Jack's Guide (the Renaissance Person's Guide to Survival in a Shaky Economy)

Magic, Hope, Travel and Design

Everyone, I think, is aware that today is Halloween- my favorite holiday to celebrate, when I do decide and have the opportunity to do so.  But I doubt that a great number of folks realize that today is National Magic Day, in honor of the great magician Harry Houdini, who died on Halloween in 1926, after having invited some brute to punch him in the stomach, giving it his best shot, and then being sucker-punched by the dastardly son of a gun when he wasn't looking.  Apparently the guy ruptured something of vital import, and Harry finally succumbed to a trap he couldn't escape.

I am wholly receptive to the concept of magic- a mysterious force that no one can really explain; a seductive energy with the power to do the seemingly impossible.  I can appreciate magic on two distinct levels- first, as a clever deception that everyone realizes is but slight-of-hand, and second, as the real thing- an energy that has no apparent physical justification, and has the ability to create miraculous results.  The illusions created by street wizards and theatrical magicians (level one) amaze us, and we love to be amazed.  We love to see logic turned on its head, and the effect these tricks produce in us, as far as I am concerned, qualify as transcendental.  But the truly supernatural stuff (level two) is tougher to come by.  The power of hope and faith is an awesome example (if I may be allowed a trite superlative here).  In my humble opinion, and qualified by personal experience (sit tight, the book's coming out later), these concepts can and do work miracles.  I have read quasi-scientific accounts of how it works, but those can all be shrugged off as metaphysical malarky by the unbelieving.  Those folks will never get it, because they are stuck in the mindset where they don't want to believe...... not in magic nor mystery, not in the power of hope and love, nor in anything they can't quantify or comprehend.  Too bad for them.  I wonder how they decorate themselves for Halloween?

I have, on Halloweens past, devised some clever costumes, but no costume I ever devised comes close to the efforts of my sister Diane and brother-in-law Brian.  They can be counted on to come up with the most amazing outfits, on a yearly basis, and revel in doing so.  I have seen them as Hagrid and his Dragon (from Harry Potter), Drew Carey and Mimi, Mr. and Mrs. Potato Head, and Shrek and Princess Fiona- and every one was done to perfection. I was disappointed for them to find that circumstance had dictated that they were unable this year to dress up, and I feel certain that they intend to make up for it next year.  My favorite over the years, and the one that got the most chuckles (and a few glances of naked horror) was when I tricked myself out as a "white boy with a heart on". (Use your imagination.)

I found a blog that I really like- one that covers a couple of my favorite topics, those being travel and design.  Started by Meghan McEwen, a travel writer and design lover, it is called Designtripper. In the following photos she explores common themes she found in various hotels she encountered on her wanderings: "hanging ropes, fringe-like chandeliers, organic materials and oversized graphic/photographic wall murals", she says. This, too, from her blog: "She thinks the intersection of travel and design is a common crossroads."  How cool..... I want to do that when I grow up.

Happy Boxer Shorts Day, Tillandsias

That's right- ditch those whitey tighties, dudes (and dudettes- this is a non-sexist blog) and break out the boxer shorts. There's nothing at all like the freedom of.... on second thought, I don't know that such a level of detail is really necessary here.  The only info I could uncover regarding Boxer Shorts Day was that it exists, presumably for the sole purpose of promoting and perpetuating sales of boxer shorts. Celebrate! Celebrate!  Dance to the muu-uu-sic!

Circumstance dictates that I keep today's blog post brief- I have multiple tasks to complete on this last day of my research trip to NC.  Today I am rounding up my cousin Rick (who remains the functional care-taker of the mineral springs for which Connelly Springs is named- see previous posts, please), and my aunt Helen (who still lives near the site of the old hotel). We are heading over to Hiddenite, the site of the competing family hotel, which predates the Mineral Springs Hotel as far as concerns my family history.  Apparently there was a falling out between my great-grandfather and his brother over the recreational benefits available to the visitors.  William Jeff Davis, my mom's dad's daddy, felt that patrons should be allowed to participate in un-Christian activities, such as the heinous practices of playing cards, dancing, and listening to music.  So the freres parted ways and great granddaddy went off to purchase his own hotel, down the tracks a ways, where unabashed sinning surely ensued.  I was delighted to find that my part of the family came down on the fun side of the fence.

I found the following link on the apparent latest hot thing in house plants.  I have kept various air plants and bromeliads before, but didn't really have a clue how to properly care for them, and they consequently perished in short order, turning into dried-up twigs, that I was convinced could be revived with copious amounts of misting.  Wrong. When they're dead, they are dead.  However, I am finding that judicious application of googling turns up generous quantities of resource info on how to properly care for them.  If you share my admiration for unusual house plants, check out this link to airplants.com, where they can be purchased by "snail mail".

