A New Needle Awl

 This is one of those posts that has only 4 pix.  I meant to take photos of the whole process, but in the manner of deeply personal non-tack items, I got carried away and forgot,... or just didn't interrupt!  Wood is the most likely material for this to happen with;  if it had been a vehicle, like a sleigh, the chances of documentation would have been no better!  And just think of the snowshoes,...  photos didn't happen there either, at least not during the construction.

We do have a lovely lay-out shot at the start of making an entire new Needle Awl.  Coping saw and dowel, hand drill, brass tubing, soldering gun and drill bits are all here.

The broken old one is central at top.  The black cone-shaped braided button has been slipped off, and just below its bare wood can be seen two needles, the old blade and the new.  This is the only way to discern that the new blade is actually a large-eye beading needle that broke off half its eye at some unknown earlier time.  

Honestly I have made most of my tackmaking tools from broken needles.  Call it supreme recycling.   I don't have the courage, or the knowledge! to break one on purpose.

The length of the old wooden handle was 5 inches, and its diameter started at 15/32", just under half an inch.  In any case I later filed the new one a lot thinner!!  The approach was to solder the new blade into 1  3/4" of my smallest diameter brass tubing.  Its diameter I measured as 9/64",  really close to 1/8".   This soldering was unfortunately quite difficult.  I failed on the first end (the half-eye broke off inside!) and had to try the other.  I'm not at all sure I got the needle far enough in.  In future, if my new Awl fails, it will be here, where the base of the blade only goes so far in:  about 1/4" I'm guessing.

 While the metal cools I'm drilling a hole down the length of the dowel, about 2 " long.  It turns out to have been a mistake to start tapering the tip so soon;  that made it harder to center the drill.  Drilling itself was also difficult, requiring starting with a small drill bit, about 3/32", progressing to a medium bit size (about 1/8") and finishing with the 5/32".  Even though this is larger than the brass tubing, the friction of the wood was tremendous -- well above my own strength -- and pushing my largest tube into the dowel before it was ready was a big mistake.   I struggled so hard getting it back out again,..

 Back to the blade.  Slip the smallest tube into the next size up, 7/64".  The fit is very tight;  no glue or soldering can happen between the tubes.  This size's length I cut slightly less, say about 1  1/2 ".  Next, slip that tube into 1  1/2" of my largest brass tube, 9/64", again a tight fit.   Each tube I cut slightly shorter so that I'd have a tapered telescoping to hold my needle.  I later soldered and filed this taper smoother with a metal file.  

It looks so much like nothing!  It especially looks like an assymmetrical fit in the above photo.  But this was before I filed the wood cone even.  At least we are not dealing with what we had before, that added-on cone.

 Fitting the soldered nest of brass and blade into the handle was a matter of finding a crack in my worktable I could push the needle all the way down into.  Then, with the needle safely out of the way and the weight resting against the tubes, I jammed the wood down as hard as I could, trying to force the brass into the hole.  Bit by bit I succeeded.  Of course the blade is a bit crooked [not centered exactly] -- that is a byproduct of my soldering -- but the old awl was that way too.  It is not a flaw that will affect its performance as a fid.

Lastly came the process of getting the braided buttons back onto the handle.  For some reason the longest button would NOT slide.  I filed and I filed and I filed [the dowel smaller], -- for two days I tried!!  --  to get that darn thing to move into place.  Yes, I wetted it, greased it, you name it!  It never really behaved, so I gave up and braided a new button into the space that was left.

So that is how the exact same length of handle and the same buttons didn't come out the same way.  Go figure.  The new button, I am proud to say, is a 9P 7B Fan, subtitled 1-3-3-1;  you can see each pass can be described by going over 1, under 3, over 3, under 1.  This beauty will be in my next book;  it is heavily used on Tissarn's reins as well as Peet's Romal Reins.  It's one of my favorites.  [Ed. note:  In the final finishing the lace covered up many passes and so it looks like 1-2-2-1.]

