Sculpture Deathmatch 2017!

Each spring we host the Sculpture Deathmatch in the sculpture studios at Lander University.  It is the biggest sculpture event of the year.  What exactly is it?  Two teams of sculptors go head to head in a 12 hour sculpture competition.  At 9:00am on a Saturday morning, the teams get their instructions for the contest.  Each team has exactly 12 hours to design, create and install a public sculpture on campus.  For those of you who are not public sculptors, this is nearly an impossible task.  And yet, each spring my people pull it off.  

This year I solicited volunteers for the event.  I sent a mass email to the entire department and developed a list of participants.  After all schedules were checked and a couple of people dropped out and a couple of non-email checkers signed up late, I considered my list.  The list was easily divided between students primarily interested in graphic design and students primarily interested in sculpture.  So it was set, "Sculptors vs Graphic Designers".

The official instructions for the day.

 Marketing.  I still abhor the Facebooks and I'll never have one.  Instagram is my only real social network friend.  But I did sent out some emails to local high school teachers.  We had some visitors and our department turned out in mass to support our crazy day.

 The official Sculpture Deathmatch flag sewn by G several years ago.  The team members from each winning team get to sign their name to the flag.

  This year I added a new little twist, just to make the impossible slightly more difficult.  We flipped a coin and allowed both teams to choose a mystery box.  Each team was required to use all of the items in their mystery box in their sculpture.  Team Graphic Design lost the coin toss and got a box filled with plastic bottle tops.

 Team Sculpture got a big, heavy concrete cast piece to use.

 The brainstorming started immediately after the coin toss and it was fun to see the different approaches between sculptors and designers.  Team Sculpture ran and grabbed a bunch of found objects from the scrap pile and drew inspiration from the textures and forms.

 Team Graphic Design neatly took a large piece of paper and sat down calmly to sketch ideas and compare.  

 The before photo.

 Team Graphic Design (blue bandanas) featuring Lindsay, 'Shaad, Jamaica and Ricardo

 Team Sculpture (red bandanas) featuring Chelsea, Luke, Molly, McCaylah, Alana and Sabrina.

Fun tidbit:  Luke doesn't love technology.  Apparently at some point we talked about his interest in the Deathmatch but since he didn't respond officially I had no idea he was coming.  At 8:55 he cruised into the studio to everyone's surprise.  We had an extra shirt in his size so we gave him a bandana and he suited up.  Luke was officially a Graphic Design emphasis student but he's also one of my best sculptors.  Putting him on Team Graphic Design would have made the teams even but since we were deciding all this on the fly, I let him choose his team.  He told us that while he was technically a graphic designer, he identified as a sculptor.  His designer friends protested but he walked away and became a sculptor for the day.  I love Luke.  He's hilarious.

 Team Sculpture changed their plan several times as they looked over their scraps.  They had locked in on circles and spheres early on but their design and concept continued to morph all morning.  They did a good job keeping their design strengths and eliminating the weaker elements.

 For me each Deathmatch is different.  Some years I'm running around like a crazy person all day with people yelling my name every few seconds.  Some years after we get started, I'm not needed until they start to run out of food.  This year was a mix.  During the less active times I stuffed doughnuts in my face and took photos.  We tried to keep the department instagram updated all day and I tried to take selfies with people while they worked.  This one is with Lindsay welding.

 Jamaica grinding.

 Chelsea making a face.

 Molly being Molly.

 Ricardo and Rashaad being tough.

 Sabrina giving the death stare.

 Alana and McCaylah making spheres from scraps.

 Luke identifying as a sculptor.

 Team Graphic Design progressed like a well oiled machine.  They combined elements from their sketches into one design.  It was, of course, neat and clean.  But it required a lot of difficult and time intensive work.  I always tell them that hollow forms in steel take a lot longer than they expect, but no one ever listens.  I yelled at Rashaad at this moment to put on a welding jacket.

 Our students are so well rounded.  Ricardo is one of our best graphic designers but here he is showing off his welding skills.  He's also showing Rashaad how to properly wear a protective welding jacket.

 During the middle of the day both teams were working at an easy pace.  They both thought they had all their problems worked out and that they would finish in plenty of time.  They even thought we might get out early.  Team Sculpture chose their location and sent out a team of installers in the mid afternoon to prepare their spot.  

