OH SO BUSY

Sharing a studio newsletter today.

 This will be a brief newsletter because I am quite busy with other commitments at this time.

You would not believe how busy I am.  I am so busy not doing all the things I have to do that there is no time for me to do them.  I currently have four works in progress, two watercolors and two acrylics, and avoiding them leaves me no time for all the other stuff I think I should be doing instead.  It is not easy juggling this workload, and honestly, I think a lesser man could not do it.

Adding to my difficulties is the writing I’ve been trying to do between the times I am not spending on the paintings.  I am overwhelmed by all that has not been written these past few weeks because I know that it will all have to be revised once it is written.  But being the tiger that I am I soldier on, undeterred by all of this.  I could just sit in my room all day and work in my head but that is not who I am.  I insist on going into the studio every day where I have arranged a space for me to write and not do the work there.  The key to productivity is to remain busy.

You can understand why I look forward to retiring into the kitchen at the end of the day to enjoy a glass of wine while I think about dinner.  You would not believe some of the great new pasta dishes I have not prepared.

I must end this newsletter now because I have a desk full of tax related paper work waiting for me that I don’t plan on doing today.  But please don’t worry about me; I know enough to take a break from my work and get the necessary rest I need.
I wonder what the chance are of this email ever being sent.

Busy Bill

To sign up for my newsletter email me at wfrenzulli@mac.com

MEMORIES - THE THREAD OF LIFE

The past is not something we can leave behind.  Even when we think we have, our memories, those remembered and those not, remain tucked away in the attics of our mind.  Some are buried deeply in boxes never opened and covered with years of dust, and others are strewn about, easily retrievable on demand.  Then there are those special ones, carefully kept in gilded, ornate boxes that we lovingly open from time to time, and finally there are those well-worn memories that we hold close to us and keep by our bedside as a constant companion.  Remembered or not, these snippets from our lives are always with us.  Memories create threads running through our lives, weaving a fabric of continuity and meaning that help us navigate the future.  If our lives were books, memories would be the table of contents, directing us to a particular place and time.

It seems to be universal, the older we get the more we want to remember our past, and the events and circumstances that helped create who we are.  They become increasingly important, and we cherish them, albeit selectively.  Psychologists remind us that our memories are filtered by time, and cannot be taken as literal historic truths.  Filtered or selective, their importance to understanding our selves cannot be denied, and they remain a vital part of the journey.

It was only after I reached adulthood that I realized how fortunate I was to have the parents and family that I did, and as a result, with very few exceptions, I have only good memories.  Not everyone has been so fortunate, and I wonder how people deal with the pain and sorrow of bad memories as they make their way in life.  Can they coexist with happiness and better circumstances, or do they have to be repressed and forgotten. 

Memories help us understand who we are, by showing us where we have been, revealing how the person we are has unfolded from what we were.  They enable us to see the past with the wisdom of gathered years, often revising our impressions and allowing us to see what we may have missed the first time around.

I cherish my memories, holding them fast and close to me, even more as the years accumulate (something they inevitably do).  I’m aware that the very old seem to go back into time, reliving the distant past.  That gives me comfort; I look forward to pulling up long forgotten stories.

THE ME GENERATION, NARCISSISM, AND ANOTHER HALF TRUTH

I recently read commentary addressing what the writer sees as a growing phenomenon, narcissism in the “me generation”, a generation characterized by narcissism and a sense of entitlement, where the interests and well-being of the individual come before those of the group.  Impatience and a desire for instant gratification were also assigned to this generation, and reference was made to the book, Generation Me, by Jean Twinge, who describes young people as being more assertive, confident, entitled, and more miserable than ever before.  When things go wrong in their life they tend to project the blame on others, which in turn results in frustration, anger, and eventual rudeness.  The end result is increasing stress levels. 

Not a very complimentary description of this generation (folks born between 1981 and 1999, according to Twinge).  My skepticism evolved to anger and frustration when the writer disparagingly described parents raising their children to feel special, to believe they could be anything they wanted to be, and to believe in themselves.  Here was another example of someone taking the easy way out by seeing only extremes and failing to examine all of the intricacies of an issue. 

