Bugle Section/2008-09 Fall-Winter Art-to-Art Palette Journal Print Edition

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They are big, bold, powerful, and come in all sizes, shapes and colors. We drive by these every single day and night, however the majority of motorists do not really realize what they are other than what the eye tells the mind. Their colors are worthy of a paint palette named Pumpkin Orange, Light Amethyst, Candy Apple Red, Calzona Green, and Persian Sand. They dot the gray highways in bigger than life proportions. They have designs on them from minimalist to baroque. Yes, they are the Big Trucks with a diversity that can easily define them as: Art traveling on the highways.
Even as far back as the 1960s when Big rigs were made by Ford, Chevrolet, Peterbilt and International, colors were bold and bright. Kenny Neiman, a truck driver and farmer says that he has the most equipment in Caldwell County, Texas. This would also include his truck graveyard. These antique trucks with their faded and peeling colors, blend with the shiny as well as rusty parts of chrome giving a history of how trucks looked and operated so many years ago. He much likes the fact that his best truck and trailer is an orange 1969 Chevy. It was the second truck he bought and though not used as much anymore, it still runs and works in a pinch, said Neiman. Logos if used at all were often a simple name of the company and where it was located. Wayne Lubner of Schneider National, headquartered in Green Bay, Wisconsin and claiming rights to Americas largest truckload carrier, also recalls the days when there were few interstate highways, speed limits were 45 mph and rollout windshields were the only form of air-conditioning available. Cab over tractors were the standard piece of equipment with sleeper berths 106 - The Art-to-Art Palette - Bugle Section - 2008-09 Fall/Winter Edition
so small that you needed a shoe-horn to get in the bunk and a can opener to get out. Drivers operating in the 50s through the 80s saw tremendous change in vehicle comfort and performance in 30 years. Lubner says, As we look forward
without it, adds Luber. Fortunately for not
the changes and improvements, the industry will be even more dramatic. There is a great deal ahead professional successes for those who continue in the trucking industry.
only large fleet operators as well as the professional drivers, when the truck is parked and engine not running, cab heating and air conditioning can operate which saves on fuel and reduces pollution. Norman Miller, a driver out in Chattanooga who served three tours in Iraq, decks his cab with U.S. flag, MIA,
sun hits just right, light dances across the truck in a kaleidoscope of colors. A modern work of art on the move is truly breathtaking to behold. So next time youre going down the highway, change your perspective. Note the bright colors, shining chrome and designs dotting a gray highway then marvel at the pinstripe on the doors or the
about how transportation equipment has improved over the last 70 years.
From Lubners almost 35 years view of the industry, he remains additionally .amazed
While the basic needs of transportation, moving a product from origin to destination, remain the same, the equipment and systems have certainly come a great distance, said Lubner.
Modern day brings in more companies like Freightliner, Mack and Kenworth in the creations of Big rigs. Medium day cabs to heavy-duty double cabs are equipped with engines that purr at 240 HP, 400 HP, or higher. Lifting or hauling, these giants can transport up to 240,000 GCW or Gross Combined Weight. It is estimated that 90% of consumer products are transported in this fashion and companies from the independent owners to the large corporations are beginning to see these trucks as blank canvasses. The designs are bold, bright, and indicative of whom they are.
In 1976, air-conditioned cabs came into tractors . I wonder how we ever did
Todays over the road tractors have been designed and engineered to deal with almost any road situation. They have air-ride suspension, cabs and seats that smooth out the ride for professional drivers.
and U.S. Army signs. Big Eddie Jones, owner/operator, has a logo that contains a portrait of a saxophone player with musical notes. His driver, Curtis Henry drives a seemingly simple white truck with a black and white drawing of a cowboy bent at the knee, hat in hand in front of a cross holding the reigns of his horse. Walter Stuckley of Tiger Trax has the logo We dare to be different on the back of one of his three trucks all of which are painted a fiery orange with big black stripes. Business, according to Walter, has definitely picked up. Large corporations are reaping the benefits as well with this new source of product design. Whole Foods Market has their entire show truck painted a vibrant green with larger then life pictures of people and products that demonstrate what they stand for as a company. If the logos and designs on trailers and cabs do not grab your attention, try looking at one of these Big rigs deadon. You may have never noticed that Mack trucks carry a chrome bulldog on their hoods and International has their logo worked in as part of their grill. Independent drivers will often replace bumpers and other sections of the truck with all chrome so that when the
slogans on the back such as Lil Chopper or Sneaky Snake and behold the colors of the highway. Still have more questions, email LubnerW@Schneider.com, a person who knows the talk firsthand and definitely has walked the roadways.
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PORTRAIT OF AN EDUCATOR
ANN RICHARDS:
Most lasting legacy

When growing up, Ann Richards {1933-2006} was the first governor of Texas, who I had actually known by name. I am quite confident most will agree that she was impossible to forget. Her sparkling personality and her razor-sharp wit, perhaps best demonstrated by a quote about George H. W. Bush from her 1988 keynote speech: Poor George, he cant help it. He was born with a silver foot in his mouth. However, what Richards provided the most was an incredible example of strong female leadership in a state that was known for usually being run by a parade of good old boys.
