"Sunset" thoughts

"Sunset," 16 x 20, acrylic on gallery-wrapped canvas, see credit below

One hundred years ago, the British Empire, with the most powerful military in the world, and  influence around the world, was nearing its sunset.

Today, it seems the American empire seems to be following history. The most powerful military, yes. Influence around the world? Yes.

But internally, the rampant signs of decay, not just political, but in technology and education and constant war and more are everywhere in America.

Consider China, the new super power of the the rest of the century, in technology and influence.. And it will also pass, as the pressures of population and acceleration of time take toll of "civilizations." 

'Tis not the first, nor the last, for sunsets on the British or Roman, or any other empire, including the United States, tearing itself apart.

Today's painting harks back to when another empire of freedom was in its sunset. That of wide open spaces, of peoples who lived in harmony with their world.. Not a utopia, nor an empire, but of existence, wiped out by  so-called civilization of aliens.

Gloomy thoughts? Perhaps, but also,  inspiration for freedom, for survival. 

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Inspired by Harold Von Schmidt woodcut in "Death comes force Archbishop by Willa Cather, 1926.

Remember Home?

"Homestead Memories," 12 x 12 acrylic on gallery wrapped canvas

Where did you grow up? Was there an old family home? 

I was thinking of that this past week as more than a half-million freedom-loving people were being driven from their homes in Ukraine. Their flight for survival means leaving possessions and memories behind as a Russian tyrant invades and commits war crimes. Real patriots are fighting  and dying for real freedom there.

Meanwhile, in America, spoiled, selfish and shallow so-called patriots, in convoys and on street corners and in public meetings are protesting vaccination and mask mandates as violating their cherished inconsequential "freedoms."  It would be laughable if it weren't so stupid and tragic. That tells you all you need to know about what's wrong with America these past very few years. 

This anger has been brewing inside me for longer than the Russian invasion, but the character and courage of the Ukrainian people contrasts so strongly with these people who are wrecking America. They're causing a ruckus over masks and then go home to their air-conditioned  homes. Pathetic.

It's time for Americans to remember what is important, like the old home place. I didn't know it when I started this painting, but it is in response to my emotional reactions to all of this.

Thoughts took me down Oklahoma's back roads, though small towns, seeing the many frame houses, some still occupied, others abandoned, all carrying stories and memories.

Thus the painting, palette knives and brushes. Soon available at In Your Eye Studio & Gallery at Paseo Arts District.

A viral year, looking back

"Virus," watercolor from March 13, 2020

A year ago today, I painted and posted this watercolor, "Virus." Here's the link to that post: "Going Viral."

It hit Oklahoma in public when the Thunder game was abruptly canceled two nights before. 

Since then, a year of uncertainty, of sickness, death, tragedy, of turmoil, chaos, and ignorance in more ways that one, global cultural and economic and political upheaval and violence, and survival.

In many ways, America, the so-called "greatest nation," has been hit the hardest, in all those ways. Of the more than 2.6 million world wide deaths, 20 percent--one person in every five--more than 500,000 have been Americans.  Such an ironic epitaph for American "leadership," "individualism," selfishness and stupidity of the free world.

By comparison, in the 1918 Spanish flu, 675,000 Americans died, out of 50 million world wide.

As I wrote on pages 58 and 59 of this year's journal of the plague, the third journal I've kept every day since last April 1, I reflected on all of that, remembering the uncertainties, the fears, the idiosyncrasies, the changes that dominated our lives.

For my record, I started listing what I was thankful for, what were the positives from this deadly nightmare. Then I listed the negatives. I won't go into that, but there were positives

First, was survival, and getting vaccines.On April 1in the first pandemic journal, I wondered if I, we, would survive. It was iffy indeed. I've had a son and my brother get relatively mild cases. I know of many others who were not so fortunate.

Next--the most watercolor paintings I've ever done, about 244 in 2020. I tried to bring some color into the dark world, for others but also for my own purpose and survival. That also led me into developing summary slide shows of my work on the blog and internet, that continue, month by month

Next--those watercolors boosted my almost daily blog writing to a record year, because they forced m to think and write about them.

Day 1, of Pandemic Journal

Then there was the almost daily journaling, key to introspection, a routine, and hope. Counting today's two pages--page 59 total in the 62 days since Jan 1, I've filled 355 pages. Some entries are brief, others more than one page. I've probably only missed five or six days all together, an accomplishment for one who is not disciplined enough to keep a daily diary. 

My inspiration came from Samuel Pepys who kept his famous Journal of the Plague Year in England during the black death of the Middle Ages.

Visions of Beauty

"Purple Mountains One," 8 x 10 watercolor, 140 lb. cold press paper

"Purple Mountains Two," 8 x 10 watercolor, 140 lb. cold press paper

It's easy to forget these days that America can be beautiful, except perhaps for the grace and courage of those facing danger every day for the benefit of fellow citizens. They, not politicians and inept rulers, make America beautiful.
I started thinking about the song, America the Beautiful, specifically about the purple mountains and spacious skies calling to me to get outside, to once again be able to enjoy the natural beauty of our land. It's important that we not forget...in fact beauty intensifies in times of ugliness.
"O beautiful for spacious skies
For amber waves of grain
For purple mountain majesties
Above thy fruited plain"
I had a hard time translating that into a painting that was not corny or trite, and after several tries, I came up with two visions, one more abstract. Which do you prefer? 

Where have all the manners gone? Long time ago

Reading my article about Mom teaching us manners, clashed with what we all see in this country today. A sheriff calls for a roadside bomb to murder the Speaker of the House. A preacher wants gay people shot. 
Their mothers didn't teach them manners, if they know who their mother is, I'd like to respond, but that shows a lack of manners, doesn't it? Every day, every minute, almost every second there are more instances of people totally devoid of manners, or respect, of responsibility, of decency.
America has descended into a nation of rudeness, of hate, of extremes--of no manners or respect.
Where have all the manners gone? Manners are an indication of respect, or civility, even it you don't agree, you don't insult. You take responsibility for your actions and words and demeanor.
Have you seen any manners in American politics or religion or culture recently?
One of the tragedies is that is most obvious is  this didn't happen overnight, that these rudest, crudest of the bunch, weren't taught manners. It's generational.
Then I thought of the Pete Seeger song, "Where have all the flowers gone?"
My adaptation:

Where have all the manners gone?

Long time passing

Where have all the manners gone?

Long time gone

Where have all the manners gone?

Parents have forgotten them, every one

When will they ever learn?

When will they ever learn?

Where have all the children gone?

Long time passing

Where have all the children gone”

Long time ago

Where have all the children gone?

Gone to hatred every one

How will they ever learn?

When will they ever learn?

Where have all the manners gone?

Long time passing

Where have all the manners gone?

Long time ago

Where….

Fireworks, not tyrants, abstractly

Fireworks, not tyrants, 5" x 7" 

I detest photographs of fireworks in newspapers, magazines and in TV footage. They all look the same, boring--with one or two rare occasions when a photographer has an original eye. 
None capture the power and light and colors and spirit, and freedom,  of the firework shows. I've tried to paint them before...failures.
Day four of the Doodlewash Watercolor of the Month daily challenge prompt was "Family Fun."
How can I do this, and abstractly? Then I thought, fireworks. There is so much here--setting off fireworks when you were a kid, when you had kids, going to watch families watch fireworks shows. And much more, when you think about it.

Fireworks are a symbol of family and freedoms, not fear.

So here we go, with a few trade secrets, 140 lb. d'Arches cold press paper.
 Happy Fourth of July--Americans, hold on to your freedom, of expression, of speech, against all tyrants of rules and politics and tanks in the streets.

Homelands and immigrants at "Christmas"

"Homeland," today's 5 x 7 #watercolor card

We are children of geography...the pull of place grows deep inside, especially at this time of year.
I cannot imagine the desperation that forces thousands of immigrants to leave "home," to seek asylum, salvation, someplace else. 
As a so-called "Christian" people celebrating the birth of Christ who taught people to love and not be afraid, can we not in this time calling for love and peace, have compassion, and not hate or fear, for  those uprooted from their homelands? 
Or maybe we're not. Maybe Christmas should be renamed Materialismmas, judging by our selfish reactions in this time of turmoil for  people voluntarily who eave homelands because of poverty and hunger, or because of war and persecution and disease, are forced from them.

