First Post: Curly-Haired Girls & “Hair in Art” discussion of the two Marys.

by admin

I have been meaning to start this category for quite a while, and today is the day!

There is so much to say, but I’m trying to learn “edit” to essence. Baby steps.

So I’ll start.

Dedication Page

This was inspired by the sisterhood of:

Gina Graves Lloyd

Lisa Revare Hickok

Lenise Rudnick Ward

Lacy Amelia Adams

Janet Rosel Willimon

The Bijin Curly Haired Girl Consultant

and all of the other curly-haired women

in life with whom I’ve discussed hair.

So, this is the reason why today was the day.

I have tried to capture my head in this picture to illustrate my morning.

Attempting front and back view of hair breaking into freedom.

[This picture was trying to give you both a front view with the cowlicks at the side, and the back with the super tight curl at nape but frizzy fluff on top. My genre of au natural(ly) curly hair takes a bit of work & product to look good. I have done nothing + wind. ]

I woke up early, so started the day at 6:30 yoga fix, armed with every possible makeup and toiletry item to hit the ground running in this part of town after my bakery pickup.  But of course, there is always the one forgotten item. In this case, two.

Now I can handle the day perfectly fine without one or the other (and we all can admit to goin’ cowboy a time or two by necessity, can’t we?). But both the up under and the down under is just a bit too risqué. My dress was floaty, there was a slight wind, and I get my pain au chocolat at Hi Hat* right by yoga.

[*Which, by the way, in the summer is so intimidating on the front brickyard that I now wait inside and chat with Jamie].

Main idea here:  at 52, no one wants to witness a dress that (as Shirley MacLaine said to her daughter Meryl Streep) “just twirled up!” or a Courtney Love stray mamelon, even through fabric.

So, I was left without the blow-dry to pick up my baked goods, clutching my jean jacket at the waist and anchoring my chiffonade-ish fabric.

But I was thinking as I was driving back to The Illinois where I live in Hyde Park….

what if, just today,

I first put as much energy,

at the beginning of the day,

on a conscious focus

of controlling self: thoughts, words, actions, deeds

instead of

controlling the true integrity of my hair?

[and actually, I have to confess that upon downloading the picture, I noticed my Grandmother’s Zorach Madonna and Child that are on the demi-lune under the mirror. So of course, I had to look up some pictures in Gardner’s Art Through the Ages to see pictures of both the Virgin Mary and Mary Magdalen to see if they had curly hair. This is not to compare myself with their thoughts, words, actions and deeds, though I wonder if subconciously I may have been doing so (so, ego check, though it is always good to aspire to great women).

Mainly, I just wanted to check out their hair. For the record, Mary Magdalen usually has just a bit of a wave which is pretty low maintenance. She is most often portrayed as a bit weary which is of course her sorrow at finding Jesus’ body removed, but also understandable given her early life.  The Virgin Mary always has that veil over her head. I bet she realized early on that the Son of God was going to be a bit of an unruly-handful-of-a-boy to the point of going missing that day he ran off to his Father’s house, which scares any parent silly. By the way, the storyteller Reverend Paul Rock at Second Pres gives me all this great material. Check him out.]

So here in my confession of the meaning

of that tangent, or lack? of focus…

I am not sure sometimes

when I do try to control what I can,

my thoughts, words, actions, deeds

if I am doing so,

or if I am going on some other path?

And so this reminder again.

When I direct my gaze,

I should pause so often

to recognize

that I am only

a soldier.

Bastille Day with the KU Thetas! Running through Paris barefoot with heels in hand for dinner at La Tour d’Eiffel! Naked men at the Lido!

by admin

Pont d'Iena. Vous ne pouvez pas passer, mademoiselle!

[note: this is word for word from my journal-sketchbook notes, my thoughts today in red.]

Monday July 14, 1980.  raining.

Woke at 9:00.  Susan Keck and Cindy Brown were at train station. Gave them directions to my hotel, headed to run 3 miles, breakfast, and waited for their arrival. They weren’t here until noon. They walked from Place de la Concorde!!!

Cindy Bean [Cindy was with KU French, the group I traveled with before Parsons] came over and we talked all afternoon. They, they headed to walk to the Eiffel Tower.

I went to le St. Germain Café for un café and letter writing. The sun did peep its head out for about 15 minutes. Yea!!