 Meanwhile, back in the studio, Ricardo and Lindsay were still solving problems.  

 And a couple of hours later, Rashaad was still working on that hollow form.

 The sun sank lower and lower and both teams kept working.  Team Sculpture had their hole dug and site prepared but they had not finished their sculpture.  Some last minute strengthening items were added.  Some other elements were eliminated.  Darkness closed in.

 With about an hour to go, Team Sculpture loaded their sculpture on a truck and slowly started transporting it to the site.  

 Team Graphic Design scrambled to get their sculpture ready to transport.  This one was going to be close.  The form was finished but they still had to add those pesky bottle tops.  

With about 20 minutes to go before the deadline, Team Sculpture installed their sculpture with the help of some truck headlights.

Then everyone came together to watch Team Graphic Design finish up.  Team Sculpture provided the headlights and a couple of iPhone flashlights.  The seconds ticked down and everyone counted down to 9:00pm.  With one second to spare, Team Graphic Design finished.  

 The reward for a long day of tough work is a late dinner.  We packed into the local Chili's to celebrate and wind down.

Monday morning gave me the first clear view of each sculpture.  Team Graphic Design's sculpture is above.  Each was documented and this year we held the voting on Instagram.  

Using Instagram allowed anyone in the world to vote and we had at least 3 times more votes than we've ever had.  We had votes from New Zealand, Mexico and all over the US.  

It took a while to count the votes but Team Sculpture received the most votes and most importantly, they didn't lose bragging rights to Team Graphic Design.  Team Sculpture's entry is above.

I'm always amazed that students are willing to give up a Saturday to do the Deathmatch.  Some get off work, some cancel travel plans and all of them get up early and work hard.  We really do have the best students in the world.  

The Gallery/Museum Screw Up Hall of Fame

subtitled:  In Which The Artist Bites The Hand That Feeds Him


The earliest exhibit and award I received after my undergrad degree was in 1999.  This means I've been active in the exhibition world for about 18 years now.  As an artist, I need galleries and museums to host exhibits of my work in order to successfully get my work out to where people (other than my immediate family) can see it.  As art exhibition venues, galleries and museums need artists to supply them with a constant feed of new work for exhibition in order to stay relevant and to keep buyers and collectors coming in the doors.  Just like many other relationships where the parties need one another, we often have awkward and dysfunctional relationships.

First off, I'd like to say that I have great working relationships with many wonderful galleries and museums.  I've dealt with particular businesses, institutions and individuals who are top notch in this field.  They truly make the art world respectable and professional.  From small to large, they set the standard for all other exhibition venues.  

Second, I have to admit that artists can be very difficult to work with.  As a group, we are generalized as moody, anxious souls who often have special requests about almost everything.  I do not often identify myself as one of the typical art types but I will admit I have worked right up to a deadline and delivered work screeching in on two wheels.  I have forgotten to include paperwork as requested.  I have even double and triple booked myself and asked to remove a sculpture from a show a couple of days early.  I am flawed.  I have been a bad arts professional at times.  

But...
Y'all, some of the people I've dealt with in the gallery/museum world make me look like an angel.  I've had some experiences over these 18 years that still have me scratching my head trying to figure out what someone was thinking.  In fact, I have this mental list of bloopers that I will share with an art friend when I'm reminded.  An artist pal will ask me if I've applied to the big thing and I'll laugh and share my funny experience.  I'm reaching an age when I suppose I can't count on my mental list to stick around so I thought it might be a good idea to form a list of these experiences and place them here for you to share.  I'll leave out all of the identifying words and names so as not to embarrass anyone but I think it's only fair for other artists to know that these things happen so that when they have their own terrible experience, they'll know they're not alone.  And just so you know, I've given this considerable thought before publishing the list.  I've decided that any self respecting exhibition venue will agree that the infringements on this list are truly blooper worthy and that I'm not attempting to hurt anyone's business or embarrass them.  Heck, maybe if you read this and you work with artists now or in the future, you'll be able to use these as cautionary tales to avoid any similar experiences.  So here we go, I present to you, my hall of shame:

