Where does your imagination come from?

I've always made up stories. As a kid it wasn't making up stories for attention, but we'd play we'd pretend. There was the time my sister and I got permission to wander into  Uncle Stanley's forest...

...but were told to keep an eye out for Uncle's Bull. Apparently the bull was not privy to humans. We crossed the barbed wire fence and picked berries. While we were eating, my sister and I kept a sharp eye out for the Bull. I don't think he was in the same area as we were. I really think if Uncle had a bull he'd have been be kept with the cows which were in a different section of land. I think my mom and grandmother were pulling our legs.

But as young kids, we didn't know any of that.

So my sister and I scouted out a tree or two that we could climb in case the Mad Bull [as we called him] showed up. We timed each other from the tree through the barbed wire fence to see how fast we could run it. We practiced climbing the tree quickly.

And then we sat in the tree on sticky summer days eating what berries we could find and told stories of encounters with the Mad Bull. My stories would get more elaborate with each visit to that pasture. In one story, I had the Mad Bull breathe fire and chomp down the tree we had escaped to. That ended our forays into Uncle Stanley's woods for the rest of that summer.

We built Troll Houses out of sticks stuck in the ground. Anyone recall the original trolls that were all the rage in 1960's? We had one troll each. Eventually we had a few more. But our first trolls had black hair. We loved them and I rubbed my little guy with soot from grandmother's wood stove to make him look more wild.

We played all summer with those trolls. Everywhere we went, they went with us. I'd narrate what my troll was experiencing. We preferred them naked or if we could find a piece of scrap material, we'd make them loin cloths.

The point is, even on a car drive, I'd look out the window on family car trips and imagine a story to go along with the travel. In my mind's eye I could see a unicorn, Pegasus, or dragon alongside the car racing up and down the hills and through the trees. It was a way to stay quiet and busy on long car journeys. 

As a kid in school I often got in trouble for day dreaming. I'd look out the window of the classroom and be transported to another place [much nicer! ... not doing math, history, or spelling!]

Sometime around 6th grade I started to pay more attention to school. My parents were happy and my grades went to straight A's mostly. I still played but stopped the day dreaming in classes. Doing well in school was more important than my 'daydreaming' world was.

Summers at the cottage started in June and went to Labor Day weekend. We stayed in a 2 room cottage with cold running water, no TV, and an old radio. No phone. Imagine that? My grandparents had a phone across the way at their house. 

We worked the 'truck' garden with my grandparents and mom. We visited our cousins. We read books and we learned to entertain ourselves with just a few toys [like the trolls]. We truly were 'disconnected' from the world in the summers.

My father was a huge influence in my life. I didn't think so at the time. But I recall during the school year when he'd take me to his office on school breaks, I'd get to see how HE worked. He wrote ads for television for Leo Burnett in Chicago. He wrote the fun ones. I recall one time when I was in his office after lunch. Dad said he needed a new idea for a commercial.

He shut his office door and laid out on the floor and shut his eyes. I had a drawing pad, so I just kept quiet and drew some things. [I was not much of an artist]

After about 15 minutes he opened his eyes and got up, he made some quick notes on a pad of paper and said he found his new story or idea for another 30 second spot. His method was quirky. He didn't think of anything and then suddenly some idea would pop into his head. 

When doing photography, he was very detailed with the light meter, film speed, f stop, and framing. I think that was his way of relaxing and letting his brain go on chill mode. Often he'd let me do the metering for him and I'd guess at the f stop. I didn't realize what I was learning at the time.

What I learned was that dad was spontaneous in his creativity and imagination.

On a visit to Virginia in 2000, we stopped at a pull out along the Blue Ridge Parkway. Dad pointed to a rock and we both started laughing with the same idea. Dad walked over to a huge rock and said, "Make it look like I am pushing this boulder."

I did. I shot the photo and he walked back to me brushing his hands on his pants. "Well, it was good we stopped here so I could straighten that rock out!" 

We laughed. He was a fun partner for my spontaneous adventures.

In 2001 on our final trip together, I had him ham it up for me more than once. He didn't feel silly sitting on a bench and engaging in a conversation with a statue. 

