As Relates to Loaded

This follows a facebook conversation about this:

If art works, not just because it works, but because the observer passionately wants it to work, then yes. Then no? So yes it did and now it doesn't. If it doesn't endure is it still art? I'm not arguing IF it endures. If it becomes art to me because I so badly want it to be, then blink twice, twirl thrice and it no longer matters to me... was it art, did it stop being art, or did I (or it) stop being relevant?

When I was THAT age I wanted everything, anything, nothing, less... but I did so, developmentally having no choice in the matter, Passionately. Youth isn't wasted on the young. It's just a simple reality that the young guzzle gas.

So I'd be OK if I called today's music 'noise' or 'sissy pop' or simply worthless crap, as that would have me doing what my dad did before me and his before him. It's a matter of culture. But here's my version of looking back at Sinatra, or Mario Lanza - Joe Louis and Jack Dempsey, and saying I can't listen to them anymore, and those boxers were overachieving light heavies in a different era. I can revisit the first three Velvet Underground albums and find just wonderful things all over them... and by the way, I like a fair amount of what I hear today, even if I don't listen to as much anymore.

Two days ago, I hit the play button and was hoping for a wonderful, comfortable, not plaid shirt and got an uncomfortable, derivative denim shirt in a room where country rock geetar licks belonged not a whit, but lived on almost every track.

Doug Yule, is that you? Lou, was that you thinking you were normal and before you decided to be an iconic art star? You thought you had an album 'Loaded' with accessibility, didn't you?

I'll grant you, it was an album of process, Sweet Jane and Rock & Roll two enduring gems, but otherwise... not a good album.

Makes me a little sad... she ain't got nothin' at all.

CONCLUSION:

I have always professed that we are all the versions of ourselves. I'm not only the 50 something Harvey, but also contain the 19 year old Harvey as well (just missing some Pall Malls and about 60% of my energy and endurance). Point is, it ALL stays with us, so above was only a, perhaps, clumsy and too quickly thrown together way of saying :

"I bought 'Loaded' on CD at Time Traveler last week and anxiously threw it on, expecting to hear a wonderful, funny, smart, and evocative album from end to end, but heard two songs that did this and the rest was largely rubbish. How disappointing."

Fact is, it DID transform me back in the day, as a stand alone album and as part of what the Velvets meant to me overall, which was huge. So I had my time with it back in the 70s and am grateful. But after I-podding 'Sweet Jane' and 'Rock & Roll' I'm done with it.

OK then. Sorry. I'll try to be m0re articulate in the future. And I will, undoubtedly fail.

6 Degrees of Face

So I just topped 300 Facebook friends. Some of them true friends, some of them friendly acquaintances through the biz I'm in, my reason for being on Facebook a hybrid of 'friendship' and 'networking.' But truly, friendships come from everywhere, or at least should, so such
distinctions should go by the wayside.

For example, I have a 'friend' in Herb Scannell. He's a serious player in the TV biz. Former President of Nickelodeon, where my ex worked and I produced a number of things, he's also a Tin Huey fan. We did work together, tangentially, on some Nick UpFronts, the most notable, the one he and I were totally in synch with as I produced Devo Unplugged onstage at the Waldorf, as "Los Devos."

But he and I, on Facebook, have talked about music and how, should I unearth my copy of that taped Devo performance, I'll burn him one and send it off. No bidness whatsoever.

In other cases, I'm an unabashed whore. I even got my wrist slapped, by the very service that even boasts the profile option of 'networking' for sending out announcements to all my pals, in and out of the business, to come see Gold Teleproductions' new website and reel, which we are, justifiably proud of. they shut down my ability to mail for a few hours as punishment. Boo.

http://www.goldtele.com

But the reason I'm writing this is because I randomly stumbled upon a phenomena. I have friends from all over. Yes, Ohio, where I live has a lot, but my school chums are spread across the country, my business associations are overwhelmingly in NY and LA. When I search a name, any name, even one attached to no one I know, pages open up where I can scroll down and almost every one of them has at least one friend we share!

