Another week in the calendar…and what an adventure it was! Silver linings were everywhere this week. Grab a cuppa. There is a pitcher of lemonade and some coolies, so sit under one of the fans and let’s talk. Clyde has been itching to bring something up to us.
Delayed & Derailed
The fender bender of Tuesday, and the ensuing fixes on Wednesday and Thursday, derailed my project of going live with T3 this week. Never fear. It gave me an opportunity to stink eye it one more time. I also got the chance to rethink the way I had the original cover art. I am deciding whether or not to change it, since I adored it for the original release.
There have been oodles of people tell me the book does not apply to them because their children are grown or they have none. I beg to differ. What T3 holds is a simple psychology which works on children of all ages, and most especially on those who reside in an arrested state of development.
When I floated the notion toddlerhood is directly proportional to teenagerdom, many people scoffed at me. I just kept telling them the world was not flat. Soon, the book will be out again in support of precisely how simple it is to change the relationships of those in your present by merely understanding why they do the things they do.
While we are talking books, go ahead and take the new poll.
Move along, citizens. Nothing to see here.”
Oh, right, I am not supposed to actually write that. *sigh*
So, with the Stats Market Crash, now officially known as Brown Tuesday, there are very little stats to report. The bug made comments crawl to a standstill, and the stats were mostly in the red. For a brighter note, the search engines are finished spanking M3 for not being at their disposal earlier in the week. If the trend continues, we will be back on course by around Wednesday.
If you have not visited with this week’s writer, please stop by and meet Karen. She got caught in the switches.
Get With The ART!
Oh. My. Word. The M3 Readers are the most creative people assembled in the blogosphere. If you missed Thursday night, take a few moments to scroll through Creatively Speaking. It will open in another tab, so you do not lose your place here. There were some fabulous ideas floated for both M3 and for Redmund Productions.
Some of your ideas will require the use of outside sources. You really, truly do not want to see what I come up with for a caricature. Definitely…not my genre. Which is what makes me über-glad I have the talents of Lizzie, Bearman, Deb, Cat, Binky, SIG and many of the other very talented and genre-capable artists who frequent M3. Not to mention the massive creative imaginations of MJ, Red, Loon, Soma, Val, Barb and the hatemailers who all floated ideas.
I will be building some concept art, which hopefully will be ready to put to a poll by next week’s SEP. If you have not sounded off, please do. Remember, the thrust is not M3, but Redmund Productions.
Right Turn, Clyde!
Someone quipped to me this week they knew what Clyde would bring to the SEP this week. Some mumbling and tittering ensued about Leave me alone! All I can say is, Oops! I do not read the script.
Ironically, that last line could well be a RTC subject, but not this SEP. See, I knew on Wednesday (like I normally do) what Clyde would turn us to tonight. Alas, derailing is the theme this week. So, let’s talk about Clyde’s Friday idea.
Admission: I have this print of a train wreck which I have had hung in my house since the day it happened more than 15 years ago. The photograph (which this photograph does not do justice) is stark. You cannot see the rain drops running down the roof of the truck or appreciate the spider-webbed bit of windshield left hanging from the header.
Can you see the rip in the center of the seat where the bench was broken? Do you see the white surgical glove on the remains of the door in the lower left corner?
My former husband, an AP award-winning photographer and graphic arts professor, took it on assignment for a newspaper. It would run in 12. After he took it, he went to the studio and developed the film. When he brought the picture to the layout editor, he told me he stared at it for a long time. He got up, returned to the studio and brought home the 11×14 print which still hangs in my home today.
Years later, I asked him what the photograph meant to him. He told me this.
It shows me how fragile life really is. How much we take for granted. How stupid we can really be.” He paused. “It shows me we are not invincible.”
On a rainy morning, a mother and sister and their five children climbed into the little truck and headed out to drop off to work and sitters. They stopped at a traffic signal, with the truck resting on the tracks. Mother was tired and did not think twice about waiting for the light on the tracks.
The engineer blew the train’s whistle. She tried to put the truck in gear to get it off the tracks, but, in her panic, stalled the truck. She struggled to get it running again as the train ground the brakes trying to stop the eight passenger-laden cars and two engines. Sparks from the wheels against the tracks flew into the mist.
In the ten-second interval between the whistle and the impact, no one knows what she thought. Onlookers heard the screams of the sister and the children, who were excited to see the train, never grasping the danger.
The children and the mother were transported to the hospital. The following morning, the mother would join her sister in the morgue.
What is our fascination with train wrecks?
Is it the long time we have to avoid them, which we choose not to do? Is it the mental gymnastics we do in the interval between the whistle and the impact (which fails to testament our intellectual prowess to avoid the consequences of situations we knew better than to enter) which makes us believe it will never happen to us?
Is it we think we would never put ourselves in those situations? Do we marvel at the thoughts which occur or fail to occur to those in the wreck? Are we consumed with the destruction? If we are, is it solely because it could have been avoided?
Unlike most who view this photograph, I come away from it with a profound hope. Over the years, that hope was realized. The children who were in the truck graduated high school. A few have children of their own. The closeness of those children was solidified in a moment of disaster and the ensuing chaos of the remaining adults in their lives scrambling to create some level of normalcy in a world without the single mothers.
I come from it appreciative. Rather than judge the driver for her folly, I am acutely aware of the measures I must and do take to protect my children and those who are in my charge. I appreciate not carrying the burden of putting others in danger. I appreciate the gravity of ensuring safety.
I come from it aware. My ex was right. Life is very fragile. When we treat it disrespectfully, it can easily cease to be ours.
I come from it focused. The moments when we are not sucking the marrow from each and every situation is time we have thrown away. We must find the enjoyment and fulfillment in even the most mundane of endeavors, lest we close our books of life with empty pages and those with scribbled nonsense no one will ever care to remember.
Until next time,
What does the image of the train wreck bring to your mind? What is your initial feeling at the thought of fatality? Why are we fascinated by train wrecks? Answer any of the questions from above, as well.