Also, this new needle was so sharp I had to blunt it a little.  It took some using to reveal that it needed a bit of shaping with a fine metal file.  It works fine now.

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IN OTHER NEWS:   Rinker's bosal is done.  After photography, I will be putting it up for auction on MHP at an announced time.  I'm thinking of asking $75.00 plus postage.

 

Ponderosa at 60

 

Sixty years ago today, or possibly 59 if subsequent research into Decorators is wrong, Ponderosa came into my hands.  He was a birthday present from my parents.  I was 5 years old.  There are mysteries here:  For most of my collecting life I was fairly certain that I had gotten Ponderosa for my 6th birthday.  Only in the last decade or so, reading other hobbyist's research, have I seriously wondered whether it could have been my 5th.  Nineteen-sixty-six is pretty late for Decorators to be in stores.  As a child, my sister and I had received a Decorator a good while before -- Gold Ear, the Florentine Fighting Stallion -- and while that argues for him to be for my 6th, it also could fit into the published statement that Breyer's Decorators came out in 1964, and, slow sellers as they were, some were left for 1965.

Whenever it happened, he certainly was for my birthday.  And in the absence of solid evidence, perhaps we can forgive him, and me, one year in sixty. 

His body bears the scars of those early years.  Any horse that survived my childhood, and the first years of my model hobby, is going to be heavily marked.  His leg is broken -- that happened on an elementary school playground.  He is in fact branded -- only a few horses suffered this indignity, but as leader, he got the H-dash (the H stood for "horse," my favorite word).  He carries the lessons that, perhaps, just perhaps, nail polish remover [acetone] was not the best medium for taking off black marks with. 

On the positive side, he's no longer matte, as the Wedgewoods were originally.  He's a fine example of what I call "hand shine," the semi-gloss appearance of a matte Breyer that has been handled so much, caressed and played with and hand-rubbed so much, that the surface takes on a beautiful sheen.

Sixty years is a long time, about the longest time any model horse has stayed with me.  Entering the realm of solid evidence, with the below 1972 photograph we can document that only four horses still remain with me from then:  Ponderosa, King, Tesoro the King's son, and Thomas the charcoal Fighter.   If these photos are familiar, it's because they were part of my Braymere Winter Photo Challenge entry in 2015.

Thomas appears in another blog post:  Tuning the piano

In this fantastic photo, we can see Ponderosa and twenty-five other models, my collection when I was twelve.  [Technically 11 years 10 months.]  Ponderosa is just to the left of the piano pedals, next to the elk.  One appy FAF away from him is his wife, Pine, the Alabsater FAS.  I admit, my grasp of the sex of models was squishy at that time;  but also, I ask you, how's a horse supposed to be married when Breyer provided so few mares?!   This Colorado child was pleased with the names' mild pun (Ponderosa Pine).  I must have decided against Blue Spruce because I did not like spruce trees (so prickly!) half so much as the noble pine, the largest tree in the environment and one which smelled like butterscotch.

 I can still rattle off their names.  Starting from the right with the donkey, we have:  Brighty, Charlie, Coppe, Cruella, Francis (the 5-Gaiter), Gueseppe, Joey (bay bucking bronco, down on all fours), Justin (the Morgan), Kiopo, Milwaukee, Misty (white Running Mare), Pawnee, Pine, Poison Ivy, Ponderosa, Ralph (the elk), Rebecca, Rontu, Rosy (the Smoke Belgian), Shag the Buffalo, Sheltie, Snowy, Sparkler (charcoal FAS), Spitnik, Thomas and Windy.  Obviously I could think of no other way formal enough to arrange them than the alphabet.

Coppe is short for Copper, who later changed his name to Tesoro Cobre Rey, Spanish for  Treasure Copper King.  Only his forelegs show in the photo.  Alas Pine is long gone.  How I'd love to find that glossy with the acetone-whitened mane, but the odds are terrible.  Poison Ivy was arguably my first horse, a fatneck with one broken leg replaced by a nail and others just broken, but his odds are even worse.  Fifteen others from this photo have had themselves replaced, down through time, as Breyers can.