Health benefits of travel and music

I used to get around a lot more than I can manage these days.  No, I'm not talking about needing a walker and a chair lift to negotiate the stairs......I'm not quite that decrepit. What I am declaring is that opportunities and resources for travel used to be much more frequent, and I miss them. I'll admit that much of that regrettable circumstance is of my own making-  I am most decidedly a "nester".  A bachelor for most of my life, I have become accustomed to the comfort of my own abode- dare I call it my "man cave"?  Between my comfort level at home and the decelerating economy, I find myself curtailed regarding my ability to venture beyond the borders of this great country of ours, or even to take lesser trips within its limits.  I've forgotten how invigorating and inspiring it can be to escape from my everyday surroundings, if only briefly.  I can recall an extended trip, courtesy of the design firm I was employed by at that time, to the Middle East, and returning through Europe, journaling all the way.  I'm still racking my alleged brain to recall where I stashed those writings.  They were among the first and most enthusiastic of my literary undertakings, and they stoked my notions of someday indulging that passion to its hilt.

Now I find myself here in my home state of North Carolina, where I have resided only briefly during my earthly tenure, but have always thought of as home.  I still claim family in this vicinity- cousins by the dozens, and my mom's sister, my aunt Helen, continues to reside in the "old home place", nearby the former site of the Connelly Springs Mineral Hotel, where my grandfather was proprietor, and where the family was raised.  I am so, so fortunate to still have a living connection to that past.  I'm diligently picking Helen's brain and researching existing family and place histories for story-grade material, in hopes of venturing into the realm of "historical fiction" (or something akin) with my writing.  Do stay in touch for future developments.  Below is a photo of the old hotel:

Obviously, all the aforementioned benefits of travel are of the emotional/psychological variety, but I must mention the physical benefits as well.  In fact, if it weren't for the search for a physical "cure for what ails ya", that hotel would never have existed.  I found a number of documents espousing the various advantages to the traveler of partaking of the mineral water that was available from the little spring house there, and at large throughout the hotel.  Folks came from all over the southeast to take their rest and enjoy the curative properties of a stay at the hotel.  I grew up visiting Helen and her family in the big brick house that Granddaddy built nearby when the hotel's productive career came to an end, and I have always enjoyed those same healing benefits, whenever we came to stay for a while. 

My cousin Clint still lives just down the road, in Valdese. He indulges in the wonderful and productive pastime of  hosting the Americana Stage, a currently "floating" venue for acoustic and Americana musical acts. (I said acoustic, but he has sponsored some great funky, bluesy, plugged-in acts as well.)  I think he got some of his enthusiasm for it from visiting the yearly art and music festival that I am involved with in Atlanta, the Inman Park Festival, but I am taking no credit here.  At the Americana Stage, they put on nine or so shows a year, and they have to fund themselves.  I, on the other hand, am riding the gravy train, receiving modest funding from various sources, and I don't have to concern myself about making a profit.  Anyway, Clint is always turning me on to new music, and although he claims that I do the same for him, I believe the balance has shifted in his favor (or would that be mine?). So-  here's a link to a guy Clint recommended for my event next Spring in Atlanta.  The guy's name is Seth Walker, and I hope you enjoy the clip:

Seth Walker

NC Travel, Football Saturday

On the road again, da da da dee da da da......... (to paraphrase Willie Nelson).  Actually, I’m off the road, on my butt, sitting with my brother Gordie and watching college football, with no plans to do another blessed thing all day, excepting possibly to eat more.  I sense some of you rolling your eyes in disdain, not comprehending the brotherly connection represented by sharing concerns over “going for it on first down”, the folly of the onside kick too early in the game, and why they don’t show the cheerleaders more (the sole advantage pro football has over the collegiate game).  It doesn’t really matter that we share the same alma mater, but it helps (and we do).  Shoot, we don’t even have to be watching our team.  We managed to run Gordon’s wife Janice off (or so she’d have us believe; she has her own agenda for the afternoon) and eagerly await kickoff for our game, whiling away the time watching other teams, the closer the score the better.  Given no other preferences, all we have to do is pull for the underdogs- a time-honored tradition.

I have little, if anything, to offer today in the way of creative/productive suggestions.  Today is a day for basking in the warmth of family and the glow of the almighty tube.  We got up early here in Hendersonville, waking to a bracing Fall morning, clear and sunny, and replete with the crimson, orange, and yellow hues of autumn.  My brother suggested a trip over to Hooker Falls, early enough to precede the inevitable crowds that he complains about, being “back east”, after years in Colorado/New Mexico, where one has a bit more room to escape the maddening throng. (Those are his sentiments- I think he’s just a bit spoiled.)  But by the time we got there, we could see that the parking area was already overrun, proving his point.  It was, nevertheless, not too crowded to discourage us, and the light filtering through the morning mist and colorful foliage illuminated just the things I love and miss most about not living here.  The smells of the forest and the decaying vegetation, and the absence of any traffic sounds such as I am accustomed to living in Atlanta are almost overwhelming, after so long.  Yep, I could live here.

The plan, such as it is, includes a trip to Burnsville tomorrow, to the foot of Mount Mitchell, highest elevation east of the Mississippi, where my sibs and I own an undeveloped lot that our folks purchased some forty years or so ago.  We are currently in something of a quandry over what to do with it.  The market for selling it is not optimal, to put the point mildly, and as none of us have laid eyes on it for lo, these many years, we have no idea of what to do with it.  So it seems a good idea to have a look, perhaps gaining some insight in the process of how to use it most creatively and productively.  And it should prove to be some ideal viewing of mountain color.  

So- happy Mole Day, or happy Do It Yourself Day- take your pick.

This is where we went this morning: