Bye, Karl, and Thank You

    Karl Kilinski II (1946 - 2011)


Karl Kilinski II, archaeologist, art historian and perpetual traveler to exotic lands, 64, died Thursday, Jan. 6, 2011. Service: There will be a gathering of friends and family from 5 to 7 p.m. Tuesday at the Modern Art Museum of Fort Worth. Memorials: SMU, The Karl Kilinski II Fund, P.O. Box 750281, Dallas, Texas 75275-0281, or in Karl's words "I do not want flowers, sympathies or well wishes. Karl is gone; do something constructive for existing humanity instead." Karl was born in New Orleans, La., April 24, 1946, to Karl and Virginia Oliver Kilinski. He received his Ph.D. in classical art history and archaeology, University of Missouri, 1974. At Southern Methodist University he was a university distinguished teaching professor, teaching classical art, Greek myth and art, and Egyptian art. He was the recipient of numerous honors and awards in his fields including Outstanding Professor and Godbey Lecture Series Author Award. As an archaeologist, he participated in both underwater and land excavations in Greece. He was senior Research Fellow for the American School of Classical Studies in Athens, Greece, director of Academic Programs in Greece, Japan and Cairo, board member of The Society for the Preservation of Greek Heritage, The Ambassador's Committee of Friends of Greece, and more. He was widely published in scholarly journals and the author of several books on the subjects of Greek vase painting and myth in art. His recent work "Greek Myth in Western Art" has just been accepted for publication by Cambridge University Press. His educational tours focused on the Mediterranean, Turkey, Egypt and Africa. He had guest curatorships and was a symposium organizer for various museums such as the Kimbell Art Museum, New Orleans Museum of Art, San Antonio Art Museum and the Meadows Museum of Art, along with lecture tours for the Archaeological Institute of America. At SMU, he was on the Advisory Committee to International Programs, the Review Committees for Classical Studies Program and Medieval Studies Program and involved in the Master of Liberal Studies Program. He was the chair of the Art History Division 1981-1987 and 1998-2001. "The world is a great book, and those who do not travel see only one page." -St. Augustine. Survivors: Gunnie Corbett; brother, Robert Kilinski and Linda Cooke; niece, Anna Kilinski; nephews, Steve Kilinski, his wife, Jessica, and their children, Roman and Connor; Kenneth Kilinski; cousin, Jinna Gutches, her husband, Bill, and their children, Shaun and Scott Calliham; Gunnie's family, Bradford Corbett Jr., his wife, Jennifer, and their children, Ford and Turner Corbett; Pamela Corbett Murrin and her children, Carlotta and Stephen Olav Murrin; and Todd Corbett, his wife, Tessa.

Karl in Yazilikaya, Turkey, 2008.

Karl in Istanbul lecturing about the tomb of Alexander, 2007.

Karl enjoyed drinking raki while visiting Turkey.

Here he poses with Julian and Hakan, the other two Rakiteers. 2008.

Hakan sent us a poignant text: "3 rakiteers - 1 rakiteer = 2 rakiteers."

And he will be sorely missed by us all.

Photographs of Karl in Turkey by E B Hawley.

Air Tractor Lomographically

King Air Lomographically

Jenny Lomographically

Whooping Crane Spotted by Game Warden

           Large numbers of Meadowlarks sit on posts that run along the fields where 20,000 Sandhill Cranes, and one Whooping Crane, have alighted to rest for a couple of weeks during their journey south.
           In addition, we spotted many Kestrels, Red-tailed Hawks, and three or four other species of hawks.

        The flocks of blackbirds, from Cowbirds, to Brown-headed Blackbirds, to Red-wing Blackbirds, seem impressive in their size. 

         As we drove away, not having spotted the Whooping Crane ourselves, the Sandhills rose up and in a cacophony circled above the field.

              They deftly avoided mid-air collisions. 

20,001 Cranes

          Game Warden McMahen spotted one Whooping Crane among a flock of Sandhill Cranes, estimated at 20,000 in number. In a nearby field, I spotted a large flock of blackbirds. 

Tour by Pops

Crew Chief Pops opened the doors to one of the hangars at Sheppard Air Force Base.

The aircraft mechanics ensure safe airplanes for the pilots.

Powerful thrusters on a fighter jet.

Though serving as training tools for students, the aircraft look impressive nonetheless.

We sat in the pilot's seat.

Pops revealed a small door.

A B-52 requires wheels at the end of each wing due to their weight. Here, I show the wings empty of fuel, lessening their weight. At full tanks, the wings dip toward the ground. 

Inside the front wheel well. 

Walking around the large aircraft provided for artistic views of curves and asymmetry. 

A 130 sat nearby, looking impressive, too.

A 135 and a 130 standing behind it.

The planes require chains for tethers. That's the tower in the background. 

The frightening A-10.

A mechanic's design.

Of the Sweetness in Cows

The prairie has now turned the colors of winter. In the meantime, calves are born.

A calf nurses.

The dad.

A cow watches us intently, as if attempting to hypnotize us: "Range cubes. Give us range cubes. Yum."

Eclipse at Solstice

         Waiting for the lunar eclipse, I admired the sunset the previous evening behind one of my favorite trees. Clouds covered the sky, but we felt sure they would part long enough to give us a crisp view of the eclipse. When the eclipse began, I realized that my tripod cannot hold my camera vertically, and that if I improvised, I still could hardly look through the view finder. Still, though the photo does not show the glory of the event, my memory still can picture the colors and depth of the moon and the surrounding stars.

The next morning, on one of my fave trees rested at Great Blue Heron, on a branch, on one leg.

