Yellow Springs and the Power of the People.

This weekend my wife and I are loading up and going to Street Fair in Yellow Springs, OH. Yellow Springs is a fantastic little town. There is a liberal arts college there which pours a little extra soul into the streets, shops, bookstores. Street Fair is the festival that focuses all of the energy into a point. Admittedly it is a point that is about 4 blocks long and two blocks wide, but, it needs to be that big just to hold the power.

And it is power. It is the power of a lone sax player standing on the corner, right in front of the burger and beer place, just ripping through jazz riffs until the sensual drift of the rhythm pulls you along. It is the magic of the lone musician with a guitar made from a cigar box and amplified through a tiny speaker just plucking a blues melody in front of the Speedway station, because they let him use their electricity. Blues music can really soothe the soul, a simple progression in the hands of a master can move you to a place of such intense feeling. Even when it is played, or maybe especially when it is played, on a small wooden box guitar built by hand. It is magic.

So much magic. It is the magic of the local historical society trying to preserve the beauty of those simple streets, despite government cutbacks and apathy,  by selling homemade cookies, brownies and pies. There is a magic buying street tacos from the elementary school booth, trying to pay for a new swing set, staffed by volunteers flipping carnitas filled with pork, chicken and steak. A special magic when a child's smiling face, missing a tooth in front asks you in all seriousness "do you want it really hot?" "I want it to make me cry." and they laugh and douse it with mild sauce, smiling the whole time. You have to throw a few dollars in the tip jar for that kind of service. Tacos made with love.

You have to love the festivals in small towns, the community, even when you are not part of the
community. There is a flow, even when all movement stalls, and it does, often. The small streets are crowded with booths, back to back down the middle and on both sidewalks, which makes traffic rely on cooperation. Sometimes, though, something calls to you, some bauble, some piece of art, some exquisitely tie dyed shirt, and you have to stop and admire the love and talent that went into it's creation.

And really, that is what it is all about, creation, a community has to be a creation of all the inhabitants. It doesn't matter if it is a small town, a Facebook group, a circle of friends, it needs the life of the members. I have always been kind of an outsider, and at least when I got older I learned to pretend it was my choice. Which makes things like Yellow Springs Street Fair so wonderful me. I can go and be part of a bigger community without ever risking trying to be a part of anything. Or maybe I just like the tacos.

Woodworking for Dummies, and Idiots.

Having spent years trying to fix, or make, or assemble things I have come to the conclusion that I am not very handy. There are shows on PBS and YouTube videos that provide a step by step guide to the alchemy of woodshop.

It all looks so simple, measure, cut, glue, assemble, fasten and finish. Magically, you have converted a pile of lumber into an heirloom, a small pile of sawdust, and enough scraps to build a spice rack. There is always something, though, some step that they must have edited out. Some keystone procedure that brings the whole assembly to completion, or I am just not able to follow numerous, detailed, dangerous and difficult instructions.

One thing they seem to be pretty cavalier about is the banshee like shriek of the power saws. Tearing through wood without mercy, you can never be sure what is screaming, the agony of the wood, or the angry burden of the electric saw. I hate the sound, it is unearthly, demonic, Sweeney Todd, and Lizzie Borden fighting over the last piece of pizza.

We have, where I work, a man named John. He can create things using only his imagination, some wood and an impressive assortment of tools. He measures carefully, sketches out plans, always wears ear and eye protection. He assumes setbacks are going to happen, and reacts calmly, no swearing, no hysterics. He just corrects for course, calm, unconcerned, the therapeutic power of experience. His reactions are as measured as the hardwood he cut for the tabletop.

A delicate ballet of man, machine and material working toward a goal. Measure, mark, flip switches, press triggers, saw, stack on a neat pile, repeat.  Each measured step done delicately, deliberately, with an economy of motion, and a lack of hurry or concern. It is like watching a robot, every move timed, in sync. I watch as long as I can, until the perfect method starts intruding on my madness, on my need for haste.

When I feel the urge to grab him by the shoulders and shake him so violently the pencil falls from behind his ear, the safety glasses thump softly on the floor, and scream "For God's sake would you hurry up, man?" I leave. It helps preserve our friendship.

To the untrained eye it might look like several piles of similarly cut wood, stacked by an obsessive
compulsive person with spare time. But, to the man willing to dream it is monument to dedication and skill. And when he assembles the pieces it an act of almost unbelievable beauty.

John's finished product meets the specifications he set before starting. A brand new object, functional, attractive, and durable. In so many ways it is an amazing, symbiotic process, an exchange of goods. Both doing their part, teamwork, progress, moving from here to there in careful, predetermined steps.

When the piece poses in all its glory, and John stands admiring the culmination of his design, engineering and construction you sense something bigger than a simple cut and hammer exchange. You sense a profound respect for the beauty of craftsmanship. It is almost as if they had worked together in the act of creation. Both of them better than when they began.

