The Sliced Crosswise Only On Tuesday World of Philip Jose Farmer OR The DoDo Bug

TheDoDo Bug

The incredible dodo bug reminds me of the Phillip Jose Farmer (born in Terre Haute, IN, 1918-2009) sci-fi short story I read in junior high (thanks to The Carnegie Library located just a few miles away in the tiny village of Ridge Farm, IL. I lived in the tinier hamlet of Olivet, IL (1970s population of 332), now merged with city of Georgetown, IL) titled "The Sliced Crosswise Only On Tuesday World", c. 1971, which became a trilogy of novels known as DAYWORLD. The premise: each individual was allowed to live one day out of 7 (spending 6 off days in tubed 'stasis') . . . one female character's job was to hand paint the wings of roaches. Another series, RIVERWORLD, combined famous people simultaneously resurrected along a River Bank. Fantastic mix of history, philosophy, psychology, environmentalism, politics, every aspect of our human kindness and/or kindlessness.

Perhaps I accidentally tripped into loving art, KNOWLEDGE, philosophy, and nature alongside that specifically MIDWEST-ern straight and narrow, North-South Route 1, where I scampered on bare feet. I scampered, literally, because the tar on the highway became very hot in the Summer . . . not from sentimentally chasing bugs. Our very humble abode was directly across the highway from a working Catholic Seminary (LaSallette, now converted into a private boys' boarding school).

I can remember sitting on the front steps of my stepdad's TV Repair Shop (a former General Store built in the 1800's), spying on the nuns (in full habits) disembarking from the Greyhound Bus. I was raised 'Fire & Brimstone', indoctrinated that all non-evangelical Baptists, (especially the Catholics), were going 'straight to hell in a handbasket', so I found this, paired with the heathen outdoor altar and all the 'graven image' statuary very CURIOUS. I was also repeatedly told I was from a broken home, which confused me - our floors did have entire HOLES (an opossum once crawled into my bedroom in the middle of the night, along with all the slugs), but there was a roof over our heads and we weren't hungry and compared to others I knew of, we weren't the broken-est family. Now I know we were a very common blended family, more similar to The Brady Bunch, but with multiple divorces and two (2) additional siblings.

Another famous Terre Haute-an was "The Desiderata of Happiness" author, Max Erhmann (1872-1945) - I didn't discover Ehrmann until the 1990s, which I find tragic, as an earlier recognition of my outsider "artist-philosopher" tendencies would have smoothed out some very rough growing pains. I am so thankful I have lived and traveled so far in this lifetime, I was born in a small town, my parent still lives in that same small town (and, yes, that was some vintage John Mellencamp, that's me). For more on what it really means to be ‘small town’, read this 2010 blog entry. I likely spent as much time on the roads between IL/IN visiting grandparents’ farms EVERY Sunday. Here I am with a ‘few’ cousins and a ‘few’ Aunts and Uncles - Summer, 1982. And, yes, my sister was very mad I wore the same dress. We had 50 acres to roam and terrorize one another on, and there was a dinner bell (Veedersburg, IN . . . other grandparents in Kingman, In - Roachdale, IN and Plainfield, IN. Yes, I had 5 sets of grandparents - I really only figured the logistics of this out about 20 years ago (going back generations on both my maternal and biological father’s side, those grandparents divorced while my parents will still infants - they all remarried, so that is 4 sets and I had the bonus step-grandparents - 5! As we tend to do, history repeats itself (my biological parental units separated soon after I was born). Somehow, I broke that cycle when I met and married my husband. We are ready to hit our 30-year togetherness anniversary. This man looked at me this Fall and he doesn’t say many serious things, so I was: ‘What?!!! Do I have a burger in my nose’? He replied, so seriously: “No. I was just thinking that I would still marry you again”. I was dumbstruck and speechless.

Now, looking back across 50 years, thousands of miles, having walked the Vatican in Rome, Italy to the gaping horror of Hiroshima, Japan and having reclaimed ancestral soil from the Highlands - and even the exact location where the Pagans gave way to monotheism at Ravenna, Italy (with tons of overlapping iconography) I've visited most versions of religion (or at least their buildings in one way, shape or form . . . some just via comparative religion), nothing stuck. In fact, just last week, right before this last spinal surgery, the nursed asked me WHAT MY PREFERRED RELIGION was and I replied “NONE”, because there just isn’t enough space proved on any form (something I learned in K) for me to fit my identity into the SPACE PROVED.

My most valuable lesson is an abiding HOPE (which is actually a word that brings deep ambiguity (the root words of disambiguate translate to, I kid you not, Terre Haute) to my soul and deep gratitude for libraries. I've already survived my deepest fears a thousandfold - if I die that is fine and ‘alright by me’ (JCM, also). I've lived, deeply. I do hope we make it to Ireland in May. After more than a decade of on-again-off-again bed rest - I can survive a simple pandemic and a few more weeks of social distancing - if it's meant to be. It is well, with my soul.

Erhmann's timeless and TIMELY advise:

"But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness. Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should. Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be. And whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul. With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful. Strive to be happy". I’ve forgotten my own advice, as recently as 10 minutes ago and I am going to be in deep trouble with my husband for staying up all night working on this blog post, but another thing I’ve learned - living dangerously is a lot more interesting than endless boredom. I guess.

Full Text of The Desiderata:

GO PLACIDLY amid the noise and the haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible, without surrender, be on good terms with all persons . . . whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul. With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.

By Max Ehrmann © 1927
Original text

#dodo #dodobug #philipjosefarmer #sciencefiction #carnegielibrary #ridgefarm #illinois #1970s #smalltown #georgetown #camoflage #dayworld #riverworld #maxerhmann #terrehaute #indiana #route1 #lasalletteseminary #religion #philosophy #desiderata #desiderataofhappiness #johnmellencamp #brokenhome #ecumenical #art #nature #sherfickart #timely #fear #advise #IJKVA #distress #imagine #fatigue #loneliness #begentlewithyourself #youareachildoftheuniverse #nolessthanthetreesandstars #youhavearighttobehere #theuniverse #unfolding #beatpeace #withgod #labors #aspirations #thenoisyconfusionoflife #keeppeaceinyoursoul #sham #drudgery #broken #brokendreams #brokenfamily #beautifulworld #becheerful #strive #strivetobehappy #greyhoundbus #fire #brimstone #nonevangelical #baptist #catholic #straighttohell #inahandbasket #heathen #altar #gravenimage #statuary #biblical #endoftimes #godsjudgment #confused #holes #opossum #slugs #blendedfamily #bradybunch #tragic #outsider #artistphilosopher #growingpains #goplacidly #peace #silence #withoutsurrender #speakyourtruth #quiettruth #dullandignorant #theytoohavetheirstory #avoid #aggressive #vexatious #spirit #vain #bitter #greaterandlesser #enjoyyourachievements #yourplans #howeverhumble #changingfortunes #time #exercisecaution #theworld #trickery #blind #whatvirturethereis #strive #highideals #everywhere #lifeisfullofheroism #beyourself #donotfeignaffection #affection #cynicalaboutlove #love #aridity #disenchantment #perinnialasthegrass #counsel #years #grace #graceful #surrendering #surrender #thethingsofyouth #strength #shield #sudden #misfortune #donotdistress #distress #dark #darkness #darkimagings #wholesome #discipline #begentlewithyourself #coronavirus #revelations #solitude #quarantine #injured #bedrest #onagain #offagain #survive #meanttobe #forartssake #incredible #bug #sherfickart #trilogy #humankind #kindness #kindlessness #art #knowledge #nature #midwest #straightandnarrow #north #south #barefeet #highway #humble #evenso #itiswell #soul #hope

Miss Frilly Pants? She's like a living work of art. THEDODO.COM

Woman Finds An Incredible Bug Who's Almost Too Beautiful To Be Real 

The Dodo Bug - Miss Frilly Pants discovered by Ms. Neville. Doesn’t the wing design look hand painted???

