Tuesday, February 16, 2016

MY BAD


LEARNING FROM SCALIA

When I learned of the sudden, unexpected death of Justice Antonin Scalia, I am embarrassed to say I was delighted.  I had come to dislike him fervently because of his strict conservative interpretation of the constitution.  I was even upset because he was and Italian-American.  Even though I did not know the man, I disagreed with his interpretation to the constitution and thought of him as a mean spirited curmudgeon who was devoid of humor and lived in the past. 

As expected, the stories about Antonin Scalia after his death were numerous.  He was applauded by many as a towering intellect with wit and ardor who served the Court with passion and integrity.  But the one story that held my attention was the long and enduring friendship between him and Justice Ginsburg, his polar opposite on the court.  They shared a mutual affection and respect for one another.  Their families vacationed together, they share meals; they were close friends.  I also learned that he was an ardent supporter of Obama’s appointment of associate justice Elena Kagan.

My reaction to this was shame.  I felt ashamed that I allowed myself to dislike this man I never knew, because of my contempt for his judicial philosophy.  I dismissed his integrity, honesty, and consistency, and offered him no respect as a person.  I was guilty of all that I have been accusing others of.  

Monday, February 8, 2016

THE NAP




 I adjusted the canvas shoulder bag under my head as I reclined in the cool spring grass.  There were enough young leaves on the trees to keep the bright sun out of my closed eyes.  With a few minor shifts and wiggles I quickly became quite comfortable on God’s green mattress.  As I pushed aside all thoughts, the street noise gradually retreated and I found myself in that wonderful place between consciousness and sleep.  I awoke shortly, startled by the realization that I had been sleeping on the ground in Philadelphia’s Rittenhouse Square early in the afternoon on that late spring day in 1979. 

I spent the morning doing what I love to do – walking the city streets with my camera, feeling the excitement from their busyness, color, and texture, while constantly looking for interesting architecture, and mini urban landscapes.  Back in the studio these photos would become the inspiration for my paintings and drawings.  There is no denying by fascination with the built environment, and I never feel so alive as when I’m in a city bustling with activity.

After walking the streets all morning and consuming more lunch that I really needed, sprawling on the grass in the park seemed like the only civilized thing to do.  None of the many people strolling about seemed to pay any attention to those of us seeking such comfort on that lovely spring day.  I hope I wasn’t snoring.