Unsettled metaphor

"Spring storm in the Flint Hills," 11 x 14 watercolor, 300 lb. d'Arches cold press paper

'Tis the season of unsettled skies, especially on the Great Plains. 
Such was today in Oklahoma, as a warm southerly wind pushed clouds ahead of an approaching cold front. Infinite cloud forms, colors and light shouted "change, change change."
Those skies, this weather, are a metaphor to me, and others I figure, as the promise of a new season opens possibilities for change, for new vistas, for imagination.
The Flint Hills of Kansas are one of my favorite places, where the imagination can leap into the unsettled landscape and ever-changing skies and weather, beckoning to travel, to discover.
Today's watercolor...Spring storm in the Flint Hills.

Booth is a Verb, Epilogue--redux

From 2009

"Can you write about a dead person?" asked a student in The Clark's feature writing class in January, 2009.

"No." The Clark rolled his eyes. The assignment was a profile, and the question came from an older student, with baseball cap on backwards, tattoos stretched over his arms. "How can you interview them?" he sarcastically asked.

Then, for some reason, The Clark also asked, "Who?"

"Bob Illidge."

The Clark is rarely without words, but this was one of them.

Finally, he asked "Why?"

"He's the reason I'm back in school and an advertising major," said the student.

The Clark warned him it would be very hard for The Clark to grade, and that he'd be extra hard on the grading. The student didn't blink, but smiled, accepting the challenge. "It's been almost four years since he died, and I'd like to do it."

Then The Clark starting spouting off stories and people to contact and some of the story of The Booth, much to the delight of the rest of the class, thankful to have him off on a tangent.

The student, completed the story, and it was printed that spring in The Vista.

Here it is:

By Justin Neely

“There was just something there that was special,” Elizabeth Illidge recalls. “People just liked him.”

            Robert J. Illidge, former UCO advertising professor, had an impact on individuals that continues today four years after his death. For those who knew him, thoughts of this gravelly voiced, grey haired man with a beard to match, make people smile and jump at the opportunity to talk about him.

            “He would bring life to the teachings he would deliver,” said Steven Schwartz, UCO alum and advertising major. Other returning advertising majors say that Illidge was the reason they chose advertising as a major and career.

            A breach of contract as the chairperson of Journalism at Wichita State led Illidge to UCO in 1992 at age 61.  His wife, Elizabeth, believed her husband’s age would make it difficult for him to find a job and was a factor during the hiring process at UCO.

            Dr. Terry Clark, professor and chairman of the Journalism Department of UCO, saw otherwise. “Bob had the experience that we valued,” Clark said. “His advertising and teaching experience were who we needed, not just a Ph.D.”

            This new position would require Illidge to drive 300 miles every week while his home and his wife of 39 years, better known to him as his “bride” or “sweet pea,” stayed in Wichita.            

            As a teacher, Illidge had a reputation for being strict and unforgiving, based on his three decades of advertising experience. Those who only heard of him, somehow feared him. As for the students he taught, many will tell you he played a strong role in why they’re in advertising today.

            “He really wanted students to succeed and learn,” said Elizabeth Illidge.

            At the beginning of every semester, Illidge would make one rule clear. Come to class and do not come late. As a result, if a student was late then they were also absent.             
   Illidge had little tolerance for lazy students who didn’t work and even less tolerance for those who were late. Schwartz remembers Illidge talking about a time when he was late for a presentation and was fired. Illidge knew the real world would not accept such behaviors.

            Schwartz became well aware of his seriousness. After being late one too many times to class, he was asked to leave and received an F for the semester. Schwartz apologized and retook Illidge the following semester.

            Today, Schwartz is the Director of Operations for Visual Image Advertising in Oklahoma City. He appreciates Illidge not only for his wisdom but also for his unique mannerisms, engaging personality and “little life lessons”.           

            When people speak of Illidge, one word comes up every time. Humor.           

            Jill Kelsey, professor and department intern coordinator, remembers Illidge using his dry sense of humor, excellent storytelling, and off the wall expressions to uplift and make anybody laugh.

