J...o...h...n...’...s.....J...o...u...r...n...a...l

July 5, 2003

We're losing
the giants
. . . The other day a rumor swept through the nation's capital— Ronald Reagan had died. It wasn't true. An internal ABC News drill had inadvertently spilled over.
. . . It made me think about the generational tremor that will take place on the day it actually becomes a fact. Meanwhile, we're getting almost weekly precursors, with the not-so-subtle realization that a pool of monumental American talent is eroding. We're losing the giants...
. . . Hirschfeld, Brinkley, Peck. I guess it's been happening for quite some time, so why am I so sensitized to the lamentable drumbeat? Is it the revelation of Heston's impending decline, on the heels of the 40th president's? No, that's not it, as sad as it is. I suppose it began for me with the loss of our own Ivan and Grandy-bo, and with it came the murky recognition that I must prepare myself for a host of departures— celebrities, leaders, associates, friends, and, yes, more family. Perhaps each of us eventually reaches this point of maturity in outlook, when the steady reminders of stark mortality finally sink in. Or maybe I'm one of the lucky ones who reach middle age without taking that stunning blow much earlier in life.
. . . Nevertheless, we must make a genuine effort to appreciate everyone and everything which blesses our lives in the eternal now, avoiding the error of assuming a given today can be revisited at a later time. Or as a good friend recently stated:
. . . "Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, but today is a gift. That's why it's called the present."


" Do you ever realize what unutterable tragedy it is to be always living in the past or anticipating the future?"

. . . —N C WYETH

A Daydream. . .
. . . What would I do creatively if I could do anything I wanted and get away with it?
. . . > Write lots of new chapters for Benedict's 9.
. . . > Work on The Legend. What format is best for this lifelong masterpiece of historical fantasy? Novel, screenplay, website?
. . . > Bike across Kentucky with a sketchbook.
. . . > Create two or three dozen collages for a one-man show.
. . . I'd better stop. If I think any more about this, I might start uncontrollably cackling the Woody Woodpecker laugh or perhaps find myself running around downtown Danville in my underpants screaming "I'm coo-coo for Cocoa-Puffs! Coo-coo for Cocoa-Puffs!"

Year in Review. . .
. . . Yesterday's holiday was celebrated at Yorkshire Estate, which joins Broadwing Farm as our two favorite places to enjoy America's birthday. Jerome summed it all up when he said grace, asking God to bless all those who have sacrificed their liberty so that we may continue to treasure ours. Today I swam and played with Marty, getting a bit too much sun, and in the morning I'll gather with Greystonians to "Break the Snake" (the traditional mountain-bike trek over Snake Ridge.) A splendid 3-day weekend to begin July!
. . . I can't believe that it's been well over a year since my last entry in this Web log, although I still keep up with my hardback journal on a regular basis. I thought about doing an annual summary in the Grammo format, but I realized that nobody can match her inimitable style. I won't permit myself to mimic it.
. . . Much of my 2002 summer and fall was dotted with numerous workouts to keep in shape for another endurance run. In October I completed the 25th Anniversary Chicago Marathon in 4:53. Man, does that city turn out for the event! Imagine a five-hour standing ovation in your honor, and you have some idea of the energy that keeps you going over 26.2 miles. It was fun to hear Tom Cooney's behind-the-scenes stories of coordinating the race, but most of all it was wonderful to stay with my Aunt Sis for a week as Dana and I took Marty on his first tour of the Windy City.
. . . Rosetta had declined significantly since we'd seen her earlier in the year, but did I really think it would be the last time? Dana and I returned for her funeral in November with Mombo and Joan, and it was a rough period for me, having been to Dayton for the funeral of Dan Seitz, and then losing two friends from Rotary, and then traveling to Ohio again to help Bill Barefoot say farewell to his dad, Walt. When Jeanne found out I'd been to four funerals she said, "That's it. I'm cutting you off!"
. . . I threw aside my sour disposition at year's end with a string of delightful holiday events, and also found great enjoyment in books. I read the new biography of my hero Sam Houston, and finally tackled Clavell's masterwork SHOGUN, cover to cover. Nothing like steeping yourself in the Samurai sensibility to dispel the pointless fear of one's inevitable demise. Only the eternal spirit is real. Life as a chapter in soul evolution is tenuous. Isn't it all a dew drop within a dew drop?
. . . The highlight of January was Brendan, our intern at Dixon Design, and it was truly beneficial to have him in the studio. The following month brought his participation in "The Laramie Project," an interesting showcase of his talent and a superb ensemble achievement, but the experience was nothing compared to his outstanding performance as Bri in "A Day in the Life of Joe Egg," certainly the stage pinnacle of his collegiate tenure.
. . . February 2003 will be remembered in the history of our Clan for Jay's courageous decision to reclaim his life, as well as the observance of Joan's remarkable ten-year recovery. Each of them is an inspiration to us all. A new decade for the family has begun!
. . . In March I got the good news that my efforts had paid off and Senator Jim Bunning would come to Danville to make a speech at our Salvation Army appreciation luncheon. It came after the satisfying exhaustion of completing the Website design for Barefoot's Resort. Then I found out that Bill's family was so pleased with my work that they wanted to give Dana and me a complimentary week at the resort "each summer for life." Wow.
. . . The countdown to the invasion of Iraq had everybody's nerves on edge. I dealt with it by reading excepts from the Powell and Schwarzkopf autobiographies. Suffice it to say the president exhibited much patience and walked an amazingly gradient path to bold action in order to protect the vital interests of our nation. Oh, that I had the language skills to adequately describe the dramatic scene in Baghdad when the "tipping point" arrived and the statue of Saddam came down as we remembered the Bataan sacrifice.
. . . Springtime brought the opportunity to do several creative works that gave me more satisfaction than my professional accomplishments: a Cosmorama for the Art-ful Raffle, two Cosmosaics for Holly Jo and Caitlan, and a Photorama plus Grandy-bo portrait for Brendan (one of my most expressive efforts to date). Now is the time to extend this enthusiasm to my studio design and put everything back into balance. How can I ever achieve the financial turnaround we need and push ahead with my Clan Valley dreams unless I bring the joy back to my work for clients? That's something to ponder next week when we take Marty to Michigan for our vacation together on the lake.


