a view from the nest

for art's sake

2008-12-03T18:51:00.002-06:00

Her presence was noticed. The drawing class of 14 sought out the unfamiliar face and knew why she was there. They had been told by the instructor that tonight's class would involve figure drawing.

With a few instructions, the students each stood ready at their easels, charcoal in hand. The young woman stood in the center of the room and dropped her robe.

Because the instructor had been drilling the class about form, shape, line, movement, the class looked at the nude model as just another object--no different than the many arrangements of still life they had drawn all semester.

It was a moment that the instructor had hoped for. This group of raw artists began the year with little knowledge of how to put form on paper, and now they are given the task to draw the purest of forms--the human body.

All for the sake of art.

how i made a personal difference - Meals on Wheels

2008-11-26T22:36:00.013-06:00

Blog entry for final project:

Poverty among the elderly will always be part of our society. We can't escape it, and who knows, we may be part of the statistics someday. There are small things that can be done to help those in need, even if we can't solve the problem. My experience was delivering Meals on Wheels.

I joined a husband/wife team, John and Carolyn, who have been delivering meals for almost 20 years. As I listened to them tell their stories of the people they have met, it made me think of my grandparents and how fortunate they were to have family close by to take care of them.

After we picked up the "hot" and "cold" coolers from the food services at Stormont Vail Hospital, we checked out the detailed directions/map to the 11 homes waiting for their meal--sometimes it is the only meal the person eats that day.

It was a very chilly fall day as I followed Carolyn up the creaky stairs to the first home. "Roberta" (name changed for privacy reasons) was waiting at the door in her paper-thin nightgown. Her shades were drawn and the house was completely dark. She took the sack filled with Jello, bread and milk plus the tray of beef stew and cornbread, thanked us and shut the door. It was routine for her and food was more important than conversation.

One of the next houses struck me as sad. The front porch was strewn with old furniture and trash, these shades were also drawn and it took a long time before anyone came to the door. Carolyn said that a couple lived here and she knew that he was very ill. It was a pleasant surprise to see him answer the door. Even though he was very frail, he seemed very happy to have lunch. I noticed, though, that the rush of cold air out of the house was almost as chilly as the outside air. Closed shades probably help insulate, but a little sunshine could also help perk up one's spirit.

More stops, more broken down homes, more quick thank-yous. The recipients of these meals get fed five days a week. Some divide these small portions into two meals and even try to make it through the weekend. It's not a perfect plan, but at least there is some nutrional value.

I asked one woman what she would do without Meals on Wheels. She replied, "If I didn't have them, I would just eat cereal."

It was a brief time, but I have asked to to have my name put on a regular route next year. I really felt like this is one small thing I can do to help those less fortunate than me.

defying the odds

2008-11-26T18:44:00.003-06:00

Zach stands out from the crowd of "average" college students. His stature is shorter and wider, as his shoulders hunch over and his feet point out. After being diagnosed with a rare disorder as a young child, the doctors told his parents that he would not have much of a chance at a normal life. But they were wrong.

Zach's parents were determined to see that he would have every opportunity that his younger siblings would. Sports, education, music, a social life. It wasn't easy, but Zach has the wonderful gift of a photographic memory and a sweet disposition. This combination, along with a strong support system, has seen him make it to his last year of college. It may take him twice as long to do any task, but he will get it done and he knows what he learned.

He is comfortable on campus, even though his shyness holds him back from engaging with others. He is seen in the union or Henderson with a book to his face (part of the disease involves mono-vision--seeing out of one eye at a time, which switches randomly). If greeted by a classmate, he will flash a quick smile and go back to his task.

What will he do with a degree in criminal justice? No one knows, but getting a diploma from a four-year college is more than anyone dreamed was possible.

losing his mother

2008-11-19T16:55:00.007-06:00

Andrew stood in front of the church full of mourners. He had volunteered to say something that would ease the pain. His mother was gone...suddenly.

He was a young adult, ready to take on the world, his parents giving him the full support and confidence he needed. But now his mother was only ashes, on a stand, in the front of the church.

He paused for a moment, took a shaky breath, and began to speak. His voice was soft and full of hurt. A few words came out..."this is so difficult" ... "I can't believe she's gone" ... "all I can do is pray."

And he began to pray. The words were often only a whisper and barely understood, but it didn't matter. The mourners understood and so did God. That's all Andrew needed. When he uttered "amen" it was silent. A few muffled sobs were heard and the minister stepped forward to continue the service.

Andrew lost his mother, but even in his deepest sorrow, he still found strength and shared it with others. A true testament to his mother's lifelong guidance and faith. She would have been proud.

a choice can change lives forever

2008-11-12T20:11:00.006-06:00

Her life was beginning to turn around. A recent divorce, going back to college for a second career to teach youth, raising three daughters and seeing them succeed. But one bad decision has changed that forever.