            “He put his unique stamp on everything,” Kelsey said. For Illidge, it wasn’t just about unexpected life changes; it was about the “vicissitudes and vagaries of life” as he put it.

            “He was exactly who he was…life was fun for him,” said Terry Clark.

            Illidge’s humor was just a small part of who he was. For some, the impact he had on others came from his endearing personality, the respect he gave others, and the fact he never took himself too seriously. For others, it was his sense of perspective, honesty, and intelligence. However, for most it was all of the above and much more.

            Some of UCO journalism professors’ favorite memories of Illidge took place at the “the booth.” The booth was just that, at Bennigans Restaurant in Edmond, now Old Chicago. It’s a place Illidge and Clark would occasionally unwind in the afternoon, share stories, and play a few hands of a card game known as cribbage. Within time, the booth became a magnet,  a place for all UCO journalism faculty to unwind and share a few laughs.

            “The booth was the release of the day,” said Jill Kelsey. “It was collegiality at its best.”

            Illidge retired from UCO and teaching in 2004 after a 15-year-long battle with leukemia including three painful years of shingles, a disease caused by the reactivation of the chickenpox virus.

            “He never complained or felt sorry for himself,” said Clark. According to Mrs. Illidge, had it not been for Clark’s persistence to keep Illidge at UCO and encouragement, Illidge would have retired a few years earlier.

            “Keeping busy was a godsend,” said Elizabeth. Illidge would have three farewell parties prior to retirement. 

            During Illidge’s final weeks, his impact on others would prevail more than ever. UCO faculty he barely knew offered their sick leave to him.

            “Correspondence, letters, phone calls, and flowers from students was amazing,” said Elizabeth.

            Robert J. Illidge died at the age of 74 on April 1, 2005 in his hometown of Wichita. 

            Perhaps a big part of who Illidge was came from his own passions and values. His wife and five children came first and foremost. Illidge was a man of faith and valued loyalty and professionalism. Throughout his career, he remained passionate about advertising, teaching, and cared a great deal for young people.

            Illidge, born September 15, 1930, served time as a staff sergeant in the Korean War prior to receiving his Bachelor’s in Journalism in 1958 from the University of Missouri-Columbia. He later went on to work for several adverting agencies in the Kansas City and Wichita area as well as fulfilling his passion of teaching at numerous universities. He received his master’s in 1984 from Wichita State where he later became the chairperson for seven years.

            On his free time, he enjoyed listening to jazz music while hoping to emulate his jazz idols, Dave Brubeck and George Shearing, on his own piano.

            “Music was a big part of who is was,” said Mrs. Illidge. Illidge was also known to be a devoted Notre Dame and Missouri fan and was a “respectable golfer” as his wife put it.

            Today, while the original booth doesn’t exist, when UCO mass communication faculty get together in a new booth they always toast Bob Illidge. “Many departments have legends, Bob’s exceeded that,” said Clark. 

Booth is a verb--chapter 15, redux "-30-"

From Sept, 2009

A gospel of friendship and resilience

Chapter 15 

"'Let's Booth!"

"That was the cry one afternoon soon afterward, and the journalists did congregate once more that spring, where hung the plaque.

"'To Bob,' rang out to clinking glasses, and stories and tears did flow. But The Clark left The Cribbage board in the office, and one seat was vacant.

"Summer came and was a blur, but the following fall, The Clark thought about retrieving the plaque and displaying it in the department. It was not to be. Forsooth, he went to the restaurant, and found the business closed, and the plaque and The Booth locked up. He was sore vexed.

"The Booth is no more," he despaired to his colleagues, to their dismay and gnashing of teeth. This was the same time The Department merged with another on campus, doubling its size in faculty and students for the good of the students. Verily that stress also was a shock to the former journalists. They seemed to wander in a daze, trying to find who they were. They'd lost a friend, a Booth and a community in one fall.

There was no Booth to booth to.

"Eventually, they tried other gathering places in Edmond (There be Republicans there), but it was not the same. The was no Booth to booth to. Even some of their new colleagues from the other department joined them, and began hearing tales of The Illidge, who they knew by sight, but not by stories. "To Bob," was still the introductory toast, but it was not the same.

