on this site. . .

They're everywhere and we've all seen them. . .

"Historic Site Markers" mentioning something or other that happened in history and somehow rates being remembered
in perpetuity.

While I was owner/operating my Design/Advertising Agency in Philadelphia, I'd travel around town and I'd see Historic Site Markers on almost every other block.  
(for a small city, Phili's a big town for it's history)

Historic Site Markers are a National Pastime.

Hells Bells, we've even got one on the Moon!

Now, most of you know I'm a history junkie.
So I really like the signs.

But honestly, read enough Historic Site Markers and, at some point, you've got more Historic Site information than your brain can contain.

You could give yourself a case of mental indigestion.

That's why I particularly liked the Historic Site Marker I found here in Key West on the corner of Caroline Street
& Pecan Lane. . .

 There's nothing to try to remember. . .

that sorry day

"September 11, 2001" © 2001 arthur a. winstanley

I drew this one exactly as I was watching the live coverage of events in lower Manhattan on September 11, 2001 from Florida on the T.V.

There's not a whole lot anyone can say about that sorry day that hasn't already been said and I'm not even gonna try to add anything here. But I did want to pay a moment of homage to all those souls who were, through no fault of their own, put in positions of absolute powerless-ness.
No one human being has the right to put another in that place.
It's just wrong.

I don't believe in the existence of "heaven" or similary, in the existence of "hell".
But karma is our reality. We, all of us, will reap whatever
we sow.

Outside the mainstream consciousness there remains a question as to who is responsible for the crimes of that
sorry day.
I'm not sure we'll ever know for sure and, all these years gone,
I'm not sure it matters. But whoever was responsible, knows that they are; and will, in this life or their next, be fated to
realize the reckoning.

musikeys

These are drawings I did a couple of years ago of two of my favorite local musicians and never really set free.

So here they are. . .

Michael McCloud & BassMan, Bubba LowNotes
Michael plays folksy soft stock most every afternoon at the 
Schooner Wharf Bar.

 

The Pianimal. . . Barry Cuda
Barry's a kick-ass honkey tonk pianist who I usually catch at 

B.O.'s FishWagon on Friday nights.

remembering labor day

Widely accepted as the brainchild of Peter J. McGuire, (general secretary of the Brotherhood of Carpenters and Joiners and a cofounder of the American Federation of Labor) Labor Day is "dedicated to the social and economic achievements of American workers."

The first ever Labor Day celebration was scheduled in New York City on the first Monday in September of 1882 but, for one reason or another, was held off for a day (probably called on account of rain) and so the parade and picnic were held instead on Tuesday, September 5, 1882.

Held as an annual "workingmen's holiday", by 1884 labor organizations in other cities joined the celebration.

The first governmental recognition of Labor Day came through local municipal ordinances passed during 1885 and 1886 and from them came a movement to secure state legislation. By 1894, 23 states had adopted the holiday in honor of workers.

In June of that year, in the aftermath of the deaths of a number of workers at the hands of the US. military and US. Marshals during the Pullman Strike, President Grover Cleveland made reconciliation with Labor a top
political priority.

Fearing further strikes and riots, legislation making Labor Day a national holiday was rushed through Congress and unanimously signed into law just six days after the
end of the strike.
Cleveland also signed a bill designating the first Monday in September as Labor Day while hoards of hungry unemployed were marching on Washington to demand relief.

But here in the Keys, the first Monday in September is notorious for only one event. . .
. . .The Labor Day hurricane of 1935.

On September 2, 1935 a category 5 storm made landfall in the upper keys at Islamorada bringing sustained winds of at least 160 mph and storm surge of 18 to 20 feet.

It would be the first of 3 category 5 storms to find their way to the United Sates in the 20th century (the other two being Camille in '69 and Andrew in '92)

Damage from the Labor Day Storm was estimated at $6 million (1935 dollars), it kicked the holy smoke out of Henry Flagler's Key West Extension of the Florida East Coast Railway and took 408 souls. Those, ironically enough, mostly World War I veterans who were "workingmen" along the rail line.

