Shrek, The Musical

     Let's start with Jonesville. If you like small-town America, you'll love Jonesville. The shady park boasts a civil war statue. Flower baskets line the main street. Everyone knows everyone. After all, there are only 2,500 'everyone's' to know. Kids fish in the river that runs through town and buy ice cream at the Udder Delight drive-in when the sun goes down.

Downtown Jonesville, Michigan.

Shrek, himself waits to welcome theater goers beside, and under, baskets of flowers.

 This is the bucolic setting for the Michigan premiere of Shrek the Musical, the largest production ever put on by Hillsdale Community Theater.  After several successful years on Broadway, Dreamworks is sending Shrek out onto the community theater circuit... and my baby daughter, Britta, stars as Fiona, the beautiful princess.

No photography was allowed in the theater, but I coaxed the princess to to pose outside the stage door.

      I can only say the performance was wonderful. You'll have to believe me because no one was allowed to tape it legally. The theater was filled to capacity.

A large crowd waited outside after the performance to greet the actors. It was very touching.

Of course, we all wanted everyone to know that 'Fiona' was our little girl.

Bill, Kali and Sam meet the star.

If Britta is a Princess, then Linda must be a queen. We knew that.

   The Talking Donkey, Shrek, and, of course, Britta were all well-cast.                                               Proud family.

Toledo Museum of Art

     We flew to Lansing last week to visit with Kali and Britta and families. Among the highlights of the trip was a visit to the Toledo Museum of Art.

 

Toledo Museum of Art is part of an impressive campus and is free and open to the public. Kali and Bill and family are members.

The collection is housed in a series of rooms, some of which are re-creations of famous rooms from around the world.

Josh is doing his imitation of the leaning tower of Pisa in a courtyard re-creation.

The museum's Peristyle theater is a show-stopper.  Styling is reminiscent of theaters of ancient Greece.

I think Sam liked the Egyptian section the best. There were mummy cases and several hand's-on activities for kids.

After we left the museum we went to a very cool Mexican restaurant right on the waterfront. While waiting for the food I set a modest challenge for myself. To shoot candid portraits of each child. I restricted myself to one fixed-focal-length lens.  I also had to shoot from my seat at the table. Each photo had to be different in some way and express something unique about that person.

Of course, as a part of the challenge, I had to get a shot of dad and mom, too.

Impressive Art Education

     Even though I am not a professional educator, I know the signs of good teaching. Students flourish under a good teacher. They are proud of their efforts. They want to keep them and explain them. This is especially true with art education. There are many borderline competent teachers in this field. It is one thing to be an artist or to understand art... and a far different thing to be able to teach art, especially to kids. The Sawaya kids attending Fort Meigs Elementary are fortunate to have such a teacher. It's so easy to throw down paper and paint and let them rip, with little framework for success. Then watch as they throw their 'artwork' away, moments later. Nothing invested, nothing gained. (See my recent 'shop time' posting.)  I could write a paragraph for each of these photo series. There's a lot to say about any artwork. I'll try to be brief.

First of all, SAM. 1. 'Angry Monkey' Art from a crushed aluminum pop can. There's a lot to like here. Make something 'good' out of something 'bad.' See potential. Have fun. Use multiple techniques (paint with brush, drizzle) Learn to 'present' your work, framing. Small, simple lessons from a piece of consumer waste. 2. Pumpkins. Show volume with pastels. Repeated shapes make for a pattern. Very impressive. 3. Golden monkey skull. Think Indiana Jones. Gold foil worked in three dimensions with color tinting. Add jewels for eyes. Invent an 'African-look' border. Wow! When Sam 'monkeys around' with art, look out!   

Two more from SAM. Actually, one from Vincent, two from Sam. Show kids famous art. Talk about why it made an impact, what made it different. Teach them the technique. Turn them loose. Sam's bold strokes on his olive trees and sun reflect the heart of impressionism. Will a fifth grader ever really comprehend impressionism? Probably not, but you've got to start somewhere. Finally, learn about - and from - other cultures, with Asian styling, based on classical Chinese and Japanese forms. It's a two-for-one. Learn about culture, learn about art.

Next BEN. Little Ben. What kindergartener isn't going to love a painting named: 'Monsters don't eat broccoli?' Brilliant combinations of cutting, pasting, painting and stamping show 'instruction following' in different areas. They also develop different small-motor skills. The monster's eruption through the borders of the composition adds a certain graphic violence and show just how strongly monsters can feel about the healthy green vegetable.  2. A plethora of colorful flowers explodes on paper as on your senses. 3. Preparing perfect penguins requires the prerequisite of patience.  Things have to be cut and pasted in the right order or perfect penguins, perhaps, won't prevail. You've got to love a matching scarf and earmuffs.

Finally JOSH. Many of the same ideas apply to these pieces. Subject matter that involves kids makes for a successful experience. Tropical fish, castles and a valentine. What's not to like?