"One day The Clark noticed the old Booth location was being remodeled, and he hastened there, seeking The Plaque, only to be forbade to enter. He considered breaking and entering to rescue the artifact. The next day he tried again, describing the item he sought, and was successful in bringing it out, to be displayed in the office of the Queen Bee.

"But still there was no Booth to Booth to. The faculty tried the new restaurant at the old location for several weeks, but still it was not the same, and heavy with ghosts. Eventually, The Clark, because he got paid the big bucks to do such things as an administrator (forgive the profanity and pray for his soul), found a restaurant a mile away that had a booth.

"Boothing was back, and over the years the numbers of people attending swelled. Teetotalers, assistant deans, broadcasters and communication profs and others from the merged department frequented the location, usually on Thursdays, to joviality and the best of collegiality. All were invited and welcome.

"All newcomers heard the story of The Illidge. All toasted, 'To Bob.' All waitresses at the new Booth knew each of the Boothers and their drinks and food preferences, and always greeted them with great joy, because yea, verily, there weren't like other stuffy professors, and they did tip grandly. Talk was about everything, and rarely about work, but about people, and ideas, and yea, even griping seasoned by laughing about The Illidge, and how he was probably keeping Yahweh in stitches with his humor.

Where there is sunshine, someday there will be clouds.

"But where there is sunshine, there will someday be clouds, as the Psalmist should have written. One recent year, one insecure and bloated Recalcitrant who never attended The Booth did disapprove and complain to Mission Control, though the Booth was ecumenical and all were invited. Recalcitrant spoke with ignorance and arrogance about The Clark and his "cronies." Hence did also insecure and micro-managing Mission Control complain to The Clark that he was making departmental decisions in a 'bar.'

"The Clark was floored by the blasphemy, not about decisions--which were never made there because adult beverages wash away the inanity of academic decisions--but by disparaging The Illidge and The Booth. While it was a temporary setback, it only strengthened the bond of The Boothers, and, pun intended, 'got their Irish up,' assuring their belief in The Booth, a faculty retreat from thus proven inanity of higher education, from the 'vagaries and vicissitudes' of life.

"Yea verily and forsooth, today, Booth is an active verb. The plaque will soon be hanging on the wall when they Booth again."

-30-

P.S. Only journalists know the significance of the -30- and it carries a double meaning here.  But Yea Verily, the booth is no more dead than The Illidge. The Clark has found since initially writing those numbers, that the story continues. In the years since, Booth has moved to various locations, but it always starts with a toast, "To Bob." And the stories grow.

The story continues: An epilogue, a postscript, and two appendices (of sorts), and an afterword will follow.

Interlude--The Illidge Rap

From September, 2009

Flashback, Written by The Clark for his retirement ten years ago:

Rap for Illidge
Illidge is the ad man
Bob’s gonna retire man
Illidge makes us sad man
Goin’ down to the wire man
Illidge is so bad man
Cause he’s the ad man
UH huh, uh huh, uh huh!

It’s no fad man,
Illidge is the ad man
Don’t make’m mad man.
Show up on time man
So this will rhyme man
Cause he’s the ad man
Uh huh, uh huh, uh huh!

Illidge is rad man,
His school’s Notre Dame’s man
Ad Hall of fame man
Don’t be a fool man
Illidge is so cool man
Cause he’s the ad man
Uh huh, uh huh, uh huh.

It’s the Illidge decade man
Won’t ever fade man
UCO’s been the place man
Where Illidge set the pace man
We’ll miss his face man
Cause he’s the ad man
Uh huh, uh huh, uh huh!

He’s got a Kansas pad man
Illidge gonna be missed man
Don’t be pissed man
Bob’s been feared man
It ain’t the beard man
Cause Illidge is the ad man.
Uh huh, uh huh, uh huh.

When we heard that Illidge
Was going back to his village
Just want to Loot and Pillage,
Don’t want to play no cribbage
Cause the ad man is Illidge

Don’t be a sap man
Lissen to the rap man
Illidge is the ad man.
Un huh, uh huh, uh huh.

