In my last blog, I used a whole lot of Christmas carols.  And, Baby, It's Cold Outside!  There is a polar vortex whirling around Ohio right now.  Let me assure you, I do not belong in this kind of cold weather. 

I could'a been in the Caribbean!
I should'a been painting two murals in Jamaica!
I would'a been there most of January if it were not for the partial government shut-down.

So, instead of painting, sweating and mildly tanning in Caribbean sunshine, I've holed up in Ohio freezing, waiting and mildly muttering.  But, we all know what's supposed to happen to those who wait.  And, fortunately, a few good things have been going on in Ohio in addition to freezing temperatures and drifting snow.

Actually, thankfully, there hasn't been that much snow.  I once drove through a blizzard from Ohio to Kansas.  In Indiana, my car slid head-on, out of control, into a guard rail.  I was able to back the car out - with no damage - and continue on my foolish way.  In Illinois, visibility was near zero.  I didn't even see the truck from behind when it rear-ended me.  Of course, I felt it.  And, again, I could'a damaged my car.  I seriously should'a crunched something, but there was not even a scratch.  And finally, in Missouri, in the middle of the night, I had fuel line freeze up.  The truck driver who stopped to help me said, "I'm taking you to a hotel."  I could'a frozen to death if I stayed in my car.  Sometimes, you have to listen to your guardian angel (or trucker) and do what you're told.  I know, I should'a known that without this guidance.

I try to avoid blizzards these days.

Anyway, it's been cold in Ohio and I've stayed indoors.  But, let me tell you about a couple of the good things happening.

"Pick Me!" Cried Arilla    In recent weeks, one of my friends asked me, "Why don't you write your own kid's book?"  The only answer I've ever had for that question was that I didn't have an idea for one.  I've often been told that I write well enough to do this.  I seriously believed that illustrating a book would'a been easy for me.  It's kind of been on my bucket list long before I ever even heard of bucket lists.  So, when my friend urged me to consider the task, I thought about it and found the inspiration I needed.  And, since I had time on my hands and no desire to go outside, I illustrated the book while I should'a been in Jamaica. 

The inspiration for "Pick Me!" Cried Arilla centers around my grandmother.  I kind of think she would'a been flattered that I used her name and, at the same time, horrified that she was the center of attention for the story.  But, Grandma was the first artist in my family tree, and I thought I needed to honor her influence in my life.  So, like it or not, Grandma, this one's for you.

The story, in my very biased mind, is rather clever.  A school teacher reads a tale to her class about another school in heaven.  In that school, the Archangel Michael teaches stars all the skills they need to know in order to fulfill their purpose.  Of course, Arilla is one of those stars, but she is also one of the students in the library where the teacher is reading.  Illustrations on the Earth mirror what also takes place in the classroom in heaven.  I've never seen a book like that before, so I think it's unique.  And, if that isn't enough, it all rhymes!

Of course, now I have to figure out how to publish the book.  If I self-publish on the site where I've made coffee table books in the past, the price could be as much as a hundred dollars.  I don't think even the people who already love my writing and drawings would pay that price.  I wouldn't.  If I try to find a publisher, they usually don't accept unsolicited manuscripts.  An author needs an agent and a literary agent doesn't usually want to represent someone who is not published.  It's a difficult situation.   When I get it figured out, and the book is for sale, I will let everyone know.

Once Upon West Africa    Okay, I've never actually had any children's book published, but right now I also have a second one in the works.  I collected fifty folk tales from Liberia when I was in the Peace Corps, which was a long time ago.  After I revisited Liberia in 2016, I was inspired to illustrate the tales.  One of my connections at the U.S. Embassy thought it was a project that might qualify for a grant to get the stories into the hands of young Liberian readers.   That could'a happened, should'a happened, would'a been wonderful, but it didn't.  So, I've been sitting on these tales and their illustrations for quite some time.  I just needed the right connection to move the project along.

And, that connection came through CORVA, a Central Ohio Returned Peace Corps Volunteer group that meets monthly in Columbus.  It was through CORVA that I first heard about contacting U.S. Embassies for mural projects.  And, it was also at a CORVA gathering one night that two separate people told me that I needed to meet LeRoy, a Liberian living in Columbus.  I knew there were Liberians in central Ohio, but I'd never actually met one.
That was about to change.

