Art Attack!

Samhain                                         New (Thanksgiving) Moon

Just back from Art Attack and the VIP event I helped organize with Debbie Woodward, the manager of the Northrup-King Building.  What an evening!  So many artists studios, most of them open, running along the corridors that used to hold the work of the Northrup-King seed company.  Three floors of long corridors, then an L turn and more corridor in a connected building, also with multiple floors.  Way bigger than I imagined.

Debbie put together the event itself, hired a caterer, engaged a jazz band, secured a performance artist and set up tables and chairs in a very large room with old wooden flooring, grain ducts cut off at the ceiling, huge concrete pillars and a wonderful shabby ambiance.  I would estimate a 150 guides or so total, coming from the MIA, the Weisman and the Walker.  The energy in the room was wonderful, a fun up beat, hip feel.

Glad it worked.

When Bad Service Is All You Expect

Samhain                                               New (Thanksgiving) Moon

Over to Comcast offices, a 20 minute drive, to pick up the multi-channel cable card a Comcast chatline worker told me I could pick up there.  After taking a number, 14, while the number being served was 90, I sat down, thinking the wait was worth it because I’d driven the whole way.  So I sat.  As the numbers ticked off, I watched a guy who had an angry countenance grimace, a man a good 6 feet five inches walk in with a cable box under his arm.  His pants had a belt and suspenders.  Safer that way.  A small boy with a mischievous smile ran up to the number dispenser and started to take one, then looked back at his mom so the proper expression of dissatisfaction could register, smiled and ran over to her.  Most folks sat resignedly cable boxes, dvr boxes or modems clutched in their hands, having done Comcast the service of getting in their cars, using their gas and coming all this way just to do business with the folks to whom each of us shell out so much money each month.

(I’m not the only with complaints against Comcast.)

13.  “13.”  “13.”  Ah.  “14.”  “I need a multi-channel cable card, please.”  “We don’t carry those, you have to schedule a service call.”  The drive, the wait, for something I could have handled over an interminably long phone call, but at least I would have already been at home.  Unhappy camper here.

I’m gonna start looking at alternatives.  Right away.  Like right now.

My Friend

Samhain                                                   New (Thanksgiving) Moon

Thursday night around 9 pm I went out to the mailbox to drop The Book of Eli in the mail back to my buddies at Netflix.  It was not a cold night, a slight chill, but the night was clear.  From nowhere in our house can we see the eastern horizon, neighbor’s houses and woods block our view, so it came as a surprise to me to see an old friend there when I opened the mailbox and glanced to my left.

Orion’s brawny left shoulder and his glittering belt had begun to emerge.  Back a long while ago, the winter of 1968 and 1969, my last year in college, I worked at the magnalite corporation as a week-end night watchman.  I had a round leather clock with a shoulder strap and a key hole and every hour I had to walk a circuit in the factory, find a key hung from a metal chain, insert it in the clock, turn the key, remove it and move on to the next station.   I had no protective duties, rather I served at the leisure of magnalite’s insurance carrier who insisted on hourly inspections when the plant was empty.

When I was not on my ten-minute round, I spent time in the guard shack at the entrance to the parking lot.  I often divided my time between studying and dozing off since I had the 11:00 pm to 7:00 am shift, but when I left the shack for my rounds or to wake myself up, Orion was there.  Being in a large factory complex alone, at night, on the weekend, is lonely duty.  I liked it for that reason, but I found Orion’s presence companionable, and it gradually grew into a friendship.  He and I could talk.  We both stood watch in the night.

Since those days, now 41 years ago, each fall when Orion rises, I greet him as an old friend, a true snowbird, one who returns when the snow comes and leaves as it does.  My old college friend has come for his annual months long visit.  And I’m glad.