In that one moment you can feel thousands of years of wisdom, the culmination of trial and error by people trying to build a better life, trying to make the most of the resources at hand. The most natural thing.

John won't talk much about the work, he just shrugs, says something self deprecating and changes the subject, And everybody views art through their own filter, but in so many ways what happens in the small room, in the building where I work is art. Of course, the finished product is art, but the act of creation, from the first pencil mark, so precise, to the last coat of lacquer applied so carefully is art, too. But, don't tell John you heard it from me.

Another Life Explained Psychological Experiment.

Where I work we are serious people.  We take creativity seriously, we are serious about generosity, in short we don’t mess around.  Consequently, when my wife asked one of the owners to donate something for a charity auction during the holidays, the owner took it very seriously, and donated several things.  One of which was a set of wooden blocks, vibrantly colored, fashioned in unique shapes, designed to be stacked in a variety of ways to suit the tastes of different people.  

My wife, works as a receptionist at a school district and to go almost anywhere in the building you need to walk by her desk.  Having spent some time in sales she knew the best way to generate interest, and increase value was letting people touch and feel and see the product. To that end, she took the blocks out of the box, and set them on the file cabinet by the hallway in the area beside her desk.  She laughed when she talked about how everybody who walked past had to stop and play with blocks.  She would hear the little clicks of construction, (and sometimes the crash of failure) and it made her smile.  And, it helped, the simple, little blocks sold for a good price (as did the other items given in such quiet generosity) and the proceeds gave some comfort to the needy.

Recently, the serious people for whom I work introduced another set of blocks, these are a little more intricate, angular, with sharp corners, and clean lines, painted to appear as buildings.  They are designed to be held together by the evil magic of geometric properties (I knew when they tortured me with those angles, and lines they were doing the work of the devil).  I bought her a set.  She set the pieces on the corner of her counter, and was amazed at the interest they attracted.

People were drawn to them, stacking and re-stacking, sometimes to the point of obsession. For the first several days people would only play with them when she was away from her desk, she would come back and they would be assembled in a new pattern. Soon, the invisible barrier went down, and people would stop, construct chat, and move on.

 Age was not a factor, children to retirees stacked them, nor was education level, custodians with a high school diploma their highest education, to administrators with PhD's would stop and assemble the blocks.  Often criticizing the last "construction engineer" who built such a shoddy, ad hoc, rickety creation.  "Oh, this is not right, this will never do," was a constant lament.

After a little convincing my wife agreed to snap pictures at various times of the day.  Kind of a snapshot into the thinking of her co-workers.  She was a little hesitant, but, after 25 years of marriage she has learned to suffer foolishness more or less gladly.  I don't know what the pictures mean, and how to make sense of the creations, but looking at them makes me believe there is some insight arrayed in the patterns and designs, and I am drawn to the results, with the same intensity as they were drawn to creation.

Some people were more interested in reaching for heights, and would dare gravity to do its best.  Stacking, and hanging, and laughing in the face of convention. Daredevils that cared little for the constraints of reality, they probably had messy desks, and drive fast cars, or ride motorcycles.

Others were more interested in combinations based on colors, shapes, trying to make sense, and purpose, they had no worries about Urban Sprawl. It is easy to see these people having large houses, big cars, noisy dogs, and large families. Their kitchen table probably seats dozens of people.

There were a few who wanted to find a happy medium, exploring the best of both worlds.  Moderate souls who wanted to make the best of all worlds.  Or, maybe they just took pleasure in the art of stacking. Volunteers at homeless shelters, generous, kind types who abhor conflict, and seek quiet places to enjoy literature.

Sometimes you could see the neat, meticulous planners.  Function following form following design.  Angles intersecting, everything in place, making sense, serving a purpose, and having a reason. These people probably file by month, day and hour, with color coordinated folders and typed tabs. They use a straight edge to align emails. Though, it is possible that they just have a little railroader in their soul.

And, some people were just trying to make something unique. People who are interested in art for art's sake, unencumbered by the norms, mores and discipline imposed by society. These free spirits enjoy life because it can be so much fun.
















For a while our company sold folding bicycles, and would attend the InterBike Show in Las Vegas. Since we had several bikes we would just use them as transportation. Once, after finishing our dinner, I was standing next to one of the owners, watching a couple of my coworkers weave lazily around an empty parking lot on their bikes, riding wide circles, looping around light poles, and just having a little fun before we headed back to the hotel. He watched them and said, with what seemed to be awe, "bicycles bring out the child in everyone." He was right.

Now, though I know it does not take a bicycle, it can be a small pile of wooden blocks, and the kid inside will stand up, take control, and have a good time. Happiness is a precious resource, and should be shared, often, and freely. I am not suggesting that small piles of stackable, colorful blocks will change the world, but my wife will tell you it can bring a smile to the face of almost anyone, and that is a good place to start. You know, maybe we are not so serious after all.