Maybe Christmas should be renamed Materialismmas

It's not new, of course, as our "Christian" ancestors did their best at genocide of native people. That included uprooting them from their homelands as with the Trail of Tears in Oklahoma, where the pull of place was and is sacred, and trying to "convert" them.
Fortunately they have survived, primarily because of the strength of their cultures, anchored in their religions, and as with the Pueblo people and other tribes, their sacred geographies. Perhaps their god is more powerful than ours?
All of this is spontaneous as I write about geography in my life. I am a part of every place I've lived, and one of the strongest is New Mexico.
One of the most powerful places on earth spiritually, and symbols of New Mexico to me,  is Taos Pueblo...a civilization and "religion" that is older than America. That is because of the people and places that are an essential part of who they are. Most of us in Western religions cannot fathom the depth of their beliefs.
This was not supposed to be political, and perhaps it is not...but it is religious. Spontaneous thoughts,  spiritual emotions, erupted about what Christmas is supposed to be as I viewed and wrote about my annual watercolor cards featuring Taos Pueblo. 
Have we forgotten that all of us are immigrants, and even the Oklahoma nickname honors desperate illegal immigrants--"Sooners"?
How would Christ react to desperate immigrants? Aren't we all desperate immigrants, hungry for a sacred homeland?

America IS great, ask Harry and the bookstores--Day 7

Part of the Harry Potter crowd at almost  midnight, July 31, Edmond Best of Books, owner Joe Hight at right with arm up

America is great now, not in some far off rosy-colored glasses of the past, or in some who knows when future promised by a campaign slogan.
Look no further than the tizzy around America and the world at leading up to the midnight release of the new Harry Potter book in bookstores everywhere. Then we lined up for our copies.
At Edmond Best of Books the party lasted for several hours with prizes, face painting, costumes, snacks and more for hundreds of parents and kids, including this kid, waiting to buy the new book, "Harry Potter and the Cursed Child." 
Don't tell me children don't read, or that paper books are dead, or that America isn't great....look at these happy readers here in an independent bookstore and in bookstores everywhere...having fun, having family time, having imagination, and looking forward to reading. 

America IS great, now--Day 6

America is great now, not in some far off rosy-colored glasses of the past, or in some who knows when future promised by a campaign slogan.
Look no further than two of my former students at UCO, Emily Bullard Lang and Charlie Price of Price Lang Consulting www.pricelang.com in Edmond.
They've taken their faith in America and energy and talent and intelligence to take risks and build a successful public relations firm.
Back in January, they hosted an open house for their new offices, and also committed two $500 scholarships to our department. 
Here they are with the geezer,  proud former prof.
Our journalism mass communication students make us look good.

Why America IS great, Day 5

Palacio del El Gubanadors, La Villa Real de la Santa Fe de San Francisco de Asis...establecido en 1610

America has been great a long time, and it started for Europeans in what is now America in 1540, and officially in 1610 with the founding of the oldest capitol here, what is now Santa Fe...and speaking English had nothing to do with it. 

In fact, today on those streets and in that historic capital city, you will hear numerous languages, including versions of Spanish, English, numerous Native American languages, and mixes thereof.

Under the great portales of the palace of the governors, you will find every day the first Americans selling their artwork to the mono-lingual English gringo newcomers. They probably speak at least three languages.

This is exactly what has made America great, in spite of her problems, through the years...new peoples, new ideas and cultures, blending sometimes peacefully and others not, but still generating an energy of greatness that endures... in spite of a white man's current stupid campaign slogan implying that they, and we, are not great.

America IS great, day four

Don't tell me America isn't great, as implied by a campaign slogan on a cap. Our people prove it every day. 
Consider this viral photo and story about a Florida State football player eating lunch with a lonely autistic student.
  Story links from the Washington Post and CNN.
Washington Post 
CNN 

America is great, day three

Reasons America is great--Jill Castilla, center, and my terrific diverse Twitter for Media class at UCO

