Red, White, and Something Near Blue

All around the town, all over the country, 

people will be gathering to celebrate the Fourth of July, 

the 237th anniversary of the signing of 

the Declaration of Independence.

There will be ice cream socials, picnics, carnivals,

concerts by brass bands and orchestras,

culminating in the fireworks displays

guaranteed to produce "Ooohs" and "Aaahs"

from children of all ages.  

I've become jaded by fireworks, however, because, 

for me, the best and the worse display ever

took place on the Ohio River in August, 2003.

"Of course he's beneath us, he's an actor!"*

These paintings are small, about 5" X 7" each, meant as sketches 

for a project to show the Ohio River and boats that 

cruised her currents, as well as of scenes and events. 

I made them a couple years ago, along with some drawings,

 adaptations of navigation charts to give the viewer a sense of 

the place, and an idea of where the scene was located.

When the first steamboat journeyed the river just over 

200 years ago on its way to New Orleans, it paddled through 

primeval forests, where flocks of birds, among them 

the now-extinct Passenger Pigeon and Carolina

Paroquette, were so thick they counted in the millions.

During migration, the flocks blackened the 

sky for days. Hunters did not have to aim their 

guns at the birds, but just fired into the air 

for them to fall to the ground, more dead birds

than they could eat. 

The Ohio River got its name from the Native American 

phrase meaning "beautiful river." It would be an odyssey 

to attempt to explore and to effectively portray 

its beauty. One worth doing, if I can find a way. 

*A line from one of my favorite movies, My Favorite Year, 

starring Peter O'Toole. I laugh and laugh every time

I see it. What has it got to do with the little paintings?

Nuthin', other than for the fact that so many people 
do not understand why I want to tell this story.

(But of course I'm beneath them, I'm an artist.) 
Those who bother to listen think 

it's a great story, and are enthralled. 

Postcard Worthy: Confluence

Taken in 2007 from the deck of the Dresden Belle, this photograph shows participants
in the annual sternwheel boat races gathering at the confluence of the Ohio and Muskingum Rivers
after the completion of their heats. The races are held each year as the culmination of the Ohio River Sternwheel Regatta at Marietta, Ohio

I took this picture in 2007 while standing on the deck of my boat, the Dresden Belle. We'd just finished taking part in our heat of the annual races, which are the climax of the annual Marietta Ohio River Sternwheel Regatta. It was our first year and we didn't win, but who knew that, like NASCAR, there were "side draft" issues in boat races! 


I loved standing on the deck of the boat, to feel the breeze in my hair. Every shift in steering Carl made I could feel beneath my feet; likewise, if she wasn't working right I could also feel that. When the races were over, the boats gathered on the Ohio River at the mouth of the Muskingum, creating this scene, reminiscent of a time when the packet boats were a common sight on America's rivers.

Always remember, however, that postcards are advertisements, pretty pictures meant to entice, perhaps to deceive. I loved my boat, I loved the way that scene unfolded before us. What I didn't know was that the people and things I loved had a long history of deceit. The above scene was the last of a happy ten years; the postcard and the reality were two different things.

Click here to view thumbnails for all participants in this month's City Daily Photo Theme Day.

Journeys

"A ship in port is safe, but that's not what ships are for."

- Benazir Bhuto

I have to be up front: I borrowed/stole this quote from Pasadena Daily Photo, a blog belonging to Petrea Burchard. She has just completed her first novel. Having conceived of the idea, she wrote it, polished it and, rather than hide it away, she's sent it off in search of a publisher. The manuscript is now making the rounds of the editors, risking being sent back with a rejection slip. That takes courage. But she's doing it. She'll never know whether she might get to enjoy seeing her book published unless she's willing to risk its rejection.

I am working on my own book, struggling to put the words in the correct order, to clearly express my ideas. This writing stuff is hard. I research, take notes and try to shape the story in a way that is both compelling and interesting, so that the reader will just naturally want to do further reading beyond my own small book. It scares me. It's taking me away from the comfort zone of dreams into the real work of achieving a goal. I try to maintain the courage of my conviction, as stated in the above quote.

A friend and I had a saying, when talking about our own boat, that "there are two kinds of boat owners - floaters and boaters." Floaters kept their boat tied to the dock, maintained it, shared beer with their buddies and rarely took it for more than a short spin around their "pool," while boaters left the marinas for long trips. For years, we worked on our boat, upgrading it, repairing it, painting and scraping it (my job!), but it was never "ready." We were in danger of becoming another pair of the dreaded "floaters," until we realized the boat would never be ready, we'd just have to go. And so we did.

The picture is from one of those first trips. Along with several other sternwheel boats we traveled the Ohio River from Marietta, Ohio to Wheeling, West Virginia. It became an adventure, one that, for me, helped me to find a sense of confidence that's never left me, and helped me to realize that I could achieve far more than I'd ever thought possible.

I try to keep that in mind as I work on my book. Every day.

    

Pancake in the Creek

I went out today looking for one thing, but ended up with quite another. I saw kids playing at our neighborhood park, people doing yard work, and others toiling away at home improvement projects. But wouldn't ya know, the thing that struck my fancy was this little guy basking on a piece of stone. He's a spiny soft-shelled turtle, official name Apalone spinifera, that I first thought was a leaf, fallen on the stone in the middle of the creek.

The turtle I saw was about the same size as it appears on screen, which means he's probably immature; apparently they can become quite large, with females of the species living up to 50 years. Their shell is not hard, but flexible, especially at the edges. According to the information I read, they're really graceful in the water and like to eat such things as minnows and worms. They can lie submerged for hours, with just their snout above water, waiting for a juicy tidbit.

What I find odd is that I had gone looking for the common snapping turtle,  Chelydra serpentina, but found this little fella instead, which habituates the Mississippi River drainage area, including the Ohio and Allegheny Rivers. The urban creek where this guy resides is about 90 to 100 miles inland from the Ohio River. 

Hmm, more research and additional inquiries needed.

I just received an E-mail from Sarabeth Klueh, a herpetologist with the Indiana Department of Natural Resources, who identified the turtle as a spiny soft-shell, rather than a smooth soft-shell turtle. She said that projections can be seen just behind its head. I've changed the copy to reflect that information.