Upper St. Croix Explorations

      I suppose everybody knows by now that I love the upper St. Croix River valley. I have taken well over a hundred youth there to backpack, hike, camp, and canoe over the last twenty-five years. I have my favorite spots... certain islands, campsites and trails that I return to over and over. No one will be surprised to learn, then, that when Bill and Scott Keig invited me on a raft trip in areas further north than I was familiar with, I was falling all over myself to get my gear together.  

Sundown at Norway Point, our campsite at the end of day one.

     This weekend's trip took us through about thirty miles of river and included about sixteen miles I had never seen. There is no way to describe the pleasure I get from these trips.
 

You can call me 'Indy' for short. I don't like snakes all that much, either.

     We had a long-deserved break in the rainy spring weather and enjoyed nearly two complete days with sun. Because of all the rain, river levels were high, and paddling was a dream.

Bill and Scott on Saturday morning. The river was like glass.

     I brought along my GPS unit this time. It was quite useful to tell us our progress and whether we could just drift for awhile or if we needed to paddle.

Between the river running and the driving we saw eagles, otters, deer, foxes, raccoons, a porcupine, and a couple of the most perfect V-formations of Canada Geese I' have ever seen.

White water, blue sky.

     I'm so grateful for such far-sited legislation as the Wild and Scenic Rivers Act that preserves wild places such as the St. Croix valley. I always come back from these adventures refreshed and optimistic.

Recent Jeffers Projects

     I have been working with the Jeffers Foundation for over seven years and have spent the last several years on their Board of Directors. My assignments take me all over the state to view projects that we support. May was a busy month, so here are a few photos of projects that I was involved with. 

Counting bird species on a rainy morning at the McColl Pond Environmental Learning Center. Jeffers Foundation provided $500,000 toward the establishment of the Center.

School garden at Seward Montessori. My cameras are often a hit with students who often want to see what I see. Most often asked question: "Will I be on TV" My most common response: "Even better, you'll be on the internet."

These boys found the E3 'Mule deer' target by using math and compass bearings only. They were very proud of their accomplishment and wanted me to take their picture.

Young environmental scientists testing water quality at McColl Pond in Savage, MN.

Clara Barton School students start a garden on a barren piece of trampled ground that was once grass. They have already arranged for the restaurant across the street to buy the herbs and other produce.

'Pie Chart Garden' shows the results of a survey of the student body's favorite flowers.  A perfect blend of academic learning and real-world, hands-on application using math to calculate areas, number of plants required, cost, etc. Brooklyn Park.

We have a presence at many health and environmental expos. Left: A girl returns my zip-line trolley at Wild Wings Youth Expo. Our booth is in the tent.

Right: The Dadster at Phalen Water Fest last week. We pass out free ring-fliers with the FamiliesOutdoors.org logo.

Bobberman!

     I bought an inflatable kayak a few months ago. It's a part of my exercise regimen - at least that's what I tell myself. Riding a bike gives my legs a good workout, but my upper body needs serious help. If I can paddle enough, I'm thinkin' I'll look like one of those cartoon superheros, with bulging muscles, both top and bottom. 
     The kayak to perform my transformation is a SeaEagle FastTrack 385. I would have felt better if it had a higher number like 'FastTrack 1000', but for some unknown reason, the FastTrack line only goes up to FastTrack 485. It rolls up into a duffel bag and I can keep it in my trunk. I can take it out on a moments notice, and in ten minutes, I'm on the water. I believe it could even be assembled in a phone booth.

The Bobbermobile heads out on a new bobber rescue mission.

     Medicine Lake and French Regional Park are only a few blocks from our house. The backwater area of the lake is a wonderful maze of ponds and channels, perfect for canoes and kayaks. My scout troop used to clean up the area every spring. We'd pull out piles of bottles, Styrofoam bait cups, plastic bags and other litter that blew into the area. The backwater seemed like a good place to get some exercise on a spring evening a couple weeks ago.  
     As I paddled around I started finding orphaned fishing bobbers that had floated into the cattails. Many still had fishing line with hooks attached. Some of the bobbers showed signs of having been pecked at by the many shore birds that live here. I determined I would remove some of these as a public service. Soon, I had a couple dozen bobbers and a small pile of trash on the floor. 
     As I passed under one of the bridges, I noticed an Asian boy fishing. He reminded me of one of my Lao scouts from a few years ago. I caught him glancing at my growing bobber collection. I shouted up, "Do you want some bobbers?" He said "Yeah, thanks man. That'd be great!" I gave him about a dozen bobbers. 

Bobber bounty.

     As I paddled on, another fisherman on the bank looked at me and silently pointed at a clutch of cattails in the middle of the channel. Three more bobbers. I paddled a little further, found a few more, and delivered to the second fisher-guy another half-dozen bobbers.  You get the picture. By the end of the night, and about thirty bobbers later, the Legend of Bobberman! was born. (I prefer the use of an exclamation point to follow 'Bobberman!')

French park backwater. A mom teaching her four kids to fish. I gave her six recovered bobbers and a lure for her efforts.