Dad said they had a very nice conversation.

Of course you did Dad!

I still find myself daydreaming. I'll be doing something important like doing chores and I'll turn my head and see something ~~ an idea pops into my head and I'll get an idea.

That's just how my brain works. 

Rocks and sticks can be fun...especially on very hot days or very cold days.

I suppose some people arrange flowers...

I arrange ... fantasy and imagination...

Maybe it is just my way of dealing with caring for my husband.

Dear Dad...

 I wrote somewhere before that I used to talk to my Dad on Christmas Eve when my [ex] husband was on duty as a Firefighter/Paramedic.

One of us would call the other and I'd sit in front of the Christmas Tree and gaze at it while we talked. I'd tell him about our latest Charlie Brown Tree and he'd laugh. We usually got a tree we could stick in the corner and not decorate around the whole thing. It worked for us. One Christmas my ex sliced through his ring finger--> down to the bone while using a sharp knife to cut the tree from the top of the Isuzu Trooper.

That warranted a trip to the ER. Neighbors watched the kids, I watched them sew ex hubby up in layers. That was a memorable Christmas. We didn't have much money then and things were pretty tight.

But the thing was, we wanted to make Christmas magical for the kids. Always. 

Still, I'd have a glass of wine and talk to Dad. I described the tree and what we did for the gifts. We discussed his life, my life, and everything in between.

I sat and sipped with the phone cradled on my shoulder [it was attached to the wall! Remember that? That was before they even made cordless phones!] . 

The tree lights twinkled and I admired the colored paper chain that the boys had made in school. The boys' had decorations they'd made in grade school that graced the tree. At the time I don't think I appreciated them as much as I would now.

We talked of life. We talked of marriage. We talked of love. Dad had an undying love for Mom even if she didn't reciprocate. That's life. He told me about his mistakes and regrets he had in his life. I told him about how much my boys meant to me. I told him about my relationships with the horses, goats, and chickens we had.

We talked for a long time. 

It was our traditional Christmas Eve chat.

I even continued it in my second marriage and move to this little farm. 

Dad got a kick out of hearing the fact that I'd go out and talk with the mules and donkeys on Christmas Eve and celebrate their birthdays on New Year's Day.

It has been many years since I've talked to him. But in my mind I still call.

Dad.
I collect horse ornaments. They are beautiful. Not as beautiful as the paper chains.

Dad.
I still go out and talk to the mules on Christmas Eve. I only have a few of them now. They like their carrots.

Dad.
I think of you on each Christmas Eve even though it has been many years since we talked. I imagine what our conversations would be like now.

Dad.
I still miss you even if it is almost 20 years since you died.

Dad.
Since I still miss you. I will have conversations in my head every Christmas Eve and I will tell you what is on my tree.

Dad.
I am happy and content. Did we ever think that would happen? Well it did.

Dad.
I still miss you every day.

Merry Merry.

Crazy minds and creative thoughts...

I am not always at play.

I do have a complicated life. I run our place and am a full time Caregiver. There is always something I need to address and work on for our place.

 Thankfully, I can have great daydreams. Some would think that a person my ahem, age, shouldn't be like this. My father was a very creative and imaginative person. 
He had no talent for mundane things. His brain was always on the go. My mom was the opposite. She could plan things to the smallest of details. She is regimented in thoughts and actions.

I may be a bit of both. 

Funny how things come to you when you are mucking out a stall [Lil' Richard is the one equine won't try to tear apart our large stall.]

Sunday was MY day of stall cleaning. I filled the skid steer bucket with manure and drove the skid steer to dump the pile of old hay, straw, and shavings. Rich said he was too unsteady to climb in and out of the skid steer.

So it is my job to keep that machinery running and useful. I would much rather use the little 4 wheeler and cart to clean up stuff and dump it, but he sure loves his skid steer. 

I abide by his wishes as my 'job' as his caregiver and wife is to make his days as pleasant as I can.

Here I was dumping and spreading manure when I thought about the recent Lego build we did together. 

The Alpine Lodge build has a cute skating rink, an outhouse, and rooms to rent. It is like having a doll house to play with.

