“Hope,” a digital giclee, has been selected for the current show at The Gallery at Second Stage Studios.

It honors the many women I know who have survived breast cancer, and one, my best friend Nancy, who did not. I support breast cancer research (I took part in an Avon 3-Day Walk a few years ago) and wanted to add my support to the Breast Health Center at Women and Infants for all the wonderful work they do. I will be donating all of my share of the sales price of $60 to this cause.

The artists’ reception will be held on Sunday, April 5, from 1-4p. see you there!

O! mighty harbinger of treasured Spring

Which from the Olde Towne ventures bravely forth

And carries in its hold each needful thing

From winter’s icebound warehouse in the north.

We wait until the day is near half done

To see the journey start, the great door rise

And streams of light as from a midnight sun

Presage the moving giant’s glowing eyes.

At last! We hear the engine’s mighty boom.

The door goes up! Our faith, an ember small

And precious in the season of our gloom,

Is burning now. Then comes the mighty call:

“Make way! We leave for the City of Palms!”

And we are soothed by training season balms.

Could the word “swill” be making a comeback?

Several news reporters and commentators quoted President Obama’s sentence in his inaugural address that used the word. It’s probably one of the very best sentences in what was a thoughtful, considered, and well-delivered speech.

I generally like recycling, especially the recycling of useful bits. So it’s nice to see a useful old word come back into use, especially one as descriptive and direct as this.

This even gives me a bit of hope that, perhaps, a President who is not afraid to call things by their real names will not be afraid to do the real things that need doing.

Did I hear our new President use the word “swill” in his inaugural speech?

We are shaped by every language and culture, drawn from every end of this Earth; and because we have tasted the bitter swill of civil war and segregation, and emerged from that dark chapter stronger and more united, we cannot help but believe that the old hatreds shall someday pass; that the lines of tribe shall soon dissolve; that as the world grows smaller, our common humanity shall reveal itself; and that America must play its role in ushering in a new era of peace.

Yes, indeed I did! I think the only other person I’ve ever heard use that marvelously descriptive word is my grandmother, and I know I’ve never heard it in a public speech before.

“Swill” is quite an old word, deriving from the Old English swillan, and means liquid or partly liquid food for animals, especially kitchen refuse given to swine. It can be traced back to at least 900CE, when swillan had the meaning or “to wash” or “to gargle.” The more modern noun usage traces back to the mid 16th century. (Sources: Random House Unabridged Dictionary and Online Etymology Dictionary)

How refreshing it is to have a President who uses words so deftly and calls things by their right names!

I’m busy re-designing my portfolio site, so the visuals for my projects are on hiatus. They’ll reappear as I re-create all my pages as part of a content management system.

If you’re looking for anything in particular, please email me at carol@thedigitalartist.com.

Okay, it’s another environmental rant. Not that I don’t feel there’s merit in keeping the planet clean. Far from it. In fact, this place would be a lot better if the overwhelming population of inconsiderate, human slobs would tidy up after themselves.

But what really gets me going is when the environags tell me we need to “save the planet.”

Save the planet?

Unless they know about a doomsday asteroid or comet that’s headed our way, I suggest they tone it down just a bit.

Because the truth is, recycling, reusing, reducing our carbon footprint won’t “save the Earth.”

What it might do is keep the Earth suitable for human habitation.

Big difference.

If we trash ourselves out of existence, the Earth will go spinning merrily along as usual. The cockroaches will get to enjoy their apartments in peace.

“Change your lightbulbs!”
“Use canvas grocery bags!”
“Take short showers!”

No, it’s not Al Gore or the usual environaggers. This time it’s a bank – Wainwright Bank, to be precise – that’s nannying me into insanity.

This Massachusetts bank’s USP is “greenness” and “social responsibility.” Their current flight of radio ads, which seem to play on Boston’s otherwise estimable news radio station WBZ about 30 times each hour (at least on the streaming version) remind me without surcease that I need to do all these little tasks in order to “save the Earth.”

Good grief.

Since I’ve already been using canvas grocery bags for twenty years, I’ve replaced virtually every bulb in my house with energy saving (but questionably disposable) CFLs, and consider the length and heat of my daily shower nobody’s business but my own, I’m understandably annoyed at the unending barrage of “helpful hints” from the folks at Wainwright.

Are they trying to browbeat me into opening an account at their bank? Guilt me into it? Because I have to tell you that this is the most pestiferous and counterproductive ad campaigns I’ve encountered in years.

What do I want a bank to tell me? I want to know that my money is safely kept. I want to know that I’ll get services at low cost, good rates of return on savings, and, if need absolutely be, a less-than-usurious lending rate. ATMs in safe and convenient locations would be good too.

But a bank as social worker and general environanny? I think not.

Thursday in Chicago – Seeing the Bean

Got into the Metro Lounge and checked our luggage. A few minutes to wash up, and then we walked to Millennium Park. Probably about a mile each way, and not at all good for my feet, but fabulous stuff to see. First, the Bean – real name, Cloud Sculpture #4 – with all its fabulous reflections, and the peoples faces on the fountain walls. We took photos from various angles andc distances, including from directly below the center. Much more to see in the park, and we decide to return to Chicago for a longer visit.

