Page One Hundred-Six.
I had breakfast this morning with the kid. I was positive he'd stand me up. Boy, was I surprised when he was waiting outside as I drove up at eight. And, I told him so. He admitted that he was surprised too. He'd been up until four playing X-Box, but he set seven different alarm clocks so he'd wake up. Ahhh... the life of a fifteen year old.
We had a nice chat. He's actually quite able to talk about the situation with his parents. He's an introspective person and that helps. I told him that he has a lot to work through and he'll only harm himself in the long run if he doesn't process the garbage. I think he listened to me. I mean, I think that he listened as much as a fifteen year old is capable of. We'll see.
He's off to camp next Monday and is excited about that. Then, when he returns, he's going to live with the middle brother who'll be an over-achieving college junior in the autumn. The kid also told me a bit more about his oldest brother who's a real mess. Son #1 was on a national TV trash talk show once for being a real piece of work. That's what a disaster he is. He's currently in a locked treatment center. I wish him luck. It's possible to come back from that level of sewer, but it ain't easy. Shem told me that he's chosen to not speak with this brother in over a year now. He has no use for him at all. This, coming from the mouth of a fifteen year old.
By the way, apparently, Shem is a very strong student. He's in honors classes. He was very impressed when I told him that my second B.A. was in Art History. He said that he studied it last year and it was killer. I told him that's what everybody says. People who don't know better, think that they're going to look at pretty pictures all day long. Little do they know that they're actually going to study history to a ridiculous degree all day long. It is killer.
This crew's future won't be dull.
Showing posts with label Art History. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Art History. Show all posts
Wednesday, July 10, 2013
Monday, March 18, 2013
Proof That I'm Getting Older
Page Fifty.
A couple of days ago, I was in the Cleveland Museum of Art, drinking some coffee and enjoying the new additions. Our museum is almost finished with their $350,000,000 addition, after ten long years, and it's beautiful. (That's right... $350,000,000, literally, just for an addition. Kind of amazing, huh?) The Cleveland art museum has had a great reputation for decades. Well now it's even better. The new inner courtyard is one of the largest public spaces in the state of Ohio. And now there's room in the galleries for all the Van Goghs.
(Can you imagine not having enough wall space for all your Van Gogh paintings? While I was working toward my degree in Art History, fifteen years ago, I ended up in the basement of the museum because I was studying some items not out on display. I noticed two Van Goghs hanging on pegboards in a dimly lit room. My jaw dropped when they explained, "we don't have wall space for everything".)
So anyhow, I'm sitting there and who walks over but my former next door neighbor when I lived with the Van Myms. I lived with them from spring '82, until summer '83 and nannied their two little girls. She informed me that the older one, who was six when I moved in, is now married and living on the East coast. The younger girl, who was three upon my entrance, is living with her boyfriend in Chicago. How old do I now feel?
It just isn't fair! Though I would never want to be twenty again, it seems unethical of God that I would ever have nannied someone who'd now be married. Of course, this feeling is nothing new. Of the three Shapiro boys, two are married. I lived with them from summer '83 'till summer '84, and then, again, from summer '86 'till summer '93. When I moved in with them in '83 the older one was eleven and the twins were eight. Both twins are now married with children of their own. The births of their kids over the last four years have REALLY done a job on my self-esteem. I simply can't be that old. Can I? Thankfully, those boys all turned out well and both Shapiro parents have pulled me aside at different times and given me much credit for how their kids developed. That helps ease the aging process.
But, back to the museum... The covered inner courtyard is one acre in size. It's essentially the size of a football field. Then, there are two floors of galleries that surround the courtyard on all four sides. So basically, it's a museum the size of a sports stadium with art where the seats should be. It's that big, but with architecture more beautiful than any stadium. And most stadiums aren't filled with art by: Turner, Caravaggio, Warhol, Monet, Picasso, Rodin, O'Keefe, Faberge, Renoir, Durer, Rembrandt and yes, Van Gogh. If you ever find yourself in Cleveland, Ohio stop by the art museum. Closed on Mondays, always free entrance.
A couple of days ago, I was in the Cleveland Museum of Art, drinking some coffee and enjoying the new additions. Our museum is almost finished with their $350,000,000 addition, after ten long years, and it's beautiful. (That's right... $350,000,000, literally, just for an addition. Kind of amazing, huh?) The Cleveland art museum has had a great reputation for decades. Well now it's even better. The new inner courtyard is one of the largest public spaces in the state of Ohio. And now there's room in the galleries for all the Van Goghs.
