I heard some statistics recently on the news that caught my attention.  Of course, I don't remember the source, and I certainly wasn't able to backtrack my memory and locate the numbers.  But, I remember being shocked. Somewhere in the vicinity of one in ten people around the world goes to bed hungry every night.  Every night!  I'm not sure if I have ever gone to bed hungry, ever! 

It might have happened on rare occasions when my dad wanted me to eat fried okra.  I wouldn't do it then and I won't do it now.  My dad was no match for his stubborn son.  I would gladly go to bed without supper if it meant I didn't eat okra.  If you had parents like mine, you might have heard these same words, "Eat your food!  There are starving children in Africa."  I never missed a beat.  I'd scoot the plate in my parents' direction and say, "Send this food to them."

I obviously spent a lot of time in my room.

Anyway, back to the statistics, I felt the need to research a little further and see just how "rich" I truly am.  That's a four-letter-word that I've never used to describe myself.  I spend a lot of time feeling like a starving artist, but that just isn't a true statement when life in the United States is compared to the rest of the world.  Around the globe, the median income is somewhere between $2,100 and $2,800 per year.  That's nearly impossible to comprehend unless you've traveled around the world to some of the places that I've been to and seen this truth up close and personally.  And, if that's the mean, there are many people who exist on a whole lot less.

After a little research, I found statistics that shocked me even more.  Add up the value of all your clothes, trinkets, that most treasured possession, and the junk in the back of your closet.  If it equals $1000, you are among the top 69% of the world's wealthiest citizens.  Do you know anyone who is not among this group?  If your calculations reach the $10,000 mark, you are among the top 32%.  My last number to humble you is $100,000.  If you calculated that total, it puts you in the top 9% of the world's wealthiest people.  And, I learned that if you are in this group, a mere 1% of your income could feed a family in Ethiopia for a year.

Does any of this make you want to help someone other than yourself?  It did me, and very fortunately, I had the opportunity to do just that.  Last year, my church sponsored an event to send food to people in Ukraine with an organization called Heaven Sent Ministries.  This year, a second weekend was set aside to pack up containers of food, this time for South Sudan.  The closest I've ever been to South Sudan was neighboring Ethiopia and Uganda.  In all of my travels, I've never been to a place as war-torn as this corner of Africa. 

Heaven Sent Ministries brought one of their employees, Deng Leek Deng, from South Sudan, to the packing event.  Rarely have I ever met someone who so instantly inspired me by his story.  South Sudan has been at war most of Deng Leek Deng's life.  There have been two civil wars, ethnic cleansing, human rights abuses, killings, torture, rebellion, and atrocities.  And, this gentle man still lives there.  His wife and children reside in Uganda where school is available in a secure environment.  He takes the 12-hour bus to visit his family once every two or three months.  

I didn't need to know anything else about the guy to respect him, but the founder of Heaven Sent Ministries, Lyle Mullins, shared one more tidbit.  Every day, before doing any kind of work, Deng Leek Deng goes to his church to pray.  He has a vehicle that belongs to Heaven Sent Ministries, but the guy doesn't want to use the project's gasoline for his personal needs.  He walks to church, one hour in each direction!  Before he finished speaking, this man from South Sudan wanted to pray for the 120 volunteers who gathered to assemble packages of food for his people.  

The prayers should have gone in the other direction!
​

I've self-published my books with a few different companies since I started my writing career.  Up until recently, I've been extremely happy with the company that now prints my hardcover books.  For now, they remain nameless.  And, there is a reason for that.  They messed up my last order, printing several covers way too dark.

Now, customer service is no longer what it used to be in this world.  It is impossible to call up the company and speak to a human.  Impossible!  Impossible -- and maddening as well!  I have to rely on email messages.  And, I have written to the company four times so far.  I have not received one reply on the matter.  Okay, the last letter was dripping with sarcasm, but they should have replied to the first three.  Now, I think I'm left to writing to them every day.  I don't know what else to do at this point.

Anyway, it occurred to me that perhaps the customer service replies went to my spam mail or trash folder.  That was being too generous for this company.  No, there was no accident with email delivery.  And, no, there was no message from customer service lurking in my spam folder.