Illidge is the aaaaaad maaaaan. Uh Huh!

Booth love story saddens, chapter 6 redux

From August, 2009
 
A gospel story full of "higher" education's injustice

Chapter 6

"Yea, though much of this tale is enlivened with levity and laughter, and will continue to be, the circumstances of The Illidge coming to UCO, and his presence there enriching students and faculty, were blemished with injustices that would anger his colleagues and mystify anyone not drugged by the inanity of so-called 'higher education.' This is a melancholy tale that is difficult to relate for the scribe, The Clark, so readers should be suspect of his detachment and aware of his anger, but not his heart and his truthfulness.

"The Illidge, after more than three decades of successful advertising experience, completed his master’s degree at The Wichita State University, and became chair of the Elliott School of Journalism there. Even though he 'only' had a master’s degree from the institution, the faculty elected him to lead them, because of his excellence teaching and skill and experience in media. Assured by his superiors that he was secure, even without research into meaningless subjects and publications in arcane 'academic' journals that nobody could or would read, he continued. 

 "does the symbol of a forked tongue come to mind?"

"But administrators' words are like America’s treaties with Indians…does the symbol of a forked tongue cometh to mind? So with a change in administration, The Illidge found himself, at age 60, out of a job, because he didn’t have a 'terminal' degree to add to the academic status of said so-called institution of higher learning. What The Illidge did have, was a terminal degree of a different sort, a long-term form of Leukemia.

"He sent out about 100 resumes, seeking a teaching position, and though they would deny it, no one called because of his age—except one. It was then, in the early 1990s, that The Clark called, from a university journalism program two and a half-hours south of The Illidge’s comfortable Wichita home. What The Clark and his faculty knew was that they needed an advertising professor who knew hands-on advertising. A doctoral degree was useless if the holder had no experience in the area he was teaching, or at least so his faculty believed, despite protestations by their administration.

"inferior universities are ... great pretenders"

"Unfortunately, The Clark could only get The Illidge hired at the low level of lecturer, instead of as associate professor as he would be ordained at any 'real' university. But lower level inferior universities are, perforce, great pretenders when it comes to trying to delude themselves that they are equal to their superiors. Hence they add more and more academic nonsense to their rules and regulations, and anyone without a' terminal degree' cannot be accorded the status they deserve. This myopia is particularly damaging to journalism programs, where experience in the fields in which you teach is worth more than a mere academic degree. The Clark was trying to build an advertising program beneficial to students, not academics, and his faculty agreed. The Illidge was grateful for the job, but the low ranking and pay was grievous to him till his death, and still is to The Clark, who now is almost inured to academic nonsense.

"Thus The Illidge came to UCO, and his demanding standards soon lifted the advertising program to new heights, and led to the discovery of The Booth. There were more tears to follow."

To be continued…

Booth is a verb...Interlude redux

From August, 2009

Booth is a verb, a love story...Interlude

"The Illidge, a sojourner from Kansas in a strange land (Oklahoma), over the years usually departed his temporary abode when weekly classes closed, and as was his wont, winded his way to Wichita, where awaited “his little sweet pea.”

"Dorothy may not have been there any more, but, lo, there were lots of Illidges--wife, children, grandchildren and great-grand ...children. Here it was in the family manse, a two-story castle with broad front porch and porch swing on a brick street under massive elm trees, that the Elisabeth waited for him, “pining away,” as Illidge would proclaim. There the Illidges found recourse and sustenance from the world amid family and friends and faith through the years. As the weekend neared its nadir, after Mass and family dinner, the illuminated Illidge would align his comfortable carriage south along the way-35 for about three hours till he reached his “very own apartment” in the Republican rendezvous known as Edmond.

"Thus it was that refreshed from R&R, the Illidge prepared for students, life, and more cribbage at the booth. How he came to sojourn in Oklahoma is a tail longer than a cat’s, and full of danger, drama, and injustice, as well as fortitude and fortune for those who would study under him. But that is yet another yarn to be told perchance later. Though what the Illidge experienced therein would lead him to expound forth, in the booth, on the “vagaries and vicissitudes” of life. And thus he did often, as the word of the Booth blossomed in the coming weeks.