In 1990, when she was elected controversial at the time and remains so Corporation, a conservative think tank, governor, she brought with her qualified today, it helped equalize funding so that found that the equal funding produced by people from all different races and walks children in poorer areas were not Robin Hood was the most important of life into the government, and with her deprived of educational opportunities factor in improving Texas schools over the accomplishments proved that a woman simply because their schools lacked past 20 years. could run the state just as well as a man funding. In another attempt to improve the could, even if she did have to do Today in Texas, the program is still funding situation, Governor Richards everything in high heels. somewhat unpopular, but it has helped the instituted the Texas State Lottery to help Although Richards only served one term, during her tenure she was able to help Texas recover from some major difficulties. One of those was the state prison system. Inmates now have access to treatment for substance abuse. She also took measures to stimulate the states economy, such as, persuading Southwestern Bell to relocate its headquarters to San Antonio from St. Louis. However, before she became a politician, Richards was an educator. She was a social studies and government teacher at Fulmore Junior High School in Austin, Texas. Even when she stopped teaching, her passion for THE TEXAS EDUCATION AGENCY endowed upon the Ann Richards School an Exemplary rating during its first year. education remained strong. Students scored among the highest in the state on the state assessment. She remained focused on improving educational opportunities for education situation. For example, a 1999 raise money for the public school system. disadvantaged children. As governor, she study performed by Texas A&M found that After she lost the 1994 election to test scores in poorer districts equaled those introduced the Robin Hood Plan in George W. Bush, Richards remained of wealthy school districts two years after 1992, which took some of the school active in the Democratic Party, but was no the bill was passed. As State Senator taxes from wealthy school districts and longer interested in running for public Rodney Ellis noted in an editorial article, redistributed them to poorer school office. Instead, she contributed her time, published in the Houston Chronicle on districts. energy, and personal popularity to helping Continued next page May 16, 2004, even the Rand Although this program was
By Allison Kroulek
Ann Richards
Continued from previous page
other Democrats succeed. Furthermore, she never lost her love of educating others and from 1997-98 she taught classes at Brandeis University as the Fred and Rita Richman Distinguished Visiting Professor of Politics. n her final years, she devoted her time to development of The Ann Richards School for Young Women Leaders that opened in August of 2007. Although Richards never had the opportunity to see the doors of her creation visually open, the school welcomes girls from low-income and disadvantaged families. The young women are provided the educational tools to prepare for college with a special A KEY COMPONENT in the schools curriculum is a full emphasis in fields, range of physical education, athletic and afterschool fitness programs, general health and nutrition classes. such as, math and science. Beyond the latter, the school rounds out the learning that enables generations of girls to excel in their goals and achieve their dreams, starting in a place that rightfully upholds the 19th Amendment as well as in a place where young women will know they have the right to be wherever they choose. Again, I am confident most will generously agree that Ann Richards most lasting legacy was foremost as an educator; however, along the way; she was also elected to give those the fearless opportunity to travel the road to be taken.
STUDENTS complete rigorous coursework that prepares them for college. Core to the curriculum is the idea that students must work together to solve problems and become global leaders.
Editors Note: Alison Kroulek grew up in Houston, Texas. In her childhood days, her favorite things to do were reading, writing stories and poetry, drawing and painting, and getting lost in the woods behind her house. After high school, she moved to Chattanooga, Tennessee where she not only graduated from the University of Tennessee with a B.A. in English, but also found her life partner Duncan. Subjects of Art, literature, history, politics, and the environment are writing fortes.
nd these we honor . . .
Longtime public relations executive and former broadcast journalist Phil Osborne received the 2008 Friend of the College Award recently from the University of Kentuckys College of Communications and Information Studies. This award, along with many others that recognize faculty, staff and students of the college were also honored. Osborne attended the University of Kentucky and Eastern Kentucky University, where he earned a bachelor's degree in radio/television broadcasting. He spent seven years in broadcasting at WRSL in Stanford, Kentucky, and WLAP and WLEX-TV in Lexington before joining the Preston Group in 1985. Ten years later he was promoted to president of the Lexington-based marketing communications and research company, which started doing business as PrestonOsborne. In 1997, Osborne bought the firm from its founder, Tom Preston. In addition, Osborne taught part-time in the College of Communications and Information Studies for six years, and his firm now offers a competitive internship program that has employed a number of students from the integrated strategic communications program.
The Outstanding Alumni Award went to both Andrew J. Oppmann, president and publisher of The Leaf-Chronicle in Clarksville, and the The Daily News Journal in Murfreesboro, both in Tennessee, and Philip C. Palmgreen, professor of communication at UK. Oppmann graduated from UK in 1985 with a bachelor's degree in journalism. He was the editor-in-chief of the Kentucky Kernel, and was named outstanding graduating senior of the College of Communications. He was also president of UK's Society of Professional Journalists and lobbied to expand the state's Open Records Law to apply to student government, an effort recognized by the inaugural Robert G. Zumwinkle Student Rights Award in 1985. He joined Gannett in 1994, and in 2005 was named one of Gannett Tennessee's top 10 executive editors. He serves on the Associated Press Managing Editors national board of directors and is a past president and current board member of the UK Journalism Alumni Association. Palmgreen graduated from UK in 1967 with a bachelor's degree in English, and a master's in communications in 1969. He received his Ph.D. in mass communication in 1975 from the University of Michigan, and is a professor of communication at UK. He is widely known for his work on media campaigns and prevention of risky behavior. He has served as the coprincipal investigator on a series of projects supported by the National Institute on Drug Abuse and the National Institute of Mental Health investigating the design and targeting of televised public service announcements for populations at risk for drug abuse or HIV/STD infection. He also served for four years as primary scientific adviser for the Office of National Drug Control Policy's $2 billion National Youth AntiDrug Media Campaign. The College of Communications and Information Studies also honored many students, faculty and staff members: Teaching Excellence: Lisa G. O'Connor, professor in the School of Library and Information Science. OConnor earned a Bachelor of Arts in English literature and a Master of Library and Information Science from the University of South Carolina and a Ph.D. in the cultural foundations of education from Kent State University. She was a business librarian in academic libraries for 10 years and also managed instructional services for five years. Her areas of expertise are information literacy; business information and information seeking; and assessment design and development. Nominated by one of her former students, who described her as a rare package of knowledge, experience, passion and dedication. She is a truly excellent communicator. Outstanding Staff: Nathan Stevens, IT specialist and technology coordinator in the School of Journalism and Telecommunications. Stevens graduated from UK with a bachelor's degree in telecommunications. He provides technical support for 21 faculty members and three staff members and also supports the technology-related curricular needs for the school. Stevens is also shepherding the bidding, installation and training processes for both a completely retooled television studio and new student computer lab. Faculty Research: Deborah S. Chung, professor in the School of Journalism and Telecommunications. Chung joined the UK faculty in 2004. Her research focuses on the impact of information communication technologies on journalism practice, culture and education and how these technologies can potentially empower information consumers. Most recently, she has been working with the Kentucky Press Association to help local community newspapers better understand the needs of their rural online news audiences and to assist smaller newspapers in engaging news audiences to facilitate a journalism of conversation. Faculty Community Service: Seth M. Noar, associate professor in the Department of Communication. Noar has been involved in HIV/AIDS research and community service for more than a decade and has been involved in community service-related activities and projects in Kentucky since he moved to the state in 2001. His current work focuses on disadvantaged populations including African Americans and rural Americans. Students receiving scholarships: Shea Davidson, Danielle Pritchett and Stephanie Ingolia, recipients of the Bill Billiter Scholarship; Patricia Payne, recipient of the Hallie Day Blackburn Scholarship; Charlotte Fleming, recipient of the Williena Burdine Broyles Scholarship; Rebecca Sweeney, recipient of the Judy Clabes Scholarship; Jamie Burns, recipient of the CommunicationOutstanding Junior Award; Kathleen G. Vidoloff, recipient of the R. Lewis Donohew Fellowship; Najah Allouch, recipient of the Shirley Rose Scholarship; Metz Camfield and Ali Cicerchi, recipients of the Carol Sutton Scholarship; Renee Human and Jason Martin, recipients of the Sypher Memorial Scholarship; and Erin Gilles and J. Human, recipients of the Bruce Westley Scholarship.