I don’t know of a greater gift that a parent can give their child than the gift of self-esteem and the belief that they can aspire to realize whatever dreams they may have.  A child who grows up believing he or she is special, believing in themselves, is someone who will be emotionally prepared to address the trials and tribulations of life.  It is only after an individual understands and accepts whom they are that they can then effectively serve others and the community.

But there is more to this than instilling these character strengths in the child.  It is equally important for children to know their role in the community, to learn from their parents that they are part of a world larger than themselves.  It is the absence of this lesson, and not the instillation of self-esteem and self worth that leads to narcissism.  A critical point that many popular social commentators seem to overlook. 

Revised from a 2099 post

THOUGHTFULNESS

The New Oxford American Dictionary defines thoughtfulness as: absorbed in or involving thought, showing consideration for the needs of other people, and showing careful consideration or attention.

Sadly, thoughtful expressions of beliefs and policies have given way to toxic diatribe and name calling, where substance is replaced by emotional and often inflammatory exclamations.  Anyone paying even the slightest attention to public media has experienced this in the growing division in so many areas of our culture.  We are now “at war”: there is a “war on women”, a “war on God”, a ”war on the 2^nd Bill of Rights”, and more.  What thoughtful dialog that does exist is drowned out by the noise of the extremists whose only concerns seem to be to discredit the opposition and rally their “base”, rather than present a well-reasoned narrative explaining their position and supporting it with facts.  The losers in this climate are truth, understanding, and we the people,

I am not proposing that we ignore our differences; that would be neither possible nor desirable.  On the contrary, we should, learn from one another by embracing them and selecting the best that each has to offer.  And this cannot happen until we learn to respect opposing viewpoints, and replace diatribe with thoughtfulness.  Without thoughtful dialog there can be no compromise, and a Democracy representing over 300 million people cannot survive without reaching for a compromise on political, fiscal, and religious differences. 

A frequent refrain is “we will not abandon our principals”.  I would suggest that fiscal policies – tax rates, financial regulations, etc. – are indeed, policies, and should not be confused with principals that should never be compromised - honesty, integrity, civility and respect.

HALF TRUTHS

Pick up a coin; look at it from every conceivable angle.  No matter how you hold it, you cannot see both sides of the coin at the same time (unless you use a mirror).  Although you cannot see it, you know it has two sides. 

That coin can represent almost any major political, social, or cultural issue we are currently debating.  The only difference is our denial of the existence of another side.  We erroneously conclude that what we “see” is the only accurate description of the subject.  What we see may indeed be authentic and accurate, but also incomplete.  The result is a dialog where all we do is defend our half of the truth, forgoing any effort to see the complete picture, and options are presented as an either/or choice, neither of which completely addresses the issue at hand.  The goal of the debate or dialog is not to reach the truth, or a workable solution to a problem; it becomes one of doing everything possible to have your view prevail.  In this atmosphere it is easy to ignore facts, stoke emotions, and give in to prejudices and uncritical thinking.  Consider the issue of entitlements and welfare.

Some conservatives like to link Federal payments to its citizens – Medicare, Medicaid, Social Security, Food stamp programs, and others – under the demonized name of entitlements, “give away” programs that encourage laziness and dependency on the government.  They characterize the recipients as a drain on American prosperity that would rather sit around and collect money from the taxpayers than go out and work.

I prefer to view these supplements as a grand and noble gesture by the citizens of this country to reach out and help the less fortunate.  (There but for the Grace of God go I.)  They are a reflection of our civic compassion and willingness to share our bounty.  Are there some who abuse our generosity, of course there are, just as there are legitimate business enterprises that take advantage of government programs.  But that does not justify withholding help from everyone.

Are the conservatives mean and cruel, judging others unfairly?  Am I a foolish Pollyanna blinded by unrealistic “do-goody” fervor?  Or are we both only capable of seeing our side of the coin?