Ponderosa, over the years, has become the most magical, mystical, spiritual member of the herd:  He is its shaman, its touchstone in time, its taproot and foundation stallion.  He is the oldest Decorator in my possession, the only one obtained at the time of their 1960s release.  No other Deco, no matter how acquired, can match that.  I can remember opening his box at my birthday and being annoyed he wasn't a Copenhagen or Florentine.  And yet, his beauty grew on me, and I never could let him go.  In time I realized what an incredible prize he was.  He belongs now in the class of family heirlooms, to be passed down to relatives or extremely close friends.  I've always thought his expression was smiling and calm:  He's a very knowing horse.

Today he spends his time under plastic sheeting, not very dignified to be sure, but safe from mold spores and dust.  [Ed. note:  Only matte finishes need this covering;  glossies are proof against this particular mold.]   He is always there, my oldest trace, and I have long since been forgiven for not liking him when he first appeared at that long-ago birthday party.

Thank you, Dad and Mom.

Palomino Insatiety

 

 This post was conceived when I saw the new Mustang mare Volo, in plastic, boasted about on the Stone Horses page.  I could barely restrain myself from blurting:  "I'd be a lot more congratulatory if I could have received the expensive Stone I paid for back in December -- !!!"  My birthday is three days away.  Horses listed in the sale right alongside the one I bought, such as Lincoln and Two N Renn, have already been shipped, landed and boasted about.   I thought for sure that April would provide enough time for her to arrive: four months plus.

Pirouline, Bugler

Pirouline, left, my only FCM Stone, obtained in 2007.  Bugler, an etch job by me [the mane and tail], Stone Tennessee Walking Horse, obtained in 2007.

 But then, being who I am, never far from an awareness of how long and how often I've made my own customers wait (ouch!), I started to ask myself questions.  Didn't I already have a palomino Trad Stone?  Could I perhaps perform a kind of sympathetic magic, bridling a Palomino with the intended show-off tack piece, photographing her and posting about it?  (Hasn't there been a pattern that when I complain, fulfillment follows all too quickly?!)  Swiftly the corollary followed:  Just how many Trad scale palominos did I already have, anyway?  I'd never counted them, never yet gathered them all together,...  unlike my infamous Palomino Stablemate collection, which was all in one place and numbered 62,...  😏 

Hartland Narcissus, BHR Niflheim, SM Gold Charm

Though I am vehement about not liking Gold Charms, a few had still sneaked in.  In back, a 9" Hartland ASB (acquired 1991); a Black Horse Ranch resin pony (acq. 1995); and the only Stablemate to make this post, also the only official Gold Charm I own, acquired a few years back.  (I don't name my Stablemates.)

Now I'm about the most embarrassed model horse collector, for I truly had no idea how many I already had.   I last counted my herd decades ago, finding about 400.  Today's survey indicated close to one-tenth of my entire collection was palominos;  and that there were a great many similar colors.  Palominos in every shade from orange to palest peanut butter were here, stallions, mares, geldings and foals, Perlinos, pintos, Copper Wedgewoods, Gold Charms, Silver Bays and the grand old Florentines, highest of the high.  I even turned up a dun.  I had Breyers, Stones, Hartlands, a BHR resin, a remake and a resincast.  They spanned my entire collecting life from 1979 to last year, full 46 years.  They would make one heck of a blog post.

Flicka, Caruso, Sun-Lemon

I would begin with the palominos from my childhood.  Flicka the Family Arab Mare started it all, acquired 1968.  She originally belonged to my sister.  Like every model horse Janet ever had which I wanted, she eventually wound up in my hands.  Trade, sale, gift or outright steal, history does not reveal.  Caruso the matching Fighting Stallion was aquired in 1980.  The foal, with the delightful childhood name Sunflower Sun-Lemon, was acquired in 1970.  You may think he's a rarity with his pink hooves, like his mother.  But those hooves are actaully nail-polish repainting by a determined artistic teenager.  Caruso's hooves are, I believe, genuine original finish.

