World War II Planes in the Sky

Oh, Gnome Skips Lecture . . . Again.

It's just that ever since I moved to Texas in 1984 I have developed an increasing interest in its history and people; so, when the Kemp Center for the Arts and the MSU Museum of Art collaborate on a field trip to visit artists and art museums within a two hour drive -- I cannot resist going in lieu of attending lecture by a fabulous professor. Yes, it is a difficult decision, a tug of interests: Reduce my ignorance in South and Southwest literature or reduce my ignorance in regional art? I visited Joe Barrington at his home and studio, met his lovely wife JJ -- whose striking work caught my attention -- then met Bonnie Siebert at her house and studio. I chatted with them about their work, listened as they told me tidbits about life in general, and felt intrigued by everything. At the end of the field trip I had the opportunity to see JJ's work in Albany: Several photographs of women in several poses, with and without suitcases, either returning or leaving, sitting on the [sidestep] of a 50s car, or walking up (or down) the railroad. JJ asked the viewer to ponder about the circumstance of the women in the photos; I said, they're too smart to remain in one place and they need to see the world. JJ responded that if that's what I felt they did, then that's what they did. Cool exercise that made me wonder what other women thought about the subjects in the photos.

Gnome Weeps

The Kiowa Kooks gave away thousands of hot dogs to the troops who arrived from Fort Sill to watch the ballgame between West Texas A&M and MSU. The soldiers looked so young to me; men and women just like them -- Adams, Carter, Martin, and thousands more -- did not return from Iraq alive. So young. As they stood in line and took a hotdog, they said thanks to the Kiowa Kooks. I watched them through tears in my eyes.

Gnome Sits in Cockpit

Not only did Mac agree to spend an hour or two posing for us with his cropduster plane, he hauled it out onto the grass where photographs of it could have a nice background, then started the engine for us, and then even helped us climb aboard to sit in the cockpit.

Sharon Isbin, Guitarrist

She looked beautiful and she appeared to feel the music deeply. Her notes flowed with life and spirit.

Gnome Eyes Turkey Again

I look forward to a journey to Turkey next May -- the Black Sea, more precisely, with Karl's group, many miles from where we jaunted last May in Ephesus, pictured above, which provided a "soupcon" of the wonderfulness that is Turkey.

Karl Breezed into Town to Give a Marvelous Lecture

Gnome's travel companion showed slides in Shawnee Theatre. The slides depicted narratives of the various mythological stories told in ancient Greek and Roman periods. He called his paper "Didactic Dining in Pompeii," which seems so reflective of his interests, namely, food and art; yet, the paper explained that the frescoes reminded the people who dined in the room of the moralistic message of the stories. For example, people who engage in unjust behaviour will receive punishment to pay for the transgression. I particularly enjoyed looking at frescoes, though familiar, of the legend of Icarus and Daedelus. And folks in the audience seemed interested in Karl's lecture, for they asked him questions for about a half hour; questions varied from architecture to biology to art. At home, John Phillips waited for us with a great meal of red snapper and veggies, which we subsequently and happily followed with a nice port wine Chef John found for our enjoyment. Karl left about seven o'clock, and Soos left a little afterwards. Mr. Mallory phoned, sounding exhausted, from the airport. "Is it over already?" And I said, "Yes, you can come home now." My comment made him laugh, tiredly. When he returned home I warmed the food Chef John prepared for him. Though Mr. Mallory missed visiting with Karl and Soos, at least he ate VERY well when he returned home.

Oklahoma is OK!

At the museum of art in downtown Oklahoma City Dale Chihuly exhibits his wondrous work in glass art. The photo above shows part of the ocean hallway. Here and there he includes cheruby angels, and in my photograph I include a human angel who admires his work. Dale Chihuly's exhibit provides a visual and visceral experience to the visitor.


Not far from downtown stands an historic mansion where the community-minded fellow Mr. Oberholser lived during the early part of last century. The windows depicting musicians caught my eye.