#5
Just A Touch Up
I was invited by a cool venue to send several sculptures for a nice exhibit.  The sculptures had to travel a good way across the country so I packed them super well.  To be clear, I'm way overprotective of them.  They are made of steel but the surfaces are pristine.  This was back in the days of painting each sculpture with 8 to 10 coats of paint to get the right surface.  With this process, the entire sculpture must be painted at the same time.  There's no way to paint only one spot or one side.  The overspray with this paint will result in a rough texture and it will not blend.  This was a respectable venue and they made sure to inspect the work when it arrived and they even emailed me to let me know everything was in perfect condition.  They also had insurance to cover any damage or loss that might happen during the exhibit.  When the show closed, they sent me an email stating that one of the sculptures had tipped over during the exhibit.  It fell against another sculpture and when the steel edge hit the steel edge, a tiny piece of paint chipped off.  They even included photos to show just how small and tiny the chip was.  The email said that since the sculpture was not really damaged, they were sure I could just touch up the paint in a second and it would be back to perfect condition.  I had to repaint both sculptures at my cost.  To be totally fair, this has happened many times but most venues don't have the courtesy to give me a heads up.

#4
We Didn't Lose Your Entry, Promise
This group was making a big deal of their new exhibit and contest and they had blasted the region with calls for entries.  There was, of course, an entry fee which allowed artists to submit several works of art for consideration.  The fee is a fact of life as an artist and I understand that it allows the venue to pay a juror, award prizes and help with the electric bill.  This is cool as long as my work is actually viewed by the juror.  This particular exhibit and contest had been all but begging for entries and had pushed back their deadline twice in order to allow for more entries.  By the time I entered, against my better judgment, the whole thing seemed like it was a train wreck.  After a few weeks I started seeing artists posting things on social media about getting accepted.  Once results are mailed out, you either get a "congratulations" email or a "your work was great but no thanks" email.  I got nothing.  I'm not the kind of artist who calls the venue on the morning of the notification date to complain, so I waited.  While I gave it a week, literally every single person I knew who entered was accepted.  Regardless of the type or quality of the work.  I started to assume I was the only artist who would be rejected (I am my own worst critic).  After a week I started trying to get in touch with someone at the venue to find out why I never received any sort of acceptance or declining email.  I talked to a nice person who was completely dumbfounded.  She assured me that my entry was not lost and that she would be looking into it immediately.  Within 5 minutes after hanging up I received an email notification to my personal email address, NOT the one I used to enter the exhibit.  The email was a "your work was great but no thanks" notification that was, I kid you not, copy and pasted into the email.  There was no apology, only an excuse and the weird notification.  I realize this will sound like sour grapes, but I know no artists who were rejected from the show.  None but me.  It is certainly true that it's possible that I my work was the only work too terrible to exhibit that year, but based on the way it all went down, I am sure my entry was lost and the copy and paste email was just a way of saving face.

#3
You Want Guacamole With That?
I'll do my best to keep this one anonymous, but it will be difficult if you know anything about the regional art world.  There was a big, big exhibit and it was the newest, biggest thing around if you believed the hype.  It was a juried exhibit with huge cash prizes for the winners.  The event was going to be so big, in fact, that it was going to take over the whole town with exhibits happening in several locations.  Tons of us got accepted and we were all happy to think that we might be in the running for the big, big prize.  After the acceptance notification there was an email with more details.  It seems that every artist had different details based on where their work was to be exhibited.  My small, shiny sculpture, I found out, was to be exhibited in the local Mexican restaurant.  I'll give you a minute to let the magnitude of that settle in.  With the contract information included, it became obvious that the Mexican restaurant, not the big, big venue was in charge of handling, insuring and exhibiting my sculpture.  I swallowed my pride and shipped my baby off to the restaurant and it was displayed at least for part of the exhibition time.  When the date came for the return of the sculpture no sculpture arrived.  After a couple of nervous weeks I called the restaurant to inquire.  They had no idea what I was talking about.  I called the venue contact and explained.  The person there freaked out and drove to the restaurant in a panic.  After getting the manager on the phone the venue contact was instructed to find my sculpture in a box in the kitchen under a cabinet.  It had something green splashed on it.  I can only assume it was guacamole.  The contact had no idea if the work was in the kitchen for the entire exhibit or not.  Luckily I did get the sculpture back and the contact was nice enough to wipe off the green stuff.

