Easter. The day of connectiveness. He died for us, rose for us and will come again for us.

Yesterday while working on myself, I had to hold the meridians that run through my arms to my little fingers.  While holding the points, I was required to process thoughts that had once been stressors - experiencing integration, feeling worthiness and receiving support.  Deeply meaningful and Easter appropriate upon retrospect.

Also yesterday over a beer at a local brewery, Mom shared a story about Uncle Al, my grandfather's (Dad's side) brother.  Uncle Al was the epitome of a Western cowboy. He always wore a cowboy hat, boots, western shirts and pants.  Auntie Joyce and him traveled the US, rock hounding, panning gold, hunting, collecting and living an amazing life of connectivity with each other, to others and for the Earth.

I was quite young when they'd visit and upon departure they always left me rocks. Back then the love was based on beauty, but as I grew older the rocks' energetic properties came to light.  The last time I saw them was during a visit to Arizona and yes, they gave me turquoise upon leaving.

Auntie Joyce called Mom recently and expressed that Uncle Al had gone through a joint replacement last year. Bless the spirit for he was in his still active 90s.  He happened to not be feeling up to par at joint rehab and they suggested he should go to the hospital. He refused. So at home later that day, Auntie Joyce was helping Uncle Al remove his cowboy boots. The one side was more difficult to take off and Auntie told him tomorrow let us not do the cowboy boots. At that in a state of peace, Uncle Al leaned back and died.

Beautiful connectivity.  It is palpable in their story.

Time is so temporary.  

It has been a long time since posting and I almost forgot about breathe...

Life seems to be changing.  There was a time when I filled myself with giving in order to feel complete.  No longer.  I suppose a near death experience does that - it shifts the bookends.  In the past, my recovery from issues preventing me from wearing pagers left me like a rabid dog waiting for a turned on pager and scurrying off to some crisis.  Now - not so much.  I enjoy less training nights, meetings, and thinking about how far I have to run to my truck should the pager alert.

The question I hear often is when are you coming back?  My answer: not sure.  The gift I have is in the midst of chaos, all seems rather clear on what to do.  The ability to rapidly analyze and develop a correction plan comes very easily.  Does that mean go back to all of what I've been doing many years or shift to something else?  Oddly, now is when people are coming to me asking for my help, and I am not giving yeses.  I am sitting back, watching, asking, contemplating and it is so refreshing!

Without the continual buzzing around, I've been able to take quiet moments.  I see a lot of people in very small boxes they have constructed for themselves and fought to contain others.  I wonder how they can grow?  How they experience dismal defeats and joyous moments of excellence when they've wound their lives so tightly?

Time is so temporary.

The wind is constantly shifting direction tonight.  So as the smoke revolves, I pick up my chair and move.  As I plopped down this last time, ping came the thought - this is JUST like life.  Shift.  Shift.  Which way?  Try this.  Then as the flames died, the smoke grew in intensity as a few more sticks were placed.  Then POOF.  Flames.  Yes - that would be just like life.  You never know the exact combination, but every once in a while the right elements for combustion will unite.

This is National EMS Week.  I think back to 1988 and why I even signed up for an EMS course.  It was to help a friend who thought he could not pass.  I figured since I was enrolled as a NMU student that fall, the class could only be beneficial to a resume.  He dropped out.  I remained not knowing really why.  This touchy stuff had me to the granite cliff edge many a night.

The last evening of class in February of 1989, I refused to fill out the state paperwork.  Suddenly I was called to the hall by the instructor.  Eighteen years old and the first time to be called into the hall by a teacher.  He said in so many words - what in the hell are you doing?

I told him that I never once thought I was good at this EMS stuff, I had only taken the course to help someone else, I was financially obligated and as a full-time student had too much to lose to just drop earlier.

That was the first time I heard about how some people are gifted with talents they perhaps do not see or want.  I listened.  I remember.  I walk that talk now with others.

The semester ended, I signed up for a lot of spring and summer classes, and then I received a call.  A person I had taken the course with and who lived nearby said that I needed to help the community.  Study.  Join the township service just as an extra set of hands until the state test was offered in August.  Guilt trip.  Total inability to say no.

The 4th of July weekend in 1989 was my first EMS call.  I had just received my huge red brick pager.  Orientation was here's a phone number to call when it alerts.  So I arrived first...to a rolled-over caravan filled with non-English speaking adults and children.