     So I've been kinda' watching the papers to see if there is any mention of 'Mysterious man in kayak recovers bobbers... then disappears.' Nothing so far... if you see anything, let me know. 
     So, anyway, I've been watching my biceps in the mirror. I think they're getting a little bigger... and I'm trying to figure out what kind of capital 'B' would look good on a size 50 chest.

Team Ride

So, I get this e-mail from my bike shop.  It says: ''Group rides for all skill levels. Meet new people - get the healthy benefits of bike riding.' I already know enough new people, but the 'healthy benefits of bike riding' sounds good. 

Further research reveals the rides are grouped in four categories:

‘Relaxed’ – 10-12 mph. 

‘Fitness’ – 14-16 mph. 

‘Road’ 18+ mph 

and... ‘Challenge’ 20+ mph. 

Obviously, ‘Relaxed’ is for wimps. I optimistically sign up for ‘Fitness.’ 

I show up on the requisite Tuesday night. About a dozen men and one woman in their thirties and forties mill around outside the bike shop with their uber-expensive bikes. Most are quite lean and trim, and have no need for a ‘fitness’ ride. Three of us, however, carry noticeable pot-bellies and are clearly qualified.

Tip #1 If several of the riders in your group are wearing identical spandex team jerseys and shorts you might question if this is the ride for you.

Tip #2 If the other riders have bikes that cost more than your car, you may be on the wrong ride.

Tip #3 If you have flat handlebars and everyone else has drop-bars, maybe you're a 'relaxed.'

         $8,000 Trek Madone. A clear warning sign.                                                                 Our only rest stop. Not a McDonalds in sight.

So we take off, following a staffer from the bike shop. Bam! 16 mph right out of the gate, but I'm cool. I decide not to mention I ran in a triathlon two weeks ago. I don't want to embarrass anyone. We ride on the road, ignoring perfectly good bike trails off to the side. At about two miles, Potbelly #2 and Potbelly #3 are lagging pretty badly. The staff leader says to a couple of the racing-team guys. "You know the way, I'm going back to check on these guys." Until this point we had been riding a pretty steady 16 mph. Now, with a license to kill, the new leaders suddenly kicked it up to nearly twenty miles per hour. What's worse, they had the audacity to keep chatting between themselves. At about five miles, through increasingly blurry vision, I saw a McDonald's ahead. "Great." I thought. "They're going to stop there and wait for the leader and PB 2 and 3 to catch up." I stopped thinking bad things about them and started imaging what I would order.     

20+ mph - Drafting the big guys. The leading edge of our peloton. This was where I wanted to be.

I don’t think I have ever passed a McDonalds at 20 mph on a bike before. It feels kinda good. You hope maybe some fat person inside is watching. But as you pass and get that great French-fry smell, and realize that you are not stopping - depression sets in.

I’m still hanging with the big guys, but oxygen deprivation is taking it’s toll. I seriously think of dropping out. My mind deliriously thinks of plausible excuses. As we head out through Medina I imagine shouting out, "Hey guys, I'm pretty close to my house. I think my family is planning my sixty-sixth and a half birthday party and I need to be there." This seemed pretty clever to me at the time. This way, I let them know how old I am and that my family loves me.  Unfortunately, I realize, I can't speak. 

Then, suddenly... miraculously... at about twelve miles... we stop.

There is no food or water around. I am so exhausted that when one of the riders asks me a simple question, I realize I can only come up with a one-word answer. I think it was "yup." This feels like 19,000 feet on Kilimanjaro all over again. Total exhaustion - and no air to breathe. Mercifully, my heart returns to it's normal rhythm.

Finally, our leader rolls up with PB 2 trailing a couple blocks behind. Apparently, PB 3 has died. No one says anything. The moment PB 2 rolls up, we take off again. Soon, we are out on roads that I never knew existed. I'm still riding 20 and the leaders slip further and further ahead. Farms and forests roll past and I give up on holding with the big guys. I slip back. I don't care anymore. They probably won't come to my funeral anyway. I drop all the way to the back. Only PB 2 is behind me. I decide to skip saying anything about triathlons. Ever.

Peloton B. I guess it's where I belong

We ride through old downtown Hamel. A group standing outside a bar jeers at us as we roll by. Slowly, the evening starts to cool. The sun hits the horizon. The slight chill invigorates me. I pass a couple riders at around the seventeen mile mark. I’m riding hard. I start passing everyone in the second group. Then, I’m alone between the groups. I’m in top gear and riding like the wind. By about twenty miles I see the leaders. By twenty two miles I’m back at the tail of the lead peloton. I can’t believe it. Is this me?  We roll into the parking lot back at the bike shop at about twenty four miles. I look down at my cyclometer. My average speed has been over sixteen mph for the trip. This is a new record for me. The matching jersey guys come over and give me knuckle bumps. "Great ride" they say. "Yup" I say, unable to assemble a complete sentence. I may not be able to speak, but I know how I feel, and it feels good.