Blaze Hartland QH, DH the 5-Gaiter, Corinna

We're still in the 1980s of my acquisitions here.  Blaze, a Hartland 11-inch Series Quarter Horse, was gotten in 1989.  Great color if I say so!  DH, which stands for Dacono Hornblower (can you tell I love naming horses...), the magnificent orange-palomino 5-Gaiter, was acquired in 1985.  He managed to break his off fore, but I love him anyway:  he is the definitive bright orange.  If it's relevant, I marched in the Tournament of Roses in 1977 and fell in love with silver saddles on palominos then,...   The palomino Running Mare, DH's wife, whom I named Corinna, was obtained in 1982.  For some reason she was not at the top of my list of favorites and today is stowed way back on a hidden shelf.

 The 1990s were years of Hartlands for me.  If we're going by year of acqisition, let's take a look at some side-along palominos,  the wonderful Copper Wedgewoods (or copper chestnuts) of that company.

Rex, Wakatanka, FireHawk

Rex, leftmost, is another 9" ASB, acquired 1985.  Wakantanka, Hartland 11" series ASB, I got at the first BreyerFest in 1990.  FireHawk is a 9" Arab, acq. 1996.  Both Wakantanka and FireHawk were partially repainted by me in an effort to restore their color.

In the 2000s, things changed a bit.  Stone released one of their most lovely colors, what they called Walnut Woodgrain.  I was fortunate enough to snag two of these poems, showing the Arab to a NAN gold cookie.

Maple Sugar, Solis

The Stone Pony, whom I named Maple Sugar, was acquired in 2008.  The Arab, named Solis, was one of only 10 (expensive in those days!), and I acquired her in 2002.  Can't complain much now eh --!!

I see I'm leaving out the Silver Bays.  Here's another sub-collection within the broader class of palomino-alikes in my herd.  Ever since Breyer came out with this color I've been in love with it.  The photos don't do them justice;  the Strapless is glossy and all have pearly manes and tails.

left to right:  Metallica, Taliessin, Mistral, Rapadura

 Uncalled For/Metallica, my first Silver Bay, on the Strapless mold, was acquired in 2005.  [Breyer name or names / my own personal name for the horse]  Next to her is my latest, on the Dundee mold, Romeo/Taliessin, acq. 2023.  Minstrel/Mistral, the Harley D/Latigo/Loping Quarter Horse, was obtained in 2019, the same year the beautiful Celeste/Rapadura came into my possession. 

A palomino halfway to Cremello and pearled occurred with Winter Wonderland/Zosina.  Here she is with a couple other miscellaneous palominos:

Solana, Zosina, Colavita

Solana, the Peruvian Paso special run, was obtained in 2005.  The beautiful Winter Wonderland/Zosina, one of Breyer's Christmas Holiday horses, was acquired in 2017.  I made the base myself; the name comes from a novel by Isak Dinesen (The Angelic Avengers).  On the right, my only palomino dun, the lovely Miss Independence/Colavita, named after (what else? a brand of spaghetti!), was acquired just last year, 2024.  She's headed for another etch job:  I've taken the grey out of her mane but have yet to attend to the tail.

Now that we're in the 2010s, and beyond, another equally impressive, palomino-like color appeared, and I fell for it just as hard.  This was Breyer's idea of a Perlino or Cremello.

back to front:  Albedo, Kiss Away, Shazadah, Marimba, unicorn foal

 Alert readers will spy Uffington/Albedo at once, in the back.  I got him in 2021.  Just in front of him is a very recent Cremello, Girls Rule the World/Kiss Away, acquired in 2024.  The Perlino Quelle Surprise/Shazadah, one of my favorites, was my first of this color,  obtained in 2017.  In front of him is a genuine resincast, painted by yours truly during National Model Painting Month of 2020, as a Perlino.  This is the mold Mufida, sculpted by Margarita Malova of Russia, named Marimba by me.

