I am off on a travel adventure. I will post here, on twitter and FB. I will also be periscoping so if you have periscope find me at @thenpakindad and follow me, ok? Then try and figure out where I am, ok?
Remember, the first step in having an adventure is buying the ticket. Without investing, deciding, there won’t be any adventure. Second step? Get on the train! or the boat, or plane, or sled or whatever. Take the step, take the ride!
While I was drawing this yesterday and today (I started a napkin using this quote yesterday but didn’t like it so I started over this morning) I was thinking that the person waving realized the person walking away wanted and needed to go somewhere on their own and was letting them. But just now I saw it the other way as well. The person leaving is doing so because they know the person waving needs to be left alone.
My Marriage
My first marriage lasted 20 years. There was a moment when I realized I had to give up and let her go. It was after I had been doing some pleading for us to stay together. I had told her that I knew we liked a lot of the same things, wanted to same lifestyle, etc. She then said, “Yes we do. It’s not that I don’t want those things. I just don’t want them with you.” Man, talk about harsh. That was tough. But it was then that I realized that while there might be some way to get her to stay, the truth was she was terribly unhappy and would continue to be unhappy if she stayed married to me. From then on out I didn’t argue for her to stay. Eventually I reached a point where I was able to do what the person waving in the drawing above was able to do – I was able to let her go and hope that she would be happy alone, away from me. It wasn’t a clean and easy process, but I did get there, as did she.
Both Ways
It works both ways, doesn’t it. You can need to be alone, to go, and hope others realize it and allow it graciously, or you can be witnessing someone else having to be alone and play your part as best you can to allow that.
By the way, I am now live video broadcasting the drawing of my napkins on the Periscope app every morning that I draw. I hope you will join me! You can find me at @thenapkindad
As some of you know, I have been heavy into a new app called Periscope. It’s live video with chat interaction. One of the first people I followed was Sara Haines, the weekend Pop News Reporter on Good Morning America.
One of her early broadcasts outside of the studio was a thoughtful reflection on how she works constantly to not be judgmental of celebrities she covers, especially ones like Kim Kardashian, who engender such hatred from so many. I did a blog post based on that for my Shame series. Here is the link to that. – ‘Sara Haines, Kim Kardashian and the Power of Empathy‘
Sara as Kim
A few weeks later Sara did a segment on GMA where she actually made up, haired up and dressed up to look as close to Kim Kardashian as she could. She did a periscope during the transformation and asked someone to take a screen shot. I took a few and sent them to her via twitter. Here they are.
Sara Haines in Kim Kardashian style makeup
Sara Haines in Kim Kardashian style clothing and shoes
In the meanwhile this is what she usually looks like on camera, not at all like the pics above.
Sara Haines as herself
Deeper
The interesting part of this story isn’t about her physical transformation into a KK type look. That was fun to see but it became interesting and insightful the next day when she went for a power walk and talked about what happened when she dressed up that way. She took the walk while it was raining. She had on no makeup at all, the exact opposite of the day before. Here is a very small and blurry screen shot I got during that walk. My apologies to you, Sara, that it isn’t better.
Better Than
Here is what I heard her say she discovered. First, many complimented her, saying she looked better than Kim. The compliments were appreciated but they also started her thinking about why they were being given in that way. Why didn’t they simply say “You look great in that style.” if that is what they thought. Why did they feel it necessary to say she looked better than Kim? Was it that they felt Sara needed to know she won a competition? Was that what it was about? While she was saying this I thought about the ‘who wore it better’ segments I used to see on Fashion Police (before I stopped watching it due to it being negative, gossipy and hurtful). It wasn’t enough to just give the compliment. Sara had to be propped up above the competition. In Sara’s mind that wasn’t true and it was a side to the experience she didn’t really like. It made her sad to think people had that need to compare and judge and that they felt Sara needed it.
Cutting Down
An even more disturbing discovery was how many didn’t just stop with the compliment of how she looked better than Kim. They went on to rant about Kim, cutting her down for her lack of talent, her exploitation of her body, her media overexposure, her big butt, her husband, her lifestyle, her TV show, her this her that…on and on and on.
This made Sara sad as well. It made her sad that so many of the people she came across, including friends, co-workers and family, spent so much time hating someone they didn’t even know. She said some of them seemed to be way too happy hating Kim. And then she said this to the camera, “Don’t love hating people.” and I had my quote for my next napkin.
Getting Smaller, Not Taller
It comes down to something we all started experiencing and doing as children, that is the cutting down of someone so you feel higher. It’s an immature and insecure reaction to life, to other’s success, to other’s looks or lifestyle or preferences, etc. And we all have moments where we do it or are tempted to do it. But when we are tempted remember what it really is we are doing. It’s the equivalent of cutting off someone’s legs so you can be taller than they are. You aren’t really any taller. All you have done is hurt someone else so you can grab hold of an illusion of tallness.
But really only one thing grows when we do that, and that’s hate. And when you fall in love with hating people, judging people, you become smaller. Much smaller.
