Focused at Fifty

My thoughts go out to those that have been deeply affected by this hurricane, or superstorm, as they are now calling it. Sandy, as she became to be named, devastated large areas of the Jersey coast, New York City, and the two tristate areas. Raging blizzards pummeled parts of west Maryland and West Virginia. Those of us who survived this storm need to take count of our friends and family and consider ourselves lucky we made it through. Houses can be repaired, cars can be replaced. Human life cannot. 33 people so far have lost their lives in the US due to the storm. 33 families have lost love ones. Last night, as the storm hit my area, I was scared to death. The winds howled, rain pelted, branches crashed around the house, and trees fell in the woods behind. With every gust, I stiffened up waiting for the subsequent crash of something falling to the ground or being thrown against the house. I am angry at certain people that thought this storm would be nothing. Get a clue. You prep...

Hey Friends and Family, Sorry for the posts with the lack of paragraphs. I write with 'em, but Blogger isn't publishing them that way. Hopefully I can get to the bottom of this! Hugs, Marc

One of the things which I have noticed while traveling across the great US of A is what I have come to see as the cultural sterilization of suburban and urban areas in America. Large swaths of our great country are developing a blandness to them which threatens the uniqueness which separates each regional area from the next. It could be considered a epidemic driven by corporate greed to spread mass consumerism to each and every corner of the United States. Walmart of course comes to mind, but this can be substituted with any large corporation which is opening up a location in the most desolate parts of the country. Replace it with McDonalds, Hair Cuttery, The Home Depot, or Autozone and you have the same scenario. Small town America is dying and mass consumerism is fueling its death. When John and I travel, we actively search out small restaurants, bars, stores, and other local businesses to patronize. I feel it is important to support these small businesses as they are part...

On a long plane flight, nothing is dreaded more than the fear of being stuck to someone who you don’t like, get along with, or find disagreeable. John and I travel very well together. We know each other’s quirks and travel eccentricities. When I travel with John, he likes the window seat and I am fine with that but it invariably means that I will be the one stuck sitting next to the stranger. Luckily for this past trip to Arizona, I was pretty lucky with the two individuals who sat next to me on the way out and returning from Phoenix. The first was a very lovely young Italian beauty named Isabella who was about 10 years younger than me. She had dark long brown curly hair with large expressive eyes who was deep into the popular women’s erotic novel, “50 Shades of Grey”. When we did start conversing the last 1/3 of the plane flight, I found out she was a high school counselor heading out to Las Vegas for a bachelorette party. Hmmm. Imagine that. She was meeting friends for a long w...

I also name this blogpost 'Art Bramble'. I think it sounds better than 'Art Ramble' because bramble sounds so much more fun! LOL. This blog is dedicated to my father for his upcoming birthday on September 23rd. Brief backstory friends: My father, Robert E. Haynes is one of my greatest influences ... in mind, body, soul, ideas, ethics, morals, values, and art. His picture with me is the one at the top of this blog. He taught at Glassboro State College, now Rowan University, for 3 decades. Before that, an artist and illustrator. Presently, he is retired, loving retirement in the artistically incredible Humbolt County, California, as an artist once again and an arts educator on several boards in the communities of Arcata and Eureka, California. Dad, forgive me if some details are amiss. LOL. But my friends, you get the idea. Artist, traveler of the world, educator, and back to being an artist and arts administrator with a heavy influence in the community arts! In the ar...

I had just arrived home last night and was walking up my deck steps laden down with a bag of groceries, my briefcase, lunch bag, and several empty coffee mugs left in my car. As I came up to the front door, I remembered that we have a rather large spider, about two inches across, which has made an impressive nest in the back corner of the house. I decided to take a peek at it before I went inside. I dumped all of my belongings on a deck bistro table by the front door and headed to the back of the house. I was observing the garden spider when from behind me I heard a shout, “WHO’S BACK THERE?” I turned to see my 70 something neighbor Charlotte standing on her back deck peering over at me, her hand shielding the evening sun from her eyes. Charlotte was a good neighbor, always keeping an eye on who was in the neighborhood and if something didn’t seem right, she spoke up about it. “It’s just me Charlotte!” I yelled back. “I was just looking at this huge spider spinning its web on t...

I am going out to eat at a nice restaurant this evening and thought about getting a little more dressed up than usual. It’s a fun thing to do. Make yourself a martini or pour a glass of scotch or wine while getting ready. Turn on some mood music depending on the occasion. It got me thinking to when I was younger, say before age 9, when my siblings and I would watch my parents get ready for a night out on the town. The smell of Mom’s perfume and Dad’s cologne still permeates these memories. We would watch them get gussied up in suit and dress. Mom would finish picking out her jewelry with Sheryl’s help. Dad would put on the little light in his closet and enlist Adam’s and my help in picking out that perfect tie. We would giggle and laugh at them while sitting with our legs crossed on their oh-so big bed, the small black and white TV on in the background. Dad and Mom looked like the king and queen of the castle. They would sometimes have a cocktail first. Mom, a glass of Gallo or Mat...