Nearby, the Harn Farm, donated by the Harn family to the city, still maintains the buildings used some decades ago. I took a photograph of the inside of the Stoney Brook schoolhouse, which closed in the mid-1950's.


Of all things I saw, the small space between two rooms upstairs in the Oberholser Mansion seemed the most inviting to me: a painting; a bookcase with encyclopedias and a dictionary; and a chair to sit in while I read them.


Later in the day, walking around Bricktown I came upon a sculpture of an apparent African-American pushing a large sphere up two parallel metal rails. I thought it looked beautiful. Did it symbolize Sisyphus and his struggles to reflect the struggles that our black people endure in our predominantly white culture? I do not know, and nor could I discover the name of the artist, which gives me a second reason to re-visit the sculpture sometime in the future.

Gnome at An End

This morning a dove took flight. I felt happy for her, except that she needs to remain in her cage to recover from her head trauma. She surprised me with her nimble and sudden escape; the moment I opened her little cage door, she jumped from her perch and flew under my hand. Second thing I thought: Close all three doors. Third thing: She seems safe under the table, so I cleaned her cage, brought fresh food and water, then proceeded to thinking about action number four: Capture her. So I gently walked toward her, which frightened her, of course, so she jumped up and flapped her wings to move away from me. She stopped at a corner. So I had to then proceed to action number five, but I didn't know how to capture her. I thought of myself as MUCH smarter than this -- plunging into things not having thought them through. Just then, instinct over-powered me; my hands zoomed toward the dove and grasped her gently. I held her by her legs to allow her to flap her wings. She soon calmed down and returned to her cage with nary a flap or chirp.

The crisis of the week began a couple of days ago when BirdManBob found a case of pox in Flight Room A. The birds in there -- several mockingbirds, a few bluejays and some sparrows and doves -- must remain quarantined in the same room for the next couple of weeks.

Rosemary Rumbly

Rosemary came to visit us today. Her name sounds . . . alliterative. At one point during her speech, she began to sing a song from 1927 -- something about acquiring things for free -- and some in the audience sang along with her. I felt my eyes become teary. I wished I could have remained for the rest of her speech, for she seemed clever and fun to watch. Only my handsome Mr. Mallory could make me leave, especially because of what he wanted to do this evening: Fly in the darkness.

Monks in Dallas

The Buddhist monks began the construction of a mandala yesterday at the Crow Collection building. The deep and touching chanting lasted about thirty minutes. I swooned a bit by their vocal vibrations and the very thought of the deep faith in their god. During the next week, they will pour millions of colored grains of sand into the design. After they finish the construction, its dismantling will reflect change, impermanence, and its grains distributed in a body of flowing water as blessings for healing and health.


A grandmother explained things to the little girl whose attention, in turn, seemed consumed by the exhibit of another culture. Love the dude in the photograph.


An artist sketched some of the colorful scene.


I felt blessed for everything and for a lovely day in Dallas with my Mr. Mallory. So inspired did he feel that he chanted as we strolled under these trees.


A fellow and his young daughter agreed it was a perfect day to bring out the 1971 Triumph, top down, of course.


Another pretty day in Texas.
For information on the construction of the mandala this week, visit www.crowcollection.org

Gnome's Pen Digs Deep

It makes no sense to me now to worry about *not* writing a poem every week to hand in to my professor. I awoke at three o'clock in the morning with a few phrases swirling inside my head. Despite fatigue and clever warnings about writing something that has come to my head seemingly in a flash, I made my way to the other room and started tapping on the keyboard. The result seems a nice poem, ten per cent good, and the rest of its excellency depends on anyone else's taste. Taste brings me to another concern of mine these days: Define the term "taste."

Another Woman Having Fun: Fourth in a Series

Top medical gal at Duke, Dr. Nancy Andrews.

Farewell to the Feisty. We Will Miss You.

Toby Talbot's image of Grace Paley for the Associated Press.

Gnome Soon to Exhibit

I have begun my preparations for an exhibit at the public library. My theme will be "Women." Other members of my photography club will exhibit their work along with mine.