Is 300 some sort of critical mass on Facebook that makes this like the you know who game?


Never felt more tribal in my life. Never had such a useless epiphany in my life either.

Just thought I'd share.

PS Since I published this, Dolli explained to me that Facebook is instinctive in the sense that it sorts, starting with number of shared friends, then location.
Thanks honey.

Next up for Dolli????

One (of 2 or 3) Reasons to Be

A Facebook Moment

From Nic:

I have this album somewhere...this is why I own a theremin now...
Machines Lothar and the Hand People
Source: www.youtube.com

Harvey Gold

April 28 at 10:44pm

Dolli bought me a therimin for X-mas two or three years ago. She also got me a musical saw the same year. My, my.

Nicholas Lawson-Padia

April 28 at 10:50pm

Reply

I'm not at all musically inclined, so it's been fun terrorizing the cats, but it is hard to play. I mean, like a real tune. I have this idea of doing "Heroin" only changing the lyrics to "Theremin". You, my friend are partially responsible for my twisted take on tunes. I must thank you here and now. You have made an impact with your visionary talent. Bless you. Hope the shows with Ralph, et al. go well. My best. Nic.

Harvey Gold

Today at 9:34am

Well I hope 'you' is more of a collective reference. The longer I go on the more I can attribute much of the forward, or rather 'off to the side' musical leanings I have to years with Mark Price and Michael Aylward. My old roomie and Hueys roadie, Rick Peters with his ridiculous fake compositions and adoration of the Bonzo Dog Doo Da Band made a real difference. And finally my pal Jim Kauffman put a set of headphones on me one day and by the end of 'Sister Ray' nothing would ever be the same again.

That said, whether it was something always inside, or an acquired thing to go along with all my pop sensibilities may not matter... the main reason I did it all these years was, certainly, given what we did, with little to no expectations of rock stardom, for the occasional comment such as yours.

Thanks Nic. Kind words, indeed.

xo - h

Sling Blade

"Y'ought not o' killed my little brother. He ought to had a chance to growed up. He would have fun sometime."

Quote of the Year

From Paul Koestner:

"I experience chunks of nothingness every night, at least during those times when monsters aren't chasing me. There's nothing to it."

Talk Me Down

... or Harvey rants his way through a 360 and will now need a nap while you berate him and his sissy logic!!!

OK , so I’ve been watching CNBC and MSNBC and tuning in (at least as much as I can stand, which is revealing a relatively low tolerance for the stuff) to get a feel for what’s going on with our economy.

Suddenly, I’m finding myself wondering about the Obama/ Democratic Party/Workingman-in-need approach to things.

I’ve been a lifelong Dem and have always believed that our tax dollars (even those couple of really good years where technically, I should have been a Republican) should be directed at entitlements for those not doing as well as us.

Obama wants to make sure the rich don’t get richer and the working Joe gets some relief. I couldn’t agree more. This POV is reflected in his taxation policy and appears to color (if not determine) everything we’re doing in the recovery packages.

So here’s where the terror sets in.

Anyone who watched ‘Network’ or read the novel could see some sense of inevitability when the big boss explains that everything in this world is determined by dollars, petro-dollars, pounds, yen, pesos, etc. etc. He is saying that global distinctions are no longer geographic or even cultural borders, but are defined by Exxon, GE, Sony… corporate entities, their fiefdoms and how they figure into the dynamic of things.

Now while of course, there are cultural issues that are overwhelming, and there are countries, and this is a bit of overstatement as to the inner workings of everything , let’s push in a bit here.

You give more money to the little guy and he pays off some debt, maybe buys a TV, and maybe the economy is stimulated.

But if you make allowances so businesses can operate more freely, there are jobs, benefits, and an economy. What I’m wondering (help me out folks) is if Ned Beatty’s speech in the movie wasn’t more right than wrong, that capitalism, a currency based world in fact, in full fruition in the 21st century, REQUIRES a recognition that corporations have to be able to act with a level of support, that the symbiotic relationship between business as an institution and the worker is, after all, only functional as a trickle down, with larger chunks of money hitting the top effectively keeping things running with a more singular sense of purpose far more than taking on the issue from the bottom up, where there’s little rhyme or reason… at least no structural or institutional controls other than the need to buy food, gasoline, heating and a roof over our heads, and many other ways to spend (or hoard) the money beyond that list serving little to no useful purpose to the economy at large.

