So many colors
So many choices
It’s just not clear
So much charm
“It gives me so much glum chum”
“Oh my, what a challenge!”
So many characters
So many chances
Of making the wrong choice.
My neighborhood is a small community. Sometimes I feel like everyone know each other.
The other day I was in the supermarket with my family and there was a guy in front of us packing his bags. We had a lot of items we were buying so I started putting our things on the register. I looked at the guy in front of us and noticed that he was limping a little. I was a little hesitant to offering my help. Actually, I didn’t offer. He finished packing, looked up and said ‘Good Night’. Which to me was a little strange. People don’t usually speak. May smile but don’t speak. Well, it was strange.
So, there was a few muffled good nights. I just smiled a little and he left. A few seconds later my family and I came outside. My dad was about to call a taxi when I realize that a taxi was already there. I told my dad, there is a taxi already. And we flagged it down. And guess what? It turned out to be the same guy who was in the supermarket! And he pulled over and we crowed in his car.
But unlike any other taxi driver, he prayed first that we all would have a safe trip. And the trip home was safe and very inspirational. He testified about his mother and her healing. It turns out, God did so much for him that he was bubbling with joy and we turned out to be the perfect family for him to drive us home and testify of how good God is to him.
And we all praised God with him. He told of how his mother suffered with Alzheimer and it seem she wasn’t getting any better. And he went on a two-week fast only drinking water. And God really blessed his mother to recover. He felt great even though his leg was hurting from always sitting behind the wheel.
The day we got in his car was the day she begin to act her normal self again.
When we were departing, it was almost like family, parting.
Instead of just driving away, he helped us with the groceries inside. And told us he’ll see us in heaven if not again on earth.
‘I’ll see you in mansion number seven!” He said. To which my father said ‘And I’ll see you in mansion number eight’!
I went to a training yesterday and this young lady was sitting in front of me with this amazing hair style. It is a little worn but I really like it. You can wear it with or without a hat. However, with a hat, you might want to braid the top also. Smack in the middle is a braid going up and on the right side of her head is like the left side.
Growing up around artist in the Bronx has taught me to appreciate art from a child. And the more I experience the more I know how important signs and photos are. How valuable music and beat is. And how much time is of the essence. I took a course on first aid today and the instructor was telling us that when one does CPR with a defibrillator, the beat moves at the same pace as the beat in Staying Alive moves too. Not saying that Bee Gees, the artist of Stayin’ Alive, is important for us to know, but the beat is important. Not saying that if you are having a heart attack to call on Bee Gees either. However, to know about the art of life one must know about the art of music. It becomes synonymous. Making every aspect of art fundamental. Artist play an essential part in our lives. This world. This earth! This universe! (You get the picture now?!)
As time moves on, art moves on and scenes change and art is sometimes valued more or less depending on the work. During the First Aid class, Mrs. Carr, the instructor kept telling the class Time is of the Essence. And I know what she meant. Life is important. Act as quickly as you can. Do what you can to save a life. But as a recent college grad and someone looking to get more out of life, I saw pass that. Since you are living make most of your ability. Make life better. Save life. Save what you can. Saving life means saving art to me. Perseverance.
When the class ended, I looked out of the window and there outside were two graffiti mural artist painting the wall. Time was of the essence. I got my camera and went out to shoot. It was not until later that I thought in dept about the artist and their value. Not everybody can do what they were doing. Very few people. Which made me want to grab my camera instantly. It also made me feel old. Because, ¡Si dios quiera one day someone will be rushing to save my work.
Moreover, the art they do is not something that will be under plastic or behind a frame in a museum, neither will it be guarded by copyright laws or the police. Their art is out in the open. And can only be preserved by people like me.
Usually when I think on this topic names like Martha Copper and even Grand Master Flash pop into my head. Scenes pop into my head also. I see humongous beat boxes and high top hair dos and images from the Bronx burning to the1990’s fashion. And now that I am experiencing more and listening to stories from the elders in my neighborhood, the art and the culture is becoming one with me. Now names like Beat Mann (who used to tag trains in the 70’s) and Evelyn and Jr. (a couple who owns one of the biggest houses in my neighborhood who experience the art of life in the Bronx during this period ) and even Jason(mural artist, http://jasonburnz.wordpress.com/ ) and Mrs. Carr faces come to mind, making art and time and life less of a puzzle for me.
My father was born and raised on the island. Dominica to be exact. When he was very young, around 21, he migrated to America and has been living here ever since. I am still looking forward to traveling to his home town.While he lived in Dominica, he used to hand paint. When he moved to the city, it wasn’t long before he started attending Albert Pells Art and Design school. He went there three years before Mr. Pells himself asked him to teach at the school his fourth year. After a year of teaching he started working at General Electric. When he stared working at General Electric, is when the sign scene really started becoming computerized. Most of the art that was previous done was mainly done by hand. Painted. When he got there, General Electric was more or likely in the sign business lead. They were very popular for their picture sides. My dad worked with General Electric long enough to soon branch out on his own.
When he started his business, CSJC Graphics, he did not have the funds to buy machinery like most of the well established sign companies; however, he made do with what he had. Whenever he did any kind of job he did it all from his heart and put his best effort forward. He hand painted most of his work but did not settle there. He worked forward and stayed in contact with the fast pace ‘sign world’ (for lack of a better term). I still remember him painting in his shop when I would come home from school as a little girl. I loved that smell. My siblings and I were never allowed to go near his paints. (One time my little brother called himself helping my dad out and added a line onto a sign while he was asleep. You can guess how that story ended.) When ever a sign was done, it wasn’t uncommon for the whole family to ohh and ahh over the sign, take pictures and sometimes even go to watch him put it up.
One day my father picked up the paint can and read the small print. The warning. WARNING! THIS PRODUCT CONTAINS A CHEMICAL KNOWN TO THE STATE OF CALIFORNIA TO CAUSE CANCER AND BIRTH DEFECTS, OR OTHER REPRODUCTIVE HARM.
From then on, he talked about buying a machine. He got a machine. And now he doesn’t paint anymore.
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