Getting Taller, Not Smaller
So, if you feel you suffer from this, here is an exercise. Take a celebrity you hate and say five positive things about them. Now evaluate what happened. Did that celebrity suddenly feel empowered to do something bad? Did they feel justified about something? No, they didn’t. Why? Because they didn’t hear you. Only you heard you. Now do that same thing of saying something positive about that celebrity you hate in front of someone else. Was the celebrity affected? No, they weren’t. Just you and your friend. And how were you affected? You said something kind or nice or insightful instead of ugly and mean and gossipy. You aren’t approving of them or their lifestyle, you are simply choosing to find something kind and positive, just as you would if the person was a close friend of yours.
Once upon a time there was a very tall woman named Galindra. Most of her height was due to her very, very big head. Without her head she would be three feet tall. But her head was six feet tall all by itself so she ended up being 9 feet tall. Luckily she also had very, very long and skinny arms that allowed her to reach the top of her head. This was important when it came to grooming habits.
Chapter Two
One day Galindra went to an art gallery. She was going on a blind date and they decided to meet there. It was a hot summer day and she wore her favorite yellow shorts and her tight blue top. She wore flesh-colored flats that made her look like she was barefoot. She straightened her hair (it took an hour) and put on her summer makeup, including trying false eyelashes for the very first time.
Chapter Three
Galindra was there first. She walked around the gallery enjoying the paintings. They were of men doing various activities that involved holding things that looked very phallic to her. In addition there were part of things coming in from the edge of the paintings that were also quite phallic, like elephant trunks, baseball bats and long skinny party balloons. She thought these were very funny and interesting. She became engrossed in trying to figure out the meaning behind each of the paintings.
Chapter Four
As time passed she realized she was being stood up. The blind date had not shown up. This made her very angry and she expressed her frustration right in the middle of the gallery. She had been stood up many times over the years. She knew it was because of her big head. It made her so mad because she really was a smart, funny, kind and attractive woman but no one ever gave her a chance to show it because all they saw was her head.
Chapter Five
When she finished her little demonstration of anger and frustration she noticed someone had come into the room. He walked over to her and asked if she was ok. She said yes, that she had just been stood up and was venting. The man said, “I am sorry you were stood up, that was very rude of the person.” Galindra thanked him and asked him his name as she put her hand out to shake his. He said, “My name is Art. This is my exhibition actually.”
Chapter Six
Galindra shook his hand and said, “Oh My God, I want to ask you so many questions! Would you mind?” Art responded, “No, I would love to answer your questions.” Galindra and Art walked around the gallery talking about the paintings for the next 2 hours until Galindra said she had to go get something to eat because she was starting to feel faint. Art asked if she would like to go to lunch with him and she said yes.
Chapter Seven
Galindra and Art became very good friends. Art eventually got up enough nerve to ask her if she would model for him. He ended up doing a series of 12 paintings of her in all sorts of situations, from nude to being dressed up like an astronaut. He mounted an exhibition of the paintings and the show became his most popular ever. The paintings were featured in Art News and Art Forum magazines. The CBS TV show, Sunday Morning did a long segment on the two of them with their favorite interviewer, Mo Roca, doing the interview.
Epilogue
Galindra and Art got married 2 years later. They had seven children, all of whom had big heads and long arms. They eventually had 27 grandchildren and 4 great-grandchildren . They had an apartment in Manhattan, a summer house on Cape Cod and winter home in the Swiss alps. Galindra lived to be 88 years old and Art lived to be 92.
The man who stood Galindra up at the gallery was hit by a truck the next day and died.
Here is the fifth in the series. This was originally broadcast live on Periscope.
In this segment I finish shading and highlighting the drawing. It is 6:20 long.
Periscope is available on iOS and Android as an app for live video with chat interaction. It’s very cool. You can find me on it as @thenapkindad. I broadcast daily.
Ok, she wasn’t actually sitting on the phone. Well, ok maybe she was sitting on A phone, I don’t really know. But she wasn’t sitting on the phone she was talking on. She was talking on that phone. It would be weird if she had another phone with her that she was sitting on, wouldn’t it?
Epilogue
She was off the phone (the one in her hand, not the possible one she may or may not have been sitting on) but still sitting there when I had to leave. I showed her the drawing I did. I think she thought I was weird. Which I might be.
Here is part 3 of my video series on doing my napkin drawings. This segment starts with the line drawing now complete and I am starting to color and shading.
These were all originally Periscope videos. Periscope is live video from your mobile device with chat interaction. In other words, you talk on your video live and people watching can text to you and the texts will scroll up the screen.
You can find me at @thenapkindad. It’s owned by Twitter and is available on iOS and Android.
When I am done these videos will eventually be on their own ‘video’ page.
I am old enough to have seen the original Mad Max when it had its US debut back in the early 1980s. It was a crazy adventure thriller, basically one long car chase, with a lot of death and injuries. It was set in a dystopian future.
Fast forward 35 years and a new Mad Max is released. It is also a crazy adventure thriller, basically one long car chase, with a lot of death and injuries. It is also set in a dystopian future. I wasn’t all that excited about seeing it until I read comments online about the public reaction to it. It turns out there were some men pissed off because, while it does have Max in it, and he plays a big role, the main protagonists are a group of women escaping from captivity. This made me want to see the movie. I like seeing strong women overcoming harsh situations and thought that would be a good twist in the story.