Who knows what made her land in this situation. Was it his interest in a woman leaving her youthful looks but still needing affirmation of her sexuality? Was it a misunderstanding of innocent flirtations? Was it a desire for physical satisfaction? Was it an accusation in retaliation? Whatever the reason, a choice to follow the wrong path can never be retraced.

She sits there in jail awaiting the outcome. He still has high school to finish. Even if she is found not guilty, she can never follow her dream of being a school teacher--guiding and mentoring the kids she truly wants to help. He will always be looked at with questioning eyes--did it really happen or was it a story to get even.

Families torn apart, lives shattered, self-worth destroyed...lives changed forever because of one choice.

a task in futility

2008-11-05T16:33:00.007-06:00

As the jumble of autumn leaves continued to fill the well-manicured lawn, the neighbor felt compelled to rid his yard of every last one. A lawn mower would have quickly done the trick, but it seemed that his new toy was enticing him.

His heavy duty Craftsman leaf vacuum would surely work on all those oak, maple and sweetgum leaves. For three hours he slowly moved across his lawn, picking up the leaves through a 4-inch diameter tube. The drone of the motor wafted through the neighborhood as each leaf was sucked into a bag to be deposited at the curb for the trashman.

As he meticulously moved his way to the edge of his property, entranced in his rhythmic motion, he finally turned around and stared in amazement--his leaves may be ready for the dump, but now the neighbors' leaves made their way to his lawn waiting to be sucked up. For them--the LawnBoy.

inside the purple bubble

2008-10-29T17:02:00.009-05:00

It began at dawn. Game day in Manhattan and the Powercat emblazoned parade of vehicles makes its journey to Mecca. One such car carried two couples, holding passes to some unknown seats. They were told these seats were really good ones held by a local corporation. But little did they know.

Parking was a nightmare. The dilema: Do they park far, far away and take a long trek to the stadium, or do they pay the big bucks for convenience? Since the tickets were given to them, they opted for convenience (and shelling out the big bucks.)

Tailgating was, by that time, in full swing. The smell of sizzling fat in the shape of burgers, brats, steaks, ribs, filled the air. Games of horseballs, bag toss, catch, passed the time of jovial fans. Knowing that KSU was up against the #4 team made the tailgating more the destination than the game.

The two couples made their way to the stadium's east side, ready to find their seats. But the attendant told them that their seats were on the west side. They knew they were in a suite, but the west side suites were paramount.

Up the special elevator to the third floor, into the tastefully decorated suite filled with free barbeque pork, snacks and beer. FREE. The room had enough upholstered seats for 24 set behind a thick glass wall on three sides.

As game time approached, the suite began filling with a higher class clientele. The four suddenly realized that normal game day attire was not the protocal in this locale. No two-carat diamonds on their hands. Oh well, the food and beer were still free.

As the game progressed and the Cats were getting annihilated, the fans in the bubble were separated from the sounds. No marching band, no cheers or jeers, just the filtered sound of the KSU announcers on the speaker and the quiet hum of the TV.

As the couples left the stadium, they reflected on the surreal experience and agreed that it was like watching a game on TV, except they were out $15 for parking.

sometimes it just clicks

2008-10-22T16:29:00.006-05:00

She sits there on the creaky cane-bottomed chair. Every week she welcomes, one-by-one, young students coming through the door and plopping down on the piano bench.

Some are eager and excited to show off what they have practiced. Others are quiet and tense, waiting for the question to be asked, "How much practicing did you do this week?"

It's a question that both the student and the teacher dread. If the student hasn't touched the keys in seven days, then the lesson will drag on for an eternity--getting nowhere--knowing that the same songs will be repeated another week. Sometimes many more weeks.

But on this particular Wednesday, Adam came to his lesson with an unexpected surprise. He had actually practiced TWICE this week (four is the minimum requirement by the teacher, but she is thrilled with two from Adam.)

He knows he is ready this time. He knows that his teacher will smile and give lots of well-deserved compliments. He knows he will earn extra points toward a candy bar or bottle of pop. He's ready.

The first song, "The Greatest Show on Earth," starts off a little weak, but as he continues, his confidence builds. Only a handful of mistakes and he quickly figures out his errors. Next, "Fox and Goose," a favorite of Adam's because of its spooky minor tune. Nailed it. Big smiles.

Finally the hardest one, "Indian Teepee." Where to put his fingers? Where to find those unfamiliar notes? A little guidance by the teacher and it starts to click. He makes it to the end and knows he did it. It wasn't perfect, but it was darn good.