Chicago has wonderful public spaces and seems to invest in a lot of fascinating public art. Even though it is still a bit chilly, many people are outside, eating lunch, walking, shopping.

We decided on a quick lunch in the train station. One thing that was particularly noticeable was the friendliness and general good cheer of everyone we encountered.

As it happened, my shoes did my feet no favors, and I hobbled back to Union Station. In a not-too-bright move, we didn’t take the red cap service and slogged our mountain of luggage all the way to the train. Lesson learned: when you have a mountain of luggage take the red cap!

Rhode Island to Chicago

Blogging has not been as easy on this trip as I had expected. There’s been little or no wifi available on the train routes, and even less time to write! So I’m sending a few bits from Los Angeles before getting back on the train to head east.

We’re off on another journey to California, this time to our nephew Adam’s wedding in L.A. And this time we’re going by train.

We left the house after 1pm, stopped at the CVS, headed out of town and stopped at a Piccadilly Pub just before the Mass Pike. A little nonsense trying to get into the garage art Rensselaer, but are now in the station. I think our train has been made up and will be ready soon.

There’s plenty of leg room on these seats, but sleeping turns out to be a horror show. Neither of us can get really comfortable nor do more than doze occasionally. We are a bit grumpy. We try hot dogs – Hebrew Nationals – but while the dogs are fine, the rolls have suffered a terrible fate by being microwaved. In spots they are hot, in other spots it’s like chewing wood scraps.

Some of our compatriots on the train are a bit off the wall. We are sitting across from an older gent who is making inane cell calls very late at night. (You’re supposed to go to the café car if you want to gab late at night.) And some lady – I used that term with reservation – snapped a flash photo of the entire care in the middle of the night. There was one very loud little girl – thankfully she got out in Buffalo – and a crying baby who finally shut it and fell asleep.

The morning finds us a bit better as the sun rises. It gets interesting to look at. We stop at several cities and towns. We move to Central time. The train is running a bit late – actually about an hour. Then we stop at Hammond, Indiana – not a station stop, but the signal got dropped and we can’t move. I’m not sure how long we stay there, but we are a couple of hours late getting into Chicago.

I don’t have to dig through my boxes of old junk and look at my diploma from New Bedford High School. I know for a fact that I did not receive a high school degree.

Now, I do remember getting an undergraduate degree – a BFA – back in the day when dinosaurs roamed the East Side of Providence, Rhode Island. And I also remember receiving a graduate degree – an MFA – in the vastness of the Carrier Dome at Syracuse a few years later.

But I have no memory of ever being awarded a high school degree.

Simply because there is no such creature.

So, why do I hear and read about high school degrees everywhere these days?

It started out with the daytime TV commercials for those dubious correspondence schools – you know, the schools where you can get a certificate in refrigeration repair, home economics or animal husbandry. The perky spokesmodel talks through a list of subjects in which you can be certified, and then, finally, says, “You can even get your high school degree. Call now!”

I thought it was just ignorance; that, or a desire to impress the uncertified, undiplomaed, undegreed and/or unemployed folks stuck at home watching daytime TV. But now I’m seeing and hearing references to high school degrees everywhere.

News reports on television and in relatively respectable newspapers such as The Providence Journal* have included references to high school degrees. Typically, it’s a story about a poor, drug-addicted, unwed, homeless mother of three who has pulled herself up by her bootstraps, with the help of numerous local, state and federal government programs, who finally “earned her high school degree” at the urging of her parole officer.

But reports of high school degrees have cropped up in such publications as Newsweek, whose editors you would think would know better. (Okay, granted they were quoting Larry Rosenstock, CEO of High Tech High in San Diego, but he really ought to know better!)

There is even a headlined reference to high school degrees on the website of the University of Florida: “Don’t have a high school degree?” (Well, of course you don’t, you blockhead! That’s my entire point… nobody does!)

Simply put, high schools are not degree-granting institutions. That’s what colleges and universities are for. You go to a college, and work two or four or more years, pass your courses and earn a degree. An associate’s degree. A bachelor’s degree. A master’s degree. A doctorate.

At high school, you go for three or four years, pass your courses, and earn…. A DIPLOMA!

And there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that! In fact, not so very long ago, it was considered quite an accomplishment to have a high school diploma. It opened the door to a lot of jobs back in the day. It assured potential employers that the holder of the diploma was, at the very least, literate, and, perhaps, even knew a thing or two about math, history, science, civics and literature.

These days, with our muzzy-headed insistence on relevance, self-esteem, passing standardized tests and having virtually everyone prepare for college, no matter where else their talents and interests may lie, employers no longer have that assurance. Very few high schools have business tracks anymore – a real shame when so many young people could prepare for the administrative and technical positions without four years of college. Even fewer high schools have vocational programs. They leave that job to the relatively few vocational high schools, schools, which, by the way, do an overall excellent job of preparing their students for solid trade and craft jobs that society will always need.

But, I digress.

I’m not sure why anyone would look down on a high school diploma, even today. Perhaps it is no longer the golden ticket to most employment it used to be. But it still opens the door to many jobs, and to colleges and technical schools.

But remember, it’s a diploma. It’s not a degree.

It shouldn’t take a college education to understand that.
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*Okay, I think it’s relatively respectable. Your results may vary.