In all things, success depends upon previous preparation, and without such preparation there is sure to be failure.
Confucius c.550-c478 BC
The Art-to-Art Palette - Back Porch Section - 2008-09 Fall/Winter Edition - 111
inderellas Castle: Spires stand tall against a skyline. Flags fly high with colors and Shields that can be seen for distances around. Gargoyles look on as millions of people flow through the breezeway, passing murals of a story that has been passed down for generations and -immortalized by one mans dream.
everal castles and chateaus in France inspired the Castle. Built by Walt Disney, it opened in Florida to the public in 1971. It is a castle that demonstrates an architectural achievement in illusion. The castle encompasses a space of several blocks and is 189 feet tall. It is the centerpiece to Magical Kingdom, one of the four parks located within Walt Disney World. If one chooses to traverse from one end of the park to the other, most likely it will take them through the breezeway of Cinderellas Castle. The breezeway gives the feel of traveling underneath the vast castle, and if a traveler pauses through the chaos, they can see huge colorful murals painted on the castle walls. The story painted is the fairytale that has been immortalized and forever known to Americans and the world over as Cinderella. The scenes are blocked off in five sections with each one meticulously painted and ordained in 14-karat gold and real silver. Opposite of the murals, suits of armor stand at attention with shields and weapons displayed, as found in days of long ago. The breezeway offers the only access to two entries open to the general public. That is, if one has thought far ahead enough in advance to book these prestigious views. The entry on the side of the murals opens to two small rooms giving the public a glimpse of what a castle might look like on the inside. With high architectural ceilings sconces of light attached to the walls, reflecting through soft palettes of fabric, there is a feel of stepping into an interior boudoir of a castle. This special place, known as the Bibbidi Bobbidi Boutique allows
princesses of any kingdom to receive hairstyling, make-up and manicures. Across the foyer of the boutique lies another entry. Passing through this entry leads to meeting and greeting the lovely Cinderella in her lounge. Suits of armor stand against walls on permanent duty as tapestries hang down enveloping the high arches in luxury. On the brick illusion walls hang a variety of weapons and coat of arms. There are 40 coats of arms each representing Walt Disney, Imagineers, and others that have been contributors to the history and heritage of Walt Disney World. The room flows into a carpeted staircase that winds itself up to a huge dining area known as Cinderellas Table. nside the vast looking banquet hall, tall beautiful etched windows with stained glass coat of arms allow guests to view the park. Hand carved wood paneling surround the interior and giant wooden beams support grand chandeliers that hang down so that light flits across tables and chairs below. The Fairy Godmother, Mice and occasionally Cinderella, among other characters, join their guests for a meal or entertainment at what was once King Stephans Banquet Hall before the name change in 1997. The crme de la crme of the castle, being the actual twobedroom suite located on the third floor of the Castle, is a prestigious suite that is not open to the general public and was intended to be used by Walt Disney and his family, but unfortunately was not completed before his death in 1966. This gorgeous suite makes any family feel like royalty. Marble flooring leads into rooms that carry the flavor of a 17th century castle with it. Tapestries hang in the various rooms with stained glass windows that look out upon the people below and the skyline above.
he ceiling holds more hand carved wood features and carved Cs mark the headboards above the beds. A portrait of Cinderella above the mantle masquerades as a flat screen television while a salon offers up a whirlpool tub
where relaxation takes place after the fun and excitement of the day. A clock in the room strikes right before twelve to warn those still under a spell that midnight has come and Cinderellas suite would not be complete without a cinder pot found near the fireplace.
What a word!
Ever since it came out in 1964 with the movie Mary Poppins, it conjures up any meaning that it wants. A word that is dependent upon the view of the person that has said the word and the one that hears the word.
It is art!
Like art, words have Masters: Words have been around for centuries. There is a whole study to the history of words called: Etymology. There was even a debate about what the oldest word could be: Thaig, Saig, or Talc - meaning ice or snow, according to an article in 1917 archived at the New York Times. The first written words are continuously being discussed and redefined. For the longest time Egyptians were believed to have the oldest written language in art form hieroglyphics. In 1998 archeologists located clay tablets with writing at the tomb of a king named, Scorpion dating back to 3300-3200 BC. In 1999 pottery was found that dated back 5500 years at a site called, Harappa in Pakistan that had writing on it. Aristotle, Sun Tzu, Shakespeare, and Frost among just a few. Words are placed into categories, languages and time frames. Most importantly the beholder determines if the words, how they are put together and how they are viewed are art. Uncle Toms Cabin by Harriet Beecher Stowe was first introduced in 1852 and was an instant success selling 10,000 copies the first week, galvanizing the abolition movement, translating into 60 different languages and contributing to the outbreak of the Civil War. It was an artistic literary masterpiece humanizing slavery drawing upon both personal experiences and events of the nation. Today, it is a controversial novel in the public school system that as time goes on becomes less and less read or understood by modern day students. They understand neither the words nor the context. An English teacher tells his students to pick the right words they want to convey to an audience. Also listen to the spoken words expressed in the hallway which may invoke spirit, thought, or even anger, flashing across generation, gender and race. Words have flow, movement, expression, and style that cut across a canvass of paper and air. They are controversial, breathtaking and in the right ways can speak volumes to those listening. Words are used in art by various artists, or even essential in mediums of Pop Art and entertainment. For writers, words are an extension of themselves and their souls. Words make us laugh, weep tell what we know, what we feel and who we are. Is not the expression of oneself art? So how would you express yourself? 19th Century German author, Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (1749-1832) wrote, When
ideas fail, words come in handy.
Art:
Essential 2 Development
In many elementary schools of the 1950s and 1960s, art and music were considered to be just as important as math and grammar and art and music classes took up the same amount of daily time as classes in arithmetic, geography, English grammar, and literature. Schools had a music room and an art room, both complete with necessary supplies and not used for any other classes. There was a full-time art teacher and a full-time music teacher in fact, there were two art teachers, one for lower grades and one for what we now call middle school.