"Few noticed at first, but the Booth, at some point over the weeks, became capitalized in their language. The first linguistic leap happened quickly... ."

To be continued...

The miracles of life

Miracles of life--moss, and fungus, and lichens, and more, abounding on what was once alive.

The more I travel, and look, and wonder, and read, and age, the more I'm astounded at the miracles of life on this planet. 

The seasons of life are brief.

We humans seem to think that we are the center of creation, and the last, best stage of evolution, but that is so egotistical and short-sighted, and frankly perhaps a stupid insult to both God and science.
A brochure about the Flint Hills in Kansas listed the various numbers of wildlife in a square mile...birds, reptiles, etc. It added there were 10 million insects in that small area.
I was reminded of the comment about life flourishing on earth if man went extinct, but ceasing if insects were exterminated.
As you study more about God and come closer to the Native American view that God is in everything, that all life and earth is part of God, that we are all connected, you begin to realize how small and insignificant we are. As you study science, especially the facts of our DNA, you find that we're infinitesimally different from all other humans, and even have 97 percent identical chromosomes as Chimpanzees, for instance.

The seasons of life are long.

As you look at the small things around you, at the beauty of the creation, at the age and permanence of life and the earth, I think it is possible to see God,  for what are you looking at, but God?
A walk in Rock Bridge State Park in central Missouri this last week made me more aware of how brief our life is, how much we are part of a whole, how much we should enjoy the moments we have.

Like creek water over stones.

It's an ever-changing journey, like creek water over stones, glistening in the sunlight. It's filled with mystery, and wonder, and discovery, part of a larger whole beyond our comprehension, but of an existence we are privileged to be part of.

A journey of mystery

On top of Oklahoma

Leaning against the Granite Monument, 4,972.97 feet above sea level.

I find it interesting that the late great Jenk Jones of the late great Tulsa Tribune did this. Detail of the East side.

Each side of the obelisk has data of distances--Texas 31 miles; Colorado; 4.1 miles,. New Mexico 1299 feet, Kansas, 53 miles E.N.E.. Distances to New York, 1,605 miles,  and Los Angeles, 895 miles. Names of the survey crew, information on the granite from Granite, Ok. In the top view, and below at the base on the side of the south side,at my feet is the 50 caliber metal shell box weighted down with lava rocks that holds the notebooks you can sign in with, which I did in the 2012 spiral..."Terry M. Clark, Edmond, OK March 19, 2012. 9:56 a.m."
That's because it was Mountain Time zone there. I started my two-hour hike at 9 a.m. Central Time and walked across zones.

Two hundred yards south of the monument you can walk to the edge of Black Mesa and look out over the Dry Cimarron river valley below.

In the distance looking southeast, upper middle, you can see the light reflecting off the tin roofs almost-ghost town of Kenton, more than 600 feet  below the rim of Black Mesa.

Look the other way and you see into New Mexico, with extinct volcanos Sierra Grande, left, and cinder cone Capulin, right, blue in the 60 miles distance, and the river bed winding into New Mexico. The tip of the rocks in the foreground is the edge of the 100-foot drop off of the lava cap that gives Black Mesa its name.

Post script. This is the "Dry Cimarron." Water rarely runs here, the head "waters" of the river I've canoed in near Guthrie, hundreds of miles down "stream." I stayed and Black Mesa Bed and Breakfast, a working ranch, and the "river" "runs" through its land. I took an evening nature walk down it, and found standing water and lots of foliage, which attract deer and turkey and other wildlife.

Kodachrome El Finito

From Kansas, by the Associated Press. Sorry Simon and Garfunkel and all of us:

PARSONS — Freelance photojournalist Steve McCurry, whose work has graced the pages of National Geographic, laid 36 slides representing the last frames of Kodachrome film on the light board sitting on a counter in Dwayne's Photo Service in Parsons.

He placed a lupe, a magnifier that makes it easier to view film, over one frame and took a closer look at the film.