During my shoveling I thought .... wouldn't it be funny to have the Lego Batman sign in as a guest? I mean what on earth would the Dark Knight be doing at a winter lodge???

Wouldn't it be funny to take a photo of Santa Clause being interrupted in the outhouse by one of his elves?

And why would all of this occur?

Oh...And what of The Brothers Odd?

How would this fit in with the much anticipated delivery of the 9th deer for Santa's Sleigh on the MOC build??

As I refilled the bucket with manure and hay chafe, my mind skipped from one thing to another with a story line of images jumping about like quick movie clips.

Did Batman sign into the Lodge because he knew Rudolph went missing for nefarious reasons? 

What did the Elf give Santa as a reason to be interrupted while doing his morning constitution?

How would The Brothers Odd even fit in?

I drove the skid steer to the pile and dumped it, then spent time backing it into the shed to the spot where it can be plugged in on cold mornings for using. That effort took all of my brain power.

I dusted myself off and started towards the house.

What IF a Hunter chased Rudolph into the woods? What IF the Brothers Odd decided to help search for him and found Chewie?

And to think that I kept letting these thoughts engage in the back of my mind while I prepared supper and set up appointments on my calendar for the week.

All because of a Lego Outhouse and an Etsy order for a 9th reindeer.

Santa: What the $#@#$%???
Close the door and let me...
finish!
Elf: But I have important information! 
It seems we've lost Rudolph again!

Santa: Oh NO! Not again!
That foolish reindeer!

Maya is right. The more I think about something fun and creative, the more fun I have. 

Haha. My husband just came over and patted me gently on the head. He says I will be committed to the nuthouse before he goes.

Night of the Fireflies...

I haven't been out to see the fireflies this year...well, that is until Saturday night. The skies have been smokey and the nights have been chilly. I decided to go ahead and look for them last night.

They were numerous!

View back towards the house...

This was just at 'Blue Hour' when Venus was visible in the sky. Our home is just to the right of the pines.

Fireflights/lightening bugs prefer the tall grasses and the woods. If you don't have an area that is unmowed, you won't see as many. I stood at the edge of our yard and took this shot of the meadow on the other side of the fence.

For anyone interested in how this was done. I used my Olympus E-M1 Mark iii which has a 'Starry Sky' Auto focus to help focus things in the dark. I used a setting called LiveComp. I set the LiveComp up to a 4 second exposure for 4 minutes. That means that each 4 seconds that passes by, the camera records any changes to the light and adds it essentially as a layer over the previous exposures for 4 minutes. ISO was set at 1600 and I had to modify the white balance.

I know that sounds like Greek to many folks, but there it is...

Setting it up and figuring out where to point it is the hard part sort of. 

I stopped while heading to the ridge:

The Driveway...

Tigen Road where I noted that the lightening bugs hung out along the long grass in the ditches.

At the mailbox...

And then I took a 'selfie'. The lights from the town 3 miles away was rather intense and gave the sky an odd color as the humidity, haze, and smokey sky increased the odd oranges. 

Could we please get some rain????

Sunday is Father's Day. So I leave these two photos of my father.

Young Dad:

I'm guessing this might be a clue as to why I love photography?

Dad in 2001 when we were in Hawai'i together.

Where does it come from?

 The reason for my creativity?

I used to go with my dad to work once in a great while. He worked at a company called Leo Burnette in Chicago. When he had to go to a meeting, I'd get shuffled off to one of the artists to watch them draw. Often the artists would hand me paper and let me draw with them. 

I met one fellow who worked on the Disney Film 101 Dalmatians. He was fun and we spent a lot of time doodling.

Another time I was able to sit with a photographer who worked on the Marlboro campaign and sort through the photos with him. I was amazed at their beauty and of course fell in love with photography.

Here is a link that WTTW of Chicago did regarding Starkist Tuna. 
Perhaps this is where I got my crazy creative mind that never turns off.

How do you get a story out of a can of Tuna? My dad was always creating, taking photos and writing. It is 3 minutes long.

Thanks Dad.

And now you know why my Jack Russell was named Morris the Cat & Charlie? Charlie the Tuna.

Sorry Charlie...I always wanted to say that to a pet!

