I couldn't sleep past 4:10am. So now I think that sleeping outside is good for me. I don't know what I'm supposed to do about that, but I'll think on it. Maybe Val will move into a yurt.
So I got up and went for a run through the city. It was just a big loop. There was a bit more traffic than I expected, but what do I know, really?
And then--what an amazing day at Civil War Graffiti camp! We got to hear a couple of extremely knowledgeable professors and went on a really fun field study! I know I don't know a lot about the civil war, but today I learned that I really don't know anything about the civil war, other than it was North vs. South--and that ain't even exactly right!
Some highlights from my notes:
While Walt Whitman said that "the real war will never get in the books," I wonder if he wasn't limited to the sick, wounded and dying which he attended. I wonder if there aren't many "wars" being fought in any war. There were profound differences in the North and South, or heck, how else would they come to blows? There is a significant difference between the causes of the war, which are societal, and the motivations behind a soldier's willingness to fight in that war.
There is a bunch more, but you'll have to wait until I present my stuff at school this year!
Then we went to the historic Blenheim house in Fairfax, VA. Union soldiers either camped or were hospitalized here from 1862-3. There is a bunch of information that they left here in the images scribed upon the walls, and it all provides insights into the who and what of the war in that space at that time. But it really brings up a lot more questions, too!
I didn't take the image on the right, but it is fantastic! I can see that as being the intro page to whatever format I apply this information to. Of course, the "1863" ain't too bad either, and I did do that one!
I had an amazing and powerful day today. The AirBnB I stayed at had 18 legs in it--sixteen paws and two feet--not including mine.
The girl I stayed with rescues animals, and she said she goes for the geriatric and black cats because most others don't. Plus, she found a stray dog just wandering around. He was a beagle something, and he was adorable!
There was an invisible cat that I was lucky enough to see four times. But he never even talked to me. The talkative cat, well, he talked to me. And the princess? She just claimed me!
But please don't tell the boys! They'll hate me!
I slept outside, again. That is five days in a row. I have to say that I am well rested. I loved it! I don't know how I'm going to get Val to sleep outside. Here is my view from this morning!
I got to Arlington and checked in at the exact moment that my roommate did! It was crazy. And do you know what's crazier? He has a big read beard, he was waring sandals, cargo shorts, and a t-shirt too! It was really weird! Really. Weird.
We had a great first meeting at the "Graffiti Houses: The Civil War From the Perspective of Individual Soldiers," where we are making a study of Civil War graffiti. The idea is to start with a name of a soldier who left his mark, research the name through the National Archives, put it into a context, and use a digital tool to tell that soldier's story. I'm still in awe and amazed that I get to do this!
And I'm really looking forward to using this model of study in the classroom for my kids!
A note from the meeting:
The future history is at the mercy of those who leave their mark now, and those who cannot are left to fade away. Except in bureaucratic systems; everyone survives in the records of bureaucracy.
Mad, crappy part of the end of my day:
I was walking back to the hotel in Arlington, where I'm staying for a week. There were three cops surrounding a homeless, black dude with holes in his socks. He was sitting at a table in front of a restaurant, and he had a drink that someone, I guess, bought from the restaurant for him . He was there when I walked by earlier, and he was in the same spot just drinking his drink.
I stopped to listen to him--he was making well-articulated points about his rights to be there and drink his drink, and I studied him and listened. One of the cops said something like "this is federal land, and it can go one of two ways..." The homeless guy was an old dude with holes in his socks sitting at the table drinking his drink.
I walked closer and one of the cops asked if he could help me. I said no. I sat down by the dude and he said to the cops, "What about him? Can he be here?" I just looked at the cops as I took out my phone to film the incident. The dude just wanted to sit. He could be a veteran, someones dad, and he was certainly someone's son. I started filming because the tension was rising.
Really, he was just an old dude with holes in his socks. Do you know who we were sent to fight in Iraq? I only remember old brown dudes with holes in their socks.
I won't fight those guys anymore because they are humans too. And they have every right to sit and drink a drink as I do. After all, I'm just an old white dude with holes in my socks.
I left Dena and Donnie's today. My time there was way too short and we had to get a lot in. But I have a bunch more information for whe I do my next one. And I now know how little I know about the tradition. I'll work on that.
I actually ran six miles because I kept going after the trail ended into a really rugged path. But I got to see a big buck deer!
When I was done I saw some evidence of a dirty pawed creature checking out our Veterans for Peace sticker.
Tomorrow starts my Civil War graffiti study. I'm stoked.
"Chai" is like a Hamsa or Star of David in that it is an important Jewish symbol. The Chai is usually worn as jewelry and stands for long life or Jewish identity. But yeah, long life to all. Except the A-holes and those who are done with the planet. The planet is wet here. I cannot drive my car to the end of this road where I'm staying while building this banjo. So I walked back. It wasn't too far, and I really do love to walk even though I've seen a podiatrist who said that my time running and walking painlessly is waning.