In the daily art classes, children worked on large projects that took weeks to complete, so the art rooms also included storage areas with places for youngsters to store their smocks and personal art supplies. Unfortunately, the arts are not given this kind of emphasis in many of our schools today. Some schools have no art programs at all. Others have shortened art periods, or art on a cart, where a teacher must be able to pack all the supplies needed onto a cart which is wheeled into classrooms for a brief art class. Art projects must be done in a week or less, and teachers are unable to give real in-depth instruction. If classes need to be cut or shortened, art and music are often the first to be affected. It is also unfortunate that some parents dont encourage their children to draw and paint, and may not even care if a child shows unusual skill or interest in art. The parents may believe that employment in art-related areas is not a real job, so they think theres no need to encourage their child in something that wont do him any good in the future. However, even if a child doesnt become an artist, architect or designer, (employment which can actually be quite lucrative), learning about art is essential to developing children who can think and learn at aboveaverage levels. Why is art important to the development of children? Because art opens up childrens minds and helps them realize that there is more to the world than strictly business. It teaches them to solve problems and to think outside the box. It allows them to learn creative ways to express themselves and to blow off steam. If a child gets angry, its better to smash a glob of clay or draw a picture expressing anger than to hit or yell at another person. From the first time that a child picks up a crayon and finds that he can make a mark with it, he searches for encouragement and praise from adults. Why should he be encouraged, when his art seems to be nothing but scribble? Because these first efforts are more than just scribbling; they are a valuable part of the childs growth and children need the help of adults
to expand their skills. Through holding a pencil or crayon, the small child learns to use muscles in the hand and arm not used before, especially the tiny gripping muscles in the hand. As he learns that a mark appears on the paper when he applies pressure and moves the instrument, he becomes the master of the art he makes. Just the simple recognition that he has made a mark himself is a proud moment for a toddler. He may not be able to use words, but he can communicate with lines and colors. When someone says, what a nice picture! it makes him feel important in a world where his opinions and desires are often considered unimportant. As children grow older, exposure to art activities in school not only helps young people to discover and express themselves, it brings them enjoyment and relieves stress. This becomes more important as the child grows and school pressures mount. Art class can be a welcome break where kids can de-stress and then return to their studies with renewed energy. Youngsters who dont excel in sports or other activities may find that they can excel in art. Art classes also help the truly talented youngster make decisions about his future. He or she may realize that they would like to go into the field of art, architecture or design, or even into the fine arts. In the long run, it is a mistake for schools to de-emphasize classes in the arts.
ife obstacles opens womans artistic pathway to salvation

Author, artist, forensic hypnotist, cancer survivor, and grandmother extraordinaire, Patricia Labeda
is living life to the fullest with her husband and two fun loving dogs in the gorgeous Texas Hill Country. An artist since she was very young, even though to this day she does not consider herself as such, she remembers as a child that a teacher wanted them to draw something for class. She decided to draw a variety of fish swimming together because they were all friends. The teacher told her that different fish dont swim together, they swim in schools.
Luckily, for those that enjoy her drawings, paintings, and books today, her mom had told her that she could do anything she wanted, and not to pay much attention to what that teacher had said. She took that to heart when she was working for a publishing company and decided her drawings needed color. Using oils that were available, she taught herself how to paint, and then proceeded to is that she pictures someone, then adds her own details that involve her favorite subjectthe Southwest. The walls of her house are covered with her paintings, both finished and what she considers unfinished. Her most popular and cherished portrait is not one of the Southwest, but one that hangs in her bedroom next to the bed. The portrait is that of a beautiful blonde holding a gold cross necklace in her hands. The expression of her is one that can be described in many ways, but one that I would consider haunted. I first saw the portrait on her website and admired it, and when I saw it on a tour of her home, I couldnt resist but ask her who the lady was. Patricia, in her wonderful charm, explained that it was her favorite as it was a portrait of her daughter, Melody Elizabeth who has since died. She mentions, that painting saved my
break all the rules because
she wanted to. Her painting took off when she retired from law enforcement 5 years ago in order to save her sanity. What makes her portraits and paintings unique
over 20 years ago when she was working at Vande Publishing House in California, known for the Pennysaver publication. Shortly after her first husband passed away, she was diagnosed with cancer, given a low rate of survival and an unknown amount of time. The doctor prescribed a change in lifestyle, so she packed up herself, her two daughters, and son and moved them to a place she always wanted to go: Hawaii. She was treated at Queens Hospital and as she was undergoing treatment, a doctor had come in with the treatment of self-hypnosis. It worked so well for her, she continued working with her doctor earning her certificate as a forensic hypnotist so she could continue to help herself and others using this method. This may have been a new vocation, but even as she was dealing with the death of her husband, learning to live as a single mom and fighting cancer she was
sanity but it was self-hypnosis that saved my life. Patricia was diagnosed with cancer
continuing to draw, and write stories. Her first stories were holiday stories that she would write for her children. The first published book was self-published as an e-book titled: Hark the Ark, a wonderful picture book that she published at the birth of her first great-grandchild. What she noticed is that all of her writings came back to the animals and to the morals and themes of the Bible. The main reason for this was that her oldest daughter, who was the subject of her most popular painting, died due to her own misuse of drugs that centered around her mental disability . She found a publisher and has since published three more children books that hold on to valuable lessons about life with the use of animals. All of her books are self illustrated. Her latest book: GABRIELLE GRAHAM: A Call to Angels is based on her own near drowning experience as a child. Patricias cancer went into remission but not her zest for life. With all of the traumatic experiences in her life she still has an exuberance and tranquility that this writer could only admire. Besides living in the Hill Country of Texas with her husband, she plays tennis, offers her time to the sheriffs department, travels, writes and draws. Although she considers herself a novice, she paints to a growing group of admirers. More about this remarkable person at: www.childzbookz.com. By Colleen Ayala
Teaching strategy gives educators another help tool in the classroom
ifferentiation is a new name to an old game in education. How does one educate students with different learning styles and different learning abilities in the same classroom and achieve the same result? It is called the Layered Curriculum, a strategy based on brain research by Dr. Kathie F. Nunley, a 15-year veteran teacher, who has added one more tool to the teachers portfolio to help answer that question.
