I ALMOST MET SANTA.

It was Christmas Eve. We were living in Okinawa at the time. I had just celebrated my fifth birthday a few days earlier.   My sister, Pam, was a year younger than me. My brother, Bill, was just a toddler and my baby sister, Terry, was just a few months old. 

My Dad had us all in the bedroom reading a story to us. I guess trying to get us into bed was a real challenge.  I heard my Mom yell from the living room, “Chris…Pam…hurry…it’s Santa Claus!”  We scrambled from the bedroom and ran out to the living room. My Mom was at the backdoor holding the screen door open while motioning for us to hurry.  My sister Pam had lost her sock and stopped to pick it up. I waited for her while hollering, “hurry Pam. Hurry.” 

We got to the other end of the living room where the Christmas tree was all lite up. I didn’t notice the presents. I was on a mission to see Santa Claus in person.   My Mom called for us to come to the back door.  “Santa was leaving,” she said.   We ran to the back door and looked up, searching the starlit sky for Santa’s sleigh and reindeer. “Oh, honey, I’m sorry. You just missed him,” she said  with great disappointment.  All I could think  about was If I hadn’t stopped to help my sister with her stupid sock, I would have seen Santa Claus.

We came back inside to see that Santa had left us so many presents under the tree.   Mom and Dad guided us back to bed with instructions that we could open them in the morning after a good night’s sleep. Well, who could sleep after that?  All I could think about was next time Santa came, I was leaving Pam behind.  She wasn’t going to slow me down every again.  I was going to see that big fat man in the red suit without her.  

My Christmases after that didn’t compare to that one. I always remembered the time that I almost got to see Santa in person.   It was an incredible memory and I carried the excitement of that close encounter with Santa with me for years after that.  

The Christmas Tree

Finding the ultimate Christmas tree was of particular interest to me one Christmas. I had decided that I would put my creative juices to work and create the ultimate Christmas tree experience.  Ben was probably 10 or so, if I remember right.

We live in the middle of the woods, so finding a tree wasn't going to be hard. I decided that I didn't want just any old tree. So, I cut down a small sweet gum tree.   I spray painted it white and strung white lights all over it. I wrapped it in white tool and carefully placed white snowflakes all over it. I set it up without any guidance or direction from anyone because I wanted to surprise Rick and Ben with this new and lovely white Christmas tree creation.

I had it all set up and lights turned on and ready for that 'ah ha'  moment when we would all gasp at it's loveliness.

Ben entered the room first and just looked at it and didn't say a word.  Rick entered the room and didn't notice it at all. And if you know anything about Rick, you know this was not uncommon.  So, I had to bring it to his attention.  "So, what do you think about our tree?" There was a long pause as Rick studied it. And then he said, "What the hell is that?"

My ego was deflated. "It's our Christmas tree. What do you think it is?" I said.

I can't write what he said at this point but needless to say, he didn't think much of it. I thought I had created a masterpiece and he thought it was the tackiest thing he had ever seen.

It was too close to Christmas to start over. So, we lived with our tacky Christmas tree and around the end of December, we added it to our outdoor fire pit. ....never to be seen or enjoyed again. 

We have laughed about that tree. While Rick and Ben may not have enjoyed the 'true beauty' of it, we have enjoyed the memory of it and our individual memories of it's beauty or lack thereof.

I guess it's true that beauty is in the eye of the beholder.  And I say I am the artist and what do they know! Ha! Ha! Ha!

Merry Christmas.

 

How to start a movement

While going about my business of teaching children the joys of art and trying to open their minds to creativity, I wasn’t expecting them to create a movement.

Upon returning to school after the Thanksgiving holidays, I was greeted by children who had spent their days off creating items to sell.  They had made ankle bracelets, duck tape wallets, hand drawn cartoons, and anything else they could think of that would bring in a buck. They had strategically collaborated on a scheme to generate funds, not for themselves but for a cause that they had decided deserved their attention.

While working for a cause is not unusual, the way they collaborated and organized their little team was. Hannah Mosley, a shy and extremely intuitive young fourth grader, had listened intently to some of my rants about their responsibility to keep the arts alive……that they were our future …and of course, I added my own involvement with The Farm into the mix.  What I didn’t realize that out of those rants, I gave Hannah the impression that The Farm was going out of business. 