Barefoot and baking

Photographic Evidence

Route 1 in Illinois was part of the original “Dixie Highway”. Every night I listened to the sound of the cars WOOSH and watched the hypnotising carousel reflection of the headlights that traveled across my bedroom walls

Statuary and building at La Salette, Olivet, IL

Grandpa died soon after this amazing pic was taken . . . his funeral was one of the last times I ever saw many of these family members. It’s one reason why I so urgently feel the need to visit my loved ones . . . just in case it will be our last visit

My Kindergarten Report Card from 1973-1974, the teacher comments: “The difficult spelling of Sher’s/my last name has made it difficult for her/me to learn” and my grade for “Writing first and last name: S-; Less Than Satisfactory, Knows right from left? I: Improvement Needed”. Truly, there was never enough space for me to print my whole name - thus began my identity crisis? Not much has changed in either arena, except that my last name is shorter, but is quite frequently and unfortunately misspelled.

Visiting the Past

Looking forward to Juroring the Arnie Hart Student Exhibition at The Mattie Kelly Arts Center, located at my undergraduate college: Northwest Florida State College, Niceville, FL in March 2019 . . . where I took my 1st art class in 1997. Back then it was known as “Okaloosa-Walton Community College”. I was a young 27 art student and I still use those fundamentals art skills in every work of art I created.

Perspective Exercise at The OWCC Library, Drawing 1 with Professor David Owens, Fall 1997

I still use the Principles of Design Professor Owens taught me. I became so passionate about art and becoming an artist through him and, later, my Art History Classes with Dr. D. Anne Waters, deepened my artistic obsessions even further. My art advocacy started way back then, when - discontent with the ‘status quo’, I pioneered a new system for the student exhibition and even fought for it to be held in the fancy NEW galleries of the Mattie Kelly Arts Center. I didn’t know what I was doing - but I figured it out: demanding outside Jurors and even drumming up Cash Award Donors (who later left millions to the college to build a new art instruction building as our old one had, literally, DRIPPING ceilings).

Status: The American Dream, 1998, Painting I with Dr. D. Anne Waters, OWCC

It was a privilege to take Painting I & II as an Independent one-on-one course with Dr. Waters. Day one of the syllabus required focusing the entire semester on sketches from one item. I had recently the SW for my anniversary and choose a bovine skull as my subject. Each assignment required a different technique: from how to build and stretch my own canvases to full abstract (although referential) triptychs . . . I completed a series and I still use that theory to this day - developing a single item or thought or phrase into multiple works that stand alone or together.

Some people might deride community colleges, but as a woman who chose to get married young and start a family - those small, local doors opened my passion wide open. I hope that I have continued to build my techniques and I KNOW that the fundamentals I learned there have kept me in good stead all of these 20+ years.

It took me 7 years to finish my AA (I was raising 2 kids and had an additional ‘surprise’ baby), and only attended part-time and a total of 9 years to earn my Bachelor of Fine Art (1997 - 2006, first class to finishing). I was accepted into some prestigious graduate schools in 2006, but after already moving my entire family from NW Florida to the Nashville area in 2003, I decided NOT to continue my education. For me, the struggle between my responsibilities and having to choose between my family and art opportunities (such as moving to attend grad school), the stress was too much to ask of my own soul or to expect from my family.

I have had amazing avenues to expand my techniques and exhibition options, following a path of an internship with the amazing Adrienne Outlaw - leading to becoming a Studio Manager and eventually making work about the challenges of being an artist mother, such as Coping Skills and A Paxil A Day . . . one thing leads to another, and we learn and grow.

Life is full of obstacles and challenges (such as falling down the stairs of my new studio in 2009 and subsequent spinal surgeries in 2010 and 2015). It leads back to the beginning, though - doesn’t it? What drives you? What do you get excited about?

I hope I am regaining that eagerness and anticipation I had in August of 1997 when I walked through the doors of a decrepit building in Niceville, FL, sat down on a drawing horse and heard the words of David Owens: “Let me see where you are at”. We all drew an old, bent bicycle tire and I knew I had entered the gates of heaven. David Owens died less than a year later. I remember speaking at his memorial and vowing not to let his death stop us (the ragtag group of art students and himself) from making the art department better and we just formed a student art club (The Association of Visual Arts/AVA, now defunct).

I know I kept that promise . . . returning to Jury the Annual Student Exhibition, still held in those gorgeous new galleries and still based on the entry forms I made back in 1998 and knowing those art students aren’t sitting under a dripping ceiling. I may have moved away, but I did make a contribution to the arts; and, REALLY, isn’t that what matters? Making your mark (unbeknownst) and carrying forward all the foundations that have made you a stronger (hopefully, better) person.