A researcher, consultant, speaker, and author, Nunley travels extensively giving training sessions to teachers and school districts. She has studied and written an abundance of articles for the last ten years that handle the crux of classroom problems today: the different variety of students and learning abilities, with an increase of accountability on teachers to produce students that can pass standardized state and national exams. he design of the curriculum focuses on activities that are layered upon another set of activities, such as, a tiered wedding cake. In a cake, the bottom portion is eaten first, then the middle and finally the top tier of the cake is eaten last when the other two are completed. The same process applies to the Layered Curriculum. Students are given a choice of activities that are broad and simple in nature. As they complete that level, they proceed to the next set of activities that are fewer and more creative. When the first two levels are complete, the students advance to the top layer that is smaller but more in depth. Each layer corresponds to the levels of Blooms Taxonomy and works very well with Marzanos Nine, the educational mantras of most school districts. There are several advantages making the Layered Curriculum unique according to Dr. Nunley. Once the strategy is established in the classroom, the student is able to produce more depth of understanding than in the traditional setting. Assignments are varied and individualized, not only for special education students, but also those students that are having difficulty with certain concepts. The wide variety of activities in each layer allows students to choose activities that are more interesting to them individually. This leads to the extra benefit of a productive student in the classroom and a teacher as facilitator. More importantly, this technique works in any classroom with any subject at any grade level. unley has set up www.brains.org with the latest articles and information on this topic. Another informative site established is: http://help4teachers.com. Everything you need to know about the Layered Curriculum is located there, such as: find sample lesson plans written by teachers or 100 plus teaching tips. Books and lesson guides are available as well as a calendar of upcoming workshops and conferences. In addition, her calendar is updated on a continuous basis and will also indicate if it is open enrollment or closed to the public. She is scheduled for Chicago, Illinois in April and Fort Wayne, Indiana August in 2009.
University of Kentucky
2008-09 Fall/Winter Edition -
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Ohio Art teacher raises the bar for her students

Mary Theresa Boll is an elementary art teacher at Valley Elementary School in Lucasville, Ohio. She finds one of the "perks" of teaching elementary art is having the same children for the initial five years of their school experience. According to Mary, this gives her students the opportunity to be inspired and to see school as a place of excitement, as they use the tools learned to build their future lives. Furthermore, Mary always manages to include all 600 of her students in the creation of the art work she displayed. "I believe that artwork is a compound word. Art is the soul of the word, but work is the muscle that gets it done, says Mary. "Art nurtures the basic skills of creativity and creative thinking." Boll challenges her students with a wide range of art activities and history so that each child feels a sense of accomplishment. Mary is passionate, zealous and demanding about what she teaches. Thusly, she expects her students to follow the lead and raise their own bar. Students annually exhibit work in the Ohio Art Education Association: Young Peoples Art Exhibition and Youth Art Month Exhibit and regularly show their work at the Southern Ohio Museum in Portsmouth, Ohio. Also, students have won multiple awards in the Bridges Art Exhibit in New York and in the International Childrens Art Exhibition in Tokyo, Japan. Art shows in Ohio, Kentucky, Indiana, and West Virginia are more venues Mary selects for student exhibition. "Teaching isn't an easy profession today, but I strive to make a difference in the lives of these young people." She fondly remembers the teachers she loved, with openness and admiration which has molded her own pathway. It is wonderful that a little part of me is left with each student that I teach. I teach because I am continually learning and my students are often my teachers. This I think is one of the great rewards of teaching. Boll is a very active participant in the Ohio Art Educational Association where she is the Membership/Circa Chairperson. "The OAEA has been a very meaningful experience for me because I have learned much through shared experiences and I have gained many friends among the many professional art educators in Ohio."
Pete given nod of approval on education's 'pinnacle' road

Dr. Peter Giordano, professor and chair of the Belmont University Psychology Department in Nashville, Tennessee was named as the 2007 Tennessee Professor of the Year, an award selection determined by the Carnegie Foundation for the Advancement of Teaching and the Council for Advancement and Support of Education. Dr. Giordano was selected from more than 300 top professors in the United States. I am very honored to receive this award. After 18 years of full-time teaching, there is one thing I know for sure: good teachers are not lone wolves. I have been extremely fortunate to have been surrounded by many gifted teachers here at Belmont with whom I have talked continuously about the craft of teaching. This award is theirs as much as mine, said the professor. In 1989 after receiving his B.A., M.A., and Ph.D. (Clinical Psychology) degrees from the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, Pete joined Belmonts Psychology Department. A past National President of Psi Chi, the honor society for psychology, he teaches courses in Abnormal Psychology, Psychology of Personality, Psychometrics and Introduction to Psychological Science. He is also a member of the Belmont Undergraduate Research Symposium Steering Team, Fellow of Division Two of the American Psychological Association and a consulting editor for Teaching of Psychology. In the past, he has received the Tower Award for exceptional contribution to campus life from Belmonts Student Affairs division and the Academic Inspiration Award from Belmonts Student-Athlete Advisory Committee. "Pete Giordano has been an outstanding faculty member since his first days on the Belmont campus, receiving the high honor of our own Chaney Distinguished Professor award and serving as a former director of the Belmont Teaching Center. Pete is an excellent model of how all Belmont faculty are committed to teach in ways that empower students to learn to their highest potential. His own ongoing commitment to intellectual exploration makes Pete a model of the teacher-scholar, a way of teaching that enables his students to thrive," said Dr. Dan McAlexander, Provost of Belmont.
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Creative side of professor is a collage of mediums
His future is 'full' and 'bright'

Professor of English, Jeffrey Gundy at Bluffton University in Bluffton, Ohio was awarded a Fulbright Scholar grant. He lectured at the University of Salzburg in Salzburg, Austria during the 2007-08 academic year. The professor is one of approximately 800 U.S. faculty and professionals who traveled abroad through the Fulbright U.S. Scholar Program, and is among more than 30,000 recipients participating in U.S. Department of State exchange programs each year. Professor Gundy taught three courses in the American Studies department, including graduate and undergraduate literature seminars and an introductory course on North American civilization. He also did some writing and traveling in the area with his wife, Marlyce. Recipients of Fulbright awards are selected on the basis of academic or professional achievement, as well as demonstrated leadership potential in their fields. Among the thousands of prominent Fulbright alumni are: Muhammad Yunus, managing director and founder of Grameen Bank and recipient of the 2006 Novel Peace Prize; Javier Solana, foreign policy chief of the European Union; Ruth Simmons, president of Brown University; Craig Barrett, chairman of the board, Intel Corporation; Shamshad Akhtar, the first woman to hold the position of governor, State Bank of Pakistan; Mohamed Benaissa, minister for foreign affairs, Morocco; Raoul Cantero, Florida Supreme Court justice; Renee Fleming, soprano; Gish Jen, writer; Daniel Libeskind, architect; Aneesh Raman, CNN Middle East correspondent; and Robert Shaye, cochairman and co-CEO of New Line Cinema.
