Clarice, the black cat, was always a bit of a loner in the group. Butterbean, an orange tabby, was outgoing and adventurous, while Charlotte was the mother figure in the group. (Charlotte was a tiny little kitty who ballooned into a ball almost overnight. Her girth was astounding on such a small body.)
Read moreThe Staying Power of Art
I continue to think about the Notary Public idea, though I don’t believe it will accomplish what I want. It wouldn’t be bad to be a notary, but it’s not likely my name will go down in history that way. That tangible thing I crave wouldn’t materialize.
At work, I touch the archive paper. It has a nice texture, a definite tooth in its surface. The scraps that they have after they print our amendments get distributed. We use those scraps to manually print amendments, as well as use it as scratch paper. When I touch the paper, I really want to write on it. I don’t know what I want to write, but I long to sit and put a nice pen to that paper and feel the tip stroke across the surface. I want to look at my handwriting on it. That would be tangible. That has potential to stay around. Surely something written on this paper would be worth saving.
My friends are artists. Barry makes jewelry, sculpted with gold and silver. Glo has beautiful bronzes with social and cultural importance, as well as small ceramic pigeons. In our house ceramic bowls, plates and platters fill the space to overflowing, along with coffee cups and hand-blown drinking glasses. That is a mark left on the world. Those tangible items will be around forever. People 100 years from now will look at a collection of Barry’s sculptured jewelry and wonder about the artisan that made them. Some of his pieces have an Asian feel, others look vaguely African, with horse hair incorporated. All of them have his signature style that really ties the whole collection together. His work is all over the U.S. and beyond.
Our friend, Richella - may she rest in peace - still lives through her tiny raku pots, even while the last of her brood of cats grows old, sleeping on our dining room table eleven years after Richella passed away. Richella’s art has been collected all over the United States and other parts of the world. Her goal was to be in a show at the Smithsonian. After she mastered the technical aspect of pottery, she judged her craftsmanship and her designs based on whether they could be accepted at the Smithsonian. Not a bad aspiration, and she would have made it had she continued to live and produce work.
A Greek potter a few centuries before the common era (BCE or BC?) would have thought they were hot stuff because one of their decorated pots would cost a day’s wages.¹ Imagine if they had known that 2000 years later their work would be sold for over $100K and be on display as an historic artifact. That person, whoever they are, has truly left a their mark on the world, even if we don’t know their name.
Mark Cartwright, "Ancient Greek Potter," Ancient History Encyclopedia, March 16, 2018, https://www.ancient.eu/Greek_Pottery/.
The Seven Feline Angels Took Another Angel Home
Hark!
The angels have come to take another angel home. Charlotte, who has been with us since 2006 and whose two beautiful babies we found homes for in Dallas, left us today. In 2006 she was already not young, so eleven years later she was quite an old lady.
Never has there been a more gentle soul. If you sat on the sofa she would come nuzzle your hand with her head until you pet her, but other than that she was never demanding. She couldn't meow very well, so she did most of her communicating with her eyes. Beautiful eyes. Expressive. And, quick to slow-blink at you.
When we had to keep an adopted kitten isolated until she could get her shots, Charlotte came and lay beside her kennel, keeping her company and cleaning her as well as she could. She just took it upon herself to be Mom to this scared orphan, and she continued to be Mom long after the kitten was let loose to roam the house.
Pardon me, would you have any Gravy Catfood?
Throughout the years Charlotte has helped us keep peace in a houseful of cats, and she has helped us entertain our guests. If you were tired of petting her, she was always up for a game of Cribbage.
We adopted Charlotte, along with her companions, when our friend, Richella, was going into the hospital. It's hard to imagine that Richella has been gone eleven years, and it's amazing, really, that some of her kitties have still been with us into 2017. But, it is still a bit of a double whammy to say goodbye to one of Richella's babies.
I'll leave you with this small poem I wrote for Charlotte today. Take time to play with your cats, and if you see Barry, give him a hug.
You lived a good life.
Go see your mom in heaven.
We'll be with you soon.
-- A Haiku for Charlotte
Galveston Weekend - 2016 - Day 1
At some point in my life I looked around and thought about the fact that I have never visited New Orleans LA or Galveston TX, or any other places that are near my home. I’ve been to Costa Rica, several parts of Mexico, Los Angeles, Chicago and NYC. But, things that are three hours from my home my entire adult life have escaped me. So, a couple of years ago I decided to right this wrong. There was a trip to NOLA two years ago, and now I am on a weekend trip to Galveston. This trip, though, is not without digressions. There was an International Gem & Jewelry show in Houston that was the catalyst for the whole thing.
But first, one of my cats, Raku, developed shpilkes in her genecktekazoiks. So, she got to come along with us so that we can giver her the antibiotics and pain medication. Her operation is scheduled for this Wednesday. She’s a beautiful creature, and like most extraordinarily beautiful creatures she is high maintenance. She has already cost me more than my other two cats combined and one of them has 10 years on her.
We dropped Raku off at a friend’s house in Houston and proceeded to the International Gem & Jewelry show. There were a lot of vendors of gems and beads, but we only saw one person who was selling cabochons. Many quality artisans seem to have abandoned this once-incredible event leaving perfume vendors and other questionably related types, and there were a lot of empty spaces. It’s unfortunate, but that is the way things go. An event will build up and reach its apex, and then slowly deteriorate until it is reborn somewhere else. So, was it worth it to pay to park and then walk through blazing heat to get into the convention center? I suppose it depends on your perspective. Nameless wasn’t terribly inspired by much of what he saw, but he did get some very nice things. A wonderful man named Wu was selling pearls and Nameless bought some - Tahitian South Sea pearls, not freshwater pearls. Wu was probably the most pleasant person we saw. We don’t generally encounter a lot of terribly friendly people, but as long as they know their gems and display a certain amount of passion about it, I’m happy. There were two or three people who felt passion about what they were selling, about gems and the lapidary art of cutting and presenting them.
What does a gem and stone show look like?
Some of what Nameless came home with. He had a couple of smaller turquoise and Australian boulder opals that would have been difficult to photograph on the fly.
We left the show with our purchases and went to Genesis Art Glass Studio where we had left Raku in the care of Nameless' friend. He has a cat named Richella, who was named after a dear friend of ours who passed away quite a few years ago now. Raku is also named after her, but I chose the name of Richella's art, rather than using her given name. Richella was with us when I first visited this Gem & Jewelry show here in Houston. I wonder if she was with us this time. I didn't see any dragon flies. Maybe she sat this one out. Maybe she's waiting for us to find where the real stone dealers are playing these days. I think about that as we get on the road to Galveston. That sounds like a good quest - to find the stone dealers. She certainly had a passion for gems and stones. She reminds me of Barbra Streisand in What's Up, Doc?
Onward we drove at speeds varying from 5 MPH to 70 MPH, depending on the highway at any given moment. Quite a few people heading to Galveston this weekend in mid-June. We got to the house/bungalow, turned the AC on and promptly left for the grocery store to pick up some provisions while the place cooled down. A friend owns a house here that she lets to her friends for a small fee and it works out wonderfully from what I can tell. We got Raku situated and decided that we were starving out of our minds.
Seawall Drive is rather a bright, shiny place. Lot’s of lights, restaurants and that sort of thing. There’s even a boardwalk of sorts that’s just ablaze with lights, and what looks like a Ferris wheel, but doesn’t seem to actually turn. I think we’ll explore that this evening. We’ll also go back to Gaido’s, because I wasn’t in the mood to enjoy an expensive meal. I was tired. We ended up at a Mexican restaurant and I had a fruity alcoholic drink and grilled fish tacos that were divine. We may have had Baskin Robbins for dessert.
That more or less ended day one. We were tired. Very tired. We put sheets on the beds; Nameless was watching a show on television, wishing he could change the station. I’m no help in that arena, but I do believe that the batteries were dead on the remote control. I have no intention of regressing to my childhood and being the television station changer, and I wouldn’t know how on today’s TV’s anyway. So, I read for a bit and tried to sleep. Sleep is not always easy when I’m not in my own bed and when I don’t have cats around me. Raku was in her crate, having decided that her litter box is, indeed, a box and therefore a place to sleep. Whatever, it’s vacation.
But first, one of my cats, Raku, developed shpilkes in her genecktekazoiks. So, she got to come along with us so that we can giver her the antibiotics and pain medication. Her operation is scheduled for this Wednesday. She’s a beautiful creature, and like most extraordinarily beautiful creatures she is high maintenance. She has already cost me more than my other two cats combined and one of them has 10 years on her.
We dropped Raku off at a friend’s house in Houston and proceeded to the International Gem & Jewelry show. There were a lot of vendors of gems and beads, but we only saw one person who was selling cabochons. Many quality artisans seem to have abandoned this once-incredible event leaving perfume vendors and other questionably related types, and there were a lot of empty spaces. It’s unfortunate, but that is the way things go. An event will build up and reach its apex, and then slowly deteriorate until it is reborn somewhere else. So, was it worth it to pay to park and then walk through blazing heat to get into the convention center? I suppose it depends on your perspective. Nameless wasn’t terribly inspired by much of what he saw, but he did get some very nice things. A wonderful man named Wu was selling pearls and Nameless bought some - Tahitian South Sea pearls, not freshwater pearls. Wu was probably the most pleasant person we saw. We don’t generally encounter a lot of terribly friendly people, but as long as they know their gems and display a certain amount of passion about it, I’m happy. There were two or three people who felt passion about what they were selling, about gems and the lapidary art of cutting and presenting them.
What does a gem and stone show look like?
Some of what Nameless came home with. He had a couple of smaller turquoise and Australian boulder opals that would have been difficult to photograph on the fly.
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| Tahitian South Sea Pearls with Jasper in the background and Labradorite beads |
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| Labradorite, and two Jaspers |
We left the show with our purchases and went to Genesis Art Glass Studio where we had left Raku in the care of Nameless' friend. He has a cat named Richella, who was named after a dear friend of ours who passed away quite a few years ago now. Raku is also named after her, but I chose the name of Richella's art, rather than using her given name. Richella was with us when I first visited this Gem & Jewelry show here in Houston. I wonder if she was with us this time. I didn't see any dragon flies. Maybe she sat this one out. Maybe she's waiting for us to find where the real stone dealers are playing these days. I think about that as we get on the road to Galveston. That sounds like a good quest - to find the stone dealers. She certainly had a passion for gems and stones. She reminds me of Barbra Streisand in What's Up, Doc?
Howard: What? Oh no, no you see I'm a musicologist. I was just testing this specimen for inherent tonal qualities. I have this theory about early man's musical relationship to igneous rock formations. But I guess you're not really interested in igneous rock formations.
Judy: Not as much as I am in the sedimentary or metamorphic rock categories. I mean, I can take your igneous rocks or leave 'em. I relate primarily to micas, quartz, feldspar. You can keep your Pyroxenes, magnetites and coarse grained plutonics as far as I'm concerned.
Howard: I forgot why I came in here.
Judy: Headache.
Onward we drove at speeds varying from 5 MPH to 70 MPH, depending on the highway at any given moment. Quite a few people heading to Galveston this weekend in mid-June. We got to the house/bungalow, turned the AC on and promptly left for the grocery store to pick up some provisions while the place cooled down. A friend owns a house here that she lets to her friends for a small fee and it works out wonderfully from what I can tell. We got Raku situated and decided that we were starving out of our minds.
Seawall Drive is rather a bright, shiny place. Lot’s of lights, restaurants and that sort of thing. There’s even a boardwalk of sorts that’s just ablaze with lights, and what looks like a Ferris wheel, but doesn’t seem to actually turn. I think we’ll explore that this evening. We’ll also go back to Gaido’s, because I wasn’t in the mood to enjoy an expensive meal. I was tired. We ended up at a Mexican restaurant and I had a fruity alcoholic drink and grilled fish tacos that were divine. We may have had Baskin Robbins for dessert.
That more or less ended day one. We were tired. Very tired. We put sheets on the beds; Nameless was watching a show on television, wishing he could change the station. I’m no help in that arena, but I do believe that the batteries were dead on the remote control. I have no intention of regressing to my childhood and being the television station changer, and I wouldn’t know how on today’s TV’s anyway. So, I read for a bit and tried to sleep. Sleep is not always easy when I’m not in my own bed and when I don’t have cats around me. Raku was in her crate, having decided that her litter box is, indeed, a box and therefore a place to sleep. Whatever, it’s vacation.