McCurry told Dwayne's vice president Grant Steinle how he had chosen to shoot the last roll of Kodachrome produced by Eastman Kodak by capturing images around New York.

"Then we went to India, where I photographed a tribe that is actually on the verge of extinction. It's actually disappearing, the same way as Kodachrome," he told Steinle.

Kodak announced last year that it would retire Kodachrome, a brand name of color reversal film it had manufactured since 1935. McCurry, well-known for his 1984 photograph of Sharbat Gula, or the "Afghan Girl," published on the cover of National Geographic magazine, requested from Kodak to shoot the last roll of 36 frames it manufactured.

National Geographic has closely documented the journey of the final roll of Kodachrome manufactured, down to its being processed. Dwayne's is only photo lab left in the world to handle Kodachrome processing, so National Geographic Television producer Yvonne Russo and National Geographic magazine senior video producer Hans Weise found themselves in Parsons on Monday, along with McCurry, with the final roll of the iconic film of the 20th century.

As a professional freelance photographer, McCurry has used Kodachrome film for 35 years.

"It's definitely the end of an era," he said of Kodachrome. "It has such a wonderful color palette — a poetic look, not particularly garish or cartoonish, but wonderful, true colors that were vibrant, but true to what you were shooting."

There are definite advantages to digital photography by comparison to film, McCurry said.

"You have the ability to view, edit and monitor what we are doing as we go. We can evaluate the light and composition and the design instantly. And we can shoot in extremely low light, which was impossible with film."

Regardless, digital photography is simply not the same.

"I like having something to hold in my hand," McCurry said. "With digital photography, it's just a hard drive. With Kodachrome, the film is real. You can touch it, put it in a drawer, and come back to it later. It's tangible. It's an object. With digital, the pictures only exist in a hard drive, in a memory chip."

A photographer since 1974, and photojournalist for National Geographic for 30 years, Kodachrome has been a part of McCurry's professional career.

Russo said they documented McCurry shooting the final roll of film in New York, then traveling to Bombay, India and Rajasthan, India, then back to New York, shooting along the way several iconic personalities of the world of filmmaking.

McCurry said he spent about two months shooting the images, which also included some scenic photos, as well as serendipitous moments on the streets of New York.

"And I actually shot the last three frames here in Parsons," McCurry said.

As Kodachrome is no longer manufactured, Steinle said that on Dec. 10 Dwayne's Photo will end its processing of Kodachrome.

"All this is going to be discarded," McCurry said of the processing equipment for Kodachrome, " ... so it's just a piece of history. It's nostalgic. It's kind of sad. I have about 800,000 Kodachrome images in my lab and these will be the last."

If National Geographic does a spread on the journey of this final roll of Kodachrome, McCurry said it will likely come out in the spring 2011 and will consist of only four to six images selected from the roll.

However, Weise said, "The entire 36 frames shot will be sent to the Eastman House in Rochester, New York, where Kodak is based, and live there."

Looking through the lupe at each slide image, McCurry viewed his pictures of Robert De Niro, the Brooklyn Bridge, Grand Central Station, the tribe in India, the actors, actresses and models in India and the other images of life he had captured.

Among the images shot was one self-portrait of McCurry in New York. Symbolic of the yellow and red packaging of Kodak film, McCurry chose a Yellow Cab to pose by. He called Steinle to have a look through the lupe at the cab's license plate. On it were the letters PKR 36.

Steinle laughed, not believing his eyes.

"If I hadn't seen this come off the processor myself, I would have sworn you had photoshopped that," Steinle said, explaining how PKR 36 is representative of Professional Kodak 36 film.

As the two men stood talking of the end of an era in film manufacturing and processing that affects them both, McCurry presented Steinle with a proposal.

Rather than paying Dwayne's Photo in cash for the processing of the film, McCurry offered to cut Steinle a deal. In exchange for the processing, McCurry offered to create a special print of one of the slides and have it framed and mounted with a letter of authenticity included and send it to Steinle.

It was a deal Steinle accepted eagerly.

Russo said the National Geographic special covering the last roll of Kodachrome manufactured will likely air sometime in spring 2011.