And the unicorn foal is that rarest of all models, one I can't find my registry card for--!!!!  Now isn't that just like a unicorn!  Don't think a card was made, I don't know his name, I don't know exactly when he was bought -!  What, no name?!  There was but I've forgotten.  I got him from Devon Frinzi online last year and that's about all I know.   However, I do know that Albedo is his father, and his mother is Eclipse.  Perhaps a celestial name,...

Ahem.  Back to palominos.  

Laird Crown Imperial, DH

Somewhat naturally, there is a palomino Hamilton in my herd, a glossy with minimal dappling, acquired in 2020.  Since I knew who Laird Hamilton was (the man, a famous surfer), I could not resist incorporating his name into this most lovely of all my palomino stallions.  Still, only one as brash and bold as this could carry off such a moniker.   Laird C.I. has appeared in a blog post about peanut butter palominos here.  Speaking of which, here are the culprits:

Valhombra, Caxambas

 You would think these two were brothers.  They were sculpted by the same artist, Sue Carlton Sifton.  Left is Carrick/Valhombra, obtained in 2013, and right is Chadwick/Caxambas, on the Emerson mold, obtained nine years later in 2022.  I truly loved the Emerson mold and now I have five of them.

I mentioned a remake back at the beginning.  How can I talk about palominos without saluting my most famous one, on the frontispiece of the Guide?

Alcatraz (officially, TS Aureo Alcatraz)

This is a custom remake by none other than Laura Rock Smith, in the year 1985.  The color reference was a magazine clipping showing an Absorbine bottle -- I'm not making this up.  Laura pulled off an amazing triumph and I have loved him from that day to this.  He has glass eyes,

one of my few model horses to do so.

I also mentioned Florentines.  This photo shows two Vintages and one Modern decorator.  I have other Modern decos.

left to right:  Glory Morning, Lille, Goldenear

I like to think I rose to the occasion naming my 5-Gaiter.  She is the wife of the Fighting Stallion, whose name reflects the story of Gold Ear, the first Decorator in my life.  Someday I hope to post that fantastic story.  Gold Ear is no longer with us but I have these two, both acquired in 1979, the year my tack shop began offering to the public.  I was nineteen.  The Hackney, Giltedge, a comparitively recent acquisition compared to them -- 1997 -- is named Lille, pronounced Lilla.  I wanted to name her after Dr Lilly of dolphin fame, but I already had a couple of Lilys in the herd.

So here we are.  My greed -- desire for the new mare, below -- and my awareness of that greed -- you already have thirty-four Trad palominos and palomino-alikes! -- perfectly balance each other.

I will conclude where I began, with a bridle on a palomino Stone.   Almost by instinct, I turn to where I feel safest, a place that holds me steady even at BreyerFest, where greed runs rampant.  It is a place rich in tack.  This bridle was made by Emma Harrison of England, acquired circa 2016, right when she quit the hobby (and, as far as I can tell, quit this life).  Can you believe it:  everything was hand-braided from thread.  I am indeed fortunate to have some of her work.

 

Quotes

 

 If there's one thing I can do, it's pick a quote.  Books are my world.  If this looks like another book list, it's because it is;  if there are repeats, it's because they're good.  These quotes have resonated strongly within me for the past 6 months.

   "Acts of injustice done, Between the setting and the rising sun, In history lie like bones, each one." 

  --  by W. H. Auden, quoted in Watership Down, by Richard Adams (1975).