After an opening scene showing the capture of Max, the movie turns its attention to Furiosa, played by Charlize Theron. She is leaving the Citadel, the enclave of the tribe, in a huge tractor-trailer. She is driving it to another enclave across open desert. She is a hard ass truck driver with short-cropped hair, black makeup covering the top half of her face. She has a large group of vehicles going along with her for protection. Mid-way through the trip across the desert she veers off course. She convinces those escorting her that there has been a legitimate change of orders.
Max meanwhile has escaped and is following the same route. He eventually engages with the escorting vehicles, who have realized the truck driven by Furiosa is going rogue. Mayhem ensues as you might expect, with a three-way battle between the escort vehicles, the truck and Max. Eventually Max is left unconscious near where the truck has escaped, now temporarily safe from their pursuers.
This is the scene Max finds when he awakens.
Along with Furiosa are 5 young women. They have been hiding in the truck and Furiosa has planned all along to help them escape. From what, we aren’t sure exactly. Later we find out they are the 5 wives of the evil leader of the tribe. One is pregnant.
They are all supermodel thin and minimally dressed and this is ok in the scheme of the movie. They were pampered captives, coddled and protected, not forced to do anything physically demanding or harsh so it makes sense that at the beginning they act that way. Unable to do much but be scared. They try to help but aren’t of much use. Furiosa is the only warrior.
Fast forward to the middle of the movie. While Furiosa and Max have been fighting non-stop the five women have been looking worried and scared. They are minimally involved with the fighting. They have helped a bit in tending to some wounds and fixing some things on the truck. They have loaded a gun or two. What they haven’t done is evolve and develop. This in spite of the fact that along the way they have met up with a tribe of older women who are fighters and warriors. Do they learn from them and take their place as they fall in the fight? No, they don’t.
Fast forward to the end of the movie and, spoiler alert, good has triumphed. And the 5 women? They are basically the same women we saw at the beginning of the movie. Why is that a problem? Because they and their truck were under attack for the past 2+ hours of the movie and they didn’t transform into warriors, into mechanics, into drivers, into intellectual leaders. Do they learn from the older women and take their place as they fall in the fight? No, they don’t. Do they learn from Furiosa, Max or Nux, an unlikely hero who joins their ranks? No, I don’t think they do.
Max and Furiosa don’t develop either. But in some ways they don’t have to since they are already where they need to be given the plot of the movie. Actually there is only one person in this movie who does evolve and develop and that is Nux, the character who starts out as a villain and becomes a protector and hero for the women.
One might ask, so what? Why can’t some not end up being warriors? That is true, and if one or two of them didn’t that would be ok. But when none of the five make any progress in becoming warriors and war is the only thing happening in the movie, then a great opportunity is wasted.
And that’s why, in the end, I was disappointed in the movie.
In part 1, I gave a tour of my studio and explained how I pick out a quote to use in my drawings.
Today’s video shows me choosing the quote and thinking through it’s placement on the page and then starting in on drawing the main character in the scene.
Periscope
By the way, These videos were originally broadcast live on the Periscope app. That is why they are in a vertical format. If you would like to follow me on Periscope you can find me at @thenapkindad
I have recently started to use a new app on my ipad called Periscope. It’s live video with chat interaction. People watch you live and they can text messages, questions, etc. Those messages scroll up the screen as the video plays. You can then save those videos and post them wherever you want; Youtube, Facebook, etc.
I decided to do a Napkin Dad Show, showing my studio and me drawing a napkin. I did the show in several parts for a few reasons; first, the videos take up a lot of memory and take time to upload if they are too long so breaking them up is easier. And second, showing the entire process is boring. It’s just like in cooking demonstrations. They show you bits and pieces and then show you the finished product, which they had made prior to the filming. It’s kind of like that with doing art.
Here’s my first in the series. It’s about 5 minutes long.
The Napkin Dad Show – How I Do My Drawings, Part 1
Last month I entered the Tuaca Napkin Art contest. I found out after submitting the napkin drawing that the contest had been extended another month. I took the time to think up another napkin for the contest and here it is. I used one of their sayings, “Moderation is an Art” to create the theme, which is that drinking is great fun and a wonderful social activity. But it’s great and fun in moderation, not in overdoing it.
I Periscoped with a TV Newsperson the other day (see the end of the post for an explanation of Periscope).
She was in a cab after a long day of work and play. Her name is Sara Haines and she is a Lifestyle and Pop News Anchor for Good Morning America on ABC. It’s a good fit for her because she is chirpy, funny and a energized ball of laughs and smiles. She had been Periscoping during commercials and then later at a party. But now she was done for the day and on her way home.
Understanding Kim
I and others were watching her now in a more relaxed, contemplative mood, reflecting on things based on questions we were asking. Someone asked her if she liked the Kardashians. The person asking may have been expecting a typical, ‘I hate them, they are terrible’ type of response, I don’t know. But that is not what they got. Sara said she is intrigued and fascinated by them, especially Kim Kardashian. She said she tries to imagine what she would do if she was raised like her, looked like her, lived her life, had her money. What choices would she make and how different would they be from the choices Kim does makes? In other words, she doesn’t judge or shame Kim, she empathizes with her. And that means she can simply enjoy her for who she is and try to understand her.
Empathy Covers Shame
So far the 21st century is the century of public shaming and judgment. But what Sara shows in her attitude is that happiness and joy comes from empathy and understanding of others, not judgment and shaming. It’s a lesson we all need to learn again and again, that when we are tempted to judge, especially in the public arena when we truly don’t know the person, it’s best to step back and try to empathize, to understand what it is they are feeling and reacting to in life. That is when we will grow and learn.
Hope for Humanity
I like Sara from what I seen of her on TV, but she went to the top of my ‘I have hope for humanity’ list when I was able to hear her talk about her way of seeing the world and the people in it. She’s also now at the top of my ‘What TV person would you most want to have lunch with’ list. I think the conversation would be fantastic.
Periscope – Periscope is a live video broadcast with texting interaction app from Twitter. It’s available on the iOS and will be available on Android soon.
I loved my mom. She was wonderful and flawed at the same time, like most moms. I’ve written posts about her in years past and will put the link at the bottom of this post for you to read if you would like.
But today I am also thinking about my other mothers. They were the women who also helped raise me. They didn’t help raise me in the ‘I went to live with them’ sense. They helped raise me in the ‘they took time to love me and nurture me’ sense.
Aunt Betty (left) and my Mom, Lee Coleman
Aunt Betty
Aunt Betty wasn’t my aunt. And her husband, Uncle Frank, wasn’t my uncle. I didn’t realize this until I was probably 10 years old or so. That’s when I figured out we called them that because they were as close as relatives to us, not actual relatives. What they actually were were my God Parents.
But in real life Aunt Betty was my mother’s best friend while we lived in California. They were the Lucy and Ethel combo, funny by themselves but hilarious when together. From the time of my birth until we moved away when I was 12 Betty treated us (my older sister and I) like her own kids, and my mom treated her kids as her own as well. That included watching over us, keeping us in line and feeding us among other things. It included letting us have complete freedom within their house. Their house, high overlooking the Del Mar racetrack and airport was, and still is, the best, most fantastic house I’ve ever ‘lived’ in. It was definitely the golden age of free range parenting and we ranged wide and free around both homes. I wouldn’t change a thing about my young life and she’s a big reason why.
Libby
When we lived in Maryland briefly during my first few years we had a housekeeper come in once in a while. I don’t remember Libby from those years. Years later we had moved back to California and when my mother had a late pregnancy and my younger sister was born Libby, who had also moved to California, actually came to live with us for many weeks to help out. While my mother took care of Jackie, Libby took care of the house and my sister and me.
We had a nice house but it wasn’t big enough for Libby to have her own room. My room was actually a big playroom downstairs, big enough that Libby became my roommate for those weeks. It was totally awesome.
What I remember about Libby really is pretty fuzzy but I remember how much she loved me. I also remember how she silently championed me, the younger underdog, in my battles with my older sister. She loved Nancy as well and didn’t take sides, but she was always letting me know that it wouldn’t always be that she could beat me up, or it wouldn’t always be that she would be the boss of me. I held on to those promises for dear life during those years.
One of the most profound and devastating moments of my life, the first real eye opener into the wider world I ever got, was the day we went to Libby’s house. I had never seen it and I just assumed, as most kids would, that she probably lived in a house like ours. I was wrong. I remember driving up and seeing what in my mind was a completely dilapidated shack. Worn wood, crooked steps, mud. I really truly was shocked. I remember thinking we needed desperately to bring Libby back to live with us, that we just couldn’t let her live in that type of place. I had no idea about poverty or race or inequality until that moment. I was 9 years old.
Libby taught me so much but most of all she told me that no matter the issues of race, poverty or inequality, you still could be loving, supportive and happy. I also always remembered how she gave me a hope for the future. Of course, in my case, my hope for the future as simply to be able to wrestle my big sister to the ground, but she knew that and gave me the hope that was appropriate for who I was. That was a big gift.
Helene
Helene was another friend of my mothers. She had met my mother in line at a grocery store decades before in Maryland when we had lived there for a brief time. We moved to Connecticut when I was 12 and we moved to the same town she lived in by then, Darien, Connecticut. Helene was not a typical Darienite. She was bawdy and irreverent and funny. She had a witheringly sharp tongue for pretension and snobbishness that could rear it’s ugly head too often in Darien. My mother was the same way.
What made her an important ‘other’ mother to me, and what really set her apart was her creativity and her desire, no – her demand, that one pay attention to creativity in their own life. It was a godsend for me as an artistic teenager to have someone like that pay attention to me.
Floyd and Helene Hall (left) and my parents.
Her home was a reflection of all that as well. It was messy and cluttered in the best artistic way. She had sculptures here and photos there. A painting leaning against a wall, a clay head in the inca style being worked on in her studio. Trinkets and books and everything else inhabiting that space just screamed art, creativity and freedom.
She challenged me as an artist. I remember taking a trip to New York City with her to go to a Picasso Sculpture Exhibition at the Museum of Modern Art. When I told her the pieces looked like anyone could do them she said one of the single most important and profound things any one has ever said to me about being an artist. She said, “It Doesn’t matter if you CAN do it. It matters if you DO do it.” It took me years to figure out what that meant, but when I did it clarified so much about art that it really broke me through to art maturity in my mind.
She also was witness to my family falling apart. She saw my mother descend into alcoholism and she was the first person I called when I found my mother unconscious on the stairs, suffering from what we would later find out was a cerebral hemorrhage. It was not an easy time and she was there to help out.
Ginny Moore
My best friend during my teenage years was a guy named Jim Moore. I can thank his mother for our becoming friends. She saw that we had moved in down the street and within a day or two she kicked Jim out of the house and told him to go down the street to meet the new kid and not go come back until he had. So he did and we became pretty fast friends from then on.
Ginny gladly welcomed me in to her home, always making me feel welcomed and loved. They took me on vacations (and we took Jim on some as well). They suffered through me being the rabble rousing teen that I was, including several instances where I broke, ruined, wrecked or otherwise caused mayhem to descend onto various possessions of theirs.
I was sort of the Eddie Haskell (A 60s TV show, ‘Leave it to Beaver’ reference for those not old enough to know) to the Moore Family. Nice but always tending to get Jim and myself into some sort of adventure. It wasn’t all me of course. Jim was pretty good at finding adventure himself. What Ginny saw was the importance of our friendship and bond and allowed all the wild things to transpire as part of that bonding. I am grateful for that!
The Moore Family (Ginny, bottom right)
When I moved away after my senior year of high school but wanted to come back and live in Darien the next summer, they graciously allowed me to stay the entire summer in their house. It didn’t occur to me until much later what a incredible gift that was.
Vivian Johnson
I’ve written often over the years about the incredible man, Dwight Johnson, who was the father of my first wife, Kathy. I don’t talk as often about her mother, Vivian, but she was incredibly important in helping me move into adulthood and being a husband and parent.
Vivian and Rebekah
We had a good relationship, one that included a lot of patience on her part, watching this young ‘bad boy’ marry her daughter after only about 9 months of dating. We were a lot alike in many ways. We were the two most competitive people in the family, often going head to head in legendary Scrabble battles at the family cabin. She was feisty but also very focused on being positive and nice. She could say sharp things but chose not to most of the time. She gritted her teeth and smiled when she probably wanted to hit me, or at least yell at me.
She was supportive, kind and understanding as she watched her daughter and I build a life for our family, slowly and with a number of missteps on my part. She didn’t always like me but she always encouraged and supported me in spite of that. That taught me a good lesson about what it means to be a parent and parent-in-law.
It Takes a Village
None of us were raised in a vacuum. I am so grateful for all the women I mentioned above (and others I didn’t mention) who made up my village of nurturers, caretakers, friends, and visionaries. They helped me so much, I could never repay it so all I (or any of us) can really do is pay it forward as best I can.
Who are your ‘other mothers’ and how did they help you?
A friend of mine, Heather, who I used to coach and who is now a running coach herself, posted a pretty funny cartoon yesterday on Facebook. It was of a woman in a Zumba class realizing too late that she should have worn a better sports bra. I didn’t see the original cartoon I just saw the post Heather made explaining how one of her ‘friends’ on FB had reported it as offensive and it had been removed.
She was livid, as I would have been, and as all her true friends on FB were. The comments and other cartoons that were posted on that thread were hilarious. It reminded me of a drawing I did long ago in a random sketchbook so I went and found it. I had never scanned it or posted it because it had all sorts of other random sketches all around it and even overlapping it. But I decided if ever there was a time to scan it and work on it, today would be the day. So, here you go Heather, my homage to you and your great sense of humor!
But Seriously Folks…
Having run now for about 15 years and having coached runners for about 5 I can’t tell how many times I have wanted to suggest to a runner they might want to get a new, better sports bra. I obviously don’t know the physical discomfort and pain associated with running with a pair of breasts bouncing on my chest but I don’t need to feel it to know it’s got to hurt!
Since I don’t feel comfortable saying that to a woman I don’t know really well, I instead will do two things. One, while I talk about running gear in one of the clinics I lead I will make a general announcement to the entire group about the importance of getting fitted for a good bra. And two, I ask my female coaches to be extra alert to their female participants who they think need a better bra. I want them to talk to them about it and offer help in finding one. Now, if the person in question is a good friend of mine? I have no problem saying, “uh…you’re going to give yourself a black eye with those things, you need to get a better bra!”
Is This You?
Just in case you don’t think you are in this category of needing a better sports bra check out this excerpt from the online article ‘How to find the perfect Sports Bra’ from Fitness Magazine.
When we polled top bra-fitting pros for the number-one mistake women make in choosing a sports bra, they were unanimous: wearing a smaller cup and larger band than you need. Sure enough, nearly every tester whom FITNESS sent to the specialty shops Intimacy and Linda’s Bra Salon in New York City for fittings returned with a two-inch-smaller band and a larger cup size — As and double Ds alike.
Pretty amazing, right? Here is the rest of the article. You can simply google ‘sports bra fitting’ to find a slew of other articles about it.
Where I work, at Fleet Feet in Tulsa, we have dedicated apparel and bra fitting specialists and that makes it very easy for women to conveniently find the bra they need. Obviously most of you are not in Tulsa but Fleet Feet stores are around the country and if one is not close by there is a running or specialty store that can help you, you just have to look it up.
Back to Funny
Here is the original cartoon Heather posted. It’s by Fernz Cartoons.