I did, however, find an interesting email.  Someone was seeking me out to do some custom illustrations for a project.  The fact that I stumbled across this under these circumstances seems like it was meant to be.  It was a little bit of unexpected blessing out of the blue.  And, things like that do happen in my life.

I contacted the person who wrote to me to see if they were still interested.  YES!  And, this person gave a very specific list of illustrations needed for the project.  It was like it was tailor made for me.  I gave my prices for use of my existing clipart (which many people want to use) as well as my fees for original art.  I can tell you that teachers rarely ever want to pay for original art.  However, this person wanted ten illustrations, a little more complex than what I usually do, and the sponsor was willing to pay for it.  Instead of earning what few teachers are ever willing to pay, this was a project with a rate similar to what I would expect in the professional business world.  And, I've never really worked for someone with that kind of budget.

I explained a lot of things that I tell every potential client.  I need the name of the project, the name of the company, the phone number, and contact person in order to create the contract.  I didn't receive that information right away. 

A small red flag went up.

Usually, I want multiple payments.  I want one third up front, one third upon completion of the sketches, and one third after finishing the project.  Much to my surprise, I was told that they knew the kind of work I produce.  They were happy to send payment in full right from the start.  Okay, as I said, I've never worked with clients like this before.  They didn't even need to approve the sketches.  Whatever I created would be fine.  Nobody ever says that.

It should have been another red flag.

On Friday, the full amount for the check came to my doorstep with a DHL shipment.  I rushed it to the bank.  Then, I used the address information on the DHL envelope to complete the contract and send it back to my contact.  Very silly me.  I should know this lesson by now.  Do not ever put pencil to paper until you have a signed, valid contract in hand.  But silly me, I spent the week working on the ten sketches.  When I sent the contract, I also sent the ten sketches for approval. 

On Saturday, I received a message saying that the sponsor noted the funds were out of their account.  Were they successfully in mine?  Nobody ever asked me questions like this before.  And then, low and behold, the sponsor's partner suddenly died.  Phase 2 of the project, five of the drawings, was cancelled.  They would only do Phase 1.  

All kinds of flags were waving now.  

I knew what was next.  They would want half of the funds sent back to them.

At five minutes before Saturday closing, I called my local bank.  Before I could even finish my story, my banker said that it was a scam.  Under no circumstances, do not send them any money!  He told me that the scammers wait for the victim to send them the requested refund and then their check bounces.  Although I was tempted to empty my account and move on to a new bank, I was advised to let the money sit in the account until their check bounces.  It could take up to 120 days!  Do not touch it.

After that phone call, I had time to do a little more online research.  The address on the DHL package is non-existent.  The sender on the envelope could not be located.  The name of the business was not to be found with the Better Business Bureau in the city of origin.  

And, no surprise here, in the meantime, I got a message from the scammer asking if I could send them money by PayPal or Venmo.  Which method did I prefer?  I said that I would do nothing until I had time to contact my banker and attorney on Monday.  Surprise, surprise, surprise!   The text messages stopped.

So, lesson learned, again.  Do not ever put pencil to paper before a legal, contract is in hand.  And, if you don't know the client, do your homework.  Get the business address, client name, sponsor name, company website, and Better Business Bureau confirmation before wasting any time on the project.

Fortunately, I'm not out any money and no contract was signed with some unscrupulous scammers.  I did, however, spend a week working on artwork that will never be used.  I could have spent the week working on children's book number 21 to publish with the same company that poorly printed my last books at the start of all this confusion.

So, no great illustration project is continuing this week.  No new murals will be funded by this adventure.  I'll continue to work on a folktale from Fiji and write multiple letters of complaint to a certain unresponsive lack of customer service department.

​And, I will NOT check my spam folder!

P.S.  On Monday morning I headed to my bank.  The "infamous" check was still in their location.  Very interestingly, the address on the check was from a business on the west coast and it was sent to me from a location on the east coast.  My banker believes that possibly the check was "scrubbed" (however that is done) and then sent to me.  By the time the west coast business discovered this error in their accounts, the scammers were supposed to merrily skip away with my money.  My banker said that he would call the business on the west coast and have them check their records.  I suggested he also ask if there was any kind of hefty reward for helping them.  