The teacher sits back and gives Adam a huge nod of accomplishment. After teaching for 20 years, these little moments make it all worth the time and effort. She's a little sad that she is retiring when sometimes it just starts to click.

following the guitar man

2008-10-15T16:33:00.003-05:00

His silhouette appears on the horizon. The makings of a guitar case strapped across his back is apparent. He glides down the sidewalk on his heavily laden bicycle--all his worldly belongings within reach. The "guitar man" takes his sporadic trip up and down Gage Boulevard.

Where does he come from and what is his destination?

For at least a dozen years, this raggedy character--long flowing hair, grizzly beard, tattered clothes--wheels around the city hauling a hodgepodge of possessions. Could the guitar case be just another suitcase or is he a true musician on his way to a gig?

His story is as mysterious as his random appearances. The guitar man...a Topeka enigma.

time changes everything

2008-10-08T16:14:00.007-05:00

Only four years ago they were living different lives...each married, retired, settled. But as life often does, any well-intentioned plan can be altered in a single moment. His life suddenly involved taking care of a terminally ill spouse; her life changed when her spouse's heart gave out.

They each faced living the rest of their days alone. But again, life can change quickly.

They met through church, not really knowing each other before then. They weren't really looking for anyone else, but it just clicked. Spending time together was effortless, comfortable, different than before.

A new world opened up. This farmer from Minnesota and this city girl from California began to learn a lot from each other...blending two long life histories while starting a one new one together.

Marriage is too complicated at this stage in their lives, but their hearts are one. Everyone knows, everyone can tell. Time does change everything.

hurry up and wait

2008-10-01T12:26:00.007-05:00

Flight time: 12:45 p.m. Leave for the airport: 10 a.m.

Pack the clothes, print the boarding passes, make sure all liquids are in that quart-size clear plastic bag, grab the laptop and all the required chargers for the now necessary electronics. The backpack looks like a marshmallow in the microwave--it keeps expanding but at some point it will explode.

One last check throughout the car. Hurry, hurry, hurry. The economy parking shuttle bus is coming--gotta rush, get to the door, load the luggage. Riding the bus with all the other travelers--some in business attire, others ready for a long awaited vacation. One destination in mind...the airport.

KCI is the world's best design in airports. No long trek to the gates, short lines through security, minimal crowds. Hurry, hurry, hurry. But wait! The flight is delayed two hours. So much for time management. Sit back, relax and write a blog.

jack & jill went up a hill

2008-09-24T16:22:00.004-05:00

One of the first thing a child quickly learns when he or she begins riding a bicycle is that going down hill is way better than going up. Bicycles are wonderful inventions--they take a person from point A to point B in a relatively quick amount of time with not a lot of effort, unless there is a hill involved.

One of those hills happened to be part of Jill and Jack's recent excursion. It was a perfect day for a ride...no wind, moderate temperatures and a few high, puffy clouds to cast a shadow on the couple when the sun's rays began to feel unbearable. The bikes were in top shape--greased sprockets, properly inflated tires, perfectly adjusted seats. What could go wrong?

The ride began with a gentle slope on a smooth, paved path. The self-created wind was cooling on their damp faces. Racing down the path felt exhilarating...until they looked up and up and up.

In a car, this hill may cause the engine to crank up the torque, but who really pays attention? On a bike, this hill brings fear to the faint of heart or weak of legs. That was Jill. Even though she felt like she was in good shape, she wasn't sure if her muscles could meet the task.

Just focus on the path, don't look up, one pedal at a time. Down shift the gear, and again, okay one more time. Cars whiz by, Jack is way ahead, but it doesn't matter.

"I can do it," she reminds herself. "I'm not a wimp!"

The end is almost here. "I am going to make it...YES! I did it!" she informs Jack, patiently waiting at the top, not sure if she really would make it.

But then her pumping heart and wheezing lungs catch up with her diminishing adrenolin. "I don't feel so well, I think I need to sit down."

Time passes, her heart eases into a tolerable rate and cool water fades her flaming complexion. Time to saddle up and continue the ride, but on the way back she informs Jack, "I'm walkin' it!"

when the wind blows...

2008-09-17T16:24:00.008-05:00

On most days of the week, the little Cape Cod-style house sits quiet. Lights go on before the sun rises and go off after the evening news, day after day. It's a routine that the house likes. The tenants are nice people who take care of the place very well. Fresh paint, clean floors and tender loving care to parts that creak and groan. But sometimes this dwelling gets a reminder of the way it used to be, the way it had to toughen up or crack under the pressure.

This past weekend was one of those times. It started with a familiar face that doesn't make an appearance much anymore. The girl, who once lived in this house creating lots of nests and trails, is now a grown woman living far away. But even though she tends to a home of her own, this house gives her the permission to scatter her things in her wake.

Soon followed two more former residents. "The boys," as they are collectively called, burst onto the scene. The elder, showing signs of fatigue and relief, heads for a comfortable place to unwind--the basement sofa. Within minutes his breathing becomes slow and even as he prepares his body for greater things that come after 10 p.m.