Those of us who would be seen as liberal Democrats, off to the left hippies, have justifiably criticized the implementation of trickle down economics based on the idea that the corporations have been, in effect, answerable to no one, reflecting upper echelon personal greed, resulting in an unsupervised disaster. This is what we’re experiencing now.

I understand the pain that we’re all feeling right now as a result, and most certainly, justice, revenge, retribution for what has happened should all be on the plate, but here’s my question:

Does it appear that the system really has evolved (devolved?) to a place where the trickle down theory has actually been proven and the thing that’s wrong is how it’s been operated, not the institutional structure itself?

Is it likely that throwing money at a general population- one that is likely to hide it under their mattress and spend on the bare essentials as so many of us are out of work with NO income- is not going to right the economy?

Is it possible that with serious oversight, but stimulation – such as allowing, for a set period, corporations to bring offshore money and investments back into the states tax free for a time to allow for expansion and recovery, as it’s not being taxed now anyway…. again, with serious and unprecedented oversight, is more of an answer?


It has to be easier to enforce a discipline and a set of regulations on structured corporations than on a world full billions of individuals, in a 100+ different countries, with a 100 + different cultures, all with different agendas.

As I write this, I guess I’m seeing that the Obama administration is doing just that. Billions to corporations to keep them going, trying to regulate and go for transparency. I think, ultimately, the purpose of this rambling is to come to the realization that President Obama shouldn’t be crucified for doing what might be seen as ‘Republican’ things in his dealings with this problem, just as those of us who are supporters shouldn’t be shocked (though feel free to disapprove) when we come to see that he’s also not a Dove. He never, by the way, ever claimed to be.

It would be good, though to see some public floggings. No one can fault me for that!

I guess I talked myself down, kind of, but feel free to talk back.

First Real Funfest of '09

We just spent 10 days in Florida folks. Sounds great, right? So my friends from up north call me a coddled AWOL son of a... and the Floridians affectionately blame me for the 60 or lower temps the whole time we're there.

I finally lost it and reminded the northerners (particularly my NY/NJ pals) that just 4 days before my departure, I shoveled just under 11 inches of snow out of my drive and found the temperature to be 0 degrees the morning I left. I mean, really, WHAT WOULD YOU DO? NOT GO OUT OF SOLIDARITY, YOU MISERABLE BITTER WRETCHES?

As for you Floridians, running around in your sweats, shivering, bitching and moaning about the possible frost that would mess up your beautiful flowers... well... YOU OWE ME!!! I didn't once wear my board shorts. I had to dig out MY hoodie, which was supposed to sit in a closet until we left. Apologies that are offered will be accepted.

So this morning we get up far too early, and make our way home.

Our oldest daughter Gayle, bearer of both our granddaughters, Elliott Rose, 4 years, and Frankie Jane, 2 months, picks us up in my car and drives us home to several inchesof the white stuff in the driveway. I grab a shovel and zap a path for Dolli (don't want to wreck the MBTs... though she DID have socks on, forcing her to look , from the ankles down, like a Birkenstocked schoolmarm), and took in all the luggage, computers, etc.

Dolli and Gayle decide to each grab a shovel (thanks to this year's visit to Lowes, we have 38 of them) and between the three of us, knock off the driveway in 15 minutes or less (small drive). While out front, Gayle grabs the paper from across the street, tosses it into the drive, I hand it to Dolli, she throws it in the house and... locks us out.

All cell phones and keys are in the house... and it's kind of chilly. I circle our old jernt and confirm the only unlocked window is behind a screen. So I tear the screen and muscle up what has always been a tough window wide enough for Gayle to slither in.