That notion that the Farm would not be there for her and future generations obviously spoke to her. She had an idea.  And she shared her idea with a friend, Sarah Parnell. The two of them took on the mission and the task of ‘saving the Farm.’  They met with their fellow classmates and began making notes and brainstorming on what things they could do to generate funds.   Lilly Spiller, Katharyn Woodard, Cristalyn McDaniel,  Evie Walker,  Camile Simonton, Avery Myers, and Emily Ramie joined the team.  Then others signed up to work and sell their wares.  Before you know it, they had their entire fourth grade class involved.  They each made long list of items for sale in their notebooks.  They shared their lists and their talents with each other.  They campaigned during the holidays and hit up anyone they could with their idea and their mission to ‘save the Farm.’

What makes this all so incredible to me is that I saw them create a movement.  A movement to save the arts. The idea that the Farm was going out of business was not true. While our revenue streams have dried up and grant dollars for the arts have been drastically cut, we’ve managed to come up with ideas to generate funds to keep the Farm open.  But none so moving as theirs.   The fact that the Farm could go out of business without the continued support of the community was definitely true. 

And while I’ve been waiting and hoping that the community would rise up and realize the importance of the arts and all those things that encourage creativity…. a little girl did!  Hannah and Sarah shared their vision with their friends and classmates and this week handed me an envelope with $55.90 for The Farm.  It took everything I had to hold back the tears.  And with their proud little smiles, they declared there was more to come.  And Hannah, taking the lead, picked up a pen and said “We need a goal.  How much do we need to raise for The Farm?”  “You all will need to decide that,” I said.  “Will $1,000 be enough?”  she said while writing the amount on the board.

At 50c per cartoon and $1 for each ankle bracelet, they were confident that they could do it.  This little army of art warriors had put it all in perspective for me. 

That $55.90 was worth more than a $1,000 to me.  And these two little girls who recruited an army of followers now own my heart. I’m not worried about the future of the Farm or the future of the arts in Minden.  I have Hannah Mosley and Sarah Parnell and an army of creative thinkers who started their own movement.  Power to the people! Power to the creative thinkers!

December 21st

It was December. Four days before Christmas.  We were living in a little subdivision in Doyline, Louisiana. I was 8 years old.  My grand parents had arrived from East St. Louis, Missouri just in time for the Christmas holidays. We didn't get to see my grandparents that often, so it was so nice to have them with us.

I woke up feeling pretty excited. I could smell oatmeal cooking in the kitchen. I thought maybe this is when they're going to notice. I went to the kitchen and my sweet grandmother offered me a bowl of oatmeal. I ate it slowly and remember it being the best bowl of oatmeal I had ever eaten. I don't know what made it so great. Maybe it was just simply that my grandmother, whom I didn't get to see that often, made it for me.

The morning passed and I thought maybe they're going to wait until lunch to say something. Lunch came and went and I went about my day.  Supper. That's it! They're going to do it at supper time. Well, supper came and went and still not a word.

I went to bed that night and fell asleep still not believing that no one noticed. I'm not sure sure what time it was when my mother woke me up.  She sat on the edge of my bed and whispered "Oh Christine, I'm so sorry."  She then walked over to the closet and above the hang ups, she pulled out a box. It was  "Easy Money," a knock off of Monopoly.  She handed me the unwrapped game and said, "Happy Birthday, hon."

I fell back asleep but not without thinking how could my entire family have forgotten my birthday. I was so young and inexperienced in these matters. So, I didn't know to be mad or sad. But I do remember thinking that I would never set myself up for this kind of disappointment again. I would figure that this was going to happen again. And if it did, I would be ready.

I haven't thought about this that often in my life but I have realized for whatever reason that I have spent my life downplaying my birthday. Giving excuses like, it's so close to Christmas, Everybody is so busy with the holidays and whatever else I could say to lower my expectations.

But this year is going to be different. And it's going to different because I'm going to make it different. This year December 21st is significant. Some believe it's the end of the world. Others believe it is simply the end of the Mayan calendar. But either way, it's my birthday. It's my 61st birthday and I plan on making a big deal about it!!! So brace yourselves because December 21st is my birthday!

Rediscovering Vincent

From the time I was twelve years old and stood in front of one of Vincent Van Gogh’s paintings, I have been in love with this man and his art.  As a preteen, I had the unbelievable privilege of being able to see his art at the center of the art universe….Paris, France.

And now nearly fifty years later, I have rediscovered Vincent.  A few months ago, I was standing in front of one of my little kindergarten classes at Glenbrook when Jonathan said, “Mrs. Chris, when are you going to tell us about Vincent Van Gogh. You said you were going to tell us about him.”  I’m sure some of the parents of my Glenbrook students will tell you that no one escapes the story about my favorite all time artist.