And, I learned something on this trip to the bank that I will never forget.  The banker said that it is very risky to send checks in the mail these days.  Too often they will be stolen, which opens things up for fraud.  He said to always hand-deliver your checks or find an alternative method of payment.  Now, you know too.

P.S.S.  It hasn't even been a month since I posted this blog.  Nope, not one month.  When what in my email box should there land, but another email with a hint of a scam?  I received another email interested in hiring me for my cartooning.  But, fool me once, shame on you.  You know who to blame if I'm fooled a second time.  When I received the request, I said I wanted to know more about the organization I was going to support.  Could they send me the URL?  Plans were in the next email to suggest business address and name of CEO for the contract.  FYI, I would use that information to contact their local Better Business Bureau.  Yep, I've learned from experience!

The URL never came in the reply email, but I got a full description of the art that was wanted.  In the last go around, it was an "educational" project to inform students about Covid and Social Distancing.  It was all set up in two phases with a really great salary.  Well, scam number two had the same set up.  Two phases, great pay, but this time the "educational" project was focused on Monkeypox!  Now, if you don't know how that is passed, be thankful, and preserve your innocence.  If you do know that information, can you possibly imagine my cartooning being used for that project?

I was tempted to write something crass to the scammer.  So tempted!  Instead, I ended our communication with a note just dripping with the right amount of snark, sarcasm, and truth.  "Take my name off of your list.  I know all about your scam.  I've even blogged about it in the past.  I have no need to blog about it again."

​I was right.  It ended our communication.

I had a new landmark event in my career as an artist/author.  I was invited to a book signing afternoon at the Hanby House in Westerville, Ohio.  I was among three local authors invited to the event.  And, it was a lovely summer afternoon as I set up my display in the shade of a very large tree.

Word was sent out to several schools and organizations in the community to advertise the event.  And, you never really know who or how many guests will show up for something like that.  Some people spent a good amount of time talking to the authors, while others breezed on by to their own loss.  One of my particularly favorite visitors was a young girl who said she was an artist.  I had to ask, "Do you also draw on your math papers?"  We bonded instantly over that.  And, her mother testified that she had seen the decorated homework papers.  I know, math teachers never like it when I ask children that question, but I believe that class helped to develop my drawing skills when I was in elementary school.

Another man should have had a table set up next to mine with his own book.  Instead, he stood in front of my display for two and a half hours, telling one amazing story after another.  I have my own supply of adventures and disasters from a lifetime of world travels.   But, I rarely have ever heard anyone like this man.  He shared his own adventures; as well as the story of his brother, a chaplain, who was killed in Vietnam; and a grandfather (with several greats in front of it) who explored the Ohio River in the early 1800s.  Yes, sometime in the future, he needs to sit behind a sales table with his own book.

So, you may have guessed that I had a table to display my books.  I have completed 19 children's books and am almost finished with number 20, a tale from Thailand called If It Is Truly Ours.  It's enough books to very nicely fill up a table.  Anyone looking for children's books should be able to find something that suits their needs in the colorful display.  One woman, who looked vaguely familiar, read her invitation to the event and then looked me up on the internet.  (You can find more information that you will ever possibly be able to read if you explore my website at phillipmartin.com). 

I thought that this woman might look familiar since I displayed my Christmas ornaments at the Hanby House last Christmas.  No, she didn't attend that event.  This woman was a former Peace Corps Volunteer who attended an art exhibition of my African portraits at the Ohio State University EIGHT YEARS AGO!  I haven't had many exhibitions in my life.  How she even heard of it in order to attend is a mystery to me.  But, she remembered my portraits and said, "It doesn't look like the same artist could possibly draw the portraits you create and then illustrate these books."  I had to agree with her.  It does look like any artist who creates both of these crafts must have a split personality disorder.  Well, let me complicate matters even further.  Most of the eggs that I decorate as Christmas ornaments look like a third artist created them.  What does this say about me?  I don't think I want the answer to that question.

As I said, this woman looked up my books online.  She asked, "Where are your coloring books?"  In a basket next to my table, I had coloring books and paperback editions of my children's books.  There just wasn't enough room on one table to display it all.  I needed a second table.