While running, I was able to see the military parade for Bastille Day. It was exciting, all blue coats, french flags and military music. The people that actually were in crowd at the parade got caught in the flow and were almost swept away! They said you have to move with the crowd or be trampled. Lots of grabbing hands that “wanted American Girls Bottoms,” they told me.

[darn, I missed it! No, honestly, the French men terrified me. I was just dying to see a good, wholesome & safe, midwestern boy in t-shirt  & bermudas with crew socks that summer, but there were none to be found in Paris. They were probably over in Amsterdam going going for the hard-core! :)].

Mom called back and I loved talking to her. [I had called my mother. Back in that day, one didn’t speak with their parents all summer if they were abroad. This was an emotional emergency after a stressful day with grand-mère.].

Dinner at 7:30-was supposed to be at the Hotel Regina to meet Granda at 6:30. Mom and I finished talking (I’m in jeans) and it’s 6:45.

[later, after the evening’s events]

I’m writing again with a report of mon soir de souvenir. After my earlier report,  I tore into a dress and headed out on this evening of adventure. Late. took off heels & put in my hand and ran! Running through the streets of Paris, barefoot w/ shoes & purse in hand. Arrived at 7:00, seeing my destination.

Thought I had PLENTY of time to get to Tour d’Eiffel. Our reservation, we were told, would be given away at 7:40.

but….the 5-10 minute was was not to happen ON BASTILLE DAY!!??

Métro stop Trocadero is across Seine. No big deal, except that all three bridges (one directly across & one on either side) to the tower were closed for fireworks.

I said, “Granda!  It’s the second floor of the Eiffel Tower!  I just ran it and I’ll do it again. WE ARE NOT going to lose this reservation!” So off go the heels and I sprint away.

Of course, the gendarmes found it very cute and amusing and American that I was all dressed up & jogging along the Seine again, but NOT cute enough to allow “passage speciale.”  They were setting up for the fireworks.

Arrived at 7:45 at the le tour d’Eiffel, pushed some money at the elevator operator man to get me to the front of the line and headed up.

Maitre d’ very nice and amused. “Mais, où est Grandmere?” I waited, knowing it had been a fifteen minute jog and thus a 30 minute walk.  I knew very well that I’d likely do dishes all night to pay for the “set menu” if she did not appear avec l’argent pour payer. Voila, elle arrive! The waiter could see my relief, and we had beaucoup d’attention après ça.

It was a nice dinner.

Poulet

Crudites

Poisson

dessert, etc.

Mais, un problème. The Lido reservation at 10:30 (and it’s 10:00). The taxi driver says,”aahh, noonnn… there eez no way to go down le Champs-Elysées ce soir!”  So, I ask a man at the Sheraton-en francais-and tell him mon problème. Voila! I slip him 2 francs, we’re off, and arrive with 15 minutes to spare.

[while the Franc has changed quite a bit, especially since it’s now a Euro, I have to say that I was a bit scotch that summer with my money. I think this was like 50 cents so I don’t know that that translates to now. Being a woman from the era when it was an assumption that women were poor tippers though this is no longer valid or verified, I just wanted to get it on record that I now am an excellent tipper.]

The Lido was great. I could take the women, but the men were a bit much. [I sure wish I’d added more details here, or at least a good sketch as I cannot remember anything. They may have just be flamboyant in their dress. I’m sure if it were anything more it would have been embedded in my mind. I was with my Grandmother, Millie, but that being said I’m sure if it were racy we would have discussed it! :)]

There was a “Steal the Mona Lisa” Dance Act, a Japanese Act, a Broadway musical act, Atlantis act, and this gymnastic/dancer couple.  And, a magic show, juggler, dog trick show, and the kind that throws their voice.

30 minute trip to get home due to traffic, but the city was kicking!

Our going out to the Champs-Elysees & Eiffel Tower on Bastille Day in Paris is like going out in downtown Washington, D.C. on the 4th of July, 1976!  Très-stupide!!

We can survive anything.

To Bed.

Susan & Cindy, poor things, were wrapped in our bedspreads on the floor!!

And so, for your entertainment, the beautiful women (and their French Girl Bottoms) at the Lido in Paris. The Rockettes in thongs and with bare (pick your words, boys!)….