And here is one that was posted on the thread.
If you have other cartoons or funny stories about sports bra disasters, send them along, the Napkin Kin would love to see and read them!
Moms have a hard time letting go, don’t they. Some fathers do as well of course, but I don’t think it’s inaccurate to say that mothers have a harder time of it overall. But I can tell you this as a father. While it wasn’t hard to let them go off to college or adventures thousands of miles away, it is really hard to have them stay gone as the years roll on.
Add in a couple of grandkids who are far away and it makes it even harder. Granted I am talking from just one perspective but I don’t think that’s gender specific, I think it’s hard for both parents at that point.
Coming Home
Kids leave home all the time and no matter how hard a mother or father tries to get them to stay close, the truth is, if they really want and need to go, you want them to go. You want them to find their dreams even if it means that dream takes them away from you.
And here is the other truth. If you did make your home atmosphere pleasant, if it was filled with love, care, nurturing and freedom, then you child will want to come home. Maybe it won’t be a permanent return, but it will be a joyful and loving return nonetheless.
It’s the nature of kids to want to spread their wings. All you can do as a mother or father is give them a safe landing place when they return.
Drawing and commentary @ 2015 by Marty Coleman
Quote by Dorothy Parker, 1893-1967, American writer and wit
A number of years ago I would reserve Saturdays for posting a ‘vintage’ napkin from back when I was drawing them for my daughters and putting them in their school lunches. I did that for a number of years but eventually started putting up other content on the weekends; stories, photos, etc.
Throw Back Thursday (Friday Edition)
Now Throw Back Thursday is a thing and I thought I would start posting some older drawings or other things from years past on Thursdays. Of course I came up with this idea today, a Friday. But I looked back and found these photos from 6 years ago yesterday (a Thursday) and decided I would post it anyway.
Absorbent Ideas Exhibition
Double Shot Coffee, Tulsa, OK
I had an article in the Tulsa World published about the Napkins in early 2009. The owner of Doubleshot, who knew of me because my daughter Chelsea had at one point worked there, had read the article and invited me to have a show of the napkins.
Absorbent Ideas Exhibition
The show opened on April 29th, 2009, with the reception being a few weeks later in May.
Postcard Invitation
You can see the progression in my napkin drawings by taking a look at the drawing on the postcard and the framed one below.
I look back and realize how long it’s been since I’ve had an actual exhibition of the napkins and how different they are now.
I think it’s time for a new exhibition, don’t you?
Yep, really. I started out with a quote I was going to illustrate this morning. I started my drawing, meaning to stop at some point so I could add the quote into the drawing. But I forgot and before I knew it the drawing was too filled up for me to get the quote in.
But my mistake is to your benefit. Because you get a quiz out of it and here it is. Put your answer in a comment. And if you want, include a quote you think belongs with this drawing.
Which quote was I going to write on this napkin?
The mind’s first step to self-awareness must be through the body – George A. Sheehan
I don’t at all like knowing what people say of me behind my back. It makes me far too conceited – Oscar Wilde
The problem with introspection is that it has no end – Philip K. Dick
Contemplation often makes life miserable. We should act more, think less, and stop watching ourselves live – Nicolas Chamfort
Put your answer in a comment and if you want, include a better quote you think belongs with this drawing.
I will share the answer when I post my next drawing.
Emily took the mirror out of her purse. She was looking for blood splatter but noticed her hair instead. She didn’t like how her hair looked when it blew in the wind. Instead of looking full like she wanted, it looked straggly and thin. She couldn’t decide if it was due to the hair cut she got, which she hated, or the product she had been persuaded to buy at the salon. Whatever the reason, she didn’t like it and wanted to get back in the car as soon as possible. This wasn’t just due to her hair looking shitty, but because of the body in the middle of the road. Emily knew the road was seldom travelled but she didn’t want to take chances just in case one of those survivalist nut cases up in the backwoods came down in a tank or something.
Chapter Two
Emily reapplied her lipstick as she drove down the mountain. She got out her mascara and added a bit to her upper lashes when she got to the one and only stop light in town. She even got a bit of blush to each cheek before the light turned green. She was hungry and Chicken King was right at the corner. She liked Chicken King because the chicken fingers were easy to eat and the straws were just the right diameter. She was particular about these things knowing that it all contributed to her looking as good as she did. People thought it was just her lucky genetics and that pissed her off. She worked hard and sacrificed to look this good. She wished people realized that.
She ate as she drove down the coastline. She wondered how long it would be until the body was found. She wondered if wild animals would find it and drag it off the road. Wouldn’t that be convenient she thought. She noticed the moon was red and thought that was very strange.
After about 3 hours of driving she stopped for gas. She put on a pair of those cheap rubber gloves that come in a box before touching the gas hose since the worst thing in the world was to be able to smell gas on her fingers after she got back in the car. She went into the convenience store to go to the bathroom but the toilet was covered in pee and she couldn’t do it. She would just have to wait. She got a pack of gum and told the teenage clerk he should have been checking the toilets more often because one had urine all over it. He looked at her blankly and said, “Someone else does that, I just take money.”