Gnome's Friend from another Dimension

So, this morning I was thinking that I needed to read aloud the poem I had started a couple of months ago while in Delphi, so I printed it, stood in the middle of the room, and began to read it out loud. At the same time, the volume of the stereo increased and I started to hear, loudly, Chopin’s Etude #12, so loudly, that I stopped my reading. It’s my friend Jeff; I know it’s him, because the poem is about him. The music ended when my poem ended, and the volume has now decreased. I sit here shaking my head and delighted, too, that Jeff likes my poem, and has even put it to music.

Gnome and Maasai Warrior

Here I am pointing on my digital camera at the image I took of him, but he wouldn't look at it, though he hovered over me the whole time. In two vastly differently cultures, humans remain the same. This photo was taken by Mike Davis during chuckles.

Great Women of the World: Wangari Maathai

In reading Wangari's memoir, I came upon something she told to a reporter in 1992: "A woman politician needs the hyde of an elephant." Likewise, in the United States, women such as Elizabeth Dole, Geraldine Ferraro, today Nancy Pelosi and most notably Hillary Clinton, develop methods to shield themselves from the jabs of their detractors. With time (one of many true friends) and persistence, a woman develops a "thick skin" -- perhaps thicker than the skin of some of the men around her -- that enables her to proceed with the equanimity she needs to make weighty decisions, to sleep well during her naps and in the evenings, and to maintain emotional and physical health.
I consider Wangari's memoir relevant reading for everyone, environmentalists especially.
"Unbound, One Woman's Story," published by William Heinemann:London. 2006.

London Seems All the More Wonderful in the Company of Friends

At home, my Mr. Mallory's grandfather clock, which is as old as I am, chimes in a similar manner as Big Ben. Admiring Big Ben from my hotel window, I noted that its ninth chime sounds as flat as my Mr. Mallory's clock. There is a difference, of course, in that though much older, Big Ben's chimes sound as if it pounds harder, as if it demonstrates the feisty courage of the people who live and grow all around it; yet its ninth note sounds as improbable as the one made by the grandfather clock at home. Having heard the Big Ben, the all mighty of Westminster chimes, I will return home to hear our grandfather clock, and rather than wonder why the Clock Doc gives me a puzzled look when I ask him to fix that note, I'll cherish hearing it for having to sound flat at all.

I sat on one of the front steps at the entrance to the British Library. Occasionally, I raised my camera to look at a scene through its lens, composing, make adjustments to its settings that depended on the lighting created by the passing cumulous clouds; or I sat feeling perfectly content to watch the people around me. People walked past me in a determined manner. Perhaps they headed toward the same exhibit I went there to see with my friends. "Sacred" is the largest gathering of holy books in one place, beautifully exhibited by the British Library and the reason that took me there.

Lovely cumulous clouds gave a picturesque background to possible images: the spires of the Pancras station reaching above the conference center wing of the library; a young woman wearing a "peace and love" t-shirt munching on food from her bowl; an older couple sitting on a bench to rest from their journey to the library before entering the building; and then, there they were, my friends Jim and Lynn walking toward me, making another image to remember, with the sun shining on their faces and their arms up and waving at me as I looked in their direction. For the first time I was able to put into words something I have long noticed, that they both have beautiful smiles beaming under bright eyes. What a treat that they joined me to view the exhibit of holy books.

The exhibit seemed as remarkable as I had imagined. So was, I thought, sitting at a sidewalk cafe sipping coffee and tea with Lynn and Jim. It seemed, and I'll always remember it this way, a marvelous interlude in my journey to Kenya.

Gnome on the Way

I phoned my Mr. Mallory three times this morning on my way to DFW airport. I just could not say "I love you" enough, and I relished hearing him tell me he loves me -- we cooed together all morning over the phone.

Going through security seemed easy, compared to what I expect on Tuesday at Heathrow on my way to Nairobi.

One fun and grand part of this trip will be to see Lynn at the British Library. We will meet tomorrow at 1:30 p.m. to study the exhibit "Sacred."