(Can you imagine not having enough wall space for all your Van Gogh paintings? While I was working toward my degree in Art History, fifteen years ago, I ended up in the basement of the museum because I was studying some items not out on display. I noticed two Van Goghs hanging on pegboards in a dimly lit room. My jaw dropped when they explained, "we don't have wall space for everything".)
So anyhow, I'm sitting there and who walks over but my former next door neighbor when I lived with the Van Myms. I lived with them from spring '82, until summer '83 and nannied their two little girls. She informed me that the older one, who was six when I moved in, is now married and living on the East coast. The younger girl, who was three upon my entrance, is living with her boyfriend in Chicago. How old do I now feel?
It just isn't fair! Though I would never want to be twenty again, it seems unethical of God that I would ever have nannied someone who'd now be married. Of course, this feeling is nothing new. Of the three Shapiro boys, two are married. I lived with them from summer '83 'till summer '84, and then, again, from summer '86 'till summer '93. When I moved in with them in '83 the older one was eleven and the twins were eight. Both twins are now married with children of their own. The births of their kids over the last four years have REALLY done a job on my self-esteem. I simply can't be that old. Can I? Thankfully, those boys all turned out well and both Shapiro parents have pulled me aside at different times and given me much credit for how their kids developed. That helps ease the aging process.
But, back to the museum... The covered inner courtyard is one acre in size. It's essentially the size of a football field. Then, there are two floors of galleries that surround the courtyard on all four sides. So basically, it's a museum the size of a sports stadium with art where the seats should be. It's that big, but with architecture more beautiful than any stadium. And most stadiums aren't filled with art by: Turner, Caravaggio, Warhol, Monet, Picasso, Rodin, O'Keefe, Faberge, Renoir, Durer, Rembrandt and yes, Van Gogh. If you ever find yourself in Cleveland, Ohio stop by the art museum. Closed on Mondays, always free entrance.
Friday, February 1, 2013
My Valentine's Day Cards
Page Thirty-One.
I'm technically not an artist. When all is said and done, concerning my secondary education, I ended up taking so much studio art that I was only two classes shy of a B.F.A. in 3-D art, (think: arts & crafts); this, on top of my first two majors: Interpersonal Communications and Art History. But I eventually got tired of going to school so I stopped. Guess that makes me an art-school drop out. So, I'm not a real artist, 'cause I don't have a degree in it. What am I then? Good question. I'll let you know when I find out.
In about '89, I received a cute little envelope in the mail from my friend, Filomena, on Valentine's Day. It was a charming construction paper valentine reminiscent of the the third grade. I called her and inquired and she explained that she simply felt like sending out cards that year. She made these retro cards and sent them to her close friends. I was thrilled and stunned. It was just too cool and I loved it. So the next year I did the same thing. My closer friends, clients, nieces, nephews, Shapiro kids and various stragglers all got home-made construction paper cards. They loved it and so did I. That had to have been about '90.
The next year I got a little more elaborate with my materials: lace, felt, silk flowers, etc. and I started including chocolate. Within a couple of years the things took on a life of their own. Every year since, it's a completely different design, using a totally new medium. There's always a heart shape involved somewhere. And there's always chocolate. A few years ago, I painted all the canvases in one of four colors. Then I glued on plastic jewels in a variety of shapes and colors, outlining the heart. Each canvas was completely different.
Some years ago, I went to a metal shop and commissioned then to cut small, rectangular shiny metal plates. I then made a heart-shaped template and placed the template over each metal plate. I proceeded to spray on glue and pour over shiny, tiny, red and silver glass beads. So the whole things had the feel of a child's typical glitter card, but on steroids, what with no glitter, instead glass on metal. Every year it's something completely over the top.
At some point in the '90's I also began including a child's store bought card in the package. Scooby-Doo, Superman, Barbie, Sponge Bob, Mickey Mouse etc. have all been included in the bag of chocolate at different times and they've contained the personal greeting as there's no place on the card itself.
Ever year, I insist that "this year's is the most frustrating". But I keep on doing 'em. I send out an average of four to five dozen per year, with the list always changing to reflect who's in my life presently. These are really my yearly greeting card, but in February, not December. (This year's edition involves hand-painted, hand-cut rigid plastic hearts which are then given a Christo treatment.) Every January and early February I insist that I won't survive 'till the fourteenth, but I always do. I don't know how.
The adults let me know how much they appreciate them, in no uncertain terms. But, my nieces and nephews and any children probably enjoy them the most. I'm perfectly okay with that.
I'm technically not an artist. When all is said and done, concerning my secondary education, I ended up taking so much studio art that I was only two classes shy of a B.F.A. in 3-D art, (think: arts & crafts); this, on top of my first two majors: Interpersonal Communications and Art History. But I eventually got tired of going to school so I stopped. Guess that makes me an art-school drop out. So, I'm not a real artist, 'cause I don't have a degree in it. What am I then? Good question. I'll let you know when I find out.