As I reflect and wonder what is next on my professional and personal horizon, I look at the experiences, the shift this way, then that way, smoke....smoke....and wonder what the next flickering flames will bring.

There is a robin very unpleased with me right now.  I have not a clue where the nest is, but I looked around and certainly cannot find anything.  Quite amazing how vocal they can be.

Sitting aside a new fire pit in the back yard.  It's dusk and chilling down briskly so I popped in the house and put on Dad's old Navy pea coat.  My parents gave it to me the other day.  I have always been mesmerized by a bon fire - the licking flames, glowing embers, changing colors.  I can hear the fountain and also the popping of the wood.  It is the best, very best of both worlds.  In my dreams I wanted a home  that entwined a fire place with water.  This may be as close as I get.  

Dive bombed by a robin.  Sorry.  I pay the mortgage here.  At least for a few more months.

Started the day with a productive meeting about an upcoming emergency exercise, then a quick trip to the grocery store had a friend and me running into a very nice brush truck from Baraga.  So we introduced ourselves and checked out their apparatus.  I certainly would take that any dreamcicle over the Army truck we have that pre-dates my birth.

Raked for a while and discovered that I'm going to bring more rocks home.  Time to ground the place better.  Plus, I'll put them around the fire ring.  As I sit here thinking of how to spiff up the home and watching the bright planet in the sky, I think wow it is about time that I do work for myself.

Gave the Model A's another base coat.  I think tomorrow mine will be started.  The National Model A Convention is coming to town and I picked up some wood cutouts that will be hung from the downtown light poles.  My intent is to incorporate glow in the dark paint along with glitter and some fringe.  Are you scared yet?  On another note, I sketched out a logo tonight for a local race.  Don't have the software to make it look good, but I just had to put graphite to paper and get over the urge.

The birds have fallen asleep.  Now that is astounding.  The conductor put down the baton.

At that, I'm putting one more log on the fire...

Beep.  Beep.  Beep.  That was the home answering machine the other night.  Rare that anyone calls my home during the age of cellphones that are practically like another organ.  So I listened to it and then listened to it again.  A stranger somehow found my number and wanted information on hospice.  My first thought - this is different, but there's a Higher power that drives things in life.  I only know of hospice from when Grandpa was ill.  So, the next morning, I called the person back and we chatted.

In the past few days I have shared moments with two people challenged with the ever present lingering notion of when cancer will rear its head again.  A challenge to one's faith.

Tonight a call to check on a neighbor.

There have been so many of these types of occasions lately.  It is like I am getting this re-assurance of what Mom said the other night - you are a true public servant.  There is a reason why you have no spouse and children, at least yet.  As a friend echoed, your calling perhaps is to be with and give widely amongst people who know you listen with more than just an ear.  A person who takes the time to find answers after others have searched...even when it may be right there, yes right there, in front of their faces as those are the most difficult to self-see.

Up in the air a lot these days, I suppose increasingly so through this past year.  The house will be paid soon.  It was supposed to be the starter place.  My professional careers have taken me down so many diverse paths - well, it's Sybil-istic.  Not one to ever plan beyond a few days, and without an ounce of competitiveness or manipulation.  I was raised with the notion that women were to find men so they could be taken care of for their life.  While I have no qualms regarding that personal choice, I find it to be fertile ground for great limitations and lasting devastation.  Love is to push each other to a level where alone you would not achieve.  There are still a sect of women who purposefully seek those that will provide for their every want (not necessarily need) independent of the consequences to others.  The deep inner belief of two becoming one shall never be truly welded when one person of the package is there because of what he or she gets, instead of gives.  Breaks my heart to witness this erosion of a person for another.

Do unto others...

A real friend helps us think our best thoughts.  Do our noblest deeds.  Be our finest selves. ~ anonymous

Picked that quote out of a jar this morning, a jar given to me by a friend who mostly understands that those to whom I become close will experience just that....a stirring to be the best they can be and in reverse also I experience their help.  I think back through the years and some people were just not ready for that kind of maturity in a friendship, or their external situations disabled them in continuing what life is all about - connections with people.  There is a line that forms between those you find interesting and are compelled to share lives with versus those you are more than satisfied occasionally talking to and being on the fringe.  I have noticed it is those with low emotional intellect that seem to be on the fringe.

