting married, having children and doing the same thing all over again. Well that’s what I thought. Then my grandparents died. Then my parents died. Then my older sister died. Then my best friend in the whole world died and that really hurt. It still hurts me now. Now, I’m just here waiting for my turn. My brother and I are all that’s left of the tribe. (I’m not counting the offspring, because they belong to the next tribe). Now I’m wondering what all this has been about.
Am I supposed to lean back and watch the next tribe take the wheel. Just lean back and let go and not give a care what happens. I suppose every older person has lived through this same thing, but its all new to me. No body told me about it in school or church. I haven’t completed anything yet. I haven’t written enough words or drew enough pictures yet. I’m not ready yet and I won’t be ready ten, twenty, thirty years from now. Who’ll give a crap any way? Why bother? That lightening flash only served me a reminder of how thin and delicate our atmosphere is. Its the only damned thing between us and the black of space. Its just like the wall of that airplane. We sit here in this dangerous orbit, sipping on our pepsi’s, watching the tube on our walls and we think this is how its going to always be and nothing is ever going to happen to change any of it….. So we keep on making babies, that one day we won’t be able to feed. We keep making more and more plastic crap to toss into our water and fill up the ocean with a swirl of indestructible floating garbage the size of Africa. We keep on over fishing the sea. We keep on creating more and more nuclear weapons to (protect or stuff) and our way of disposing of crap. We keep on feeding livestock and vehicles better than we do our fellow man. We keep saying, “Green.” I hear green all the time, but we keep doing the “black.” (right now, “the black” makes more profit) and its really all about profit.
Crash bang, flash of light and I jerked at the steering wheel a bit. I don’t think Marcella even noticed. She said, “Bob, look at the moon!” I looked up and there it was, bright and full peeking through the clouds at us…… and I thought about God.

It’s far from being finished, but I’m working on it. I hope no one is in a hurry, because I’m going to work at my own usual pace… which is at best erratic.