" I believe that total abstinence is the only way by which some intemperate drinkers can be saved. I know it from my own personal experience. When a person's appetite for stimulating beverages becomes uncontrollable, he should 'touch not, handle not.' If I cannot indulge in the use of the same in moderation, it is my misfortune."

. . . —SAM HOUSTON

July 5, 2002
One year ago . . .
. . . A terrific, memorable morning— Mark Morgan's 50th birthday 50-miler... timing was perfect, and I met Joni and him at Third & Lexington, 32 miles into his landmark run. Ran the rest with him (18 miles took 3 hours, 47 minutes). He was tired, but strong. There were times I could barely keep up with his pace... I've never run so far trying to keep up with someone else. But it all worked out fine in the end, and there was a reporter and photographer from the Advocate at the finish line at the Morgan home. I was at my limit, but recovered reasonably fast. So, now there is another "running saint" in the fitness community!

July 5, 2001
Two years ago . . .
. . . At the Cooney Abode. Perhaps the most perfect day of my adult life...

July 4, 2000
Three years ago . . .
. . . Happy Birthday, America! I don't know what it is (maybe the year 2K), but the holiday has really struck me this year. Oh heck, I know what it is— THE PATRIOT with Mel Gibson. Felt so strongly about it that I sent a Clanwide email note. This criticism about it not being accurate history misses the point (perhaps on purpose, eh?), and it's this— the motion picture is a political statement, made at a time when too many Americans are losing touch with the sacredness of our God-given freedoms, and the idea that they are worth defending, and, if necessary, sacrificing all to preserve.

July 5, 1999
Four years ago . . .
. . . To our own utter surprise, we bought a truck in Tennessee on our way from Wise, Virginia to Hot Springs, North Carolina. I've always had this daydream about finding some beautiful vintage GMC on a back road while driving through the South. Does buying an '87 Mazda from a parking lot in an industrial area of Johnson City count as the fulfillment of that fantasy?

July 4, 1997
Six years ago . . .
. . . The death of James Stewart has moved me. I think of his war service. If he had died then, I'm sure he would have gone down in history like Glen Miller and Ernie Pyle.

July 7, 1996
Seven years ago . . .
. . . Spent yesterday helping Uncle Bob and Aunt Carol sand and prepare the floor in their new house. I'm more than inspired by their progress and I'm glad they were there when we stopped. Last night we went down to Hot Springs for a pizza dinner at the Bridge Street Cafe and watched them shoot off fireworks later as we sat in the back of a pickup at the farm in front of the home construction site. Bob told the story of how Grandy shot an eagle by mistake. Dana and I drew the old barn they're planning to tear down, and I also did an illustration of the big Vulcan cook stove. It was great to walk up into the woods on the 200-year-old road to see the sweat lodge. Makes me realize how little effort it would require to have a nice trail and contemplation spot of our own. Went a bit overboard on my musings about Sam Houston, but Pete did seem interested in borrowing my Tecumseh biography by Eckert. That Josey sure is a precious little cherub. You could hardly conjure up a more ideal setting and scenario for a child to have growing up. Except for a playmate, and Mary and Pete are solving that— they announced that they're expecting in February.


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