Speaking of low emotional intellect, may I recommend the book, The Five Dysfunctions of a Team.  I was astonished to read how within my professional careers, I have been so fortunate to experience elements of combating this!  I recall collaborating with a group of persons on our personality styles, expressing the ultimate necessity for us to regularly meet and share each part of what we were doing for the whole, and at the foundation trust in one another had to reign or there was no team.

A frustration I currently experience.

So, I found myself taking on-line surveys this morning.  At one time in life, I picked leeks for money, so this survey stuff seems like sprinkles on a cupcake.  I have been shaken through the last year to analyze just how out of whack our consumer products cost in comparison to my dwindling income.  I have to go back to the late 90's to compare with my take-home now.  So with that said, ingenuity is kicking in again.

THINKING best thoughts
DOING good deeds
BELIEVING there is a reason for everything

Stepped on a dinky little chunk of aqua glass this morning. In my living room? How very odd.

The blinds and a few valances that came with my house are now all down from their cobwebbed resting places. The house will be paid off in a few months, so I figured that it was about time to change a few things. With birthday money from my parents, I bought cellular shades and have two sample books spread across the floor for others. Thanks to friends who recently purchased blinds as they got me motivated after 20 years of stagnation!

Decorated just a little today for Easter. I was hoping to watch cheer on the faces of others, but plans have changed. It is a blessed moment to sit in silence and reflect that it is He who is in charge and that is what matters.

This past week has bottled quite a bit of highs and lows. Just seems that life would be bland and unfulfilled without knowing them and yet at times wondering...well, should I become less vulnerable? Walls. They're so very easy to build. Discerning when to build and where to have the windows and doors is quite challenging. It must be why the sunrises and sunsets are so breathtaking. Without a window or a door, you'd never see them.

Continuing on this mission to purposefully give to someone each and every day this Lenten season, I reflect upon this past week. Wow. More layers than a piece of baklava, and it feels good!

Getting a better handle on finances as of late. The wage is just not keeping up with the mundane expenses and I must find additional employment opportunities. Now that I've trimmed all that can be in the house, it is time to re-focus energy on side-line work. I cannot imagine being a person so fortunate to just have one job. The amount of time that would free! I could do more volunteer work!

There is nothing so crystally satisfying as watching a person receive totally unexpected kindness.

As I look around the house there are some cobwebs growing on the rocks. Rocks in the house. Why yes, they're forms of good energy and grounding so to speak. So unlike last weekend when I spent hours matching socks and have only about 80 unmatched ones left, this weekend - today - is remove clutter and webs day. Literally. Figuratively.

Have you gave unexpectedly, even better anonymously!

Do you have life clutters and webs?

Senses.

Ever noticed how they capture moments?

A song brings me right back to rides to the dump, now affectionately termed landfill, with Dad. Yes, I'm listening to Neil Diamond. Dad has always been a music listener and so it was that Dad's trucks had 8 track players during that stint of time. Listened to a lot of music when I'd wait for him in the truck while he jawed with the guys at Carroll Motor Supply. I chuckle at people who are aghast when they see children waiting in vehicles. It was so very commonplace. I suppose like riding a bicycle without a helmet. Now I listen to songs - ones that I used to choose as ringtones for certain people - like Shawn Colvin's I've Never Saw Blue Like That. Well, my phone is now liberated. They're all gone - everyone is now a surprise.

Smell. Working now over half of my life in emergency services, I can say smells can bring you exactly back to full color vision playbacks and the rest is up to your imagination. On a much better note, few things are comforting smells to me: a spicy white carnation, a box of Camel cigarettes, a soothing rose. Mmmm....

I've been enraptured by this velvety blanket I received for Christmas. It feels like the tippy ear ends of the vizsla that I am so fortunate to borrow on occasion. Remember the wear-a- blindfold-walk-on-eggs-atop-crackers game? Please say yes. That better have been something everyone had to feel. The day I crawled into a wrecked car in pitch blackness and sat on a dozen eggs and a box of Saltines - well, ping, I remembered the game.

Cilantro. It tastes like dish soap. Now, now - I never had my mouth washed with dish soap as that was left to bar soap and thankfully not usually Lava. Is it not the most amazing thing - taste? How so very well defined in some compared to others.

As the big brother on the block, sight tends to rule over the others. But, there are many levels to it. Our challenge, should we choose to discipline ourselves, is to look beyond the surface.

Intuition. Like sight, this requires sensitivity, but in addition to constant honing is also discernment. A gift not from within ourselves.

Memories and our current breath entwined and etched....by our senses.

Lived what seemed to be a life documentary last night.