#4
Just Kidding
A friend recommended a venue to me.  He knew the new person there in charge of exhibits and he indicated things were moving in a positive direction.  Always happy to have an exhibit, I sent off my information with a personal email.  No response.  I waited a long while and resent the info with another personal email indicating that I was hoping to establish that my email went through.  This time I received a response that was kind and professional but seemed to imply a "thanks but no thanks tone".  I can take a hint.  I forgot it and moved on.  A year passed and I received an email from the same venue contact congratulating me on my upcoming exhibit and asking for some information to put on their website for marketing.  The email stated that they had sent a contract and to let them know if I had any questions.  I had questions.  Like, when was this exhibit that I was going to be in?  I responded to the email with excitement and let the contact know that I had not yet received the contract but I would be looking for it.  I also asked for the exhibition dates to make sure I wasn't going to double book individual works of art.  The next day I received another email from the venue contact.  It said, and I'm not making this up, "oops, I must have sent this to the wrong Doug McAbee.  Sorry to get you excited."  Ouch.  That one hurt a little.  

#5.
No Cash Value
I'm still torn about this one.  I totally understand where it came from and I could see myself making a similar mistake.  I just like to think I would have solved it a different way.  I was honored to win the top award at a juried exhibit.  This was particularly great for me because I knew many of the artists involved and it was a high quality show.  I could not believe my luck when the award was given and my name was called.  It's still a career highlight.  The award was a cool certificate signed by the juror and the gallery owner.  It's framed and hanging on my wall beside me.  It was a great night.  Slowly though, I started to wonder when I would get a check.  Second place won a significant amount of money.  Third place won a slightly less amount.  How much more would mine be?  I emailed the gallery after a few days to see when I might receive a check.  After what must have been a great deal of awkward email silence, the response came.  It seems as they were planning this event for the first time, they failed to factor in a monetary prize for 1st place.  2nd and 3rd had been paid out and there was no money left to fund a prize for 1st.  Like I said before, this is totally a mistake I would make.  But instead of finding a way to come up with something of a cash prize to erase the mistake, they just wrote it off to learning and moved on.  I'm still very thankful to have won and I'm pretty sure I wouldn't have just taken 2nd just to get the money.  But sometimes these things happen and I think, this could only happen to me.  

There are more but I think 5 is enough for a hall of shame.  Maybe next time I'll tell you about the gallery in Seattle that went under and still has one of my sculptures they wont return.  Or maybe I'll do my best to forget it and be positive.  


I'll add this one thing for everyone's benefit:  In each of these scenarios I was able to keep a cool head and say please and thank you.  Mistakes happen and mistakes don't mean someone is bad.  It means they're human.  I have remained kind, professional and generous with grace in each situation.  In many of these times, the gallery contact was also kind, professional and as graceful as possible.  So when these kinds of things happen to you, keep that in mind.  

a little lent

Ash Wednesday was three days ago and here I am thinking about Lent again.  Sometimes I give up things.  Sometimes I start doing things.  The idea is to be a better human in some small way by the end of the 40+ days.  I have realized that this has more to do with the thoughtful consideration of each day than it does the removing or adding of an activity.

Thanks to Lent seasons past I am eating more healthy, cursing less, not being quite as mean and drawing more often.  I think there's still a way to search "lent" on this blog if you need to catch up.  This year it snuck up on me and I realized I needed to think of a good Lent idea when someone mentioned it was Fat Tuesday last Tuesday night.  After a quick tour of my brain I thought the best thing to do was to adopt the "draw in my sketchbook every day for Lent" path.  It's not new at all and I've done it once or twice in the past, but it is a good one.  Such a good practice for a studio artist in general, but I've been drawing a lot this winter and I've relied on my sketchbooks for imagery.  

So Wednesday night, after a hectic day of plaster pouring chaos at school, I pressed pause, grabbed my sketchbook and sat myself down in a quiet room.  The quiet room was the thing.  It was so calm.  No TV spitting nonsense into the room, no music, only the faint annoying sound of a mean chihuahua coming from the other room.  Every few minutes the giant Labrador would shift his head on the floor and sigh through his wet, shiny nose.  I drew something, whatever it was couldn't have been important, but something struck me about the quiet while I scribbled lines.  I don't watch a lot of TV or movies.  We don't do cable or dish and on a good clear night we get like, 3 channels.  We do have Netflix and a Firestick we don't know how to use, but it's uncommon for me to watch anything alone.  