What about Thanksgiving?

I follow a few blogs and one thing that just came up for discussion by The Midnight Carver was Thanksgiving.

His post titled:  2020, The Year's Saddest Thanksgiving? Is a pretty good read. It makes one think. 

I can recall the year my boys and I had hotdogs for Thanksgiving. Their father was on duty and the boys and I thought it would be fun to have hotdogs and create our own picnic. Of course my ex gave me a dressing down for that. The kids and dogs didn't mind that we didn't have turkey and all the other crap that went along with it.

Thanksgiving.

I can recall as a child travelling 12 hours by car in the 60's...mind you, that was before the interstate was built...going to my Grandparents cottage to spend Thanksgiving with the Up North Family. My sister and I slept on the couch, I have no recollection of where my brother slept, or where my parents slept. 
We ended up at my Aunt's house where gobs of the family showed up. My Aunt also had indoor plumbing which was really nice.

We cousins were put in the entryway to the house at a couple of card tables and left with dishes that our mom's made up for us to eat. I can recall that we decided to take the squash [which was not up to our tastes] and stack it in a pile in the center of the table. We added things to our squash sculpture, like green beans, chunks of bread, toothpicks, and anything else we could think of.

We were having a grand time until The Moms came to check on us. Then all Hell Broke Loose. We kid cousins abandoned the table and went out to play in the snow on the hillside. Never mind the deer hunters. We escaped to the hill and used boxes as sleds. 

The Parents stayed inside the house and did whatever parents and family did on Thanksgiving. We kids had a blast. Playing dangerous games with our cousins was just about as fun as making Squash Sculptures. 

I don't recall many Big Family Thanksgivings after that year. The Sisters had a falling out and soon after we stopped the long trek to the North Land. 

I tried as a parent to participate in a family Thanksgiving with my Mom and Her Boyfriend and my Dad...sister...and her husband. It was awkward. My ex wasn't well liked so they berated me about him. Mom and Her Boyfriend got drunk a lot and my kids didn't like squash any more than I did at their age. My sister's husband was an Ass, but the cousin kids did get to play together and have fun. My poor Dad was there because he was included, but my Mom and Her Boyfriend couldn't help but take opportunities to pick on him also.

I stayed with my Dad at this house and truthfully, I think we could have had hotdogs and chips and been very happy.

This year?
It will be us. Charlie, Rich, and I. 

Thanksgiving doesn't bring about fond and warm fuzzy memories. 

To bring my mother's side of the family back together would require all relatives to leave weapons and attitudes at the door.

There won't be hotdogs, but we will have a nice quiet little meal. And it won't be a sad Thanksgiving as we are happy and thankful to be here for each other.

That is good enough for me.

Thank you to Dad

One of my regrets is that my father is not alive and able to see some of my work as he has always been my inspiration for picking up the camera and seeing things through the lens.

These shots are for you dad.  From all those times I listened to you mutter out f stops and shutter values.
I've gone further than I ever thought I could.

Tonight I am going to an awards banquet to get an Award for my nature photography.  I actually submitted to our local Land and Conservation photo contest and two of my shots have won for the county.

From here the shots go to 'the Nationals' for Land and Conservation.

Here are the winning photos.

 Agricultural ~ Sheep

Agricultural ~ Oats and Dew

If I have to say anything tonight....which I hope I don't... I will only say.

"I have my father to thank for his inspiration in photography."

Now I suppose I will have to dress like a normal person and I leave my skunk hat at home.

Kid Memories

I swung back and forth, back and forth.  The old swing set creaked and it was a warm summer afternoon.

I was waiting for our Dad.  I know that each swing forward allowed me to see around the corner of the little house and look north along the blue gravel driveway.

I think my sister was with me in the other swing.  We were quiet, not talking much.  Just swinging and waiting. Glancing up the driveway with each forward swing.  
We were barefoot and had old jean cut offs on.  It was hot and sometime in the mid summer.

I'm pretty sure that my mom and Grandma were in the little house. Our two room cottage that we lived in each summer.  We had no TV and no hot water.  But we had what I thought was the neatest place on earth.

Creak.
Creak.

No one yet.