Persons with psychiatric problems thrashing out upon others and themselves. Then seconds later, calmness like mirrored water. An injured caregiver on one side, a previously vicious person on the other. One born in a native land, severely disabled, left by his family in the care of others with the edict that much of traditional United States medicine is not allowed upon their son.

To watch the givers close and afar was spiritually twisting. At one moment they are saving themselves from being injured and the next whispering kind notions and funny sounds to their aggressors. Bless them.

Sharing what was mindful overload and realizing there are not many people of depth with the capacity to fully appreciate and core-fully understand. It is no wonder why our world of relationships seems to be a bouncing ball from thing to thing and person to person. An emphasis on physical support, with the weeping wane of spiritual and emotional support.

Yet there are those quiet and steady givers amongst the rest, and they, like stars, grab attention when you take the time to look.

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas! Just a few months early (notice the optimist says early, not the opposite).

Had this discussion about snow the other night while sitting on the rescue truck tail. Yes, that would be when I spent the tick tock of midnight with the rescue guys. One of these years, that's going to change. So about the snow, I live here for a reason. It's called The Lake and The Seasons. People who whine and complain about receiving snow in the winter are showing their inner, green sprouted garlic bulb. Move on. Plant somewhere else.

There's a lot of snow on the decks from today. I'm thinking this week I'll disconnect the Sea-Doo battery, and switch attention to Little Blue. A tenacious and trusty snowblower that desires only to have the spark plug removed, gas down the cylinder, and a few pulls each and every year.

The neighbor's homemade Irish Creme was a silky delight. That recipe, I do believe, will be the next request of these very salt of the earth people. But first, I must continue shedding the current contents of the fridge. It's pluffed with too much. You know, when the meat and vegetable drawers are full of beer bottles, it's time to keep the doors unlocked and the invites flowing.

Life ever seem like a bout of hiccups? Well, I'm trying to drink from the other side of the glass. I'll let you know how it goes.

Grandpa's birthday was Christmas. First one without him.

Might have to raise of can of Old Milwaukee just for him. I used to say, "Grandpa, that stuff is made to put your worms in while fishing. Please, please try some of my real beer." Then at that very moment, I'd get this grin - not a smile, a grin - and a warm, spirit-filled look from his hazel eyes.

I suppose I should bring the little Buck knife he gave me to the Christmas gift opening. Grandpa won't be there in person to rummage in his pocket for his. The man insisted on slicing envelopes and cutting Scotch tape. Like bringing a stick to a toothpick party.

So about those hiccups...time to move on and try new stuff, make even more of every opportunity!

The closest I usually come to tanning in the winter is sitting next to a fireplace. If Dad is making the fire, it can result in second degree blisters. My fireplace - well, I stopped using it last year. The cracks give me thoughts of dialing 911 while going to get the fire engine to return to my own home.

So, in search of warmth - although, I have been keeping the house a balmy 64 degrees now with the new furnace - I tried a tanning bed.

Apparently I am a prehistoric cavegal because even though I said this was all new to me, there I stood staring at it thinking okay do I grab the top and pull it closer? Why is it not lighting? Shouldn't the bulbs be on? Press the green button a few times. Green means GO right? After about seven minutes, it turned on. Mmmmm - nice. Then three minutes later - tada! You're done. Come on - toast doesn't even brown that quickly.

Back to the petite, bronzed gal at the front counter. Oh yes, quite a few mouse clicks later and I was trying it again. Laying there giggling as fleeting thoughts zinged through my head...for the number of times I laughed at people telling me about how wonderful tanning is. I'm now justifying this as Vitamin D production.

Alas, the larger picture - I'm taking it as a sign that I was assigned to the Jamaica Room. Tonight, I added a few more pieces of change to the jar. Everyone needs a dream or two or three or...

So very many people have expressed to me to write a book. I have not, but I was just re-energized to start the Blog again. Today, a moment back in history... I figured there are quite a few adventures that I've experienced, which looking back may be quite funny. See - I never think of them as much. But when I share with others, they say LYN - more, tell us more! Strange. Okay - there are perverse people who like my abnormalities....and so with that let's re-enact part of the infamous Reno Rally:

None of the medical teams showed up for the rally except the chief of emergency services. When I say rally - that's the kind with competition racing cars that go flat out racing on closed sections of roadways. So, yes a medical team is sort of important.