I get one of those green plastic yard 'end tables' from the back for her to boost up, and as she steps on it, she does a Three Stooges and steps right through the frozen (now completely shattered) booster.

So I do the school kid thing , lace my fingers, boost her up and in she goes, unlocks the door, and we resume shoveling.

We finish up and I get a mallet, managing to loosen, then lower, the window without shattering it. THAT might have been the big victory of the day.

.
That and then ME, of all people, later this evening picking the top 5 (out of 12) winners at Miss America, only erring by having the winner and the first runner up reversed. The new Miss America, btw. looks a lot like a brunette, taller, Lauren Ambrose (from '6 Feet Under' Fame). How weird.



OK not that spectacular, but that's the story.







I DID, however, while away, read Michael Chabon's "Gentemen of the Road" and found it to be delightful. He has written that most adventures occur in the effort to make it to some destination away from our home, and the trip back. Makes sense to me.
OK then. Now That's All Folks! 'nite.

NEWS

OK, so I don;t have a lot to write about... at least in quantity, but there's one big one and we need to lift the mood of this site for a minute:

News Item #1: Frankie Jane Carter. Born 11/24/08 21" long 8lb. 13 oz. I am a Grampa times two now and thrilled by it.


News Item #2-infinity: Nothing as important as News Item #1.

More later. HAPPY HOLIDAYS!

Mark

I want to be filled with joy...

- Joy over the years of strengthening Mark did with his life force so that it might rocket to the heavens.
- I want to be happy that Mark feels no more pain, that these last four years have brought him varying amounts of joy, music and love to go along with his suffering, suffering that's no more.

- I want to feel so very grateful for the years I managed to travel a path that involved Mark, to experience what was the most singular of experiences one could enjoy, that of Mark Richard Price.

- I want to remember with a smile the Tin Huey gig at which Mark played a riff so ridiculously complex, creative, and so remarkably uncalled for, that we all stopped playing, screamed, maybe threw a couple things at him, probably pushed or punched him, then resumed playing the song.

And I do... all the above.

And yet I'm so very, very sad for me, because my Mark isn't here anymore. For all the above and all the good spiritual events that may have taken place leading up to and since his earthly death, what I suffer is the inability to speak with him, to see him, to laugh with him, to actively, in a physical realm, love him.... this, of course, also includes yelling at him.

I'm sad for everyone else who no longer has access to Mark by picking up a phone or walking into his room, or getting on a plane, picking him up at the airport, or opening our door and seeing that smile only he had.

I'm so sad. So very, very sad... and so, my friends, is Swensons, and some lonely assed Galley Boys.

Any offerings , by request of Mark's brother Stephen, should be made to Hospice by the Bay up by his place in San Rafael , CA.

http://www.hospicebythebay.org

or direct to the contribution page:

https://www.hospicebythebay.org/Foundation/Contribute_Form.html

Golly kids.

Paul's on a Roll: A Political Message from Joe Sixpack

JOE SIXPACK SITS IN FRONT OF A DRAPED AMERICAN FLAG, CRADLING A SIXPACK OF BUDWEISER. HIS BASEBALL CAP IS REVERSED AND HIS SHIRT ADVERTISES HIS ALLEGIENCE TO THE DETRIOT LIONS.

JOE

Hi, I’m Joe Sixpack, and given the choice of having to sit through a session of Face the Nation or tuning in to old reruns of Baywatch, I think you know where I’m keeping the plasma screen tuned.
But while I’m a big proponent of self-sedation, mostly to ease the pain of watching my Lions get their asses whupped every weekend, I can still spot a snow job when I see one.
So Sarah, you smiley-faced, suffix-clippin’, double-talkin’, muck-rakin’, commie-watchin’, earmarkin’, bridge-buildin’, caribou-filetin’, tax-rebatin’, gay toleratin’, soccer mommin’, prompter quotin’, bogus stat totin’, drill baby drillin’, snake oil sellin’, self-promotin’ maverick for the little guy… Thanks, but no thanks!