We heard a car coming down the gravel road and increased our swings.  We could hear vehicles a long way off as we were so remote and it was so quiet.

The car slowed, but went on past the driveway. It made the sharp bend and headed off towards Halfmoon Lake.

It was not the one we were looking for.  I think my sister asked something about how long did it take Dad to drive to our cottage.
I didn't know, but we knew he was coming and we hadn't seen him since school let out.
We were watching for a yellow Dodge convertible.  Dad's car.

And we kept swinging.  The drive from the Chicago area to where took at least 8 or more hours to drive.  I don't recall if the interstate had been built yet.

My sister and I conversed quietly.  Grandpa was taking a nap and Grandma and my mom were doing something in the cottage.  Maybe they were doing the crossword puzzle on the linoleum table.

Birds sang over head and time kept passing.  Time. 

We kept swinging.

Off in the distance we heard a car horn.  We jumped from our swings and stood in the grass.  That was Dad's horn. He usually honked when he was still a half mile or so from the cottage.

I recall that he had hooked up extra horns in his car to make it sound like a train.  

Dust rose in the distance.  I don't know what my sister felt exactly.  But I was excited.  I hadn't seen dad in what seemed like ages.  But he was coming to see us and he was having a vacation with us.

And I was excited.

Soon the banana colored rag-top slowed at the end of the blue driveway and slowly turned in.  

I stood still.  Dad.
My Dad.   

Funny how I thought of this tonight on such a cold and chilly winter evening.
But it was a nice warm thought.

I miss my dad.
Still miss you.

Hawaiian Memory

Flashback.
Hawaii -- October 2001.
Dad and I had just finished breakfast at the Volcano House. We'd had pancakes and eggs, of course this was not the food that was supposed to be on Dad's diet, but we had splurge from his regular oatmeal breakfast.

We decided to step into the trinket shop and browse before heading out to take a tour of the volcano craters. I found a couple of post cards and was checking the price of film. Remember ... this was the pre digital era for me.
I'd decided I had enough film with me to last the day and aside from purchasing some bottled water there wasn't anything we really needed.

I walked up with Dad to the check out.
Dad even with his macular degeneration disease which had made him legally blind...spotted the candy bars.
*I want a Butterfinger,* he said.
*Dad, you just had pancakes, you don't need a candy bar.* I edged up to the counter and smiled at the clerk.
*I want a Butterfinger.* He repeated just a touch louder, and began to reach for the candy.
*You don't need one,* I sort of hissed at him, dropping my cards on the counter and handed over two water bottles.
The lady smiled at us and asked, *Find everything okay?*
[I hate it when they do that!]

Dad took it as his cue.
*My daughter won't buy me a Butterfinger candybar,* he quipped, *Isn't that mean of her? Her poor old dad just wants ONE candybar and she won't let him have it.*

I looked sideways at Dad. Oh geeze. I reached down for the Butterfingers and dropped two onto the pile for the clerk to ring up.

*Now that is a nice daughter isn't it?* Dad said, smiling his old man charming smile at the clerk, who of course smiled back and nodded.
*But now she'll probably make me ride in the trunk back to Kona...* he paused for effect, *...like she did on the way here because she said I wasn't behaving.*
He clutched the now paid for Butterfinger ...
and started to slide out towards the door.

The clerk stared at me as if I was from Mars.
I was seething...or embarrassed...or

When I hit the parking lot on Dad's heels he was laughing. I couldn't help it, I unlocked the Dodge Neon and burst out laughing too.

We slid in together and I turned to him. *You know, I should make you ride in the trunk! What if that clerk thought I was abusing you!*

Dad grinned, happy to have gotten one over on me and happier yet to be the recipient of a Butterfinger.

So now I cannot see a Butterfinger without thinking of Dad 'riding in the trunk'. I cannot think of the volcanoes in Hawaii, without thinking of that moment in the store when my Dad got one over on me.

Butterfinger.

Sorry Charlie...

Dad if you only knew what a whirlwind you caused by simply 'passing away'. Sure enough a reporter gets my name and links me to you. I wish you could receive the recognition you have always deserved. To me you were just a pretty neat dad who had strange and eccentric if not frustrating ideas. I grew up and realised that I was not much different than you.