Two days ago, I started posting on Facebook a daily response to this fear-mongering BS campaign slogan about making America great "again." We have lots of problems in this country and state...I can give you a long list.  There are many of our citizens for whom the country isn't always great, thus the anger and frustration apparent in the presidential campaigns. 
Lots of us middle class white folks thought the country was great back in the 1950s and 1960s, but it wasn't great at all for those African-Americans who were segregated and discriminated against and subject to violence. Was America greater in the 1970s when people of my generation were being killed in Vietnam and in riots at home? How about the 1980s and 1990s with more wars, drug problems and rampant economic problems? Or since 2000 with almost ceaseless wars, drugs and terrorism? 
I too feel the country is on the "wrong" track at times.
But. I don't see our past decades where everything was rosy and we were greater then than we are now.
I simply don't buy this clap trap that America isn't great.
Thus these daily posts, which I'll continue on the blog, and refer to on social media.
The photo at top shows many more reasons America is great. 
Jill Castilla is the fantastic CEO and president of Citizens Bank in Edmond who has become a national force for community building. She was named “Most Admired CEO in Oklahoma," “Most Innovative CEO in Banking,” "Community Banker of the Year" and "Most Powerful Women in Banking" in 2015. 
And look at the diverse students in my class--different races, ages, religions, nationalities and more, all getting along, learning together, respecting each other. Full of hope and optimism because America is great, and they'll make it greater. 
You can read about Jill's advice and comments to my Twitter for Media class on the #clarkclass blog: Twitter for media class
I'm sorry, but you can't be around this woman long without being inspired by her enthusiasm and optimism. She and my students and classes are just multiple more reasons I know that America is great right now, and she's making greater than it was in the past.

When I'm in a concentration camp

Painted two years ago, and owned by step-son-in-law Jake Harms.

You won't be able to visit me, or it will imperil your safety.
You won't be able to say my name, or even mail me.
You will have to disavow you knew me.
You will have to affirm, under oath, that you knew all along, I was a traitor.
You will have to join the majority, goose step and salute with cheers to the dictator. 
You will have to "vote" unanimously to disband schools, to destroy libraries, to repeal the Bill of Rights, to censor all art and music.
It will begin in one of the smallest states, and spread, like cancer, an infection of the mind, of the soul, of humanity, by selfish forces of delusion and division, of intolerance and insecurity, and funded by the hunger for power, not for people.
I will understand, because I will be one of the first to be rounded up and sent behind barbed wire for "national security."
I will admit that I used you, deceived you, led you astray against your wishes.
I will deny that you ever agreed with me, and affirm that you were afraid to disagree with me. 
I will die doing slave labor to build a wall in 100 degree heat in a desert compound where there is a cup of water, and a piece of bread every day.
Or I will be executed for failing to bow down, or salute and repeat the mindless sayings of the "leader," or for trying to escape into the deadly heat of the desert.
I hate pain, and that is my great weakness, but I would rather be shot in the back running away than suffer.
But just know, that my memories of you will sustain me with joy; that I will not judge you for staying away, that I will pray for your survival--knowing that this too shall pass--because souls are eternal--that despots and demagogues are not. 
But I will weep for the loss, for America, and freedoms, and decency, and morality--stolen and fueled  because of a "leader's" manipulation of fear, and hatred, and racism, and violence, and intolerance,  and demagoguery, and ignorance, and extremist religion and politics.
They will come for you next. 

I wish this were a fantasy. 

"I want my country back"--so much is wrong here

"I want my country back." I'm mad and want to make America great again. All this anger and yelling in this campaign makes me think America is in the toilet. I may even switch and register Republican.

"...makes me think America is in the toilet."

Just think of all the things wrong here.
A school bus just went by, on paved streets, full of students on the way to public school, with well trained certified teachers.
My electricity is on 24 hours a day and my tap water is drinkable.
The  prescription medicines I take with that water is government certified, as is my breakfast food, and all other food, is  certified safe.
I can go safely down the street, patrolled by police cars and regulated by stoplights, to the grocery store packed with that food.
I have regulated insurance on my house, and firetrucks are not far away. I have a working sewer, not an outhouse, and zoning prevents someone putting up a trailer house or factory next door.
My car meets safety regulations, and the big trucks on the efficient highways and Interstates are licensed and inspected by the government. Gasoline also meets required standards.
Overhead a jet airliner, certified safe and piloted by trained  and certified pilots, heads for the airport under direction of government air traffic controllers.

"I attended four different kinds of religious groups..."