JOE POPS OPEN A CAN OF BUDWEISER AND TAKES A BIG GULP AS WE FADE TO GRAPHIC:

THIS BUDDY BOY’S FOR OBAMA

VOICE OVER: I’m Joe Sixpack, and I (BURRRRRRRRRRRRRRP) approve this message.

From my pal Paul

Paul Koestner, a fine cinematographer and really neat cranky old bitch, also author of "On the Wind and a Prayer" a delightful saga about a man, woman, a boat, and a meatloaf, available through Amazon.com wrote me the following tonight:

Root, Root, Root for the Home Team

While I was in high school, we had some really good sports teams. For some reason, that was incredibly important to Catholics, as if a loving cup might vindicate the vainglorious promise of the Gospel according to Luke. Your cousin might be up on rape charges, but if he was an all-stater, your family had nothing to be ashamed of.

We had some lousy teams too. I know, because I was on one of them. There are a ton of sports programs occupied on any given day across the land, and it’s tough to field a winning team on each and every one of them. Even so, we Americans love our physical challenges, so bring it, Charlie. We got some smokin’ cheerleaders standing by to heal the wounds.

The thing is, regardless of the standing of the present team we’re supporting, the American story is always the same. We are the greatest, and everybody else is a pathetic, detritus-eating dog. Morale is the key to success, and it is no different in the political arena. In the midst of the most laughable team ever fielded by Republicans, the cheerleaders simply hike up their skirts all the higher, and scream all the louder: Your team sucks, and ours is the greatest.

Sarah Palin is so very special, because she’s somebody you’d normally expect to find on the sidelines doing splits that defy human anatomy, while all the boys who didn’t make the team are straining for a view of her Fruit of the Looms. Instead, old Johnny U has handed off the hallowed pigskin to the pompon gal, and we’re all watching to see if she takes it in for the T. She’s so damn inspirational there, with her indefatigable smile, that the refs have their twitchy hands peremptorily on their flags, while the golden gal side-steps her way past reasonable scrutiny, toward the hallowed hash marks of democracy. Sweet Jesus, she might just score! Somebody dress my consolation wiener before the whistle blows.

Recently, Sarah has been looking for a strategic block from Joe Sixpack. I’m wondering if she realizes that he’s under the bleachers trying to feel up the piccolo player before the halftime show. My suspicion is he’ll fall short of his mission, and end up finishing off that six-pack all by hisself.

After that, he’ll do what any red-blooded American boy would do. He’ll finish the job on his own, all the while swearing off any chick with a song-and-dance routine that promises him the stars, while delivering Jack Squat.

****

Well ranted, Paul!!!

To Senator McCain

I'm not thrilled using this page as a bully pulpit to influence all my readers (Kirk, you out there?) on our political race, but again, along with a couple newspapers I sent a variation of this to, I feel a compelling need to say this

Please,

As a Democrat, I'll admit I've felt for years (much to my surprise and odd comfort) that if I had to have a Republican president, I could live with it being John McCain. My impression was that you were a fiscal conservative and, largely, moderate to liberal on many social issues.

But things are now getting out of hand. This election may be getting away from you based on what's going on with our economy but please, I beg you, don't continue this poorly veiled campaign of hate that has developed over the last couple weeks.

You know Barack Obama is not a member of Islam, and you know he has never 'consorted' with terrorists, and you know he's an American. The kind of campaigning you're doing now has Americans that support you HATING the man who might be the next President.

You say your life has been based on service to your country. Is this horribly divisive appeal that stirs up all the rage and frustration that lower income white America has, to the point that these rallys are producing 'mobs' that are yelling that Barack Obama should be killed, what you see as service?

Is this what you want as your base, as your LEGACY?

I've seen interview after interview. So many of these people have no idea who Sarah Palin is, no real idea of you and your history, other than you were a P.O.W. They only 'know' that some guy with an Arabic name, as told by attractive Sarah and ads on TV, is some unpatriotic foreigner trying to steal their country.

You may say publicly "No, he's a good man" but your people are doing this constantly, and no one, for one minute, believes you're not aware of this.

Please stop.