So, I set out all my props….the painting of Vincent’s Starry Starry Night, the storyboard…everything I needed to begin my story about the world’s greatest artist.  Halfway into the story, Jonathan comments, “You know his birthday is March 30^th!” To which, “I replied, how did you know that?”  I certainly hadn’t shared that and actually, I didn’t even remember that.   I turned to Jonathan and the other kids and said, “You know what?” …. And almost as if it were rehearsed, you could hear them all say “Let’s have a party for Vincent.”  

I went home that evening and got out my book about Vincent and began to admire his work for the millionth time. And it occurred to me that the little guys might have come up with the best idea yet.  A party for Vincent.  It had merit. It has possibilities. By golly, we’re gonna do it, I thought.

I’ve spent this summer reading up on Vincent life including reading the hundreds of letters he wrote to his brother Theo. My love for Vincent and his devotion to his art has grown even more.  I am fascinated by this man’s drive to create and paint his world.  His letters to his brother are incredible. He describes the colors in his landscapes in such detail that you begin to understand why he chose to paint  in striking colors and with such passion.   While his life was cut short, his vast collection of paintings and the more than 700 letters to his brother chronicle his life and leaves behind one of the most important legacies of painting ever to enrich the world.

I’ve rediscovered Vincent and this coming spring, with the help of a lot of volunteers and a faithful core of board members, Cultural Crossroads will be celebrating Vincent Van Gogh’s 160^th birthday on March 30^th at the Farm.  A little class of kindergarteners had a great idea and thanks to them, we are having a party for Vincent…and you are invited!

 Spring Arts Festival #19

CHICKENSTOCK

"A Party for Vincent"

 at the Moess Center for the Arts & City Farm,

March 29 & 30, 2013 in Minden, La.

How's your brain?

I attended a workshop several weeks ago that addressed the profile of our brains. Not just American brains, but ALL brains. The workshop was sponsored by Blue Cross Blue Sheild Foundation and featured Harold Suire with Emergenetics International, Inc. It was probably one of the best workshops I have attended in quite some time.

According to their hand out, 'Emergenetics provides a window into the way you think and behave.' What I found astonishing was that the work these professionals have done is world wide and that all brains and brain preferences are pretty universal.  

Understanding the brain and understanding my brain was of great interest to me. As a self proclaimed liberal living in conservative community, I've been confused at times as to why I think the way that I do and why others think the way that they do. It's been extremely difficult at times because  I must admit, I do feel like a freak. And the political climate and name calling doesn't help.  So, what is it about me that make me, me....?

Understanding my brain has helped me to understand myself and my relationship with others. While I shouldn't try to simplify this ....I will.  We have four thinking attributes that we are born with. Here is how they defined the different brain preferences:

Analytical thinking is rational, inquiring, and clear. The Analytical part of the brain wants to see data and research. People with a preference for Analytical thought are considered logical, cogent, and objective. They can appreciate the scientific method, and they learn by mental analysis.

Structural thinking is detailed, practical, and methodical.  The Structural part of the brain follows rules and is cautious of new ideas.  People with a preference for Structural thought are considered disciplined, organized, and tradtional.  They like guidelines, and they learn by doing.

Social thinking is relational, collaborative, empathic, and supportive. The Social part of the brain is team-oriented and socially aware. People with a preference for Social Thought are considered connectors and are sensitive to feelings and ideas of others. They are intuitive people, and they learn from others.

Conceptual thinking is imaginative, unconventional, and visionary.  The Conceptual part of the brain likes change and is easily bored. People with a preference for Conceptual thought are considered inventive, original, and innovative. They are intuitive about ideas, and they learn by experimenting.

When you have a preference for a particular Thinking Attribute, that means it plays a prominent role in your thinking processes. 92% of the population has more than one thinking preference.

My brain profile based on my answers to an extensive survey conducted by Emergentics showed me at 80% conceptual; 43% Social; 28% Analytical and 18% Structural.  What it also revealed was that only 12% of the population share my social/conceptual combination. And because my thinking is intuitive, I run the risk of being percieved as "out there," and I may feel out of step with other people in my community or organization. 

I also learned that my preference for Social thinking allows me to see the human side of events and ideas and people who do not share my perference for social thinking may underestimate my intelligence or believe I am too emotional. I also learned that I probably have a vision that extends far into the future, and I expect others to share my enthusiasm for the overall concept or goal.