LeRoy and I met up at a local restaurant.  I would'a preferred an African meal of cassava leaves, but I guess that is not to be found in Columbus.  If you want that dish, you have to go to someone's home.  LeRoy wasn't going to invite a complete stranger into his house for the first meeting.  (However, he did for our second meet-up, and the cassava leaves were so delicious.)

My new Liberian friend has his own N.G.O. called Village Improvement Project that does development work with rural Liberian communities.  So, of course, I was interested in what he's doing.  I dream of an extended stay in Liberia painting community murals across the country.  Fortunately, LeRoy was just as pleased about meeting me.  He couldn't believe I've had this treasure of Liberian folk tales so many years.  He said that they should'a been in the hands of Liberian readers a long time ago.  And, LeRoy has experience and connections that could bring this about. 

Currently, plans are in the works to find a grant that could sponsor this project.  And, while that is going on, the tales are getting a final editing.  It is next to impossible to write something as long as a book without some mistakes.  It's truly maddening.  Unfortunately, I find it next to impossible to edit my own writing.  My eyes gloss over errors because they "see" what should'a been on the paper all along. 

We've already discussed printing with a publisher in Columbus.  It won't be that long before a couple of sample copies are in our hands.  It's actually going to happen!  I've been contacted by the U.S. Embassy in Liberia for a return muraling experience.  It, too, was put on hold by the partial government shut-down.  But, now, I'm seriously hoping that when I do return to Africa, I'll have a few samples of the book to share with the people I meet along my path.   And, if you remember my friend Daniel, the principal of the school in Parken, his students will be among the first young readers in Liberia to receive copies of Once Upon West Africa.

It almost makes it all worth while waiting through a polar vortex.

Christmas came early this year.  When December 25th finally rolls around, there will be no Dreaming of a White Christmas.  There will be no need to Haul out the Holly.  Nobody will have to Deck a Hall or trim a tree.  (Okay, to be honest, the tree was decorated weeks ago.)  But, I have no need to stuff a stocking, hear a Sleigh Bell Jingle, Dash through the Snow (or mall), Repeat the Sounding Joy, Sleep in Heavenly Peace, Make the Spirits Bright, care about who's Naughty or Nice, Jingle All the Way or give one hoot about a Fa, La, La at all.  No, like I said, Christmas came early and I already have enough to make my Days Merry and Bright. 

I had a trip to the ho - ho - ho - spital.

I know, nobody wants that under their Christmas tree.  But, consider the alternatives.  It could have been a very long Silent Night.  My blood pressure was out of control.  It was Up on the Housetop - or higher - with stroke numbers.  It didn't help that my blood pressure cuff was really inaccurate.  (Hopefully, the replacement was made by a much more skillful elf.) 

It wasn't like I was ignoring the problem.  I've been going to the doctor for months, trying new prescriptions and dosages in an attempt to correct things.  They just weren't working like they should.  I was asked about a list of symptoms (that I didn't have) but advised that if I had a headache, nausea, vomiting or dizziness, to jump in my sleigh, red PT Cruiser or ambulance and get to an emergency room right away.  And, the day after my last medical visit (actually that very night), I had the beginning of a headache that just didn't want me to have any Peace on Earth.  It was a "hold your head in bed" kind of an ache.  By the next afternoon, it was time to go Away in a Hospital and forget the Manger.  It was probably well past that time.

Still, I wasn't totally sure if going to the hospital was the right thing to do.  But, when the blood pressure machine registered 229/112, it set off an alarm and the doctor said I made the right choice.  Joy to the World!

This Christmas gift included an ambulance ride and an overnight in the hospital.  But, I've been home a few days, my numbers are terrific and All is Calm, All is Bright.  I'm not sure if the Weary World Rejoices, but I certainly am.  This Christmas gift did not include a lot of things that can be the result of a stroke.  It's a long list that includes paralysis, problems with speech, language, swallowing and eating, reduced cognitive ability, visual problems, loss of ability for self-care, behavioral changes and - most certainly - depression.  There is also the possibility of coma or death.  None of those bring Good Will To Men or add even one Pa Rum Pum Pum Pum to your Christmas cheer.  But, I have none of those "gifts" so it Tis the Season to Be Jolly!

It truly feels like a second chance in life when I didn't even know the first chance was about up.  I know my guardian angel always works overtime.  I just didn't realize I had to make him work so hard close to home as well in far corners of the globe.  I plan to sing Hark, the Herald Angels Sing with a little more gusto this year.