Nature is grand.

Second Cross Country

Tossed like a salad. Whipped like cream. Tumbled like clothes in a dryer. That's how I felt this morning flying through 30 knot headwinds south to Decatur. I landed there with the wind at 17 knots gusting to 22, and my tongue hanging out. But my mission continued. I took off to Graham around 1800 Zulu and into calmer winds, landing there on runway 18 with 5 knot winds. At the fixed base operator, I met Bill who handed me the binder that Cathy, president of our chapter of the 99s, left there for me, and I in turn left her an envelope for her. The worst of the winds had passed by, and the remaining leg felt less bumpy. Two missions accomplished: Flying for my cross country requirements, and picking up the binder in Graham. I phoned MyMrMallory to say I would arrive home very soon.

Image by my iPhone of my way home.

First Two Legs

Cellphone image of my props while flying over North Central Texas.

Over my nose I sought the runway a bit south of the town of Childress. En route, I looked over my right wing to try to spot Vernon's runways while listening to their AWOS (current weather data), and discovered that while the wind blew to the south there, the wind in Childress blew to the north, despite the small distance of 50 nautical miles between the two towns.

When I arrived in Childress, I did not know where to taxi my plane, except toward an old hangar with its doors wide open. I followed old, faint, yellow lines toward the hangar, and parked in front of it.

Cellphone image of the tail of my plane and a large hangar at the airport in Childress. As I hopped off my wing, bearing my log book, I wondered about whom I would meet, and that surely they would be nice folks. Eventually, a lady emerged from a small building next to the hangar. She was chasing a cat. She waved at me and asked me if she could help me. "Oh, yes!" I said. "I'm on my first leg of my cross-country. Would you sign my logbook for me?" And so we stepped inside the small building, the fixed base operator of Childress, and while Debra signed my logbook, I sipped some good coffee she had just made. "Do you know Mary?" I asked. And Debra said Mary had taught her cousin to fly.

From Childress, I took off to Vernon. I critiqued myself about my pre-take off, finding myself neglectful of an important thing that should become a good habit: Walk around the plane before boarding.

The flight to Vernon took only twenty minutes, which I expected. What I did not expect was to come upon the runways so suddenly. Listening again to their AWOS, hearing the voice say the wind came from the north at a scant five miles per hour, I chose to land on runway 35. Did not like back taxiing toward the fixed base operator on the runway, then having to cross over runway 2, before reaching the parking area. The reason I feel queasy about it, aside from my inexperience flying, is that crop dusters tend to fly around with no radios, and so I don't know their positions. Do they know mine? In flying we rely on looking out the window all over the sky, up and down, side to side, to avoid a mid-air collision. You think you can hardly see a motorcycle on the road? Aircraft look like pinheads in a universe of sky. I've heard a good expression to keep in mind: Keep your head on a swivel.

"Cherokee that just landed Wilbarger will you be needing fuel?"

"Ah, no. Thanks."

I had not shut down my engine when Randy, the source of the voice on the radio, a staff member of Vernon's fixed base operator came bounding out with a set of choks. I climbed out and said, "I'm on a cross-country. Would you sign my logbook for me, please?"

"Sure. You know Lawrence?"

"Yes, I know Lawrence."

"He was just here. He heard you on the radio and said you'd be heading this way."

Inside, I asked Randy if he has seen any Horned Lizards lately.

"Yeah. We see them when we mow."

"I saw one on the taxiway and I think I ran over it. I feel badly about that."

"There's plenty to replace that one."

Now I know of two airports where they make good coffee. I sipped coffee while two young men drove up in a truck and entered the building. They were looking for jobs, and Randy pointed them toward another building.

Before boarding, I walked around my plane to make sure it was good to go. As I sat in the pilot's seat, I watched the wind sock. The AWOS indicated calm winds. Over my cowling lay the wide grasslands that make up North Central Texas, with two runways. I did not want to back taxi to 34, so I taxiid to runway 2, and with a calm crosswind, I took off. As I turned gently to the south-east, I radioed Randy. "Hey, Randy, try not to mow over those horned toads!"



Dabbling with Lomo

Montage of pictures with 35mm film and plastic camera.

David Martin, aviator extraordinnaire, flew his P-51, the fastest airplane during WWII, to Wichita Falls. David also flies the Curtiss Jenny, an airplane built during WWI.

At top, to his right, Robert Seabury and Bill English visit with him.

Montage showing King Airs and Cessnas waiting for the fuel truck at Abilene airport.

Top left, a Stenson arrives after a mid-morning flight around Wichita Valley Airport.

Montage of aviator hanging around an airport on a windy day.

On the Blog Again

Abstract Art in Nature

A stone looks like the head of a crocodile with teeth.

Centuries of flowing water made this stone smooth.

The surface of the water serves as a mirror to the forest. 

Nature looks beautiful wherever she takes root to grow.

Dedications at Wild Bird Rescue

Missi greeted Wild Bird Rescue's many guests at the memorial ceremony this afternoon. Though winds outside the center gusted to forty-five miles per hour, several families, friends, and volunteers celebrated the touching ceremony of the Chimney Swift Tower in memory of Janiece Vitek, and Missi's Mew in memory of Brittani Maye Gossett.

Glenda cut the ribbon to dedicate the Chimney Swift Tower while her husband John watched, and Wild Bird Rescue's treasurer, John, and Alicia, super volunteer and rehabilitator, held the ribbon.

BirdManBob received a hug.

The Gossett family supported Melanie in cutting the ribbon to dedicate Missi's mew.

 Missi's Mom and Wild Bird Rescue's vice-president, Terry, held the ribbon.