From Taking Chances by Molly Keane (pub. 1929):

image taken from Amazon

"Her own heart cried out for justice, while there is no justice -- only consequences.  And consequences are the most inconsequent and incalculable things in the world.  They are just as likely as not to skip over the unrepentant head of the evil-doer who has brought them about, and light heavy with calamity on the bowed neck of a sufferer whose load is already heavier than can be borne."

 I hunted so hard for the above quote, once it had stuck in my head.  Molly Keane is one of my favorite finds, on a par with Isak Dinesen.  Her work can easily be obtained as e-books.

Another that stuck in my head is from Weaveworld by Clive Barker (1987), speaking about unleashing the Scourge:

           "What have you done?  It knows no mercy!"

image from BetterWorld Books

" 'Very well.  I'll go.  But there's one thing I jolly well mean to say first.  I didn't believe in Magic until to-day.  I see now that it's real.  Well if it is, I suppose all the old fairy tales are more or less true.  And you're simply a wicked, cruel magician like all the ones in the stories.  Well I've never read a story in which people of that sort weren't paid out in the end, and I bet you will be.  And serve you right.'

"Of all the things Digory had said this was the first that really went home.  Uncle Andrew started and there came over his face a look of such horror that beast though he was, you could almost feel sorry for him."

  From The Magician's Nephew, by Clive Staples Lewis (1955).  Emphasis on the "almost." 

image from Old Gold & Black

"But sir, a solid gold plane wouldn't be able to fly!"

"Kowalski, we're rich!  The laws of physics don't apply to us!!"

-- from the movie Madagascar 3, Europe's Most Wanted (Dreamworks, 2012).

The Stand, by Stephen King, published 1978.   Unfortunately my memory is letting me down on this one;  I don't recall exactly where in the book the quote is.  It's about the devil being gigantic and stupid and only being able to repeat the same 2 or 3 simple patterns. 

One of my favorite books (as if there weren't dozens) is a hauntingly appropriate family memoir, not to mention exorcism, about the Stanford White story.  I opened it recently (April 9) and a paragraph leaped out.

"Others found Stanford harsh in his criticism and offensive in his use of foul language.  Still other reminscences mention self-centeredness and a pattern of domineering, all of which were tolerated because of his charm -- powerful when he turned it on -- and his overflowing giftedness.  He was the baby of the office, a big, inspired toddler, indulged, angelic, oblivious, tyrannical."

--from Architect of Desire, by Suzannah Lessard, 1996 

 David Gerrold (of Star Trek fame) in 2016:  "... a 268-pound toddler."

Back to rabbits.

 

 

image from Watership Productions 1978

At the risk of spoilage for those who have not read Richard Adams' Watership Down:

“A rabbit has two ears;  a rabbit has two eyes, two nostrils.  Our two warrens ought to be like that.  They should be together —not fighting….  Rabbits have enough enemies as it is… A mating between free, independent warrens-— what do you say?”
At that moment,…, there was offered to General Woundwort the opportunity to show whether he was really the leader of vision and genius which he believed himself to be, or whether he was no more than a tyrant … For one beat of his pulse the lame rabbit’s idea shone clearly before him.  He grasped it and realized what it meant.  The next, he had pushed it away … he could see clearly the track along the ridge, leading … to the bloodshed for which he had prepared with so much energy and care.
“I haven’t time to sit here talking nonsense,” said Woundwort…"

---from Watership Down, by Richard Adams, page 421-422, Avon Books, 1975.

The Sledge Patrol

The Sledge Patrol, a beloved old 1950s clothbound book, relates the adventures of a small group of Eskimos, hunters and weather station operators after Germany invaded Denmark in 1940.  'Eskimos meet Nazis.'  It is set on the east coast of Greenland, and comprises one of  2 books I possess about Greenland (the other is Peter Hoeg's Smilla's Sense of Snow, most decidedly rated R).   The Sledge Patrol is rated G and is a perfectly wonderful tale on many grounds.  It is not fiction.  I have always been interested in sled dog racing and the Arctic (thank you Farley Mowat!) and this is a treasure.  Again at risk of spoiling the story, I quote the last sentence.