Sherry Trachtman has liked to make things since she was a child. Growing up in northern Jersey, she was making clothespin dolls in Civil War era gowns, complete with hoops and crinolines. Also at the ripe age of 10, she was making ornaments from walnut shells and nail polish and candlesticks from stacked glass jars covered with paper Mache and paint. "In my college macram days, I went through string at warp speed, and it began my life as a packrat, always thinking what can I use this for. This Alexandria professor of Art at Northern Virginia Community College takes great pleasure in finding objects that are usually headed for the trash, and reinventing them. She prefers working with objects manufactured in multiples and with organic natural objects, such as, shells, bark, wood, and feathers. "I like putting all kinds of different things together to see how they look and what they might say." All of this has led her, after many years of painting, printmaking and mosaics, to her latest pursuits: 3D collage and construction. Several years ago, "I got the idea of collecting my daily writings, like, shopping lists, fridge notes to the family. I began to see these writings as autobiography." As time went on, the professor saved more things she wrote, being: course syllabi; old cards and letters, and writings from others. She organized them by design versus content, and pasted them into strips. "I began to see them as self-portraits and I took these stream- of- conscious, day-to-day thoughts out of context, and used them as backdrops." While crafting one of the collages, she rolled a word strip into a cylinder and it struck an immediate chord that evolved into the 3D Towers series. Sherry works in series so that she can try as many ideas. "I get my ideas from patterns and textures I see or create. For example, from history and politics, health, family and marriage issues, art shows, books, songs, movies, and random ideas."
Chancellor University
216.391.MYER (216.391.6937) or 1.888.316.9377 3921 Chester Ave. Cleveland, Ohio 44114 The Art-to-Art Palette - Bugle Section/Educator Row department - 2008-09 Fall/Winter Edition - 121
Mans journey continues to flourish

Each child will be supported to reach goals and occupations in chosen fields of interest. A belief expressed by Superintendent Rich Seas of Coldwater Exempted Village School District, not only for his own children, but also for those children under his care. Seas is a native Ohioan, born and raised in Piqua, a graduate from St. Marys Memorial High School, and married to his sweetheart from Celina, Lorna Eyink. He began running in marathons for Beatrice Foods and was able to share the love of running with his wife. He received his Bachelor of Science in Education at Ohio University in 1986 and was able to give back to his community by teaching at his high school alma mater. After teaching in several more schools, both in and out of Ohio, he decided to take the step from teacher to administrator and became an Assistant Principal in Coshocton, Ohio. He received his Educational Specialist degree from University of Dayton and began his career as a Middle School Principal in Coldwater, Ohio. In 2002 Seas accepted the new challenge of Superintendent of Schools in Coldwater EVSD; a challenge that keeps him in running between work and family. As Rich has been building his career in education, he has also built a healthy life with his wife Lorna. They both continue to run, but have added on their own team of runners, jumpers, and climbers with 11 children- 6 boys and 5 girls ranging in age from 1 to 15 years old. In the distant future, he pictures his career path to be in this area perhaps teaching in higher education. In the meantime, he continues to challenge himself to guide those around him to develop good values and to be educated for personal successes.
Partnership route taken by universitys first woman CEO impacts educational teacher quality in region
As the University of Cincinnatis 25th president and its first woman president, Nancy Zimpher began her career as a school teacher in Washington, D.C. and then in the Ozarks, returned to her alma mater, Ohio State University, to earn her masters in English literature and a doctoral degree in teacher education and administration in higher education. While she has a long list of academic and leadership activities, much of her focus has been on improving the preparation of teachers, especially teachers for urban contexts. After serving as chancellor of the University of WisconsinMilwaukee, she returned to Ohio as UCs president and has provided leadership to forming university-community partnerships to enhance primary and secondary education and improve student success. Upon her arrival at UC, President Zimpher launched a visioning process with town hall meetings involving 240 people and more than 90 input sessions involving 2,400 people as well as a web site that garnered thousands of visits. The resulting vision, UCI21: Defining the New Urban Research University was unveiled at her inauguration. In tandem with UC|21, as soon as she arrived on campus, she approached her colleagues in higher education in the region Xavier Universitys Father Michael Graham and Northern Kentucky Universitys James Votruba to open conversation with them about how the regions higher education institutions could work together to make a greater impact on the region. Their conversation grew to become STRIVE, an unprecedented regional partnership focused on student success from birth through entry into a career. STRIVE launched on August 16, 2006, after years of relationship-building, involves the areas higher education institutions, Ohio public school districts in Cincinnati, and Kentucky's Covington and Newport, the regions Catholic urban schools on both sides of the Ohio River, plus business, civic and nonprofit partners. Nancy was honored with the 2007 Urban Appalachian Council Kinship Award because she has provided a dedicated advocacy of the urban agenda and an unceasing activist for quality teaching and urban education.
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Meet Hoosier states new Poet Laureate

Selected by the Indiana Arts Commission, Indianapolis, resident Norbert Krapf (pronounced "crop-f") was chosen as the Indiana State Poet Laureate. A native of Jasper, Indiana, Krapf is a graduate of St. Joseph's College, Rensselaer, Indiana, and received his M.A. and Ph.D. in English from the University of Notre Dame. He was selected from a field of 19 poets nominated early this year for the two-year appointment. "I am moved and honored to be named Indiana Poet Laureate," Krapf said. "This is the right time for me to make a contribution to the life of poetry in our state. I wish that my Indiana-loving parents were still alive to savor the unexpected honor." When Krapf moved from Indiana to the New York area in 1970, he began to trace his family history, study German, and write poems. He taught at the C.W. Post Campus of Long Island University, and directed the C.W. Post Poetry Center. He twice served in Germany as a Senior Fulbright Professor of American Poetry, and he was also a U.S. Exchange Teacher at West Oxon Technical College, England. Since 1976, Krapf has written or edited 21 books, two of which are his translations from the German. IU Press released his latest work recently, "Bloodroot: Indiana Poems," a selection of 175 poems written between 1971 and 2007. In 2007, Acme Records of Bloomington, Indiana released Norbert Krapf and jazz pianist-composer Monika Herzig's CD: "Imagine - Indiana in Music and Words." Recently the Indiana Historical Society Press released Krapf's prose memoir, "The Ripest Moments: A Southern Indiana Childhood." "All these projects have deepened my contact with the landscape and the people that figure in so many of my poems," Krapf said. In addition to his work as a poet and educator, Krapf became a board member of Etheridge Knight, Inc. which promotes the arts for youth, youth at risk, adults, seniors, disabled and incarcerated individuals, as well as residents traditionally underserved by the arts community. E.K. Inc. pays tribute to the arts community and the legacy of the late African American Indianapolis poet Etheridge Knight by providing a diverse artistic environment in the interdisciplinary arts for people of all cultures. For more information, www.krapfpoetry.com.