How funny!
Thank you again for your creativity and ways of 'thinking' out of the box...or as Lance said...you never knew there was a box that you were supposed to 'think' in!

Here's to you dad, because of you I get a second 15 minutes of fame...sure do love you. I hope you are laughing!!!!

Article as it appears in the Vernon County Broadcaster

‘Sorry, Charlie’ tag line very familiar to Viroqua’s Ewing

by Matt Johnson

.

The image of a suave "Charlie the Tuna" pitching the Starkist brand is ingrained in the memories of the masses, but it also holds a special place in the heart of one Viroqua woman.

Valerie (Rogers) Ewing is the daughter of Tom Rogers, who created the "Charlie the Tuna" ads while serving as an advertising copywriter for the Leo Burnett Co., advertising agency in Chicago during the 1960s.

Rogers, who passed away in June of 2005 at age 87, will be featured on the History Channel show "America Eats" Thursday (tonight) at 9 p.m. Ewing was interviewed for the segment.

Rogers was involved in numerous iconic advertising campaigns that Baby Boomers know by heart. He wrote copy for the Keebler Elves and Morris the Cat.

"My Dad never thought of himself as a famous person," Ewing said. "It's kind of sad people don't recognize things like this until after you're gone."

Rogers created Charlie the Tuna in 1961. He had complete control over how Charlie looked, his voice (supplied by veteran character actor Herschel Bernardi) and what he said. Charlie appeared in 86 commercials and guest spots through the 1970s.

While Rogers was at Leo Burnett it propelled the images of Tony the Tiger, the Jolly Green Giant and the Marlboro Man.

Ewing said growing up in the Rogers' household in Chicago was like being part of a focus group for advertising campaigns. She had a Charlie the Tuna telephone, lamp and rugs. Her Dad brought a model of the Pillsbury Doughboy home for the children the play with.

"A lot of the time we thought it was corny and stupid — the Pillsbury Doughboy? We just put him in a closet," she said.

Rogers, however, provided the family once with an example of the power of advertising and his influence over it. During the Christmas season of 1965, Rogers asked his children to watch a certain program on television. Ewing said they found this odd, as her father wasn't much for having his children watch TV.

"So, we're sitting there watching and a commercial for United Airlines came on," Ewing said. "Hawaiian music started playing and the voice over said, 'Guess what Tom Rogers is getting his kids for Christmas?' That was how he told us we were going on our first trip to Hawaii.

"Dad had planned the commercial and followed it all the way through production," Ewing continued. "He pitched it that way to United Airlines and they went with it."

Ewing operated an insurance agency in the Chicago area and met area native Rich Ewing on one of the Richland Center Wagon Trains in 1994. The couple married in 1996 and Ewing moved here. She is the secretary/office manager at Bjerke Chiropractic Office in Viroqua.

Her desk is surrounded by artwork that was included in one of Leo Burnett's campaigns for Marlboro cigarettes.

"When I was growing up, I didn't realize how different my father was from anyone else's father," Ewing said. "Then I moved away from home and in conversations it would come up that he worked on these things. When I would tell people he wrote, 'Sorry, Charlie,' people's eyes would light up. They'd treat you like a celebrity."

Aside from the posters in the Bjerke office and an occasional conversation about them, Ewing said few people know of her connection to some of the most celebrated advertising ever produced.

"I don't even watch TV," Ewing said. "I ride mules and train them, do endurance riding and photography. Photography is something my dad got me interested in."

.

Why?

Dad-With-Camera
Originally uploaded by Xena~.

Some yayhoo called the local rag to tell them that my dad was going to be featured on a program this Thursday nite called 'American Eats'. Okay that is nice, but local news slueth decides to come and talk with me.
I'm not famous, I'm not Dad. I didn't create Charlie the Tuna. I'm just his daughter. And dammit I miss him now that I have to think of what to say when this reporter shows up.
Personally? It is kinda nice for dad to be featured on TV. But I sorta don't want to go through the pain again you know what I mean?

Here I sit at the office looking at his pictures and I'm thinking I'm going to cry.
I still miss him soooo much.