Emily got back in the car and drove away. She was upset about that encounter, realizing that it was an example of the younger generation having no initiative to make something of themselves. What had gone wrong with America anyway, she thought as she searched for another gas station.
Chapter Three
She stopped at two more places along the way looking to pee. Both were unacceptable. One had a cracked toilet seat and she just knew it would pinch her flesh if she sat on it. As she walked towards the door she looked at the clerk, a young Mexican woman with dark blush on her cheeks and high arched eyebrows painted on, and said under her breath, “No wonder this place is in disrepair. You people are lazy.” The clerk didn’t hear what she said but did notice Emily’s red lipstick and thought it was too bold considering how dark her eyeliner was. When Emily got back in the car she looked in the rear view mirror and put a fresh coat of lipstick on. She was happy she had some style compared to that ugly clerk. “How could people want to look like that?” she whispered to herself.
The second store only had a unisex bathroom. A man emerged from it right as Emily walked up. Emily hated the idea of sitting down on the same toilet a strange man had peed in, especially as fat and ugly as that man was. She immediately turned around and stomped out. She slapped her hand on counter as she left and said to the clerk, “What the fuck is wrong with you people?” The clerk, a Korean boy about 13, didn’t understand english and had no idea what she said, only that she was mad about something. His mother was in the back room and didn’t hear anything.
She almost cried when she got back in the car after the third try because she really had to pee. But she looked in the rear view mirror, smoothed out an errant eyelash and said to herself, “I have my standards and lowering standards contributes to the downfall of society.” She had memorized that line from her “Planning For Success’ CD and repeated it to herself often. She also didn’t cry because it would have smeared her eyeliner, which had taken a long time to put on that morning.
Chapter Four
By this time her bladder was close to bursting. She was glad she hadn’t compromised her standards but she also was getting desperate. The next place had better be acceptable or she wasn’t sure what she would do. She wasn’t holding out much hope when she walked in and saw that the clerk was a black woman. She had a big pile of what looked like black, brown and tan snake coils on top of her head. She had on a very low cut top that showed overflowing breasts. Emily wondered how someone could show that much breast and not show her nipples. “No wonder they all get pregnant so early”, she muttered to her self.
While it wasn’t pretty inside the bathroom, and that annoyed her, it was clean. She was comfortable enough to sit all the way down on the toilet and go. She felt so relieved that she actually said out loud to herself, “Now I can die happy.”
She left the bathroom and walked back into the store. As she did she noticed a young boy, maybe a teenager, standing at the counter. He was in a tan, button down shirt, khaki pants and loafers. His hair was cut in a contemporary but still traditional look. He was standing up very straight and looking straight ahead. She thought some mother was proud of that boy, he looked like he was going to do great things in life.
She smiled as walked towards him, coughing in hopes of getting his attention. Right as she did this he raised his right hand and pointed a gun at the clerk. But he heard Emily cough at that same moment and, without thinking, turned his gun toward her and pulled the trigger. Emily had enough time to widen her eyes and drop her jaw in disbelief. The bullet went straight into her open mouth, hit the back of her throat and cut right through her brain stem as it exited. Emily’s brain was able to think one final thought before she died. “My lipstick…”
The store clerk, named Edna, ran to the back of the store when the shot was fired. The boy ran after her. He tripped and fell hard on a slick patch of wet concrete on the loading dock. Edna, hiding behind the dumpster right next to where he fell grabbed a piece of wood from a pile of broken pallets and hit him on the head as hard as she could. She didn’t realize the piece of wood had a big nail sticking out of it. The nail caught the boy in the eye and he screamed in pain as she kicked the gun out of his hand.
Epilogue
Edna was a local hero. She was given a civilian service award by the sheriff and that made her consider studying law. She eventually earned her law degree and spent many decades representing immigrants before she retired and moved closer to her grandkids.
The boy went to prison as a juvenile, where his nickname was ‘Cyclops’. He got out when he turned 25 and moved to Alabama. Ironically he ended up being a clerk in a convenience store until his death in a car wreck at age 30.
The woman Emily murdered was found on the road where she died. Her name was Shannon and she was remembered by many in her town as a wonderful wife and mother and a dedicated volunteer at the psychiatric hospital. Her murder was never solved. Her husband of 12 years eventually remarried and moved away to Arkansas with his new bride and his 3 kids. They had a daughter together and named her Shannon.
Emily’s body stayed in the local county morgue for a month. No one claimed it and they were unable to find any relatives. She was cremated and her ashes were stored in the morgue. The cardboard box they were in was put in a supply closet during a building expansion 3 years later. During some jack hammering in the parking lot next door the box fell onto the floor and broke open. When the custodian saw the mess he swept the ashes towards the drain in the floor and washed them down. The cardboard box was thrown away.
How about a racist? She feels exalted by virtue of her inclusion in a certain race. Other races aren’t as good as her race, as proven by ‘history’. How does she sustain this belief? By ignoring the ten thousand truths that prove the ‘history’ (and thus the belief) is incomplete and wrong.
And a Sexist? He feels exalted by his status as the ‘stronger’ sex. He is bigger, faster, stronger, smarter than a woman. In addition, his religion and his tradition says it’s so. How does he sustain this belief? By ignoring the ten thousand truths that prove his religion and tradition are incomplete and wrong.
Why Yoga?
