Small Pond Graphics

June 15, 2009 inspire, on social justice

Tardy Flag Day

Yesterday I intended to celebrate Flag Day by sharing some great old poster images I found at the virtual Library of Congress, each bearing images of the stars and stripes. But, I was behind, as is so often the case, and I wanted to get another post off my chest. In light of that MIPOTW post, however, I thought these images were still appropo. Most are from war eras back when patriotism was cool, and you know how I love the old illustration styles. (Details are at the end.)

I’m reminded of a quote from the fictional president, Andrew Shepherd in Aaron Sorkin’s 1995 movie, The American President:

“America isn’t easy. America is advanced citizenship. You gotta want it bad, ’cause it’s gonna put up a fight. It’s gonna say “You want free speech? Let’s see you acknowledge a man whose words make your blood boil, who’s standing center stage and advocating at the top of his lungs that which you would spend a lifetime opposing at the top of yours. You want to claim this land as the land of the free? Then the symbol of your country can’t just be a flag; the symbol also has to be one of its citizens exercising his right to burn that flag in protest. Show me that, defend that, celebrate that in your classrooms. Then, you can stand up and sing about the ‘land of the free’.”

Yep, America isn’t easy. That’s for sure. Our ten core enumerated rights mean that dissenting speech, even hate speech often has a place on the podium alongside everyone else. This whole shebang was founded on the principle that everyone doesn’t have to believe the same thing. In fact, long before 1776 the continent was invaded by Europeans willing to stake their life on that principle–at least the principle that MY way of thinking has the right to exist. It’s always easy to demand the right to my own way of life. The inevitable fruit of that freedom, however, is differing opinions, each vehemently promoting action.

It was interesting to me to note that last Friday was the anniversary of the 1967 Loving vs. Virginia U.S. Supreme Court decision upholding the right to interracial marriage–6 years AFTER our President was born into one such marriage. It’s an issue the vast majority of Americans now see as obsolete, even ridiculous. Sadly, Wednesday’s Holocaust Memorial shooter probably didn’t agree. America isn’t easy. For those coming late to the party, speech has power. It inspires laws and defiance of laws. It motivates action (at times horrifying) and thus bears a responsibility, making it all the more important for me to step to the mic. If I’m to wave the flag, I want to take full advantage of it–not while away the voice I have the privilege of raising.

The images:
1. “Our Flags Beat Germany” showing U.S. and Allied flags, 1918
Adolf Treidler, artist

2. “Teamwork Wins”, 1917
Hibberd V. B. Kline, artist

3. “Elmhurst Flag Day,” 1939
WPA Federal Art Project
Library of Congress Works Progress Administration Poster Collection

4. “140th Flag Day”, 1917

5. WAC poster, 1943
Bradshaw Crandall, artist

6. “Forward America!”, 1917
Carroll Kelly, artist

7. “The Spirit of America” Red Cross poster, 1919
Howard Chandler Christy, artist

8. “Fight or Buy Bonds”, 1917
Howard Chandler Christy, artist

June 12, 2009 oh happy day!

Oh Happy Day! Studies Show:

Happy Friday, everyone! Naturally, when I think of Friday, the phrase “Oh Happy Day” comes to mind–what with the end of the work week and the anticipation of weekend fun. This post is starting to be a habit.

Check out one more example of happiness from my vintage collection up there. This 2-pager is a 1959 Parker Pen ad illustrated by Norman Rockwell. I love how many of the old ads tell a story. I suppose folks were much more likely to read than we are today. I keep telling my clients to cut out words. Then, I see these delightful versions and long for generations further up the alphabet than “X.” Yes, this is a Christmas ad, but I couldn’t resist the protrait of happiness sharing in light of something I read this week.

Happy Friday, again. And, now there’s actual scientific evidence that I’m spreading happiness when I say that. This week I read about a study on happiness released in December 2008 by the Harvard Medical School and the University of California, San Diego. It confirmed what we all experience. Happiness spreads. The press release about the study called happiness an “emotional contagion.” Cool scoops.