"His ex-enemies, among whom I incude myself, all wish him well;  we all recognize the old truth which was shown again in that arctic spring of 1943:  that it is proper for all true men of every nation to act together in opposition to evil and oppression, wherever and whenever they arise."

-- David Howarth, The Sledge Patrol, 1957.

image from Tara McGrathMFT

 Exvangelicals by Sarah McCammon (2024), has given me a mere pair of words, but oh, what a pair.  This phrase has become extremely powerful for me.  In the book it refers to the mind's difficulty in comprehending the distance between Christian values and White Evangelical Christian values as practiced by the current administration:

                                         "Cognitive Dissonance"

If we're down to just words, there's a single word that speaks oh so much for those who know their World War II history:

                              Wolkenkuckucksheim

This is German for "cloud cuckoo land," the realm of ideal but imaginary perfection that lived inside Hitler's head, and in many other politicians, untested (untainted?) by reality.   It was first used in the 1800s.

image from Amazon

 From Elizabeth Chaney's Oath & Honor (2023):

"I asked Condi [Condoleezza Rice] if she could think of any historic examples of countries successfully throwing off cults of personality.  She replied, 'Not without great violence and upheaval.' "

 From my own Notebook:  "If he really had won in 2020 then he's serving a third term now.  And that's against the Constitution."  Certainly against the 22nd Amendment, introduced for this very situation.  For his followers:

Can you imagine what it would gain him to lie to you?

 Not a book but a poster seen online (I'm afraid I don't know who to credit; will when known):

image from eBay

"... nearer and nearer came the roaring march of the ice.  At last the fields round them cracked and starred in every direction, and the cracks opened and snapped like the teeth of wolves.  But where the Thing rested, ... there was no motion.  Kotuko leaped forward wildly, dragged the girl after him, ... The talking of the ice grew louder and louder round them, but the mound stayed fast, ... land it was, ... shod and sheathed and masked with ice so that no man could have told it from the floe, but at the bottom solid earth, and no shifting ice."

-- Rudyard Kipling, from Quiquern, Book Two of the Jungle Books, 1895

I can't resist slipping in another movie:  Moana, by Disney, 2016.

 "They Have Stolen The Heart From Inside You;  But This Does Not Define You.  I Know Who You Are.  Who You Really Are..." --- Lin-Manuel Miranda

 2503.29, written in the very early morning:  "My country's heart has been or is being stolen.  But this does not define her... The 'n' makes all the difference:  Define not defy.  She must become what her people see her as becoming.  This is a spiritual law that cannot be broken.

"My own life's experience, of how desperately a split life yearns to be whole, is beyond precious now.  But the only way [to be whole] is a compromise, a partnership:  Working together to find ways to not just share the pie, but make more of them.  Government is not a business, any more than the TSII is solely for profit.  Any more than a model horse [of mine] is solely for showing purposes.  An entire mature dimension is left out if you think in simple, brute force phrases, in jingoistic black and white.  As a child does.  As one would who does not know how to compromise, [or] to feel for another different from one's self.

"My response to Covid was make an enormous sacrifice:  To give away all my secrets.  In practice I couldn't give them all -- !!! -- but enough to make a difference.  Enough to count.  Certainly enough to learn how to teach.  And Geo, bless his professor's heart, has taught me to see from the other person's point of view.  Nothing less than complete transparency is acceptable or will do the job.  [of teaching]  [of anything!]

"We cling to the strongest within us.  Almighty God, What is the right thing to do?  How to restore harmony and balance & beauty in a world gone mad?    //   I'm sure the Germans asked the same question.  //  We can tolerate division but our heart yearns to be whole.  //  I need a new symbol for America.  A buffalo?  An elk?  A wolf?  A mustang?  Certainly a rainbow.  [But] The symbol only has as much meaning as you invest in it.  This is true for all symbols.

We are certainly going through an ugly stage right now."  