In about '89, I received a cute little envelope in the mail from my friend, Filomena, on Valentine's Day. It was a charming construction paper valentine reminiscent of the the third grade. I called her and inquired and she explained that she simply felt like sending out cards that year. She made these retro cards and sent them to her close friends. I was thrilled and stunned. It was just too cool and I loved it. So the next year I did the same thing. My closer friends, clients, nieces, nephews, Shapiro kids and various stragglers all got home-made construction paper cards. They loved it and so did I. That had to have been about '90.
The next year I got a little more elaborate with my materials: lace, felt, silk flowers, etc. and I started including chocolate. Within a couple of years the things took on a life of their own. Every year since, it's a completely different design, using a totally new medium. There's always a heart shape involved somewhere. And there's always chocolate. A few years ago, I painted all the canvases in one of four colors. Then I glued on plastic jewels in a variety of shapes and colors, outlining the heart. Each canvas was completely different.
Some years ago, I went to a metal shop and commissioned then to cut small, rectangular shiny metal plates. I then made a heart-shaped template and placed the template over each metal plate. I proceeded to spray on glue and pour over shiny, tiny, red and silver glass beads. So the whole things had the feel of a child's typical glitter card, but on steroids, what with no glitter, instead glass on metal. Every year it's something completely over the top.
At some point in the '90's I also began including a child's store bought card in the package. Scooby-Doo, Superman, Barbie, Sponge Bob, Mickey Mouse etc. have all been included in the bag of chocolate at different times and they've contained the personal greeting as there's no place on the card itself.
Ever year, I insist that "this year's is the most frustrating". But I keep on doing 'em. I send out an average of four to five dozen per year, with the list always changing to reflect who's in my life presently. These are really my yearly greeting card, but in February, not December. (This year's edition involves hand-painted, hand-cut rigid plastic hearts which are then given a Christo treatment.) Every January and early February I insist that I won't survive 'till the fourteenth, but I always do. I don't know how.
The adults let me know how much they appreciate them, in no uncertain terms. But, my nieces and nephews and any children probably enjoy them the most. I'm perfectly okay with that.
Friday, December 14, 2012
On Becoming An Activities Professional
Page Ten.
As somebody who gets bored easily, I tend to collect professions, and education.
In the summer of 1998 I'd just finished school... again. This time with a B.A. (my second) in Art History. I enjoyed learning about Art History very much and found it a useful tool. With it, I imagined, I'd be the perfect party guest. With my first B.A. (Interpersonal Communications) I learned to speak with almost anyone. Now with this second degree I had something to speak about. After all, just about everybody likes art, right? So my two degrees prepared me to be a great dinner party conversationalist. I was thrilled.
Dinner party conversationalists can get paid a lot of money too, if they attend the right parties. Therein lies the problem. I didn't attend the right parties. So I became a hairdresser.
I've been a licensed hairdoer since 1981 and occasionally find myself actually doing hair. Such was the case in the summer of '98 after graduating. It was really a case of "nothing else to do, so I'll go do hair."
That particular salon, the one where I worked from summer '98 to summer '99, is a separate story; but come spring of '99 I was getting antsy.I really wasn't looking to leave, but I was getting bored; I simply needed some additional incentive to wake up in the morning. In one of my "flashes of inspiration" I decided to go to a hospital near my home and start volunteering. Innocent enough, right?
So I called University Hospitals of Cleveland which is four blocks closer to me than the Cleveland Clinic and asked to speak with their volunteer department. I introduced myself very politely and explained that I'd like to volunteer to do arts & crafts with the sick children at Rainbow Babies and Children's Hospital. The Nice Lady and I talked for a little while and the Nice Lady explained that that wasn't a volunteer position. However as it happened, on the prior day there was a resignation in the Hanna House Activities Department. Hanna House was U. H.'s post-operative step down or recuperation hospital, she explained. It was primarily geriatric and had a very quick turnover of residents (patients). The average stay was 12-14 days 'cause most people were simply there after receiving their new knees or hips. Some residents were there for other various and sundry medical experiments; new heads, new souls, etc. but really it was a lot of hips and knees.
Activities Professionals are the cruise directors of the hospital she explained. They're the people who provide the cherry smiles, the Bingo boards, the radios and the parties and by law they must be in every nursing facility. Hanna House's licensing was technically that of a nursing facility. She though I should apply for the job and transferred me over.