In examining a boat-load of details about the lives of close to 5000 people over a 20 year period, the study determined that feelings of happiness spread over a person’s social network up to 3 degrees of separation, and the happiness increase could be felt for up to a year’s time. That means my happiness can infect my friends, my friends’ friends and my friends’ friends’ friends. Triple cool scoop with whipped cream and a cherry! For the math junkies, those 3 degress are half of the 6 degrees of separation we are said to have with EVERY human being! [The study also showed that sadness doesn’t have nearly the same viral power, BTW.] Want to influence half the people on the planet? Start letting your happiness be known. If you’re happy and you know it, clap your hands, stomp your feet, and of course, your face will surely show it. You get the idea.

Attention 3 degrees, here are five things that have increased my happiness germ load this week.

1. Lack of sickie germ load in the Montgomery household
2. Hearing that Little Drummer Boy behaved so well at preschool that he got to pick something from the Treasure Box–and it was Dinoco spokescar “Mr. The King,” racecar extraordinaire. Koo-chow!
3. Brilliant red bromeliad on my dining table
4. Reading about color theory for some articles I’m writing
5. Glorious design/style blogs I’m becoming addicted to [stay tuned for next week’s Ten Tues Tickles]

What say we get this pandemic rolling? If you’re happy and you know it, click the comment button and let the Junksters know 5 reasons why. C’mon now, consider yourself infected.

June 11, 2009 mother's heart

tiny messages . Harmony and the Art of Brushing Teeth

The other day while I was making myself presentable to the outside world, I was privy to a little accidental dose of two-part harmony. Hub was in the bathroom brushing Bug’s teeth–an experience always ripe for chuckles. Bug is the kind of guy who picks up his honey mustard condiment cup to drink it. I kid you not. He wants catsup on his plate so he can attempt to pick it up with his fork and eat it sans french fries, despite numerous attempts to offer a better solution. Pancakes translates as syrup and syrup with a side of bacon to Bug. I’m sure you’re getting the pattern here. He tends to have his own ideas about how things ought to be done. I wonder where he got that?

harmony_postmark

So, here’s how the two-part harmony normally plays out: a grown-up “aaah” paired with a Bug-sized “aaah” when we’re brushing the back teeth, and a grown-up “eeee” paired with a Bug-size when taking care of the front. Oddly enough, they’re almost always in near harmonious pitch. In this rendition, however, Daddy’s “aaah” was met with Bug’s much louder “eeee.” And vice versa. Several times. Bug was having way too much fun making his own sound to hear Daddy’s instructions.

Don’t you hate it when that happens? Sometimes I’m just too busy making my own melody to hear the right note. Hub and I have noticed an increased harmony in our hearts and lives recently because we are finally getting on the same page with God in a few areas. Home responsibilities, work schedules, parenting styles, church commitments, family time–we’re finally letting go of the “eeee” to embrace the “aaah” first. Don’t get me wrong. It’s not a huge overhaul, just a few little things (and mindsets) to start with that are making a big difference. It’s a good feeling.

Sometimes, like Bug, we want to do what God wants. We’re on board with brushing our teeth. It’s just a matter of who’s doing the brushing. We want to call the shots. So, maybe our intentions and desires are correct, but we need to yield to the one with the brush to achieve harmony and get there. I find when I surrender the act of calling the shots, when I go with God for the “aaah” first, the “eeee” usually falls into place as I’d hoped. Maybe it’s not the path I would have taken, but the destination is the same and the ride was full of a lot more laughter and contentment… and harmony.

Well, they got the job done. When Hub finally got his attention, Bug was happy to join Daddy in the “aaah,” and impromptu two-part harmony was restored. Music to my ears. I got up from my seat with makeup fixed and this:

Harmony has a source and an order. I can’t achieve it until I go to the source and submit to the proper heart hygiene.