Wright State Dean taking giant steps for education

Bonnie Mathies has had quite an educational journey from an undergraduate and graduate student, public school teacher, doctoral candidate, college professor, and university administrator. Although her initial pursuit was in engineering, "I found that women studying engineering in the 60s were not well received. I changed my major to science education and found this program to better fit my interests and ambitions." During her decade of teaching in both Oberlin and Toledo City Schools, Bonnie discovered that education was a natural fit. She increasingly became fascinated with new uses of instructional technologies that began to emerge in the mid-1960s. "Somehow technologies were especially successful with my students and I was eager to find out why." Eventually she discovered that the engagement of her students with the technology and their ability to produce and create was empowering, challenging and productive. Her entry into educational administration was even more of a surprise. I loved the classroom and could never see myself as an administrator. Later I found that as an administrator, I could cover wider ground and impact a larger number of students and faculty. Increasingly she found challenges and complexities to be her calling cards, throughout her teaching and administrative responsibilities with Wright State University, Dayton Campus. Mathies has had very rewarding leadership accomplishments. She facilitated the development of a Library Media Specialist degree and license as one of two accredited programs at Kent State University and Wright State University. In addition, she has also served as the President of the Ohio Educational Library Media Association. My biggest challenge has been to be supportive of people dealing with technological developments in a comfortable way. The world has changed so much and teaching and learning is significantly impacted by new technologies. New challenges are on her agenda as the Associate Dean at the Wright State University/Lake Campus in Celina, Ohio. Educators and students need to play and experiment with these technologies in a safe environment in order to develop a willingness to use them in teaching and learning situations. I see my role as facilitating these experiences. To contact Dean Mathies, bonnie.mathies@wright.edu, and to give her your support, to continue her giant step paths in raising the educational bars - don't hesitate, peck away, and let her know in the words of Aristotle, "The roots of education are bitter, but the fruit is sweet." The Art-to-Art Palette - Bugle Section/Educator Row department - 2008-09 Fall/Winter Edition - 123
nconditional Love
Max chewed on the clover stem, a habit started by his father many years ago, and watched as the dusty station wagon turned deliberately into the driveway. The car was drooping in its rear, a sign of too much weight for far too long and carrying a tired set of worn out springs, too. He could make out four heads bobbing inside and a whole bunch of stuff piled in the back. Oh my, sighed Max, here we go. It wasnt quite evening but the cicadas were gearing up for a busy night, singing their hearts out. The robins and starlings did not have a care in the world under sunny skies and a light summer breeze. They soared and delivered musical notes as they passed each other in the treetops. A Mother cat was settling down to feed her five hungry kittens just outside the barn door. The noise from the blaring radio announced the cars arrival even before the driver let the horn rip in three short blasts. The smoke rolling from the cars engine mixed well with the driveway dust, hard to determine which was which.
Grandpa, Grandpa! yelled two youngsters, throwing open their doors and bouncing out of the back seat, even before the car had come to a complete stop. Holding out large tanned, weathered arms, Max scooped up the boys, hugging them tight. It had been two long years since they had come to visit and it had seemed like an eternity. Much taller than expected, and heavier, Grandpa Max had to set down the seven and eight year old boys when he felt his back starting to give. You boys have shot up like weeds and are as handsome as all get out, said a smiling Grandpa Max, trying hard to hide the obvious fact that the pair looked like they had just crawled out of a ditch and smelled like it, too. Well, that would change soon enough. Hi Dad, came a small, quivery voice that belonged to Maxs daughter, Tracy. Sorry the boys arent cleaned up too well, living in the car and all for the past week. Her voice trailed off, notably ashamed. Her eyes had a look of fear in them, not knowing what her Dad was thinking or was going to say. boys legs, begging for his new friends It had always been the same story. to stop with the hellos and to come and Tracys husband would run off with play. another woman or gamble away their Are you sure you want the boys, money and furnishings, unable to keep Dad? asked Tracy, her impatient a job to save his life. Was this the sixth husband revving the car engine. It time now or maybe number seven? will just be for a little while, just until Max had lost track through his we get back on our feet. daughters eight-year marriage. She Max had never been able to would call, beg to come home but never understand how his wife could love did. Before long, her husband would this child of theirs, unconditionally, she show up, sorry about his latest actions, called it, never assessing blame or pile them all in the car and away they raising her voice. You cant change would go to them, Max, she a new would say, you just destination have to love them. Who has Buddys ball? yelled Max as to start a new God, he missed her, he started toward the boys. life, making passed over four years promises of now. empty hopes Me and the boys and dreams. will be fine, answered Max, kissing his The five kittens had finished eating only daughter on the cheek. You go and were basking in the late day sun, on now and find something that makes washing their paws, as they had been you happy. taught. The birds were settling down in Max turned his eyes to the boys and the treetops, content with the coming of said, Take Buddy out back and play a warm evening. Buddy, the cocker catch with him. He loves that. See Love next page spaniel, was weaving in and out of the
Storybook
Love
Continued from previous page The two boys ran toward the back barnyard with not so much as a goodbye to their Mom or Dad. Tracy watched them go, a single tear rolling down her cheek. She stood still for a second searching her Dad for answers to this sudden change of personality then ran to the car and got in. When the dust settled again, the car was nowhere in sight. You have to know when to let them go and when they need your help, came a patient, steady voice in Maxs head. All the lectures, the arguments, the threats to disown his offspring had not changed Tracy one bit. And why did he think it would? Max knew that Tracy wouldnt be coming back for a very long time, if at all, but that was ok. He had finally learned the meaning of loving without conditions. Max listened to the boys playing catch with Buddy, chewing on a new clover stem, contemplating this new life that he had just created and remarkably, it felt good. He heard meowing and looked toward the sound. One of the kittens had wandered off into a patch of tall grass and couldnt find her way out. Instead of walking and searching for an opening, she just sat still and cried. Before long, Mother cat was standing at the edge of the kittens forest of green, listening to the meowing, not making a sound and moving her tail slowly. As the meowing continued, Mother cat stood up, looked Maxs way, than hurried back to the other kittens. Who has Buddys ball? yelled Max as he started toward the boys. By Kate Eglan-Garton
he first time I met the eldest, Roody, his omniscient talents intrigued me. Although, he has spent most of his bread-and-butter career in the communication industry, New Jersey Bell, I do believe he missed his calling as an entertainer. Whether it be tinkling the ivories, slinging drinks, creating his voluminous gourmet cuisine, The Roody Burger on the outdoor grille, or serving not only as the tour guide, but also the chauffeur when we all piled into his New York City limo - the bottom line is that I never left his domain with wishful recollections.