But really, does this foot look so bad?
So I'm living with two dogs here. They are quintessential farm dogs with their own idiosyncrasies. Max is going blind, so he is pretty skittish. And Diesel is a geriatric British Mastiff. So when there is thunder he thinks he supposed to go to the battle lines and protect the Roman captains, at least his DNA tells him that!
When I was in the army they encouraged us to march. Encouraged highly, that is. The rucksack was about 50lbs, and then there is all of the other gear. The distance was not too bad, only 15k or so. But, damn, those hills. Ft. Leonardwood, MO, and in December. I remember that we were picking up walnuts because we never got enough food. Never!
Today was fitting it all together. It is a slow process that I rushed because I had to be done by today. Dena (http://www.storygourdworkshop.com/) is a deliberate person that some may mistake as slow. But, nope. She's just deliberate. And what great energy to be around! Really, make time to learn from this builder!
The gourd and skin were dry enough to work with, so it was a lot of slow trimming and cutting.
The object is to get the gourd, which is an organic shape, to sit into the wood neck. So there is a lot of geometry and calculus involved, but I don't do calculus. I cannot even begin to figure that out. But at least I can geometry! It took a lot of time, but I got the gourd looking good on the back.
The front is a different story. There is a pretty big gap. I have so much finishing work to do on the machine, so I decided to carve some spirals there, just like I will on the fifth peg hole.
Did I tell you this is hickory? I would never have chosen to use this to make an instrument. Hickory is really hard. This is from my wood bible, the wood-database.com: " Difficult to work, with tearout being common during machining operations if cutting edges are not kept sharp; the wood tends to blunt cutting edges. Glues, stains, and finishes well. Responds well to steam bending."
Yes to all of this!
I eventually got it to where I wanted it, though, except for the finishing and polishing, which consists of getting tool marks out and doing the low relief carving.
That's right. 3.5 days to make this guy from a big old chunk of 100 year old hickory. This was an amazing challenge that I couldn't have accomplished without Dena's help. Sure, I made a pretty nice gourd banjo on my own, but I'm now worlds ahead of just one build now. Thank you, Dena!
Do y'all remember the movie "The Outsiders"? It was a star studded as any I can think of. And it was a lot like my childhood. The guys I grew up with would say so too. And we definitely weren't the Socs. But I did grow up going to drive-in theaters. I used to chew toothpicks and ask others t call me Termite. But I was too drunk to remember if they did. Growing up without parental oversight was bad because I suffered the lack of education and care. Heck, I didn't even know I needed glasses until I went to get my drivers license in high school. I couldn't read the letters and didn't get my license. How much did I miss in school and life? I wonder.
The moon was nice last night, too. I was woken up by Diesel, who is no friend of the thunder. The storm rolled in about 5am, and he barked from then until around 9am. I was exhausted just watching! But he is so kind, a really sweet dog.
He would go do his business, which was barking away. He would get so worked up he was overheating. Then he'd come in soaking wet and dog shake all over me. Then he'd lay at my feet until the next boom!
Why did the Socs and Greasers fight? They were all white trash! The fountain scene was rough. Death is hard. And a child making murder is the worst. It's a long life to live knowing everything a guy is ever go to do or make is taken away by death.
Do you know I've been stabbed twice. One time a guy was going to stab me and I blocked it with my arm. The knife was sharp and the cut was bad. I sewed it up myself using dental floss. I showed the resource officer my wound and he said sew it up or go to the doctor. The look on his face was priceless when I showed him the stitches I did. He just looked at me and walked away. Nobody would have been the wiser, but I showed my sister and she ratted me out. I remember my mom took me to the doctor's office, and he said there was nothing he could do and I did a great job.
A fair fight ain't rough, for sure, but add a weapon and all innocence is lost.
I got a lot accomplished today. It has really been amazing building with Dena. There are so many considerations when making any instrument, and a gourd banjo is no different. I worked a lot on my fingerboard, peghead and dowl.
Nothing gold can stay. You go, Ponyboy. Or Frost. Or the world.
I'm still using a variety of tools, and my fingers and hands are suffering greatly! They are tore up! When I'm carving I always have bandaids on hand.
I planed down the fingerboard, and I'm taking more off of the neck with a rasp. I absolutely love carving in this way! I'm really excited to work on more banjos and gourd instruments. I have no idea how this wonderful experience is going to manifest in my work, but I know it will. I work hard, but I don't feel like I work hard enough. Do you remember the fire scene? I always think I'd do the right thing, which is to go in and try to save the children. But I don't think I'm that brave. I want to be. But...