Why is it so difficult to change this pattern that seems to have seeped into so much of our public discourse?  Are we so insecure in our beliefs that it is threatening to even consider other views, let alone the possibility we may be wrong?  Perhaps we are blinded by the comfort and rapture of our beliefs and do not want to have them changed in any way.  It can’t be easy to abandon ideas and opinions that have been held so tightly for so long.  Insecurity, fear, and, vested interests, are undoubtedly a factor in some, if not all, of our thinking. 

I suspect we all possess some of these traits, in one degree or another and the best we can do is look at ourselves critically and honestly in an attempt to identify our prejudices and understand our thinking.  If we can’t completely discard some of them, maybe we can soften them enough to become the mirror that will enable us to see the other side of the coin.  Until we do that we will continue to bang heads with one another and accomplish little.

A NEW YEAR'S RESOLUTION

Last night Patience and I saw the movie, The Kite Runner, a story of the lives of two boys growing up in Kabul, Afghanistan, before, during, and after the tragedies of Taliban rule.  It was a powerful film evoking a range of emotional responses - sorrow, grief, and disbelief, but the most intense was an overwhelming sense of appreciation of my own circumstances.

It reminded me of how fortunate I am to have been born in this country at this time.  I have never experienced a war fought in our cities and countryside, have never experienced the horror of an oppressive military or government regime, and have never had to fear for the safety of myself or my family on a daily basis.  I have never been without a home, without food, or without cloths.  And probably more important than anything else, I have never been without hope for the future.

It would be difficult to stand before all those who have suffered so much in their lives, but it would be even more difficult to do so if I felt I deserved or was entitled to my good fortunes, and that I not only took them for granted but squandered them.

I have had opportunities my parents never had.  My children have opportunities that most of the children alive in the world today will never have.  I no longer ask myself why this is; the answers, if there are any, are beyond my comprehension.  But I do feel a strong sense of responsibility to those far less fortunate than me.  Although as one individual I can do little to make changes in the world’s circumstances, charitable support, voting, and civic participation not withstanding, there is something I can do.  I can show my gratitude and appreciation for my good fortune by taking advantages of my opportunities and circumstances.  This film reminded me that they are too valuable to be wasted.

I have always felt this responsibility to my parents, not a burdensome obligation, but one that I have embraced as most worthy of my efforts.  The Kite Runner reminded me that my responsibility extends far beyond my parents.

I wrote these words seven years ago, and hold them up every year as my New Year’s Resolution: to make every effort to remain mindful of my blessings and to take every day as a gift, too precious to waste.

FRIENDSHIP CEMETERY

One of the many wonderful benefits of growing up on a farm was the absence of boundaries.  Alone, or with friends, I was free to roam and explore our small town and the surrounding countryside.  Less than a mile from our farm, and easily reached by bike or pony, were the Donato brother’s orchards with delicious apples and peaches hanging from the trees begging to be picked. Just beyond the northern edge of the orchards was the Friendship church and cemetery. The white clapboard one-room church was nestled under the umbrella of a stand of old Oak Trees.  Nearest the church were the time worn headstones from the mid 1800s.  Somewhat later came the stones with familiar names, including my grandmother, Angelina Renzulli, her two children that did not survive infancy, and my uncle Marx Renzulli.

At the entrance to the cemetery was a hand pump that with a little effort would produce the coolest, sweetest water to quench the thirst that accompanies bike rides on hot summer days.  I don’t know if it was the cool water, the shade from the Oak trees, the sweet fruits just a stone throw away, or the white Jersey sand beneath my feet, but that small spot in the midst of the south Jersey woods and truck farms was like an oasis for me; and it still is. Over the years other family members would join my grandmother: my grandfather, an uncle, 2 aunts, 2 cousins, and most recently, my mother and father, next to whom my own piece of real estate is reserved.

Since moving to Kentucky I don’t get back to Friendship as often as I used to, but when I do, I still feel the magic of the place, and my entire life feels compressed into one moment in time.

Returning there several years ago I was saddened to see that the orchards had been abandoned.  The once proud rows of fruit laden trees were now dead or dying in neglected fields overgrown with weeds and shrub trees.  The church, no longer serving a parish, remains well kept, and the cemetery continues to serve the community.  But the magic remains. 

Friendship Church - watercolor rendering by my artist friend, Julio Rodrigues