In my house I own firearms, without fear of seizure, and this past month I attended four different kinds of religious groups without fear or being forced.
I recently went for an annual physical and was attended by a licensed doctor and nurses. I paid for this with funds from my secure account in a bank, where my money is safe. On the way home I stopped and bought a cup of coffee and my money was accepted. We went out to eat last night, and never worried about the safety of the food. 
Overhead, another U.S. Air Force AWACs jet just slid across the sky, reminding me of our country's military, the most powerful in the world, protecting us from invasion, trying to deter war so our service people don't have to die. 
Refugees and immigrants from those trouble spots and poorer countries are desperately trying to come here, oblivious to the sorry condition of America.
I've seen bumper stickers criticizing Obama, and others praising him. I read newspapers that are not censored by the government. 
Citizens can safely go vote, for whoever they want, in a multitude of elections, and know that whoever gets the most votes will win
I work at the University of Central Oklahoma that must meet certain safety and fire regulations, and my benefits include retirement.

"a young man in a wheel chair with a service dog,"

On that campus yesterday I saw a young man in a wheelchair with a service dog, able to go to college, which would never have happened when I was that age.
And there are a multitude of races and  citizens on that campus. In my classes I've had students from around the world and across the country--no segregation. I've had public schooled, private schooled, home-schooled, foreign schooled. All are welcome, and treated equally.

 "All are welcome and treated equally".

In one day I saw a booth for Christians on campus and another by Muslim students informing others. Outside, a small group was strumming a guitar, singing a religious song, with some hands reaching for the sky. There's also a skeptics club on campus, a bass fishing club, and a multitude of others.
I've seen anti-abortion displays, and pro-choice displays, across the sidewalk from each other.
A friend and favorite former student spoke to one of my classes this week. During her presentation, she essentially criticized the president. Some in class agreed, and some didn't, but her comments  were welcome. 
Are there things wrong with my country? Of course--crime and poverty and injustice and inequality and racism and hatred and prejudice and unfounded fear, corruption in buying politicians ... the list goes on. It is indeed maddening...has it ever been different?
Oh, I forgot about how mad I am and wanting to make America great again. My garbage is picked up every week, not strewn around or left to stink on the roadside.

"You take the outhouse"

Speaking of garbage...you take the outhouse if you want it back...it fits.
I'll take my country the way it is, not the way it never was.

If you want something--give it...thoughts for America

Reflecting at the looming year's end, on thoughts from the first year of the blog, way back in 2009, with revisions especially for this time in American materialism and fear- and hate-filled politics--

"Give, and it will be given to you. They will pour into your lap a good measure-- pressed down, shaken together, and running over. For by your standard of measure it will be measured to you in return." –Luke 6:38

1. If you want love
2. If you want mercy
3. If you want generosity
4. If you want friendship
5. If you want peace
6. If you want success
7. If you want rewards
8. If you want admiration
9. If you want to be liked
10. If you want silence
11. If you want gifts
12. If you want to get along
13. If you want happiness
14. If you want humanity
15. If you want humility
16. If you want humor
17. If you want respect
18. If you want honor
19. If you want trust
20. If you want maturity
21. If you want preparation
22. If you want organization
23. If you want thinking
24. If you want spontaneity
25. If you want energy
26. If you want fairness
27. If you want privacy
28. If you want time
29. If you want scholarship
30. If you want timeliness
31. If you want listening
32. If you want participation
33. If you want attendance
34. If you want up to date
35. If you want cooperation
36. If you want excellence
37. If you want high standards
38. If you want enthusiasm
39. If you want trustworthiness
40. If you want passion
41. if you want hard work
42. If you want learning
43. If you want money

44. If you want professionalism

Or

43. If you want hatred
44. If you want insecurity
45. If you want arrogance
46. If you want backbiting
47. If you want insincerity
48. If you want arguments
49. If you want fears
50. if you want contention
51. If you want anger
52. If you want empty flattery
53. If you want stinginess
54. If you want mistrust
55. If you want backstabbing
56. if you want gossip
57. if you want selfishness
58. If you want disrespect
59. If you want laziness
60. If you want criticism
61. If you want dishonesty
62. If you want accusations
63. If you want racism
64. If you want sexism
65. If you want bias
66. if you want discrimination
67. If you want griping
68. If you want contempt
69. If you want rudeness
70. If you want wordiness
71. If you want tardiness
72. If you want lying
73. If you want lack of preparation
74. If you want disorganization
75. If you want excuses
76. If you want tardiness
77. if you want inconsistency
78. If you want low expectations
79. If you want arbitrariness
80. If you want boring