I left a message on Miss Leigh's voice mail explaining my situation. She called me back and I went in for an interview the next week. The interview went pleasantly but she explained that the job wasn't even posted yet, so the situation needed to be handled with proper protocol. Before Miss Leigh could make any decision, the job availability needed to go out to all hospital staff and she had to interview anyone interested. About four or five weeks later, Miss Leigh called me back and offered me the part-time job. She explained that I would start the second week of July so I could be scheduled for the proper orientation. All in all, from my first innocent phone call to the volunteer department to my first day working at Hanna House it was about twelve weeks.
I was really quite nervous about working in that environment. During the twelve weeks of forced contemplation, I thought a lot about this potential career change. I certainly had experience with elderly, Lord knows, but not in a hospital - such an official capacity! Also, my professional experience was with people who primarily required companionship, not outright care. But I didn't let Miss Leigh know of my serious concerns. After all, I collect experiences and stories. I love to live on the edge and challenge myself. I wasn't going to let a potential new boss know that I was scared to death to actually receive the job that I was applying for.
So that's how I started in the activities field. It was totally out of left field. But basically the profession was a good fit. It took advantage of many of my strengths. I don't know that I'll ever go back into it, but I also know that if I ever try to predict and bet where my life's path will wind, I'm guaranteed to loose my investment.
As somebody who gets bored easily, I tend to collect professions, and education.
In the summer of 1998 I'd just finished school... again. This time with a B.A. (my second) in Art History. I enjoyed learning about Art History very much and found it a useful tool. With it, I imagined, I'd be the perfect party guest. With my first B.A. (Interpersonal Communications) I learned to speak with almost anyone. Now with this second degree I had something to speak about. After all, just about everybody likes art, right? So my two degrees prepared me to be a great dinner party conversationalist. I was thrilled.
Dinner party conversationalists can get paid a lot of money too, if they attend the right parties. Therein lies the problem. I didn't attend the right parties. So I became a hairdresser.
I've been a licensed hairdoer since 1981 and occasionally find myself actually doing hair. Such was the case in the summer of '98 after graduating. It was really a case of "nothing else to do, so I'll go do hair."
That particular salon, the one where I worked from summer '98 to summer '99, is a separate story; but come spring of '99 I was getting antsy.I really wasn't looking to leave, but I was getting bored; I simply needed some additional incentive to wake up in the morning. In one of my "flashes of inspiration" I decided to go to a hospital near my home and start volunteering. Innocent enough, right?
So I called University Hospitals of Cleveland which is four blocks closer to me than the Cleveland Clinic and asked to speak with their volunteer department. I introduced myself very politely and explained that I'd like to volunteer to do arts & crafts with the sick children at Rainbow Babies and Children's Hospital. The Nice Lady and I talked for a little while and the Nice Lady explained that that wasn't a volunteer position. However as it happened, on the prior day there was a resignation in the Hanna House Activities Department. Hanna House was U. H.'s post-operative step down or recuperation hospital, she explained. It was primarily geriatric and had a very quick turnover of residents (patients). The average stay was 12-14 days 'cause most people were simply there after receiving their new knees or hips. Some residents were there for other various and sundry medical experiments; new heads, new souls, etc. but really it was a lot of hips and knees.
Activities Professionals are the cruise directors of the hospital she explained. They're the people who provide the cherry smiles, the Bingo boards, the radios and the parties and by law they must be in every nursing facility. Hanna House's licensing was technically that of a nursing facility. She though I should apply for the job and transferred me over.
I left a message on Miss Leigh's voice mail explaining my situation. She called me back and I went in for an interview the next week. The interview went pleasantly but she explained that the job wasn't even posted yet, so the situation needed to be handled with proper protocol. Before Miss Leigh could make any decision, the job availability needed to go out to all hospital staff and she had to interview anyone interested. About four or five weeks later, Miss Leigh called me back and offered me the part-time job. She explained that I would start the second week of July so I could be scheduled for the proper orientation. All in all, from my first innocent phone call to the volunteer department to my first day working at Hanna House it was about twelve weeks.
I was really quite nervous about working in that environment. During the twelve weeks of forced contemplation, I thought a lot about this potential career change. I certainly had experience with elderly, Lord knows, but not in a hospital - such an official capacity! Also, my professional experience was with people who primarily required companionship, not outright care. But I didn't let Miss Leigh know of my serious concerns. After all, I collect experiences and stories. I love to live on the edge and challenge myself. I wasn't going to let a potential new boss know that I was scared to death to actually receive the job that I was applying for.
So that's how I started in the activities field. It was totally out of left field. But basically the profession was a good fit. It took advantage of many of my strengths. I don't know that I'll ever go back into it, but I also know that if I ever try to predict and bet where my life's path will wind, I'm guaranteed to loose my investment.
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