Airports, Cell Phones, and No Convo

I flew for the first time in a while last week. The photo above is our approach to Atlanta. It was a quick, uneventful trip to Norfolk and back. And quick and uneventful are what we want.

Before we took off, I sat in the waiting area with about 200+ folks. And, as I usually do, I surveyed the sea of faces, imagining who they were and where they were going.

There was only one problem, though. I couldn't really see anyone's face. With the exception of maybe a couple of people, everyone had their eyes on a screen in front of them. There was no conversation. No smiles...no human contact except for the young mother holding her baby.

And I typically smile at anyone with whom I make eye contact. But the recipients of my goodwill -- if they looked up from their phones -- mostly stared at me with frozen faces.

My seat mates on the plane were different, however. One chatted incessantly. She had never flown alone before and hadn't been on a plane in 20 years. She was claustrophobic and terrified. I managed to keep her mind off the fact that we were 30,000 feet in the air...even made her laugh a few times.

And the guy to my right was a IT specialist who was well-versed in AI. I didn't understand most of what he said, but at least, there was human interaction.

There's something about airports that brings out the ego in people. Everyone walks very fast and acts like they're extremely important and totally irreplaceable.

And none of us are any of those things...except the irreplaceable part to a few who might love us unconditionally.

It's sad that people think that those whom we don't know don't matter.

And nothing is further from the truth.

Human beings need one another. That's the only way we'll survive this ever-changing, super sonic world in which we live.

Please. Take the time to look up from your screen and smile.

Because that phone or tablet will never replace human interaction, and they sure can't love you.

"Tink" is Heading to Norfolk

So, we're heading to Norfolk and the Stockley Gardens Arts Festival. My partner in crime, Tom Barnes, has exhibited there for over 30 years and has a great following. Ya never know how sales will go but here's hoping "Tink" shines.

And retailing is definitely what one must do if you wish to share with others the art you create. Because it certainly doesn't share itself.

…which is why so many artists -- whether painters, potters, sculptors, writers or musicians -- struggle. Rejection sucks. And when you put it out there, not everyone is inspired to acquire it. It takes a thick skin and determined tenacity.

Plus, it's hard work. The planning, strategizing, and marketing is constant. Figuring out what to do next and how to maximize the message never stops.

When talking to folks about the writing process, I often say that the writing is the fun and easy part, but the selling makes one sweat. Running the numbers is a necessary but often depressing exercise.

Of course, if I didn't enjoy it, I wouldn't do it...which is why I've always given up the secure, higher paying jobs for "traveling to the beat of a different drum." So, no complaining allowed.

Next week, I'll share with you an excerpt from my newest book -- a very personal collection of poetry, prose, and photographs. I refer to "Dirt Road Dreams" as my heart and soul.

But in the meantime, I'll be flying to Norfolk and hoping folks there will love "Tink" as much as Tom and I loved creating it.

Enjoy this fabulous fall weather.

See you next week.

A Beach Ball in the Storm

After checking the hurricane forecast, I called my cousin's wife down in Perry, Fl., to see if she needed to wait out Kirk in my studio. I knew her husband was still working a power crew of 500 in the areas hit hardest by Helene. And now with the mother of all hurricanes churning toward the coast, I wanted her to know she had a place here.

They've been hit by three storms since they moved there a little over a year ago. Helene was the first one that drove them from their home.

She said things looked okay to stay...that the roads were jam packed with people who had to evacuate from places south of them. There were long lines of cars at the gas stations, and the county authorities were asking locals to stay off the roads. I can only imagine what a terrible ordeal this is for the people having to leave their homes.

I listened as she talked about why they were probably going to sell and leave Florida.

"It's so sad. I can hardly stand to go the beach. All of the houses are gone, except for a few, and the ones left are damaged really bad. There're folks walking around with plastic containers, picking through the rubble, trying to find something of theirs. I'm afraid insurance rates are gong to be unaffordable, and people will just walk away.

"We were fortunate. There are only a couple of trees left on our property, but the house survived...which is a miracle. There was like a little pocket here that was spared, but then the storm moved into the town and tore up everything.

"It won't ever be the same. The small, coastal-town feel won't ever come back. Maybe some wealthy developer will buy it all. But then it certainly won't be what it was before.

"And with storms, there are always stories. Someone I know who lives further inland and didn't evacuate told me she was watching the storm from inside her home. There were trees falling and stuff blowing around. The wind was howling. But in the midst of it all, she saw a beach ball, sitting undisturbed...barely rocking back and forth. Now that is strange."

I agreed and told her if things got dicey, she could head this way, hung up the phone, and thought about that beach ball.

Was that a "big fish story" of a factual account?...not sure, but it reminded me just how easy it is for our minds to churn at the drop of a hat. Mental hurricanes are real. They can swallow up one's sense of sanity as quickly as a storm can wipe an entire town.

Nothing can stop Kirk, but I pray the folks who are trying to get to safety do so soon.

In the meantime, I'm going to work on being like that beach ball and find a refuge where I just rock back and forth and hold the hurricanes at bay.

See you next week.