Every night I have downtime, where I sit in that same quiet room to wind down before bed with a cup of hot tea.  What was different about this first night of Lent?

That freakin' iPhone.  

Every night (and at least 145 other times during the day) I forget the quiet beauty around me and I'm drawn into the world of the hand held screen.  The room may be quiet, but my mind is busy devouring junkfood.  All the videos my feed spews at me.  All the images my people have captured about their day.  These are the moments when my phone throws up all that stuff on me.  I love it and I hate it.  

Yesterday I was driving early in the morning with the music thing on shuffle.  My iTunes library is really diverse and you really never know what to expect with shuffle.  The next song could be Wilco, Taylor Swift, Space Ghost, a song burned by a student from 15 years ago, a sermon, Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong singing live on a spotty recording or it could be a chapter from a forgotten book.  Friday, with the skyline of Columbia in my windshield, it was someone reading Jack Kerouac on a tribute album.  Quoting Jack they said "No one looks up and in".  I bet there's never been a time when this was more true.  A quick glance across the 5 lanes of traffic proved this.  Drivers with their phones up at the steering wheel thumbing through Facebook.  One lady was reading a stack of papers.  The dude in the work van was eating what seemed to be a three course meal while driving with his knee.  

Americans walk around all day with our head magnetically drawn to the device in the palm of our hands.  We don't look for cars when we cross the road or notice the deep blue of the sky.  We don't notice how wonderful the wind makes us feel when it hits our face.  We forget the warmth of the winter sun when it hits our skin.  No one looks up from their phones.  Forget about looking up in any figurative or spiritual sense.  Who has time for that with Snapchat, Twitter, Facebook, Instagram and Tumblr to update?  And how could we possibly have time to look inward if every waking moment is occupied?  When we get a spare minute we have to see if anyone thought we were important enough to email us.  Or send us a message.  Or tag us in a photo.  We are all indicted.  We are all guilty.  


So for Lent, I will take a moment.  Either a long moment or a short moment, whatever the day will allow, and I will draw in my sketchbook.  I'll draw the weird outfit that walked by my window.  I'll draw a student.  I may just scribble nonsensical lines, but I will do it without my phone.  I'll turn it off, set it aside and take a break from all the information it seeks to provide.  

You are welcome to join me.  Maybe we'll communicate about it through our phones!

belief

Violet came home from school the other day with a sad face.  This was odd because she’s a very happy 7 year old.  I heard my wife say, for my benefit, “Ask daddy about it, I’m sure he can help you”.

The dad mind immediately kicked into high gear.  What had happened?  What sort of horrible thing was I about to be forced to explain to a 7 year old?  Why had my wife forsaken me and thrown me under the bus like this?

After a minute that felt like 6 years in the dad mind, Violet asked “Daddy, do you think Santa Claus is real?”

It was the Monday after Thanksgiving and not quite December yet.  Violet and Blue had been singing Christmas songs for a solid month.  I know this because I already had to yell at them to stop twice before Thanksgiving.  We were headed deep into Santa territory.

She explained that several of her friends in 2^nd grade had laughed at her that day because she believed in Santa.  I find it very difficult to explain here the exact type of pain this caused in my heart.  Punk kids were laughing at my Violet.  They were making fun of her for believing in something.  These little goblins had been on the Earth only 7 years and they were insinuating that they were smarter and more sophisticated than my beautiful, creative, free spirit of a child. 

Belief is such an interesting thing to me.  It’s such a simple and overused word and we all think we know what it means.  But it’s also a very misused word.  There are generally two acceptable definitions.  One is essentially synonymous with “think”.  That definition is accepting that something is true.  The second definition is more challenging as it involves “faith”, “trust” or “confidence”.  The first definition has more to do with the mind and the second has more to do with action. 