Another woman, a greeter for the Hanby House, pulled her chair up to my table for the afternoon.  When she wasn't entertained by tales of early Ohio history, she examined my books.  And, she liked what she saw, which is always nice.

Between the Peace Corps Volunteer, the greeter, and the woman who was in charge of the Westerville Historical Society, there were three very connected women who liked my books.  They also heard some of my stories.  And, all three of them agreed that I should be a presence in Westerville schools and the Westerville Public Library.  It's a very good thing when connected women feel this way.  They promised to work their connections, connections which I woefully lack.  So, I'm very thrilled about very connected women.

I'm not sure who was the fastest, but someone worked those connections over the weekend.  My showing at the Hanby House was on Saturday.  On Monday morning, I had contact from the Westerville Public Library.  The person writing to me heard about the afternoon author exhibition, explored my website, and requested a few pdfs to see some of my work.  It appears that there may be more firsts coming up on this artist/author adventure.  Who know?  Maybe at a library near you as well?

There are days you don't forget.  Just as Franklin Delano Roosevelt said, when he stood before Congress on December 8, 1941, there are dates "which will live in infamy".  When you experience one of those days, you remember where you were, or who you were with, or what you saw.  Sometimes a song, or a smell, or a single image can stir up so many memories.  Because, unfortunately, we all have lived through some of these kinds of days.  On Memorial Day, it's important to remember those who fell on those infamous days.

In my memory, the world was introduced to acts of terrorism on September 5-6, 1972, in Munich, Germany, during the Summer Olympics.  The group Black September kidnapped members of the Israeli Olympic team.  The image I will always remember is a hooded member of that group looking over a balcony in the Olympic village.  

Closer to home, acts of terrorism never really shook the United States until September 11, 2001.  That day is seared into the minds of everyone who experienced it.  It's absolutely insane to consider that this happened about twenty-two years ago, so in order to really recall it well, you probably have to be at least thirty years old!  How is that possible?  People who remember December 7, 1941, probably ask the same question.

I remember exactly where I was on September 11, 2001.  I had just moved to Belgium.  I had no telephone, no internet, no television, and hardly anything else as I waited for my shipment to arrive from Africa.  I remember walking down a shopping street in downtown Antwerp and saw a crowd gathered in front of some television screens in a store window.  The news was in Dutch, so I never really understood the full impact of what I saw until I arrived at work the following morning and turned on my computer.  The United States was introduced to the War on Terrorism, and it would never be the same.  Since that day, friends and family have learned where Iraq, Iran, Kuwait, Afghanistan, and other distant lands are located as they have sent off spouses, children, grandchildren, and other loved ones.  Some never to return home alive.

This weekend, I learned of the Ohio Fallen Heroes Memorial Park, established in 2005 and a mere twenty minutes from my home.  It's the only memorial of its kind in the state, dedicated to those killed in the Global War on Terrorism since September 11, 2001.  It was the proper weekend to make a visit to Sunbury, Ohio.  As stated on their website, the "goal is to never let people forget the sacrifices made for our freedom and to take care of the families of our fallen heroes now and in the future." 

For most of my visit, I was the only person present.  It was humbling to walk among those who had given so much for my freedom.  The park is thirteen acres with over 300 crosses and a few stars of David, but the number has been steadily growing each year.  If you take the time, on the memorial website, you can also see the photographs of each of the fallen.  Walking among the crosses was moving, but then adding faces to each of the names made their sacrifice so much more personal.  There are no words to adequately thank these brave men and women, as well as their families and friends. 

Okay, okay, I know this is all heavy reading.  So, I'm going to end on a lighter note.  You probably have never heard of Sunbury, Ohio.  Why should you?  For years and years, it was just a sleepy little village.  Now it is an exploding bedroom community for Columbus.  Still, why create such a memorial in Sunbury, of all places?  Well, I have an answer for you.  It is within ten miles of the geographic center of Ohio.  So, that makes sweet little Sunbury convenient for everyone in the state.  And, now you know.

Go forth and be thankful for your freedom.  Freedom is never free. ​