Tiny messages God continues to include with our gifts — 2 little joys of boys and 1 little jewel of a girl, each with open eyes, open ears, open hearts, and much to teach. “Behold children are a gift of the Lord…” (psalm 127:1)

June 4, 2009 mother's heart

Colors Upstairs

line_portrait

Sometimes at night when I’m tucking in Squiggle I like to tell him things I like about him, things I’m proud of him for doing. I do that with Little Drummer Boy, too, but Squiggle seems to need it more sometimes. I don’t know if it’s because he has been slower to use verbal skills and more prone to losing control of his little emotions, or if it’s simply because he has a brother who so easily (and rampantly) uses verbal skills and can just do more because he’s older. But, Squiggle sometimes seems wanting for affirmation. He has a sensitive and pondering spirit (when he’s not squealing) that tells me there is always a lot going on internally.

Through the parenting stages of teaching early boundaries, it’s easy to get caught up in discipline and correction. So, I sometimes use those tender bedtime moments to confirm his steps toward kindness and obedience, to acknowledge the new lessons and skills he’s learning and to encourage the blossoming of his lively spirit. At least that’s what I tell myself. I think sometimes I just don’t want the seemingly constant threat of a spanking to be what he thinks about as he drifts off to sleep.

I usually start with, “Mommy is so proud of you. You did a good job tonight of….” At that point, Squiggle invariably says, “colors upstairs.” It’s an odd reference, I know. First, it took me a while even to understand what he was saying. Then, it took a while to understand what he meant. We have lots of colors, but we don’t have an upstairs–unless you consider the 5 or 6 steps you go down to Daddy’s office, the laundry room and the back door to be the downstairs.

After a few repeated “colors upstairs,” I finally got it. At our preschool, Squiggle’s room is downstairs and Little Drummer Boy’s room is upstairs. Squiggle has walked the steps with me a few times to get LDB. On the wall above the steps is a cut-out “WELCOME” taped to the wall, and every letter is a different color. Each time he’s gone upstairs, Squiggle has proudly named each color in order as he’s climbed each step. And, I’m sure one of us exclaimed at what a good job he did.

It may be memorable to him because of the fact that he accomplished naming the colors while navigating the steps or because Mommy or Daddy made a big deal about it. Regardless, something about that experience stuck in his mind as a great accomplishment. So, when I start to enumerate the ways in which I’m proud of Squiggle, his interjection of the “colors upstairs” example serves to affirm something in his little spirit.

I’m continually amazed by the moments–seemingly mundane and insignificant–that stand out as important, even treasured in a child’s mind. And, it gives me pause to consider how such a routine, half-forgotten word of praise can have such long-lasting impact. My husband lost his father in an accident when he was just 6 years old. I could barely listen during the times he’s recounted the very few memories he has of his dad–brief flashes, a slight touch, a fleeting feeling–and how precious they are to him. I’m sure he thinks of them sometimes just to make sure he can still remember.

I don’t want my boys and Baby Girl to have to think hard as time marches on. If I’m blessed with a lifetime with each of them, I want to give an abundance of remembered praises and proud moments and congratulations for simple things like a “lellow” W. All too often, it’s easy to forget that secure, confident, hopeful children grow into secure, confident, hopeful grown-ups who can give the gifts of security, confidence and hope to others. Thus, the moment that begins on a walk upstairs next to colorful letters cut out of cardstock extends for generations.

May 26, 2009 poetry

poetry . Sympathy

This poem, one of my favorites, was written in 1893 by Paul Laurence Dunbar. It came to mind today.

I know what the caged bird feels, alas!
When the sun is bright in the upland slopes;
When the wind stirs soft through the springing grass
And the river flows like a stream of glass;
When the first bird sings and the first bud opes,
And the faint perfume from its chalice steals–
I know what the caged bird feels!

I know why the caged bird beats his wing
Till its blood is red on the cruel bars;
For he must fly back to his perch and cling
When he fain would be on the bough a-swing;
And a pain still throbs in the old, old scars
And they pulse again with a keener sting–

I know why he beats his wing!
I know why the caged bird sings, ah me,
When his wing is bruised and his bosom sore,–
When he beats his bars and he would be free;
It is not a carol of joy or glee,
But a prayer that he sends from his heart’s deep core,
But a plea, that upward to Heaven he flings–
I know why the caged bird sings!

By way of recommendation, “Sympathy” is included in an excellent book edited by Carolyn Kennedy called A Patriot’s Handbook. I read it to remember the truths we hold.