The youngest spends a moment in the entry soaking in the respite he has been longing for. Laundry is deposited, the refrigerator is examined, then as quickly as he enters the room, he is drawn to his favorite past time--zoning out in front of the television.

The house is feeling overwhelmed yet happy. Even though a quiet routine is nice, this space needs to be filled...with loud noises, active bodies, excited pets, good smelling food, joy and laughter. This house was built to be a home.

...time to make the donuts

2008-09-10T16:28:00.004-05:00

Is it a matter of will or has it gone beyond her control? The sun is still hiding, not ready to crack the dark horizon. The carrier is still tossing red encapsulated tubes of daily news. A few cars wind through the quiet streets. It's 6 a.m., so why would anyone choose to get their day going?

In a quiet house on Burnett's Mound, the alarm goes off to arouse the 40-something mom. She fights this battle in her semi-conscious mind every time..."If I just sleep for one more hour, I will feel so much better. But if I get up and go to the gym, my body will thank me. If I don't go today, I might not go tomorrow or the next, and these past two years of hard work will be wasted. I HATE mornings!"

Guilt mixed with a sense of responsibility wins out. Slowly she drags herself out of her cocoon of warmth and comfort to begrudgingly slide into her shorts and t-shirt.

"I guess I can get one more workout in these clothes before I do laundry. I'll make sure I don't get too close to anyone," she assures herself.

The gym opens at 6:30 and she likes to be one of the first to enter to get the prime choice of treadmills and TV stations. Juggling her ID, water bottle, keys, reading material and MP3 player, she climbs in her car and hypnotically maneuvers through the streets to the gym.

Back at it again...cardio, arms, legs, abs...blah, blah, blah. It sucks to get old, but it beats the alternative.

"See ya Tuesday...bright and early," she says to the other early morning fitness junkies. She really is glad she got up.

affairs of the heart

2008-09-03T22:30:00.000-05:00

John is a lucky man. The doctors said he was "a walking time bomb." His friends and family knew he was a likely candidate--large build, high stress job, the usual high-risk warnings--but somehow they all lived in denial that it could actually happen to him.

He even knew something wasn't right for the last six months, but if he didn't tell anyone or if he just ignored it, it would go away...right? John is an intelligent man--well-read (he collects rare books), well-travled (he's been to four continents), well-educated (he earned his MBA)--but no matter what the head knows, the heart can trump it.

In John's case, his heart took control of his life. All those warning signs--arm pain, shortness of breath, sweating, indigestion--were screaming to him that his heart needed attention immediately. Not when it was convenient or he had the time, but NOW!

John was lucky. The skilled heart surgeon rerouted the blood flow to the heart three times, so the roadblocks in the arteries can be avoided. John now has that indebted feeling (like so many survivors before him) that life will go on, for at least a while longer. No more taking chances, no more ignoring symptoms, no more junk food or fat or salt. But it's worth it. The heart only knows one thing: to beat a steady rhythm that powers the body, but it doesn't take much for the head to mess it up.

the force was with them

2008-08-25T21:59:00.000-05:00

It was the weekend before classes began. Loaded-down cars, vans and trucks wove through the Flint Hills like an army of ants carrying their bounty. Young men and women leaving home to hopefully grow academically (their parent's wish) and socially (their own wish). Their minds filled with anticipation for a great year. Only one night before it's time to settle into a routine. Only one night to paint the town purple before classes begin. Only one night to hit Aggieville.

It's a strange ritual...guys roam the long street, weaving in and out of bars, looking for, well, (fill in the blank). It was at one lively tavern that a group of hormone-driven males were on the look-out. Eyes darting in all directions checking out every shapely figure in view. Then, they suddenly stopped en masse, as if controlled by another force (and maybe they were). Sitting at a prominent table was the sought after prize: six cookie-cutter co-eds relishing in the attention from the room. The men were drawn in, it held them captive, they had no control.

But, it wasn't to be. Life doesn't guarantee happy endings and neither does one night in Aggieville.

a mother's defense

2008-08-19T17:36:00.000-05:00

When the whining escalated into a full-blown tantrum, the weary mother of three, accustomed to chaos, tried to ignore the scene. No one else in the Dillon's grocery store could, especially the hurried older woman in the check-out lane behind her. The child would not calm down, he just wanted his mother to acknowledge his need, however relevant it was. Only a few more items needed to go past the scanner and the bewildered mother could take her brood home, away from the stern looks. The older woman's patience gave out and she couldn't hold her opinion any longer.

"Why don't you find out what he needs," she said to the mother.

"Why don't you stay out of other people's business!" yelled the mother, hardly audible above the child's wail.

The onlookers could only turn away in an awkward moment. The older woman stood there helpless. Reason gave way to belligerence, it was a proud mother's defense.