I believe that there is a God.  The Christian idea of God.  I believe in Christian theology and spirituality.  I believe it according to the first definition – I “think” that the ideas are true.  I also believe it according to the second definition – I try to act and live as if it’s true.  I believe it like Violet believes that Santa is real.  And just like Violet, I’ve had little punks think I’m an idiot because of my belief.

Of course, this is not a debate.  It’s not an argument for or against belief in my God.  Sadly this is one area where my people have screwed things up for everyone over the years.  They’ve treated it like a debate where they try to sit down with rational people and attempt to logically rationalize belief in a completely irrational idea.  And if you’re a fellow Christian reading this, don’t you dare get offended by me using the word “irrational” to describe what we believe.  What we believe defies logic, physics and reason.  We believe in the supernatural.  It’s wonderful and it is irrational.  You can’t rationalize the irrational.  And it’s a fool’s errand to use reason to attempt to argue someone into believing it. 

In addition to my Christian spirituality, I’m also an artist.  Yeah, I have enough weird to fill a pickup truck.  In the creative world, it’s not usually considered cool at all to believe what I believe.  The thing is, I find that very odd.  Of all the people in the world to believe in a Creator, a vast and unimaginable artist, shouldn’t the artist be at the top of that list?  Wasn’t it the artists who imagined the first visual depictions of Biblical narratives?  Wasn’t it the artist/shaman who was believed to stand with one foot in the physical world and one foot in the spiritual world to relay messages and visions?  Isn’t it still the artist today who longs to communicate the truths and experiences that lie beyond the reach of mere words?

Maybe it hasn’t always been so, but at this point in my life I find it easy to see the limitations of science.  I find it easy to see that the entire human experience in this universe is only one tiny speck of a way of seeing things.  I find it easy to believe that there is so much more than that which we are given only small glimpses.  Spirituality is a crazy, mystical realm where everything means something and everything happens for a reason.  The creative world is also that.

Of course I don’t expect you to understand what I believe, even when I try to explain it.  You see, my belief is not based on what someone told me.  It’s not based simply on what I read somewhere.  It’s not even based on what my family did.  My belief is based on a mixture of all that, but also a heavy dose of experience.  What I believe has been tested in real life and has come up feeling true.  When put into practice, all that irrational thought held up.  As weird as it was, it ended up holding water. 

Knowing that these are my experiences and not yours, I can’t fault you for having different beliefs.  You see, what we truly believe by the first definition ends up causing us to live by the second definition.  Our belief then becomes the main filter through which we experience life.  When things happen, good or bad, those things are tinted by the filter of our belief.  Coming from a Christian background, my filter tends to point me toward a Christian understanding of my experiences.  This is a bias I am happy to live with.  I live with mine just like you live with yours.  If you happen to be of a different spiritual belief system, that doesn’t make you less intelligent.  We just believe different things.  And I’m certainly not going to laugh at you for what you believe.  Doing so would surely only indicate insecurity and ignorance on my part.  And I’m pretty sure laughing at someone’s beliefs would not qualify as love and my belief system is kinda adamant about love.

Belief is a wonderful thing.  Whether you believe in a God or unicorns or bigfoot (I might believe in bigfoot) it is a wonderful thing to believe.  Belief indicates possibility.  It leaves room for magic.  I mean, don’t we all hate the know-it-all guy in our social circles who is quick to tell you everything you know isn’t really true?  Of course we do because deep down inside, we all want to live in world where supernatural things are possible.  We want to live in a world of miracles and wonder.  Sure it’s highly unlikely that a giant ape-like critter has managed to live hundreds of thousands of years only managing to be spotted by crazy drunk people with blurry cameras.  But I want it to be possible somehow.  I would rather live in a world of possibility.  I would rather live in a world of yes.

(thanks to ramey, unicorns do exist)

On Christmas eve, Violet went to bed super early because she was afraid Santa would come before she fell asleep and he’d have to skip her house.  She left him peppermint cookies and milk.  She shook off the naysayers and chose belief over logic.  She chose yes.  She chose possibility.  The smile she had Christmas morning was the smile each of us have when what we believe actually turns out to be true.

capsized

Yesterday there was drama, excitement and danger.  It. Was. Awesome.

