The Last Supper

Posted on by Tim McMurdo

The Last Supper 3

  

The Last Supper 2

 

Two months ago, I was visiting the Dayton Art Institute where I was walking through an American impressionist exhibit. Following the excellent impressionist exhibit, I stumbled upon an exhibit by Julie Green entitled The Last Supper.

What immediately caught my eyes was the massive number of hand painted plates covering three walls. Most of the plates looked like second hand imitations of flow blue or dutch delft china. All of the plates were painted with images of meals. Not just any meals, the dishes showed the last meal of an executed prisoner.

 

The Last Supper 1

  

Numbering more than 540 plates, the impact of the exhibit staggered me. I don’t care which side of the controversial issue you fall on, seeing the sheer numbers of the plates combined with the humanity of the meals was thought provoking. The artwork was sure to make you think through the issue, rethinking your position, and perhaps even changing your mind.

Each plate was different. The prisoner’s last meal was depicted along with the date and state where the execution took place. As I looked at each plate, the fact that a real human being was killed soon after eating two pork chops, mashed potatoes with gravy, green beans, two diet cokes and a piece of pie, served to drive the issue home.

I wondered how many of the people represented by the plates were in fact innocent of the crimes for which they were executed?

It’s taken me more than two months to get to the point where I could share the images and write about them. The display was that powerful.

You can find out more about the exhibit at Julie Green’s website: Julie Green: The Last Supper

 

warm breeze

Posted on by Tim McMurdo

Blowing Towels 2

 

Saturday felt like Summer and it is only mid spring. Ohio is like that. It is always hard to predict the weather in the spring. Could be chilly and wet. Could be hot and humid. Saturday was hot and breezy. Perfect weather for drying on the line.

Clothes lines are a source of nostalgia for me. My mother had a clothes line in the back yard when we lived outside of Boston as kids. The clothes pins were stored in a bag that hung permanently from one of the lines. I am tickled that they are making a comeback as people try to reduce their energy consumption. Sometimes going back to older and simpler ways is a good choice. 

Have a great day folks.

 

how to take perfect selfies in three easy steps

Posted on by Tim McMurdo

The Selfie Part 1

 

The Selfie Part 2

 

I often get asked the question; how do I take a great selfie? Not a selfie taker, I had to consult with two wonderful ladies from the farm. Their advice can be summed up in the three simple steps that follow.

 

Step One: Make a funny face. 

 

Step Two: Snap picture.

 

Step Three: Laugh.

 

Give it a try and let me know how your selfies turned out.

 

mom-2

Posted on by Tim McMurdo

Roberta 2

Let me tell you a few things about Roberta Wilkins. Because, today we spread her ashes along with her husband (Hal), and their dog, Yemmy. This is a good time to share some of my favorite memories.

First of all, she was my mother-in-law. Unlike most son-in-laws, I adored her and I believe the feelings were mutual. From the day I first met her, she was mom or sometimes mom-2. She lived in our house from before we got married and until she died. In seventeen years, I never spent a night in the house without her being there. And still, I have no real idea of how old she was, because, ladies never tell their true age and gentlemen don't ask. I think she was in her mid to late seventies. I guess this because she told me she was older than my mom and younger than my dad.

Roberta was full of life. Her first car was a red Chevy convertible. She once spent an entire paycheck on a pair of Italian shoes. She was a man's women. I often describe her as a 1962, gin swilling, pencil dress wearing, jazz playing, cocktail party broad. Though truth be told, her preferred drink was a vodka martini with extra olives. She loved the description. She could cuss like a sailor if the occasion called for it.

She loved to laugh and had the biggest heart in the world.

Wherever Roberta, Hal, Jodi and I went, she drove. Once, on the way back from eating Mexican, we were all chewing Chicklets and convinced her to spit her's out the window. When she spit her gum, Roberta jerked the wheel, sending us into oncoming traffic. She hooted and laughed and got us back into our lane, getting us home in one piece.

Roberta often held a lit cigarette between the ring and middle fingers of her right hand while she talked to you. That lip stick stained cigarette was part of her. True Blue Kings. With cigarette in hand, you could often hear her exclaim "Jeesuuschrist!"