** I posted this and then it occurred to me. This kind of hatred that your ads, your spinners, and your running mate are all fomenting is something powerful enough to cross the timeline of Nov. 4th or January '09 and continue on. In this sense, in that your campaign is actually aiming to encourage distrust and caste hatred of Sen. Obama, as these are not actual policy issues spoken about anymore, this could truly be something of a telegraphed treason, isn't it? Now is THAT what you call service to your nation, what you would call a legacy? Truly Senator, this is out of control and you may be the only one who can put his foot down and stop it.

So again, I beg you to do so.

Obama - Biden

Dolli and I just got back from casting early ballots (NO Diebold Machines) I can't remember EVER getting tears in my eyes as i was about to fill in a ballot. But then I saw it there, with the oval waiting for me to check it in:

Barack Obama
Joe Biden

My throat tightened, my eyes teared. I've been waiting for this moment for a long time, a truly terrible 8 years, filled with frustration, humiliation, anger, resentment, you name it- whatever one feels when they are a dot living in a country that does bad things, to people in other lands and to their very own brothers and sisters, with seemingly no recourse, in a country founded on the principal that we shall absolutely have that very recourse.

As we waited for our ballots, we struck up a conversation with an older African American woman there with her husband, he a quiet, gentle, smiling man wearing a Soap Box Derby hat with a Wingfoot on it, for all you Akronites looking for a real symbol. She told us she had had a vision. The right vision. Given that she also, she told us, had a falling out with her son and HE ended up in the hospital, I'll go ahead and hope this good voodoo of hers is on the money

As we were leaving, we had a short conversation with one of the Democrat canvasers out in the parking lot past the line of demarcation for campaigning. I told the younger black man that this was the most important election of his life. "No," he responded," The most important election of my life was the one that got us into this horrible mess in the first place." Couldn't argue with that.

We then went to Obama Headquarters where we signed the board and rang the bell as early voters, receiving applause from the office. I offered, since I work from home, to drive people to the polls during early voting leading up to November 4th. Dolli signed up to take a day off work on election day to drive voters.

Things are bad and they are going to get worse. I like this man and truly wish THIS was not what his presidency was going to have to start out like. But then again, if I can believe a presidency can help us, elevate us, define us, which I do, then this is the man that we have to have . He's the guy that has a shot, if a shot is to be had.

Weird. What a stirring and scary day... and such a proud day to be an American.



PLEASE VOTE!

OK OK OK

So I obviously need to build momentum here, and will therefore write a new blog posting now.

My interpretation of the debate last night:

Sarah Palin did well enough to raise the bar to the point that we dispensed with the dramedy sufficiently for her to simply lose the debate. Realistically (you all know the melody) who could ask for anything more?


Take 2:
I pretty much hate the foreign policies of both candidates, which make sense as I am becoming a quasi semi pseudo isolationist... today... which is why my Right Wing Libertarian Indie Pal Steve is so conflicted... he loves me so.

This, however, does not deter me from absolute loyalty to the Obama and Tyson ticket. God love Joe's smile!!




Volume 3:
As wonderful as "My Man Godfrey" is, "Life With Father".... isn't.

OK then...

Men's Size 4DD:
Go to http ://www.myspace.com/harveyinthehall and please listen to a sweet (Thanks Bruce & Rob) mix of "In a Very Good Place."

... and finally... Joe Torre ROCKS!!

I am filled with remorse and will NOT publish a pic of him in a Dodger uniform.

Epilogue #5:

Let's GET OUR HALLOWEEN ON PEOPLE!!!

And Now for Something Completely Different

The above title comes, of course, from our pals in Monty Python via Dolli as she gets a big assist in this post. A little welcome comic relief as we all just need a breath here. The economy is as frightening as anything I've known in my lifetime, particularly with less than a decade's worth of retirement window to see a recovery in... the Great Depression started in '29, bottomed in '32 and didn't get back to the starting line until we'd moved into the 1950's ... and while both candidates routinely stretch the truth (which I find profoundly disappointing), one of them is just lying more and more every day, and I'm afraid with MSNBC and The Daily Show (and the Emmies) calling him on it, most of the American people are actually elsewhere. 60 Minutes? Even then, I'm not so sure.