There are so many things that I'm looking forward to in the coming year.  I have international mural projects in the works for both the Caribbean and Africa!  If that isn't enough to give you a Holly, Jolly Christmas, I don't know what will do it for you.  In the coming months, I have the idea for a children's book that I want to illustrate.  When it comes out, please Go Tell It on the Mountain.

But for now, I plan to sit back and enjoy the season.  After all, It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year.  My tree is up with the latest set of ornaments I've created.  This year's set are alligator eggs, so the theme was naturally, "See You Later!"  I've illustrated each one with destinations around the world that I hope to see later.  Visiting any or all of them would be wonderful, but none of them were on my list for All I Want for Christmas.  I already have that.  I have my health and a chance to go forth and continue doing some amazing things in the coming year.  I don't need anything else.

When December 25th rolls around in your corner of the planet, Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas.  I don't need anything else.  I'm blessed enough as it is, just a little early.

When I lived in West Africa, I learned very quickly that nobody likes snakes.  It may sound like a broad generalization, but I'm not lying.  Nobody liked snakes.  They hated worms because they looked like snakes.  I saw grown men run away in terror as someone brought a very large worm into their presence.

I know that not all snakes are evil.  They eliminate pesky rodents and serve a useful purpose.  Yep, I was an educated American in their midst.  And, I did my part to change people's minds.

I was such a fool.

One day my friend Timothy spotted a little black snake in my front yard.  It looked like a garter snake.  He wanted to kill it immediately.  Again, I took this as an opportunity to educate my friend.  "Not all snakes are dangerous.  You don't have to kill every snake you see."  But, he looked at me and I could see what he was thinking.  "You fool!  What do you know about snakes?"

W H O P!!!!

He took a long stick and smashed it across that innocent little creature.  That's when I saw the back arch up and the neck flare out.  It was a cobra.  That's right, a cobra in my front yard.  I had no idea that there were any cobras in Liberia.  Now, my mama didn't raise no fool.  Sometimes I'm a quick learner.  I was a convert.  I immediately told Timothy, "You know, you can kill any snake you see in my yard." 

It's my observation that bugs don't get any more respect than snakes.  There are some that serve a very useful purpose.  Others are simply beautiful.  But, most people don't want them in their homes.  And, that's the same in the United States and across the far corners of the globe.

I've come to realize that the food I like the best is what my mother served me when I was a child.  Mom never prepared any kind of insects for me to eat.  So, as I wander the planet, I still don't want to eat anything with six legs, a couple pair of wings and possibly a stinger.  I know that insects are a valuable source of protein, protein that is so important for a healthy diet.  That's head knowledge but not stomach knowledge.  I still don't want to eat a handful of bug-a-bugs (termites) like I do popcorn.  I'm not interested in roasting a gbargor (rhinoceros beetle) like a marshmallow.  Fried up and crispy grasshoppers do nothing for me.  And, even with a healthy dose of chocolate, I'm still not interested in ants.

But, like I said, some bugs are good.  I just got a big bite from one of the not-so-dangerous kind of bugs.  I went to my all-time favorite play, "The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee".  It was my fifth time to see the play, and I got a serious bite by the acting bug.

Since I've been to the play before, I knew that they would select four members from the audience to participate in the bee.  So, before the play started, I was on the lookout for anyone auditioning possible spellers.  It was my fourth time to attempt this.  Now, I know when you audition for anything, it's always good to make sure you stand out in a crowd.  I met with the official spelling bee pronouncer.  He asked what I did.  When I said I painted murals around the world, he asked if I had done anything locally that he might see.  I told him about the NNEMAP mural I did near a huge intersection in Columbus.  And, that mural came with a memorable story.  While we were painting, there was a three-car pile-up.  Now, I've always seen in movies where a beautiful female jogger causes accidents.  But, this was the first time I ever saw an accident caused by great art.  And since nobody was hurt, I just couldn't force myself to feel guilty about the accident.  I was just too pleased.

So, I stood out in the crowd.

After the opening number of the play, I was one of the four people from the audience called up to participate.  I could not have been any more delighted.  But, I wasn't done yet.  My nephew, Hunter, was in this play the last time I saw it.  He gave me insider information.  That pronouncer wheeled a lot of control in the play.  After all, he determined if you had to spell "lysergic acid diethylamide" or "cow".  And if he liked you, which means if you were an entertaining spelling bee-er, you stayed in the competition longer. 

I was briefly introduced to the crowd before spelling anything.  That's when the audience - and I - learned that I had just recovered from head lice.  Naturally, I started scratching underneath my hat.  Those kinds of nasty bugs are not welcome in homes or schools, on heads or under hats.  Nobody will disagree with that except for the people who make head lice shampoo.