Clarice's Original Mother
In 1988 Thomas Harris published a novel titled
The Silence of the Lambs
, which was a sequel to his earlier
Red Dragon
. In 1991
Silence
was made into a movie and was a major success, both in the box office and critical acclaim. With Anthony Hopkins and Jody Foster one would expect that – particularly with Hopkins.
In 2003 a struggling artist named Richella was working in her studio. She rented a large warehouse space – 5,000 square feet or so. She had a cat named Fitzgerald with whom she traveled across the country to art festivals. Fitzgerald was a very large orange tabby, and he was very comfortable on the road. He kept her company while she worked all hours of the night on her pottery, her miniature collectibles fired with a Raku technique.
Richella was a very good friend of mine and I feel that she was troubled sometimes. She told us that she needed the amount of space she had in order to be able to work, due to claustrophobia. So, she worked alone in her studio surrounded by her pretty things and in the company of her cat who enjoyed nothing more than being her entire world.
At some point, though, another tabby peeked in the garage door of the studio. She gave the new cat some food and put it back outside. But, the cat came back, as cats are wont to. She took the cat in to get it fixed and if you've noticed a lack of gender-specific pronouns in this paragraph there's a reason for it. She couldn't tell if it was a boy or a girl. She thought girl, so she named her Buttercup. The vet told her it was a boy, so the name was changed to Butternut. When the vet discovered that the cat was pregnant, he used deductive reasoning to establish that she was, indeed, a she. Thus, the name Butterbean was given and finalized.
This caused a bit of an upset in Fitzgerald's life. He only had room in his heart for one woman and that woman was Richella. He could see no reason for the presence of this other cat in their life, regardless of what gender she was before she was neutered. Butterbean was street savvy and could kick any cat's ass that got in her way, so there was a bit of tension as the two got to know each other. (In all honestly, Fitzgerald never got over the betrayal.) But, the ball was rolling and there is no stopping the course of fate.
I think that it can be said without too much argument that Richella was in an unlucky phase in her life with regards to romance. She had a boyfriend at one point around this time. He wasn't much to write home about, so I tried not to pay attention. But, any person has a space in their heart for another human being and sometimes we let somebody into that space whether or not they are truly worth it. It's difficult to say what would have been appropriate for Richella. She loved the movie
The Silence of the Lambs
and all of the prequels/sequels. She also read all of the books. One might not think too much about that, except that she found it to be the most remarkable love story she had ever seen. It touched her in a place that had never been touched before. For those who haven't heard of it, the two main characters in SOTL are Hannibal and Clarice. Hannibal is a brilliant psychiatrist, and he also happens to be a cannibalistic murderer. Clarice works for the FBI and is sent to enlist Hannibal's assistance in stopping another serial killer. Thus begins their strange relationship.
So, when yet a third cat showed up to Richella's studio and it was clear that she wasn't going to go away, this new black cat was named in honor of Richella's favorite protagonist, Clarice. Clarice, the cat, was a timid little thing at the time, and Butterbean was quite the fighter. Butterbean was generally locked in Richella's bedroom, but occasionally the door was left a crack open and Clarice would sneak in to see what was in there (because what cat can leave a closed door alone?) She had her little black butt handed to her on more than one occasion that way.
There has always been something a little different about Clarice. Some cats are nervy or skittish, and that's natural. Clarice, though, has always wanted attention; she was just always a little put off by being touched – even when she requested it. She lived her life among other cats a bit like that. She wasn't certain that she wanted to be there, but there didn't seem to be anywhere else to be, so she abided. Asserting herself had only caused physical harm, so she meekly asked for attention, even though she didn't particularly like it. She spent a great deal of time lying quietly, trying to blend into the background until her need for affection overcame her distaste for it.
Years later, she has come into her own, living in our home now. (This is the same Clarice that I recently
about – our cat who has diabetes now.) She sits on her corner of the kitchen table and proudly announces that she is in need of attention. It is my job to pick her up (yes, she allows me to pick her up now!) and pet her and coo to her and tell her what a beautiful kitty she is. I have to pet the back of her head, rub her whiskers and this must go on for at least five minutes. She uses her front paws on my arm to perch up and receive her due. She closes her eyes and imagines a life without so much heartache; lets herself forget how far she's come and just live in the moment with me.
And, then it's time to put her down and we both go about our business.
A sketch of Richella demonstrating her art