[A reference to the stages of painting a model.]

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Since this really is about books, here's one last beautiful favorite, above the fray.  This is Elizabeth Goudge's great classic from 1946, The Little White Horse.  Transparency and effort are rewarded.  I can't tell you how often I have turned to it for comfort and succor.

Thanks for reading.

Carl Chelius 1934 - 2025

 

 

Carl Chelius was an old friend of my husband's, and thus of me, ever since we arrived in PA more than 30 years ago.  As you can see in the candid shot above, he bore an uncanny resemblance to Papa Hemingway.  Although I was not close to him as I define a friend, he was nonetheless instrumental in our lives.  He gave us gifts of enormous value and his hospitality was without par.  At a time of great stress in my life (cancer treatments) he was kindness itself, showing me what I did not know existed, that a crusty old Marine could have a heart of gold.  He gave us our first custom wooden canoe paddles (his own) and a canoeing book, both of which immensely expanded our field of operations.  He took us out to dinner many times (strike range 50 miles), provided endless quips and phrases (the most famous is probably "and this is a problem how?"), and, most personally, gifted me with a priceless tiger skin rug.  It now lies in the master bedroom where I see it every day.  

My tiger rug is 9' 3", seriously respectable although probably not trophy.  Carl bought it in Hong Kong in 1962, when he was a young helicopter pilot during the Vietnam war.  At that time it was one of the best to be had, and featured glass eyes and an open mouth with wooden teeth.  When I acquired it in 2014, I demounted the head and developed the current display, which uses a pillow and some turquoise suede leather for the eyes.  About all I can say of "Felix Tigris" is that he was going to throw it away.   Being a leather person and otherwise drawn to big game trophies, I could not resist.  Being Carl, he asked whether I'd posed nude on it.  Ah, Carl, you knew we were happily married;  that is enough.

Carl Chelius was Associate Professor of Meteorology at Penn State until he retired in 1994.  He flew the H-34 in the Marines deployment in the Vietnam war, subsequently serving with the Golden Eagles (HMM-162), and then the Knightriders with the CH-46.  He was awarded 14 Air medals and the Expeditionary Medal during those tours.  Later he also flew Penn State's research airplane.  He was an active member of the Army Navy Club in Washington DC and of many other clubs and organizations.  He also donated a great deal to Penn State Athletics.  Since George had been a pilot and glider pilot (as well as being a Penn State Meteorology Professor Emeritus), the two men had much in common.  

Carl was at once both terribly vulgar and royally a gentleman.  He became an in-loco-uncle when my own nearest uncle was an unavailable 800 miles away.  He leaves behind a wealth of stories and a standard of behaviour that, despite the bad jokes, would do well to be adopted by more people in power these days.  And oh yes, at least once he saved George's life -- as if I could owe him more.

I only have a few pictures of Carl and his family.  These were taken during a picnic on private land, a place we could never have reached on our own, another gift.  The man was a gourmet, and even picnics were occasions for rejoicing. 

On the left above is Lizzy Kanavy Chelius, Carl's daughter by his first wife Joyce.  Carl and Joyce were an inseparable pair for as long as she lived.  (Amoung other things, Carl was a role model in how to care for an Alzheimer's patient until she died.)  Lizzy's husband Mike stands to the right of the table.  In the shade, looking down in a black t-shirt, is George Young, and seated next to him is Judy Burke, Carl's second wife.  Lizzy was crazy about horses, which of course sparked our own friendship.  Model horse people may recognize her name:  She was the artist who knitted the blankets for my Clyde Goehring Mexican parade saddles.

 Taken in the woods near the ridgetop of Bald Eagle Mountain, overlooking State College:  From left to right:  Lizzy, Carl, Judy, George.

Pretty good for a candid shot, I must say.

 Dear Carl,  I didn't thank you enough for the rootbeer floats, not to mention all the cooking advice.  No one could take your place.  You will be missed.