Then why do I have a person practicing Yoga in the drawing instead of a drawing of a racist or sexist?
I had a fancy schmancy quiz all figured out but it was the first time using the app and it conflicts with some ghost in the machine and was making the entire post invisible (told you it was a ghost issue).
So here’s the quiz in just plain text until I figure it out. Give your answers in the comments section, ok?
1. Match the ‘Sometimes’ with the ‘I Should Have’.
Sometimes it’s because the other person doesn’t have time to talk and I don’t realize it.
Sometimes it’s because I think who I am talking to wants me to keep talking but they actually want to say something.
Sometimes it’s because I am so excited about the topic I don’t get the message that those I am talking to aren’t.
Sometimes it’s because I’ve told the story or given the coaching lecture to the same people before and don’t realize it.
Sometimes it’s because I want something resolved RIGHT NOW but the other person isn’t ready to have it resolved yet.
Sometimes it’s because I am just full of myself.
a. I should have seen their eyes glaze over.
b. I should have seen them looking at their watch or phone a number of times.
c. I should have seen them give a big sigh.
d. I should have heard them talking among themselves.
e. I should have seen them try to get a word in edgewise.
f. I Should have done all of the above.
2. Match the word on the left with its language on the right.
IGAV
RAZ
CHAT
PAGBUBUTAS
KEDELIG
TRÅKIG
LANGWEILIG
скучный
TYLSÄ
NUDNÝ
WOTOPETSA
ZERIKARLI
a. Czech
b. Estonian
c. Finnish
d. German
e. Nyanja
f. Uzbek
g. Haitian
h. Swedish
i. Russian
j. Galician
k. Tagalog
l. Danish
3. All these words have the same meaning in English. What is it?
Jane was eating lunch in the little bookshop bistro on Main Street. She sat reserved and composed, her hair pulled back with a nondescript band into a well mannered ponytail. She ate her soup silently, not moving her body much and never looking up. She didn’t look sad, just self-contained. Her clothing was baggy, not revealing too much of her figure and the colors were muted.
As she finished her meal a big, loud, wildly dressed man came in the bistro. He had on leather pants, fur vest, denim shirt, silver bolo tie, gold earrings, bright orange and purple cowboy boots and a big black cowboy hat. He had a big beard, his hair, part black part purple, was in a braid and he had 3 big rings on his left hand. He walked over to the woman eating her soup leaned over her and gave her a big kiss on the mouth.
She smiled and said, “Are you done shopping now?”
He said, “Yep, and you’ll be proud, I only got 3 shirts, 2 pairs of pants and one hat. Oh, and I got a new pan and some dishtowels and a plant and a new trashcan for the kitchen. But that’s all I got!”
She laughed and said, “Ok, I’m done. Let’s go.”
He scowled, “what a second, I want to find that cookbook I read about online.” He walked towards the back of the store.
She turned her head and saw me watching their interaction. She smile, rolled her eyes and said to me, “Whatchya gonna do, right? He wants what he wants and if he’s happy then our house is happy.”
He came back quickly with two books and exclaimed, “Look, I found the recipe book but also that book, ‘How to Organize Your Life and Closet’ I’ve been wanting.”
Jane got up, went up to the register and paid for the lunch and books. She said, “Ok, Willy, now we have to go home. The playoffs are on in 2 hours and I need a nap before that.” She went out the door, holding it for Willy.
I had a completely different quote in mind this morning when I went into my studio to draw. But I saw a scary looking eye in the napkin pattern and drew the eye. That led to a fish, which led to a number of other fish, which led to them looking like they were about to attack something or someone which led to a woman on a beach covered in wounds and scars.
I didn’t intend it, much like the many things we say and do that hurt people. There is a scene in this past year’s Oscar winner for best picture, Birdman, that illustrates this perfectly. The main character is freaking out about the possibility of being humiliated by the press and the public if the play he is directing and acting in (as well as having written) turns out to suck. He asks another character, a woman he is sleeping with, “Aren’t you worried about being humiliated?” She says in response, “It won’t be the first time I’ve been humiliated.” He says, “Of course it won’t be.”
She stares at him and says, “You’re an asshole.” She walks out and he is left completely baffled, having no idea why she said that or why she is mad.
He is baffled because he had no intention to hurt her feelings. But her feelings were hurt nonetheless. It was an imagined hurt that led to a real wound. He later realizes that what he said hurt her feelings and apologizes to her. He doesn’t apologize because he intended to hurt her and he is now sorry. He apologizes because he realizes it doesn’t matter if he intended to hurt her. What matters is the effect of his words hurt her.
Dangers all Around
There are dangers in life, real scary dangers. Some we can see coming, like the severe weather we have here in Oklahoma. Some we don’t ever see coming, like an earthquake in California. And some we understand as part of the risk of everyday life, like driving a huge hunk of metal down a road, flying in a giant tube in the sky, or being in a relationship with another human. Those are real and wounds from them going wrong can be real wounds.
There is enough danger in reality, no help comes from adding imagined danger to the things that wound you.
This and all other napkins are for sale as originals or as prints. Coming soon The Napkin will be a secure ecommerce site and you will be able to buy direct. In the meanwhile, please email me at marty@napkindad.com to inquire.