Yesterday was December 28.  It was sunny and an unseasonable 65 degrees.  Blue, Violet and I slept late while G got up early and went to work.  If you're new here, my job during summer and winter break is to keep the kids alive.  So yesterday I did my morning routine and while I was having a wonderful coffee at breakfast I realized that it would be a sin to waste such a beautiful day sitting inside.  Winter is coming, I can feel it, and a day like this may not come around again until spring.  The kids were apparently ready for an adventure so they started on picnic lunches and water bottles while I loaded up the kayaks.  

It was beautiful out on the water.  I was in shorts and a tshirt.  I forgot my sweatshirt, but luckily I didn't need it.  I had the kids dressed a little more appropriately (again, my job is to keep them alive).  From the shore we set out across the way to an island.  It's some sort of protected land owned by the state and with the lake level low for winter, there was a lot of exposed shoreline to explore.  We paddled to one side to get a good look and as Blue was pointing out something he spied from his boat, he pointed too hard and leaned too far and his boat tipped.  His panic tipped it further, water rushed inside and in a blink, he was neck deep in the lake.  His life jacket kept him up so far that it took him a moment to realize he could touch the bottom but once he did, he ran to the shore.  I'm sure his life flashed before his eyes.  I may have mentioned that it was December 28.  While the day was warm, the lake water was decidedly not warm.  

So how was that awesome?  It seems like Blue asks me that a lot when we have these types of experiences.  And it's funny how things have changed in that regard.  When he was born my life was all about keeping him alive.  We covered all the electrical outlets with little plastic things.  We moved furniture with sharp corners so it wouldn't be in his path.  Cleaning products were moved up high and we even put those little plastic locks on all the cabinets.  He couldn't go outside if it was too hot or too cold.  We bathed him in Lysol and GermX.  We protected him from every physical, emotional and mental danger we could possibly imagine.  

We had a creek that cut across our yard when I was a kid.  At some point it was piped underground but when I was around 10 the pipes under the driveway gave way and had to be replaced.  These things happened slowly as work like this was often traded as favors and had to happen to fit someone else's work schedule.  Early on a backhoe came by on a slow day and dug up the entire path across the driveway and removed the pipes.  Dirt was piled head high on both sides of the creek.  These two completely awesome "ramps" were conveniently located at the low spot on the driveway.  We had a downhill run and visions of Evel Knievel in our heads.  One afternoon my older brothers and I were jumping our little Grand Canyon on our bikes and some stranger lady pulled in the driveway.  She drove around the little detour and knocked on the door to our house.  She then informed my parents that we were all about to kill ourselves jumping over that pit in our driveway.  Of course, we did this just about every day so mom and dad shrugged it off and sent her on her way.  

My parents protected us.  They made sure we were safe.  But they also allowed us to live and explore and have adventures.  We dug giant holes.  We cut down trees with hatchets.  We got cuts and scrapes and probably a few concussions, but we didn't know what those were so it's ok.  All those adventures helped to teach us how to live and how to be people.  

I realize this is not a newsflash to most of you but we are raising generations of children who think an adventure is something you play on an XBox.  Excitement is only something they feel when there's a new season of their favorite show released on Netflix.  They survive on carbonated sugar drinks and Cheetos.  And all this because their parents have hovered and tried to protect them from all sorts of dangers.  So they sit inside and breath processed air and they whine incessantly when the temperature varies one degree in either direction.  They don't know what it's like to go exploring in the woods.  They never play in the mud.  They never experience any kid-friendly "danger".

So when they grow up into teens and 20somethings they are pasty, unhealthy, scared of everything and they don't know how to deal with real excitement or challenges because their parents aren't there to hover and fix it anymore.  

In their book "The Dangerous Book For Boys", Conn and Hal Iggulden write, "In this age of video games and cell phones, there must still be a place for knots, tree houses, and stories of incredible courage."  Yes, there must be.  


Yesterday Blue caught his breath on the shore.  He was truly terrified by the cold and unexpected swim.  We stood in the sun as he dripped dry and then we walked the shoreline and found cool treasures.  He started making jokes about being wet and falling out of his boat.  Then he got back in his kayak and paddled himself across the lake like a dude who just punched a dragon in the face.

It was awesome.  


(If you have kids or if you plan to have kids ever, buy "The Dangerous Book For Boys".  Read it and do some of the cool stuff with your kids.  It's totally safe for girls too.)