So to close out this post for Labor Day, I'll borrow a line from local songwriter Terry Cassidy's tune,
"Henry and his Railroad". . .
". . .This morning we'll remember what not to forget."

my hometown

I know I've said it before but, the time spent creating artwork, at least for me, is time spent in a sort of meditation.
(except you don't have to sit stone still).
The mind is free and clear to navigate the universe, (which is really the point) and discover new stuff about it and yourself to help make you a better person.

 "My Home Town", a digital illustration by Art Winstanley
(easily and affordably available if you care for a copy)
© 2012 Arthur A. Winstanley

Trust me when I tell you, while I drew this piece, "My Hometown", (for a T-shirt design - that is actually selling pretty well) it was a weeks long meditation.
My mind had the time-less-ness to explore the universe in places I would never have imagined. . .

I recently read Chris Matthews' latest book, "Jack Kennedy - Elusive Hero". It's a good and a quick read and
I recommend it.
It doesn't paint JFK as a hero (or a villain for that matter) just a frail human, like the rest of us. A charismatic and ruthless politician to be sure but just a man with foibles, a bad back problem and Addison's disease. (he was not a healthy man)
From Matthews' perspective, I liked Jack Kennedy.
(I was only 8 when he was elected and 11 when he was executed - so what the hell did I know then?) But as I thought about it later, I had a sense that he really did have the best in mind for all of us and, if he hadn't been shot, he likely wouldn't have lived out his second term (which he surely would have won).
All the same, I thought  (counting backwards on my fingers)
if JFK were alive today, he'd be 95 years old.

That thought got me on a roll. . .

If they were alive today, Bobby Kennedy (one of the two men who's lives I admire most in this life) would be 87.
Marilyn Monroe would be 86.
Jimmi Hendrix would be 70.
Janis Joplin would be 69.
And Ernest Hemingway (a local favorite - born, I'm pretty sure, in the same year as my own grandfather) would be 113 years old.
(Tempus Fugit, aye?)

As the weeks wore on, drawing an airplane, sailboat, palm trees and a pelican, then getting the damned turtle just right, my head went to more abstract thoughts. (that I won't get into right now)
But, and again I can only speak for myself, that's the beauty of the creative process.

You don't worry about the rent or the Keys Energy bill or the girlfriend you accidentally pissed off over dinner the night before last. Your mind is totally is free!

It's emotionally liberating and comforting, sometimes lucrative and, it's fun.
And that's why I keep doin' it.

toy store

No matter where you go, there you are.

great egret

I read somewhere that Great Egret, also known as White Heron, were discovered in the Keys by John James Audubon in the early 1800s while he was shooting all those species of birds so they'd sit still long enough for him to make his drawings.

Strange, I thought, that the National Audubon Society was founded, in part, to prevent the killing of birds. . .

. . .an interesting factoid

I somehow, very much by accident, learned that yesterday (July 30th) was the 47th anniversary of Medicare.

I thought, "that's cool. A government program that really does work to help people."
And maybe, if I live long enough, in another half dozen years I'll get some too.

But that's not the interesting part.
In the picture, LBJ is signing Medicare into law and at the table with him is former president Harry S. Truman.

The "interesting factoid" is that once LBJ had signed Medicare into law, he gave Truman the first ever
Medicare card.

I just thought that was cool.

sittin' pretty

Every once in a while, I get my head out of my day-to-day, smell the cornflowers, look around and remember where I'm sittin'.

dog bight

One of the ingredients necessary for living a laid back life in Key West is acceptance of it's quirky diversity.
 
Spend a few hours at Schooner Wharf Bar and you'd never know if the person on the stool beside you is a millionaire or a working stiff. Whether the guy at the juke box is a circuit judge or a sea captain or if that good looking girl, winking at you from across the bar, is really a female or a drag queen.

Just outside, the bight is an eclectic collection of historic sailing ships, luxury yachts, forty year old fishing boats and carolina skiffs. The yachts are guided to their overpriced slips by the Harbor Pilot but for the smaller boats, "Sparkie", the family dog will do.

"today's the day"

On this day (July 20) in 1985, diver and treasure hunter,
Mel Fisher found what he had been looking for for 16 years.