I got the gourd stretched. It was a great lesson today because I had some difficulty with it on my first one. I figured it out, but with Dena's help I know I can do it on my own just fine!
"Greaser didn't have anything to do with it!" Shouldn't it just be we humans that do the right thing? I'd love to think that the humanity in all of us can rise above all of the crap that we create. "He ain't a Soc. He's just a guy who wanted to talk." That certainly is not the tone of the election cycle.
I have a lot to do to finish the neck, but our goal is to get a machine that makes some music. I'll do all of the finish work when I get home. The pegs are in and I liked doing them. This is only the second instrument that I've made that has friction pegs. Dena has different tools than I do, but they work. So I'll have to get practice in on mine.
Do you remember when the Greasers were leaving their house and were hooting and hollering and wrestling about like puppies. That is real. That is camaraderie before a fight, a truly unique experience. It is bonding like no other bonding. As an introvert it is hard to recover the loss of my puppy friends.
Look how big these dang dogs are!
Okay. The big fight scene. It is definitely one of my favorites in the movie because I've been in a few of them--brawls, that is. Once, I took a bag of pot and stolen gum from some boys. One of the boys called me and said he wanted it back. I told him to meet me at Hogan’s Corner, which was the local convenience store where neighborhood issues were worked out. I showed up at Hogan’s Corner, and the four boys were waiting. I resigned myself to the beating I was about to take.
Then a car sped into the parking lot and skidded to a halt near the picnic table where all of the problems were to be laid out. Two of the other boys threw up their hands and stepped back. I turned to the guy who called me and asked, “Well?” He said all that he wanted was his pot and his gum back. I said that I didn’t have it, and I hit him in the jaw. We punched and kicked and bit one another for several minutes until he got me in a choke hold and choked me until I was unconscious. I woke up to the sight of my brother smashing the second boy’s head against the oak tree by the picnic table. The boy who choked me silly was gasping for air on all fours like a tired dog. He had boot marks on his chest and face. My brother looked at me and smiled. Your gold when your a kid. Everything is new. It's a good way to be. I love the theme about the movie, and I cannot agree more.
The pegs are ready and the nut is set. I made the bridge, and the skin is stretched over the gourd. So tomorrow we'll focus on fitting all of the stuff together! I'm stoked!
Is it too late to be a Transcendentalist? I'm a firm believer of leaving the indoors, stripping off my clothes, and running into the woods.
"In the woods, we return to reason and faith. There I feel that nothing can befall me in life, — no disgrace, no calamity, (leaving me my eyes,) which nature cannot repair. Standing on the bare ground, — my head bathed by the blithe air, and uplifted into infinite space, — a mean egotism vanishes. I become a transparent eye-ball; I am nothing; I see all; the currents of the Universal Being circulate through me; I am part or particle of God." Emerson
But there are ticks out there, dang it!
Last night I fell asleep with the moon cooling me, and today I awoke with the sun warming me. Sleeping in a hammock is nice.
A friend of mine asked...well you read the post she made. Interesting.
The curve of the tree line is really pretty, and it definitely has inspired the shape of my gourd banjo. I did the original design last night after poring through four books on banjos. A point that Dena has really emphasized is that the appropriation of a thing is just wrong. So the books she gave me to look through are historical. Because of Val's interest in the history of the banjo we have two at home. Even so, I have a lot to learn.
Last night we watched the film "The Librarian and The Banjo." So disregarding the form of the short film, I thought it really interesting. This is the second time I've watched it, and I'm sure they'll be a third. It is really important to Dena, and it should be for all of us, that the world recognize the banjo as an instrument that is born out of Africa.
So I'll definitely honor that memory and the tradition, but, just like I do my dulcimers, I'll make the banjos I build my own.
Still, it is crazy that the banjo is mostly played by old white guys after it was appropriated from the African slaves who would not give up their means of expression, their cultural identity. Good for them--and watch "Django" if you haven't!
I saw a really big calico cat out in the garden. She walked around like she owned the place. I guess she does! "The scientists found that the feral cats had home ranges that stretched across large areas; one male kitty’s range covered 1,351 acres (2.1 square miles). That's a lot of badassary!
I meant to work well into the night, artificial lights blazing. But by 7pm my feet were hurting--just look at all of the sawdust that was in my shoes! I've been working since about 7 this morning. But I want to leave here with a working banjo. That might happen, but it is pretty clear it won't be finished. I'm learning so much! And the experience of building with a knowledgeable person is too good. Treat yourself to working with Dena if you can!
And while I'm certainly showing off my "Enough is Enough" shirt, I'm really showing the sweat stains I've earned today. The last time I looked and smelled like this was when I was living in Israel a few years ago working on an organic farm, which is where I fell in love with goats. Not LOVE, but love the cheese and milk love! Silly.