Well, I didn't travel all the way to gloriously sunny, and FREAKINGLY FRIGID Reno for nothing! I said that’s it, we’re going to figure this out one way or another.

The Yooper unearthed.

So, I scanned the crowd and found two more people – one a paramedic and another a trauma nurse. Cha-Ching! POOF! We looked at the schedule, we divied out the equipment and I added what I brought in the Samsonite. Ta-Da! We can do this. One in a truck, one in a bunny slipper Volkswagon and me in a rental Trailblazer. When I looked at the available rentals, I chose the Trailblazer figuring the name was apropos for the way north, at the end of the road – literally, rally called Reno. Little did I know.

So we find our spot in the open range and I hop up into the middle of the 180, but discover that driving over sage brush leaves a very lasting aroma. Then the steer arrive. Yes, by golly, they have surrounded us. I ask on the radio what to do? Drive through them. Okay – well, I can’t move and so the folks pile into a little Audi and try this maneuver. Now I come from the place where Audis are few and far between and not really something you would move steer with! This technique hardly works. We are apparently smack dab in the middle of their road to water – literally. Yes, this road we want to race on is their routinely used "path" to the watering hole.

We need additional support, and so while we await the calvary, my rally partner and I scour the high desert for a potty point. We find a gully and while one remains as scout, we discover the technique of shelfing and creating a little pooling spot in the sand. Further explanation can only be done in person; however, if I may say, this is definitely NOT the northern woods style.

More people arrive and get this – they literally take after the steer on foot and drive them over the hills to the water a different way. Our radio network now calls us Steer Corner. Lovely. A callsign that many years later, no one has forgotten.

The rally cars start and what arrives? A donkey. Yes, a donkey.

It stands at the top of the hill staring at us. When a rally car comes, it shifts its gaze to the car and watches every moment. It’s head literally moves with the car as the rally car negotiates the corner and leave the area. Right now I was thinking I’d been overcome by sage fumes. Later I find out that donkeys protect steer.

Come on?! Seriously?! One of those thousand pound beasts needs a donkey?

The rally happened. Pretty much all that mattered.

Yet another life experience. Get out there. Do it! Don't wait. There's only one occasion to smell the sage brush and look down the beady eyes of a snot dripping steer.

Starbucks. It's been ages!

Don't you think there needs to be a lot more gratefulness in the world? Perhaps it simply starts with one person and thereafter an epidemic forms?

We've had a beautiful spring. Spring has sprung in the month to which it should! I sat outside eating lunch in the sun and it was warm - like short-sleeve shirt warm. It's definitely going to be a Sea-Dooing summer. She wasn't in the water at all last year as it was well maybe a year to forget or perhaps learn from so not to re-experience. There's something about just floating out there that calms the soul. I am grateful for having the ability to appreciate and enjoy our spectacular Lake and the peaceful woods a step out my door.

Ever driven in the Spring, a couple hours after dark, and heard for the first time in months, the frogs and crickets? Grateful.

Jackhammer thoughts...ever had those? Trying the replacement theory.

I swear the person sitting in the other corner here is a guy with day old make-up and polka-dot socks. Yes, the shoes are off. Gee - Marquette is getting more and more - what's the right word - eclectic.

The sun is shining! Cold, but at least there are rays.

Why haven't I been writing lately? Why I'm spending my time moving snow, meetings, work, and finally on the rare occasion when I sit down and not fall asleep, it is the massage chair with a bit of bourbon over a rock.

The guys were lamenting how nice it would be to have massages at the fire scene the other day. I told them, don't look at me. I went home and sat in my chair, bumping that repeat full body three times.

Well this place is just getting weirder, my lemon loaf has been devoured, and thus I close.

Jackhammer thoughts...

It's been a while since I've written, but carrying on the theme of change I have.

The little silver bullet Subie WRX wagon grocery getter, Monza mobile has been replaced with a truck. Yes, a truck. My first. It's proving to be a good decision of independence as I slowly get it to the way I want. Meanwhile, the Subie sits in the other heated garage stall having a well deserved break.

Today is get the tree day and instead of strapping it to the roof of the Subie or borrowing a truck, it'll christen the bed. For the past few years, I've borrowed a dog to take with and I reminisce of last year with Cash thinking it was so very cool to check out all the trees and people at Meisters.

I've been walking a lot lately at the rinks. This morning was the Lakeview Arena. What a change from the horrifically hot Berry. In fact I had to pull my sleeves over my hands this morning, which brought a smile as that's the way a real rink should be. It even smelled a little like ice. Mmmm...