Vive' Mali! And the children

Today's tragedy in Mali, religious fundamentalist fanatic Muslims, killing other Muslims, hits close to home and breaks my heart.
I was privileged to go there eight years ago, as a newspaperman on a mission from Oklahoma State University, and it changed my values. Such a poor country, but rich in tradition, history, people,  hospitality--Muslims in a democracy that loves the U.S....and wonderful children. What stands out? Adobe, dirt, smiles, hard work, the dignity of the people, and the children.
Oh, those bright white smiles? A dentist friend of mine said it was because they didn't have processed sugar in their diets.
You can read previous posts on this blog, From a Rooftop in Mali and Three years ago
I fell in love with the children...and in spite of the turmoil, I'd go back in a second, given the chance, even now. 

The Russian bear awakens from hibernation

The bear has awakened from hibernation and is hungry.

Grizz is my totem, ursa horriblis, the dominant carnivore in the northern hemisphere. I think it is no accident that the bear is the symbol of Russia.

Recent actions by Russia, in the Ukraine, and now in Syria, and who knows where else, make us Americans uncomfortable. We may be the world's only "superpower," but we don't like, and fear, competition. 

I grew up in the Cold War, afraid of Russian ICBMs (Intercontinental Ballistic Missiles) coming over the north pole. We even had evacuation plans, extra food ready to load,  and took part in exercises from Albuquerque...figuring we had 45 minutes before being hit to reach the Sandia Mountains. In high school speech class, my memorized oration was about "detente" and the fear of nuclear war. We feared the bear.

We feared the bear

I'm wondering why more people from Russia have clicked on this blog in the past few days than those from other countries, including America. 

Bears are confident, territorial, proud, and survivors. A mere eagle is not a  match, really more of a scavenger. What have we been able to do in the face of Russian "aggression" in Ukraine and Syria? Nothing, and that has nothing to do with politics. Short of war, sending American soldiers to die, we're powerless.

Any country that can lose 10 million people in a war, and still be a world power, has to be reckoned with, or at least respected. The crack "Red Army" defeated Hitler, and fell into decay. No longer. Grizz's claws are long. You can't outrun it. 

Americans forgot that when we "won" the Cold War. But the bear has only been hibernating.

D-Day's blood

Some of the American dead, killed on D-Day at Normandy, June 6-1944

I think it is probably impossible to write anything original any more about D-Day, but I hope we never forget the blood and bravery of June 6, 1944. I've written about it many times, here on the blog and elsewhere, reminded that I was five months old, snug in my safe crib in Dallas, Texas, when so many died so I would grow up as a free American.

White crosses and flags at half staff march across the American cemetery at Normandy now, and bring tears, but it is good to be reminded of the real carnage, the real human cost. 

Almost 5,000 men died that day, 2,499 of them Americans, many on horrible Omaha Beach. Our allies lost 1,914. While it doesn't match the carnage of our Civil War, nor the horrible losses of  WWI, or of Russia losing nine million people in the entire war, these men are the symbol of war's terrible cost.

Here's an excerpt from War Correspondent Ernie Pyle's visit to the beach that puts that tragedy better than any writing has:

    "The strong, swirling tides of the Normandy coastline shift the contours of the sandy beach as they move in and out. They carry soldiers’ bodies out to sea, and later they return them. They cover the corpses of heroes with sand, and then in their whims they uncover them.
    "As I plowed out over the wet sand of the beach on that first day ashore, I walked around what seemed to be a couple of pieces of driftwood sticking out of the sand. But they weren’t driftwood.
    "They were a soldier’s two feet. He was completely covered by the shifting sands except for his feet. The toes of his GI shoes pointed toward the land he had come so far to see, and which he saw so briefly."

 

Retracing "Blue" Highways --a journey of words

"The English language has the largest vocabulary on earth, so why should we live

 on dry, white toast when at hand is one fine smorgasbord?"

So asks William Least Heat Moon about some of his word choices in both "Blue Highways," and his new "Writing Blue Highways," and of his discussions with editors.