My first word to spell was actually "cow".  As soon as I was given that word, the other bees went nuts.  If I had been thinking fast enough, I would have said, "If you don't like it, mooooooove on out of here."  I didn't think that quickly.  But, I still knew how to stand out.  I was supposed to ask two questions.  "What is the definition?" and "Can you use it in a sentence?"  I asked a third question.  "Can you spell the first syllable?"

Already a standout!

For my next introduction, the audience was informed that I had a birthmark the shape of the Philippine Islands.  Right away, one of the other spellers called out, "Where is it?"  I said, "I'll show it to you if I win."  Neither contestants, judges nor audience members expected that reply.  I, however, knew I was safe.  I wasn't about to win the spelling bee. 

Other audience spellers fell by the wayside.  My next word was "dengue".  The only reason I knew the correct spelling was because I had lived in the Philippines where it was a problem.  So, I leaned into the microphone and said, "If you had a birthmark the same shape as the Philippine Islands, you might also know that they have dengue fever.  D E N G U E."

I'm so pleased to report that I was the last audience participant.  When it was time for me to go, I miraculously spelled a word I'd never heard of, can't remember, and couldn't believe I got right.  I started to return to the contestants' row, but my name was called again, and then again.  I finally went out because I couldn't spell "supercalifragilisticexpialidocious".

When the play was over, I had several people in the audience come up to congratulate me.  One woman asked if I was a plant in the audience.  She couldn't believe I had no advance preparation for what I did.  Another man told me that I stole the show.  Now, I'm always pleased when a minor character steals the show.  I'm even more pleased when that character is me.  So, I'm guessing you can understand why I tell you that I just have been bitten by the acting bug.  I think I might have to seek out an audition.

There is another bug that is also looming in my future.  It's not as innocent as the acting bug.  It's more like that cobra in my yard.  In my last blog, I mentioned how I was hoping for an "international God thing".  It happened.  I just got the invitation to return to Liberia for another round of murals.  I'm not sure how many I'll be doing.  It could be anywhere between three and five.  So, that's a long time in the country and a lot of opportunity for nasty malaria-carrying mosquitoes to find me.  The best way to avoid malaria (And who needs it for the sixth time?) is to take the proper medicine and go during the dry season.  That's December to February.  So, it looks like I might have more adventures with snakes and bugs sooner rather than later.

Suffering?  No, thank you.  I'd seriously rather pass.  It's high on my "druther" list.  I'd druther not go down that path.  Please lead me in another direction - probably any other one would do.  I'm just not that into it.

But, we don't always (ever?) have that choice.  Do we?

I've had foot problems for about six months.  I'm the first to admit that other people have suffered a lot longer than that.  Again, that's something I'd like to pass on. Fortunately for me, the swelling is down.  I'm mobile once again.  But, life isn't exactly back to normal yet.  However, throughout this entire ordeal, and I consider five weeks in bed unable to walk an ordeal, I've had several events in my life that a number of people have described as "a God thing". 

I have to agree.

I have a few friends who tell me they are agnostics or atheists.  I just don't understand how that is possible.  Okay, maybe not everyone has a guardian angel like mine who has protected me from so many disasters in so many corners of the world.   My angel has done a miraculous job, but I think that's what they are supposed to do.  But, if everyone has a guardian angel (and I certainly hope they do) then perhaps my friends aren't examining their own lives for their own God things.

Here's the current list going on in my life.

Perfect Timing     I have a few neighbors that I really enjoy.  However, life is always busy.   We don't actually get together nearly as often as I like.  In fact, I might not see them or hear from them for weeks or months at a time.  And, I agree that is too busy.  However, when I found myself unable to walk back in August, both of my neighbors contacted me within twenty-four hours.  Neither of them had any idea that I was in need.  They had not been in communication with each other.  They each decided it was time to check on me.  That can only be a God thing.

Saint Peter to the Rescue     You may have the impression that since my cartoons are all over the Internet that I am one famous and wealthy cartoonist.  You would be wrong.  Yes, my cartoons are used around the world, but most people seem to recognize my art but not my name.  And, they certainly aren't inclined to want to pay me for my work.  I put the starving into artist.  And, I know the truth.  I am the most non-famous world-famous artist you'll ever find.