After being ill for about a month starting with the flu, I wrapped up sickness with doing Thanksgiving dinner at my house. So Christmas festivities will be at my mom's. It's Grandpa's birthday on Christmas. Another year! I'm thinking for his birthday gift, I'm going to get a couple of NMU hockey tickets and we'll go sit by the Rail of Knowledge by Johnnie and the gang.

My holiday cards arrived from Apple. It was while making them that I realized I didn't take many pictures this year. This year was not the best overall, but I am making plans for a wonderful 2010. You too?

I tend to do better with change than stagnation.

Fall and Spring are my favorite seasons, perhaps.  They are such a mix.  Each day can be a blended concoction!

The work duty modifications are supposed to be coming soon.  Last week I was told retro-pay would be on my next check and the job description is still in approval process.  How unusual is that?  I have always been on the short end of getting all of the duties and the work and hearing someday the pay would catch up.  In the last job, that meant almost two years later.  I've always thought of myself as an impatient person, but looking back at everything, maybe I'm not.

I pinch myself on occasion.  I am doing professional tasks to which I have a passion.  More often than not, I am satisfied.  How can this be possible?  Is it because I have lived through so much dissatisfaction that I have a good thermometer?  So many adventures in life that when I briefly introduced myself this past weekend while teaching EMS classes, I said these are the professions I'm doing today.  

Incapsulate those with my past-times and it makes me wonder how a one job, one hobby, routine person survives.  Certainly if one has a family, that provides the interest, the opportunities for expanded horizons - the change.

Considering putting my name out there to play for weddings, funerals, and gatherings as I used to do in a previous life.  :)  Not only would it provide a little extra play money, but I am discovering that once in a while using your passions to help your whole life isn't sacrilegious...and it provides a safe, yet needed stimulating change. 

I tend to be a giver...of all...

To receive total random acts of kindness leave me speechless.

Yesterday, a person took off a bracelet and just gave it to me because she noticed that it matched my necklace.

Today, a person that works somewhere down the hall, gave me a beautiful bouquet of my favorite pinks and purples...from her garden. I don't even know her name.

Shaken.

So thankful.

So blessed.

Andrew Warhola.

The most well known artist of all times as he transcends ages and our adulthood, stereotypical categorizations of people.

Over this past weekend, more than once I would ask or think of something and POOF it happened.  We laughed about how I asked for someone to speak Polish because we needed to convey a clear message to our Polish teams.  In walked a Polish interpreter.  Tonight, I pushed myself out of the hotel in Milwaukee and instead of going to Jazz in the Park, as that was part of the conference's dinner and entertainment, walked many blocks to the waterfront and the Art Museum.  I heard Andy Warhol was opening here, but unfortunately privately to members only.  Thinking I might be able to see their standing collection and secretly hoping the stars would align again, I ventured over there.  Their fountains and the architectural wonder of a building is currently robed in passion pink in honor of the Susan Koman race this weekend and Andy Warhol.

A breeze off Lake Michigan continued while the articulating wings of the museum closed.  Captured on video.

Upon entry, I discovered many people milling about with a variety of beverages and appetizers.  Asking if I may stay even though not a member, I was welcomed for just a smidge above normal entry fee.  Additionally, I had arrived just in time to receive a ticket for their limited seating lecture by a visiting, renown curator.  Some appetizers, a flavorful pan-seared tilapia, and Summer Shandy later and I was ready to explore.

The pieces.

His last ones.

Andy Warhol is the epitome of contradiction.

Perhaps of no surprise to you, I relate.

In his final years, he was working around the clock on a multitude of pieces.  More graphic and poppish, totally abstract, and also quietly religious.  Andy was a devout Catholic and that was extremely unknown with the exception of a few of his closest friends until openly announced at his eulogy. 

His self-portraits through the years reflected how he saw himself first cleanly and young to confused and aging.

The year preceding his death, he lost his best friend, a fellow artist, to whom he shared and journeyed professionally and personally.  The man did not die.  The artist was introduced as his mascot during an unveiling and from that awful day forward, with the exception of a phone call once in a while, they were no longer bonded.  He was devastated.

It's been an interesting week.  As you know through prior blog entries, I am the combination of two opposites.  Last weekend, truck romping in Colorado at a race; this week, in Milwaukee appreciating the arts and the smells of a very fine spice store.

Balance.

Seek it.