Which means when I'm reading his books, or any for that matter, you'll find me with pen in hand, circling words I like, or want to look up.

Here are the ones I noted in his recent book. They give you pause, but also spark curiosity.

• purlieu-- the area near or surrounding a place.
• ordinance-- the systematic or orderly arrangement of parts, especially in art and architecture.
• unsnaggle.
• soupçon--a very small quantity of something.
• microcephalics (used disparagingly of critics)--people with microcephaly have a condition in which a person's head is significantly smaller than normal for their age and sex.
• sententious--given to moralizing in a pompous or affected manner.
• dispassion--about students.
• fob--a medallion or ornament attached to a pocket watch to assist in handling
• cognomen--an extra personal name given to an ancient Roman citizen, functioning rather like a nickname and typically passed down from father to son.
• rebus--an allusional device that uses pictures to represent words or parts of words.
• bifurcation--the division of something into two branches or parts.
• gestalts--forms or shapes.
• synonymicon--thesaurus.
• escritoire--writing desk.

And here are are some phrases and sentences I underlined, marked or starred. 

• "I was over-degreed and under-educated." He'd completed his Ph.D.
• "Byways grant space and time to reevaluate what one should not have slighted, and they can stimulate ways to discover."
• "To have a run at escaping the greatest cage of all--the interior of the human skull."
• "Curiosity to a writer is as quadriceps to a weightlifter--the place hoisting begins."
• "Drafts are strata, and they can be read like an archaeological record."
• "To revise fewer than a half dozen or even a dozen times means either you're an unmatched genius or you're kidding yourself."
• The opening paragraph had  91 words and he rewrote it two dozen times.
• "Remember, rewriting is redemption."
• "The biggest danger to a teacher is to be infected with student indifference."
• "'Blue Highways' began not with a typewriter but with a camera. A photo can go where words cannot."

Retracing the "Blue" Highways--September's Pages

"'Blue Highways' began not with a typewriter, but with a camera.

 Photos go where words cannot."

As a backroad traveler, I've been a fan of William Least Heat Moon's 1982 "Blue Highways, A Journey Into America" since it came out. He did then what all of us vagabond spirits want to do...take time off and travel and write.  He covered 13,000 miles in three months of 1978 literally going "around" America--traveling the "blue" highways--the backroads that are in blue on maps. He photographed and told the stories of the people in the out-of-way places he stopped. 

Then this past year, he wrote "Writing Blue Highways, The Story of How a Book Happened." As a traveler and a writer and a student of writing and writers, fascinated by how writers write, I had to read it, finishing turning its 164 pages this month.
Good books provoke more stories, and there are many too tell here, for travelers, and writers, and readers.
This is not a book about how to write, though he tells how he agonized and labored to write it, and suffered innumerable rejections. It, like his other books, is really a story about journeys.
"Blue Highways" is the shortest of his several books in the past 30 years, and the only one I've read through is "Roads to Quoz," about more back roads and discoveries. His thick "PrairyErth--A Deep Map," about a rural county in Kansas, is the kind of book I'd like to write, but I only got have -way through it. Another thick one, "RiverHorse," about taking a boat across America,  just didn't click with me. He's written others, all about traveling.

Least Heat Moon showing one of his drafts.

I first learned of this new book when I saw something on Facebook where he was reading from it at a library in Columbia, Missouri, where he lives. The library was just two blocks from where my son Derrick, his wife Naomi and their children lived at the time. Wish I could have been there.

What impressed me much about his writing is that his first draft was written with pencil on paper, and his comments about that excruciating process fell in with many of my thoughts. And they give me ammunition  and information for when I teach non-fiction writing.
You will learn much here, including how the author went from William Trogden to his Osage name, Least Heat Moon.  
Then there's his robust vocabulary, not used to impress, but to use precisely the right word.  His comments on writing, editing and teaching add more stories.
He's extremely quotable, his writing full of fresh imagery, and the book also has photographs and philosophy throughout. "Blue Highways" began after a divorce and his being fired from a teaching job. Then after the three-month journey around the country, it took him another almost four years of writing and rejections to get published. So this new book was a must read, a story about stories and travels. To whet your appetite,  the next post will feature some of his words and phrases.