The Spanish galleon, Nuestra Senora de Atocha sank some 34 miles west-southwest off the coast of Key West during a hurricane in 1622.

On it's annual return sail from Havana, Cuba to Cadiz, Spain the Atocha went down in the storm along with 260 passengers and crew, more than 40 tons of silver and gold, 100,000 "pieces of eight" (Spanish coins), Columbian emeralds, silver and gold artifacts and over 1000 silver bars.
A combined treasure estimated at $450 million dollars.

Mel Fisher and his wife Deo

 That, after all those years of searching, "The Atocha Motherlode," is some of what Mel Fisher found. And still, it was only half of what went down with the Atocha.
The wealthiest part of the ship, the stern castle, still hasn't been found.
The ginormity of the Atocha's treasure was staggering and the Fisher crew named the site of the wreck, "The Bank of Spain".

Still, those rich rewards did not come without a price.
Those 16 years of diving excursions cost Mel over $20 million dollars and the life of his eldest son.
That had to hurt. (parents are not supposed to outlive their children).
Still, Mel Fisher soldiered on somehow, starting every day with his now famous rallying cry,
"Today's the Day!"

Then finally on July 20, 1985 Mel got the call from another of his sons on marine radio,  
"Dad, put away the charts. We've got the Mother Lode!"
Had Mel Fisher's dream come true and had he just become a very wealthy man?

Not so much. . .

Just after the Atocha find, the governments of the United States and State of Florida laid claim to the wreck (the pricks) and it was looking like the treasure Mel and his family had hoped and dreamed and worked so hard to find would never be theirs.
And so began another 8 years and $4 million in legal battles until the U.S. Supreme Court, in a landmark decision, finally granted Mel and his family complete ownership of the Atocha wreck and its treasures.

Mel Fisher became known as the "World's Greatest 
Treasure Hunter."

Mel Fisher (Aug. 21, 1922 – Dec. 19, 1998)

Mel Fisher had a dream that took him damned near 25 years to realize.
Somehow we've got to admire his perseverance and optimism.

We all have dreams.
Sometimes they're cloudy, sometimes they're crystal clear.
Sometimes they seem just within reach and sometimes they seem hopeless.

The thing to do is take a page from Mel Fisher's book.
Keep an eye on the prize, soldier on and wake up every morning thinking, "Today's the Day".

thought for food

 Before I get into todays rant, a shout out for good friend, soul brother and saxophonist extrodinairé, Marty Stonely who was hit by a car while walking a dog last week.

By all reports he's suffered a concussion but other than that (as if that isn't enough) he's got no broken bones and will recover nicely.

My prayers are out there for you my friend.

Thought for Food. . .

Some people live to eat, I eat to live.

For the most part, I keep a pretty short leash on my diet.
It's not and never has been a weight thing, I've been 160 lbs. since I was in high school.
(back when we wrote on stone tablets)

It's just that I've learned, over the years, more about nutrition and, more personally, what this mortal coil will enjoy and digest without any grief.

For example, I limit myself to only two cups of coffee in the morning (which, if you knew me when I was younger, it would be an "are you kidding, no way!!")

I make one hell of a green smoothie from
blueberries, bananas and spinach and a vegetable stew that, I've heard from friends I've shared it with, is to die for.
(yeah, I cook - sue me)
 There's not a lot of meat in my diet but for fish, usually Grouper or Snapper, I eat a garden salad every day and I do love my oatmeal.

I know not to eat greasy stuff (I learned that one the hard way a lot of years ago).
And like I said, it's never been about weight, it's all about feelin' alright.

I do the best I can but I'm the first to admit, that as good as I try to keep at it, I ain't no saint.

Every few months I'll stray from the nutritional path, and go over to Willie T's for a bacon cheeseburger.

  A couple of years ago I got on a kick for Cheetos.  . .

Last year it was Pepperige Farm cookies. . .

 . . .and just recently it was the all time favorite breakfast cereal of my childhood, CocoaPuffs.

 In every instance my body says, "what the hell is wrong with you man?"
Then, after the immediate gratification, there are several days of intestinal grief.

You'd think I'd know better by now.