So Dolli and I, in need of an All American throwback, wholesome, ice cream eating, show your age, 'let's go for a ride' Sunday, took off in our convertable Beetle with the Obama sticker and here's where we ended up ...
The guy on the bottom is me doing my impression of a middle aged white guy who managed to digest a hip-hop artist, or one of the members of 'Entourage' while fighting to victory in a Bratwurst eating contest. Scale note: I'm 6' tall.

Anyway, this is, in fact, not the world's largest Virgin Mary statue -- but it's the biggest damned one I've ever seen. We and a few of our closest friends, most of us still alive, have a shared admiration of Our Lady of Guadalupe. I'm assuming most in the same secular fashion as I-- though secretly hoping that it will be she and only she to greet us on the other side, take us to her bosom, carrying us through the turquoise and orange gates up to the great fiesta in the sky, all our loved ones , in colorful dress, waiting to share the sweetbreads from the celestial pinata with us.

This remarkable statue, surrounded by vast fields, a pond, some beautiful horses, and a stand of trees that tempts us sorely to return in about 3 weeks as the foliage continues to turn colors, was built by Ed and Pat Heinz, on whose farm, in Windsor, Ohio, it stands, "a testament," as written in Roadside America, " to faith and to liberal building laws."

Ed collected -as evidenced by the purchased memory plaques attached to every ball on the below described rosary, as well as every bench, chair, and a few items near or at the permanent Nativity Scene that sits in a chapel slightly larger than a premium sized shed from Home Depot -the $50,000 it would take to build Mary. Then Richard Hyslin, head of the art department at some small Texas college, agreed to donate his services for free. Until then, Hyslin's largest sculpture had apparently been a 15-foot tall King Kong for a miniature golf course, so this was his version of Bernstein's Mass... I guess.

The statue was dedicated on August 5, 1995. Our Lady is 33-feet tall, standing atop an angel and cement cloud, bringing her to 50 feet.

From Roadside America:

"Attached to the figure's back is something resembling the World's Largest Toaster Coil -- her holy radiance. It's made of metal, and during a violent thunderstorm in flat, northeastern Ohio, one requires unfaltering faith to linger for long.

"Mary faces east -- a shutterbug challenge in the late afternoon, even without the lightning strikes creeping towards her. The statue surface is decorated with thousands of tiny mosaic tiles, richly colored, reminding us of the happy Krishna giants in West Virginia," something Dolli and I have yet to see, but between this and our European Holiday tradition of hunting for relics (defined as Holy body parts and uncorrupted corpses... we do have fun between meals, no??), will probably add to our list of day trips.

In front of Our Lady is a pond, surrounded by a giant strand of white rosary beads (disguised as electric beach balls) and a full size carved Jesus reclining on what I thought was a lucite, but Dolli tells me she thinks it's a clear quartz cross.

The coolest thing is that she's there just because that's where Heinz was/is (gotta check into that). Truly a pilgrim's dream. We followed the directions and even then had to sort take a flier on a turn here and there. We pulled into the parking lot to find it populated by perhaps 30 of our Hispanic friends hanging around a pick up truck, a bus, and a cooler. This thing is set back so very far from the road, we had to park, and walk around a building before we could

a) see the wonders of the Porta Potty and

b) say "Oh... My... God!!"

This trip was rejuvenating. It gives us all hope that no matter what comes down the pipe, we, as a race (Ohioans) are so incredibly weird, twisted, and brilliantly capable of the craziest shit, that we're probably too impaired to even notice the implications when we all turn red and ruin the country... again (still). Thank goodness SHE's here.

We waved Adios with a smile to our Amigos as they did us. Ice cream on the way home. Yay!!!

Now what could be next for the intrepid travelers, hmmm?

PS. If you're here looking for some political pontificating, or even if you're not but are willing to do me the honor, please read the post below.


Thanks.