[youtube]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LNn9SS9Fzbo[/youtube]

 

Hosanna! Loud Hosanna! Oh give thanks for the Lord is good!

by admin

In church today, it started with a smash production by the choir and kidlets. Here ’tis…

[youtube]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DJrJaJ92DUs[/youtube]

That’s Don Fisher at the end and Kite Singleton is in there in the left wing. I’m new, so I don’t want to venture with any other names. There’s not enough in there yet to get it wrong well.

So, introducing Paul, no picture of him this am in his robes with colorful yoke of Christ around his neck.

Second Pres, Reverend Paul Rock(s).

 I think he must have just arrived in KC from 5th Ave. Presbyterian

in NYC when they took this picture since he still appears to have his soul patch…

I hope I am not being disrespectful, but he makes the best subtle funnies in his sermons,

so I don’t think he’ll be bothered too much. I apologize to all others, I’ve lived away for a while.

Anyway, Reverend Paul Rocks sermons are on the Second Pres website, but today’s has not posted yet. Great storyteller, worth the radio stop.

So, this is what today’s events looked like, at least from my life’s experiences. That is, we were celebrating Christ’s Entry into Jerusalem.

Giotto's Padua Frescos: Christ Riding into Jerusalem, 1304-1306.

When I am in church, I remember paintings that I studied when I was in college. So many of those that are so vivid to me are those from my early Northern Renaissance class taught by Linda Stone-Ferrier at KU Department of Art History. Besides the subject matter now telling me that God was always there, how he spoke to me in my language, they are hyper real.

It was a time when drawing accurately and from life had been dormant for over 200 years. It was a resurgence of Classicism, that pagan, Roman, pre-Christian time, multiple God time. So this was a risk, to not throw the beautiful baby out with the bath water of pre-Christian times. It is all we.

I am a classicist and get stuck in this stage when I paint, of course, not to compare myself with Giotto!  I like to see how real, but flat, but photographic I can be in using outline and color. Not for the art of it, don’t think I’m there, but for the craft. It is said as a young boy in Cimabue’s workshop, the ornery apprentice Giotto painted a fly upon one of his Master’s paintings when he was away. It repeatedly fooled his Master upon return who would try to swat it away.

And it was on plaster, that soft organic surface which absorbs and cracks and crumbles and has been the walls in both of the homes I have lived in during my second growing up (or childhood) of 22-52.

I won’t say much as you can wikipedia Giotto. But, I know this is one of my favorite scenes because it is like a stage.  And, as Shakespeare wrote, “All the World’s a Stage.”

Which will go back to one point of the Reverend Paul Rock’s Sermon today. But in a sec.

Here’s the context of Rev. Paul’s staging for the words of the day:

Basically, the celebration probably looked about like Woodstock. But without (well, let’s say fewer…everyone was invited) chemicals. The high was from Him.  There was disrobing, dancing, yelling, pretty unruly.

Christ had told his disciples that he would be crucified on the cross the after this journey. But, in their elation with celebrating the Good Lord and Jesus, the son of God, they were still in Party Mode. (Speaking of and BTW, Go Hawks. Feel the athlete-warrior passion.).

The disciples were asked to get their people to just tone it down a little. But Joy cannot be contained. And along the way, Christ invited everyone to come. Some were given a task, others were invited down from the box seats. But everyone was invited to participate in the Party.

    • He welcomed everyone.
    • As we all are, sinners.
    • Sinners, each day, a different way, and always to begin anew.
    • And always questioning ourselves to trust in God to speak to us, to love others, all others and ourselves.
    • To learn, to think, to hear what he is saying, to question our “know.”

And, to keep it simple and open our hearts to love God and to invite everyone to his table.

So to bring it on home, the last song, Hymn 91, was “Ride On! Ride On in Majesty!”

And before we sang, the very Reverend Paul reminded us that we all have a part in the Play, on the Stage.

  • Figure it out.
  • Play it to the best of our ability while we are on this earth.
  • Get down from our box, even if we have the best of seats and paid for the play.

Participate, connect, and share joy and love with others through our acts and our words and our actions.

And on a personal note, I sometimes get confused about my part right now and in the past. I often want to play too many, too soon, too fast for one moment. So I am reminded to stay in the moment to quiet self and get direction.

But I would say that my family does ride, does use God’s land to both feed us and do his work as a steward. So this hymn spoke to me.

So to John, Jack, and Lacy:  I am very fortunate to see you what you do so well, and to participate in my way.

Ride Tall, He’s always watching.

Hosanna! Loud Hosanna! Oh, give thanks, for the Lord is Good!