I really did cover up like this every day. I hiked into the Negev Desert by myself. I went just over 26 miles. I camped on a hill and looked into the Sinai Peninsula. Man, that was quite a trip. Val was not too happy about it. In retrospect it was pretty stupid. But I'm stronger in a lot of ways for it!
Visiting Dena's place has been really fun, informative, and is forcing me to think about the what I'm doing and why. I won't change the direction in which I'm going, but I will certainly acknowledge more from where the tradition came. And how it is passed to me is really important, too.
I know I posted it a couple of days ago, but check out Dena's web site (Dena Lee of Storygourd Workshop) to see what she does and offers. There are only a handful of gourd banjo builders and teachers out there, and I'm lucky enough to know a couple! Here is some of her work!
And she is working along side of me--or in front of me--and sometimes beside me. Whatever. You get it. Dena is making a gourd banjo using cherry. It is pretty wood, and I love the sleek design. We were talking today about how to design and build a gourd banjo. There are many variables, just like with any instrument. And there are so many acoustic considerations, too.
I'm really enjoying the carving of my neck and peg head. I'm using my knife, a carving tool set, a file, and two dragon rasps. I've used all of these to carve on wood, but I've never used rasps to remove so much wood and really shape it. Just wow!
Dena says these are special, and I cannot disagree because they work really well! They are pretty pricy, but if you're thinking of a gift for me then any of these will do! They are definitely on my tools that I need to get list!
I have a bit more to go, and the finishing part probably wont happen here--but maybe I'm misjudging the time. I'm really excited to see the end product!
We also addressed the gourd, and boy do I have a pretty one. Something that is important to me is that all of my work be pretty. I'm not afraid to say that word just like I'm not afraid to say God. Both are good! I've only cut three gourds, but I've had trouble with this. So watching how Dena does it is a wonderful thing for me. She showed me how to make a cut into the skin of the gourd and then use a different saw to get through the innards.
Then I had to clean all of the junk out of the inside. Another thing that Dena taught me is that I should always do "toss test" to test the density of the gourd.
I got a lot done, and I'm really happy with what I'm learning about building a gourd banjo.
Okay, how about some politics? Some of you may know that I grew up around guns. We've always had them around. My dad taught me to shoot as a young child. I learned to shoot The following lines are from my graduate work:
As a child, I would go with my dad to meet his friends in places that I cannot remember how to get to because the places were so far into the woods. We would shoot guns, like my dad’s 357. We also fired rifles and shotguns. I fired my first M16 rifle in a sand pit when I was only 11 or 12 years old. All of the guys there were impressed that I could hit my target at ranges as far as three hundred yards. For my fourteenth birthday I got a twelve-gauge shotgun, some shaving cream, and a bag of razors. When I was in the army I had to qualify with an M16. I had to hit 20 out of 32 targets that ranged in distances from ten yards to three hundred yards for the basic qualification. The first time I tried to qualify I hit only 19 targets. By the ripe old age of 17, I had the expert marksmanship shot out of me.
I think that a hunter should be able to buy a rifle, and I would never begrudge a farmer a pistol to protect his property, especially livestock. And a shotgun with birdshot is fine for home defense--a lot of shot and no damage to your neighbors house.
But to all of those who swear by the Second Amendment I would simply ask what "well regulated Militia" you belong to. If you don't belong to one then shut the fuck up about the Second Amendment.
And it is laughable that what seems to be like mainly Republicans are complaining that a "No Fly, No Buy" proposal would violate the civil liberties of the innocent because I certainly have not heard any such complaining by the Republicans about civil liberties and no fly lists up until a gun was thrown into the mix.
Do you know that my dad was shot and killed? Yep, by a gun. Not a person or a spoon or space ship, but a gun. And my brother and I have both been shot. So I have a lot of credibility when it comes to guns and their usage.
I'll give conservatives the right to bear arms, so what will a conservative give up to make the US safer?
I couldn't sleep past 4:10am. So now I think that sleeping outside is good for me. I don't know what I'm supposed to do about that, but I'll think on it. Maybe Val will move into a yurt.
I know I don't know a lot about the civil war, but today I learned that I really don't know anything about the civil war, other than it was North vs. South--and that ain't even exactly right!
While Walt Whitman said that "the real war will never get in the books," I wonder if he wasn't limited to the sick, wounded and dying which he attended. I wonder if there aren't many "wars" being fought in any war. There were profound differences in the North and South, or heck, how else would they come to blows? There is a significant difference between the causes of the war, which are societal, and the motivations behind a soldier's willingness to fight in that war.
Then we went to the historic Blenheim house in Fairfax, VA. Union soldiers either camped or were hospitalized here from 1862-3. There is a bunch of information that they left here in the images scribed upon the walls, and it all provides insights into the who and what of the war in that space at that time. But it really brings up a lot more questions, too!