Everyday, when I walked in the front door, she gave me a hug and said "Hi baby, how was your day?"

I don't believe in God. But, I often think that, if there is a God, she would be up in heaven teaching the angels how to cuss, smoke, drink, and play strip poker. She would have Humphrey Bogart, Miles Davis, Thelonious Monk, Tippi Hedren, and their spouses over for a cocktail party.

I'd knock and the door would open to a blast of jazz. Mom would greet me at the door with a vodka martini, extra olives, and say "Hi baby, how was your day?"

truth be told

Posted on by Tim McMurdo

Morning Lions

 

Each year, I spray, mow down, and dig up dandelions in a never ending attempt to eradicate them from our yard. I do this primarily for the sake of our neighbors. I know they don't appreciate when the seeds fly into their yard and take hold in their new home.

In truth, I don't mind them at all. I like the little yellow flowers and seeing the seeds take to the sky, drifting on the wind. Every time I head into the yard to work on them, I feel like I am giving into the Man. Conforming. But, that's just me.

Have a great day.

 

getting the whole story

Posted on by Tim McMurdo

Jimmy's Big Interview

 

Ace reporter, Libby Crenshaw knew a good story when she saw one. She spied Jimmy in the paddock and knew by the way he just stood there every time she looked in his direction that something big was going on. Why would a horse try so hard not to be noticed if he wasn't trying to hide something.

Libby wasn't shy and walked straight up to Jimmy and asked him what he was up to. Point blank. Libby is not known for being subtle. The more that Jimmy stood there in silence, the more Libby knew that she was right. And so the staring contest began.

As far as we know, Libby and Jimmy are still standing there, staring in silence. Who will break first?

 

the other side

Posted on by Tim McMurdo

The House next to the Gorge

 

My name is Hec Thompson and I am from this side. For my entire life, I have been taught by my father to dislike, distrust, and generally think ill of my neighbors, the Nanleys. Dad always said that Nanleys were loathsome low down cusses. You needed to keep a close eye on them. Don’t ever trust a Nanley.

For years, I thought as I was taught. I looked down my nose at them when I couldn’t avoid them entirely. Then I actually got to know Old Man Nanley’s girl, Becca. She was cute as a button and had the prettiest green eyes and long curly brown hair. When I started at the county high school, she was in one of my classes. Prior to that, we had never met because we attended different schools.

Before you know it, We were talking at lunch and seeing each other at dances. It took me a whole two months to work up the courage to ask her out to see a movie. Not that I was afraid that she would turn me down. More because I was afraid of what my father would do when he found out.

Becca and I were steady for two years before dad discovered that I was courting her. He threw up a real stink. Grounded me, gave me extra chores, and generally made my life miserable.

When Becca and I eventually got married, my father refused to attend the wedding. Mom and my little brother, Henry were there, but dad washed his hands of the whole thing. Dad never visited our home for the first two years of our marriage. It wasn’t until our boy was born that dad walked through my front door. I know mom forced him to go. It wasn’t like dad to ever swallow his pride.

As he was leaving, I asked him what he had against the Nanleys. What terrible thing did they ever do to him? As far as I knew he never really knew them. That’s when he told me.

You see, although we were neighbors, the Nanleys were from over on that side. Not this side. In my dad’s mind, the chasm between our two families was too wide for him to bridge. God had put that big ditch there for a reason and that was good enough for him.

Becca and I have now been married for 22 years and I have got to tell you. Once you get to know the people on that side, you quickly learn that they are an awful lot like the people on this side.

 

the golden sea

Posted on by Tim McMurdo

Lanier Sunrise

 

I dreamed that I sailed across a golden sea until I found an island floating in the morning light. The island drifted on the wind, following the sun as it slowly journeyed westward. The island’s shadow reflection shimmered on the small ripples that trailed in the island’s wake. The entire scene flowed by me in complete silence and I could see no sign of life. Not a bird, fish, nor human met my gaze.  

Gil’eal the wee guardian spirit spoke to me. Do not step foot on the land that wanders or you will become lost. 

In my dream, I knew that I would not walk under the trees of those floating worlds. I saw that I would return with the new moon, an auspicious omen. 

This morning, as I sighted the island of my dreams, a shiver ran down my spine none-the-less.