So, what I also learned from this workshop is that I was born this way and while my thinking may be different from others, there is no "right" or "wrong"....I am unique and I am wonderful the way I am. What I have also come to understand is that we all need each other.  We are all unique and wonderful in our own way and we need to appreciate each other more and stop the name calling and the pigeon holing.  I may be a liberal and you may be a conservative....and that's okay....together we can make a great country greater! or in this case, a great community greater!!!

If you want to learn more about his brain thing, there is a book available on Amazon. Google Emergenetics and check it out. 

Going Union

I was twenty one years old and living in Leesville when I had my first experience with labor unions.  I was working for an extremely successful and profitable cable company.  I worked in the local origination department which was a branch of the company that produced programming for their local station. It was a new market and a new venture.  There were three of us in the department.  The department head, myself and another young man.  I was in charge of writing news stories,  running the camera and anything else that the department head didn’t want to do. The other guy was in charge of selling the programs to local sponsors.

I loved the job. It was creative and challenging.  I had been married for about three years at this time and my relationship with my husband was anything but harmonious.  And this job was very demanding of my time.  It wasn’t a 9 to 5, Monday through Friday job. It was when they needed me, where they needed me, doing what they needed me to do.  And I was told that I had no choice and that I would lose my job if I didn't comply.  I had little say in that which didn’t help matters at home.

This job while the schedule was flexible, the pay wasn’t. I was not allowed to punch a time clock. Instead our department head would turn in our hours for the week on a time sheet he created.  While I worked more than 60 hours a week most weeks, the time sheet that was turned in only reflected a 40 hour week.  I wasn’t considered salaried.  I was only 21 and naive to say the least. I never questioned it. I just believed that the company would do the right thing. 

After working there for nearly a year, I began to question their system when I was denied some time off. I thought that all of the overtime that I had put in could be easily exchanged for some much needed sick leave.  I had tonsillitis and was confined to my home for a week.  I didn’t get paid for that week and it was that action that made me question the integrity of my employer.

Around the same time that I began to feel a little taken for granted, I was visited by a ‘union man.’  He invited me to lunch along with some other executives who had become aware of my situation along with some of the other employees.  It seems their practice of not awarding overtime pay to anyone took in the line crew whose weekly hours exceeded a forty hour week, too.  These labor guys talked to me about heading up an effort to bring a union in.  I didn’t have much experience with unions but I did think that the company should have been more responsible to their employees and held accountable. I agreed to it and went about talking to the other employees about holding an election.  All was going well and it looked like the union was going to pass. 

Before the day of the election, I was approached by the general manager and asked to have dinner with him and a few other executives.  I was told by the union guys that the exes of the company were not allowed to speak to me about the election or try to persuade me to change my vote.  Well, our dinner was all about changing my vote.  They told me that I would lose my job with them and that they would see to it that no one in town would hire me.  They lied to me and told me that all of the employees were going to vote against the union and that I had created havoc and discord amongst the workers and they could not protect me.   It frightened me to say the least.  And there was no peace at home or a shoulder to lean on.  The threats from my husband were  just as real.  I felt alone and abandoned.

I proceeded with the plan to unionize because I thought it was the right thing to do. The elections were held and the employees voted overwhelmingly to unionize.  The cable management changed. A new manager arrived on the scene at the same time that I had decided to leave the company.  They asked me stay and offered me a raise. I declined.  In the weeks to follow, I realized how I had been deceived by the company.  I had come to understand how this all could have been avoided if they had just done the right thing by everyone. If they had just given a fair wage for a fair days work.  Instead they used and abused their employees and deprived them of time and money.  The company was investigated and was ordered to pay for those overtime hours to all of their employees.  Because there were no ‘real’ time sheets, the court estimated the lost wages.  It was far less than was expected but the real change came when the company was ordered to put in a time clock and new policies were set to protect the worker.  

I know that there is a lot of talk against unions these days.  But I must say that I’m not so sure that I agree with that.  I believe that the management of this company was corrupt and abusive. And they took advantage of me and many others.  Other than quitting, what else is there?  Who is out there to protect the worker?  I’m sure people will argue that the unions went  too far…asked for too much and as a result, companies relocated oversees or shut down.   And that may be true.  I think power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely…no matter which side it’s on. 

So what’s the right answer?  Depends on what side you’re on.