On occasion, and it doesn't happen nearly often enough, someone contacts me about commissioned art work.  During this time when I was trapped at home and could barely walk, I was unable to go out and color the world with my murals.  And if I am not painting murals, I am not earning a living.  It was during this time that I was contacted by Kingsgate Church in the United Kingdom. 

It's a huge church with their very own art department that creates their own Sunday School materials.  I can't even imagine a church with their own art department.  And, they must be busy, because my connection at Kingsgate asked if I could do a project that they were too busy to complete.  It was a huge project all about Saint Peter that required my art as well as my making some children's craft projects and photographing them. 

The task had a short amount of time to get everything completed.  But, I wasn't going anywhere.  I whipped out the work as fast as I possibly could, delighted the people at Kingsgate, and was thankfully able to pay my bills.  Yep, it had to be a God thing.

Walnut Elementary    Over the summer, I painted nine mini-murals at a very rural elementary school in the Columbus area.  It's smack in the middle of Ohio farm country and the drive getting there is simply beautiful.  The principal wanted ten murals.  It was my first time to ever decorate a school.  I wasn't able to complete the last mini-mural because the fifth grade teachers had not given me an idea for their mural design.  I figured as soon as school started, the fifth grade children would demand a mural.  It didn't happen that way.  And, even if they had, I couldn't walk when school started.  That mural would have to wait.

Almost three months into the school year, I finally had my design.  The fifth grade teachers and principal loved the sketch and the project was a go.  I had some help over the summer with my murals, but not as much as usual.  I was determined to change all that with the final mural.  I wanted fifth grade participants.  I'd take as many painters as I could in fifteen-minute sessions.

Not every fifth grader had the chance to paint, but I'm pretty sure they all wanted to.  The teachers made the selections.  However, when the kids were trapped indoors for recess, Barret asked me if he could paint.  I'm always honored when kids want to paint during recess.  It means they consider the mural a really special project.  I couldn't say yes.  He had to get permission from his teacher.  But, I have to admit, I hoped he could paint.  With his red hair and freckles, as well as a red flannel shirt and cap, he looked like a little farmer.  In my mind, it made him the perfect participant for a mural in this very rural location.

As it turned out, four kids had permission to paint during their recess.  I'm not sure why, but their fifteen-minute session stretched into about forty-five minutes, maybe even an hour.  Nobody came to take their place.  No teacher called them back to class.  And, I assure you, no visiting artist was going to send them away.

Since I had a longer session, I was able to talk more with this group.  That's when I learned a little more about Barret.  At the end of the last school year, he was diagnosed with cancer.  He spent the summer and most of the school year in the hospital or at home.  Finally, miraculously, he was now free of cancer and had only just returned to school the week of this last mural.  If I had come to school any earlier, he would have missed out on the mural experience.  You can be an agnostic or atheist if you choose to do so, but I'm completely convinced this was a God thing. 

Now, when you talk to a ten year old cancer survivor, what kind of questions can you ask?  I wasn't going to ask him what kind of cancer he had or anything about his treatment.  But, how did one so young have such strength, grace and determination to face cancer and walk away victorious?  There has to be a great story and he has to be one awesome kid.  But, I didn't have nearly as much time to talk as I would have liked to have had.  I said that I knew it was a terrible experience, but I was curious if there was anything he thought that was good about what happened to him.  Barret was quick to say that he met a lot of nice people.  He also said that he'd gotten a lot closer to his family.  I'm thinking that Barret has his own God thing going on.

The Next God Thing     I'm nearly finished with illustrating the book about Andrew and I have cleaned up my brushes because I've completed painting all of my murals at Walnut Elementary School.  So, I'm ready for a new project.  I'm not only ready, I need a new project.  It's one of those unfortunate facts of life that bills need to be paid.  So, again, let me repeat that I'm ready.

Most of my recent God things have fallen into my lap.  I've not gone looking for them.  It's been out of my hands.  So, there is a good chance that whatever comes my way next could also be something I never imagined.  HOWEVER, I have had recent communication with U.S. Embassies in Africa, the Caribbean and Oceania who have expressed interest in community murals.  Nobody has confirmed anything.  No dates have been set.  No artist has been dancing around his computer, celebrating an invitation.  But, I'm gonna put it out to the universe so my guardian angel is well aware.  Yep, I'm open for this.  I'm ready, willing and able for an international God thing.
                                                                                     _____

* In an earlier blog, I posted a photo of my feet when I thought the swelling was down and they looked better.  Well, upon a second look, they were still horribly swollen.  Things are looking a whole lot better now.