For those who do not know what a New York City limo is, I will invent the visual by depicting in terms of era and geography. It is one of those classic luxury liners that come out of the 1950s. Ya know, you can sit behind the wheel and almost need binoculars to gauge the distance between the car in front of you! Come to think of it, I believe I can recall seeing Roodys car in a re-run of an A-Team episode. I thought the vehicle was out of place, but then I later understood a German tank wasnt at their disposable. I often wondered if
My Fearless
those Freedom Fighters were Roodys idols because of their successful abilities to improvise; moreover his addictive loyalty to the tube when Hannibal and his merry global wanderers are beckoned to serve those in need. Nevertheless, it all came clear to me later, if you are going into the city, if it looks like a south end of a horse going north, stay away, fervently emphasized Roody. But sooner than I anticipated, we embarked upon the royal tour. As Roodys right arm encircled my neck, he hurled, It is time to introduce this Buckeye to the city that never sleeps! And then he politely invited my mate, it is time to board. Finally, he appealed to his opposite, Get the lead out---we are going slumming! From the Jersey side, we crossed over the George Washington Bridge. As we motored further inward on Bronx soil, my sister-by-law tossed out, in her signature style of recall tone, Look Patty! Over there is the zoo. Remember when Mommy and Daddy use to take us there? Rudy quipped, Yeah Pat, that is where I met Barb! Suddenly, I saw a flash of an arm and then Roody let out a chuckling groan. I must have been sporting a mischievous grin, as I turned to my wife, she said in her authoritarian way, Dont you start up! Laughter then filled the airway. As we traveled the expressway, he made a speedy downward swoop over the Whitestone Bridge into the Flushing area. {I learned later Roody was giving the sisters a memory lane jaunt. As young girls, they would visit their mothers mother, and I knew Pats heart held no childhood joy of her grandmother.} I broke the emotional mental silence in a questioning way. I inquired if the airport was near? Successfully, it triggered Roody to head southeast to JFK International. Eventually, we ended up driving past Coney Island. That got all the non-Buckeyes talking about their joyful memoirs. Then the host driver made a northern upshot all the way into Manhattan. Oddly, I felt like we were just taking a leisurely Sunday drive in the country. No delays, lots of sightseeing from Roodys back stage auditorium.
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Bro-by-law
However that changed, while touring through Chinatown. We got hung up in the city bus runs. Instead of Roody staying to his left, as the roadway widen, the limo was vertical with the bus. Traffic was anthill deep, and it became an inch-by-inch feat for Roody to work the limo into the main lane. Ben, youre in New York City now! Watch his guy try to shove his way in front of us, voiced Roody as he chomped and rolled on his smokeless cigar. Well, I did! But Fearless Roody kept nudging the front passenger fender of the hogmobile to the rear of the bus. His goal was not to let his left competitor squeeze a millimeter from the fathom needed to pass first. Sorry Joe, Im not going to give, muttered our ships host. Fortunately, only the wing of Roodys New York City titanic was bruised as it intercoursed its way through both sides of its opponents. With this being my first exposure to life in the fastest lane; consequently, it became knowledgeable to me much later on why you would not stop to engage in a self-investigation of a New York City summit-of-fenders. Those being: First, you would have to get out of your car, and that would become an almost superhuman feat, such as, having to snake oneself through the window. Second, it would provoke an avalanche of auto trumpets blaring non -stop. Of course, they wouldnt be tooting their approval as if a wedding procession was passing. Somehow, I feel fortune of not being able to read lips as heads protrude from their car windows. Third, attempt to explain how your rendezvous occurred in a calmly tone, standing next to a busload of passengers that has to be at their destination yesterday. And of all, to a driver who is fluent in a universal language that you know yourself, but it does not have a country of its own. Meanwhile, as we proceeded onward from the aftermath of the earlier thrill, Barbara decided it: the new objective was to find a place to park near Fifth Avenue. Its time to
shop-till-we-drop, the matriarch echoed with great anticipation. [Pat already prepared me that her sister inherited that gene from her mother.] She also warned me there werent any Bonanza Steakhouses in the city. I determined only after-thefact, she was telling me to not to order the salad. Somehow, I must have resented her advice? Somehow, I should have seriously considered her twenty-five buck estimation as gospel- -because back in OhioI would have gotten a full course meal for less than ten. Somehow, I can only surmise my miscalculation of the cost for an egg, a tomato and green leaves tossed on a plate was at its height of stupidity during my early twenties. Nevertheless, I can easily say, it ranks right up there with that male mental blockade of not stopping, and asking for directions when lost. With my Ohio genealogical roots firmly bound in Putnam CountyFarmland USA, I have a clear-cut definition for what is considered sublime and what is ridiculous. It never dawned on me that an empty space would command the same hourly wage as a Ford Motor factory worker! Additionally, my mind wasnt calculating the length of a New York City block, and was to be computed by football field measurements. Neither did I perceive I would have to walk at a jog pace, and view the sights panoramically. Despite of the fact, my current marital classification was still in that honeymoon year, soon after I thought to myself; I did not have to worry about my billfold becoming airborne because I relocated it to my front pants pocket. Fortunately, with no second thoughts, I did not resist this suggestion by Pat. On the other hand, for those with an imagination, window-shopping through a certain portion of 42nd Street afforded me a known sensation. With the presumption, the euphoria I was feeling was due to my innocence; I became awestruck by the scenic artwork. My stride suddenly slowed to a turtle pace as the trio forged ahead. I kept moving my head and eyes as if I was playing Pac Man. I was dumbfounded about all that I was seeing and subliminally hearing. I just couldnt believe this was so open to the general public. In retrospect as I wandered aimlessly, I must have been taken for
one of the natives. With my jaw almost to the ground, and that feeling you get after being turned around in circles, before you get ready to pin the donkeys tail; I must have muted an invitation. I discovered the giver was not with whom I said I do to earlier this year. Though my gold band was not obvious which earmarked my chosen union, I must believe he was definitely nearsighted because my hippie insignia was in my straight ear. Unfortunately, the sensation was near the area where I kept my American Express checks, nevertheless he assured me via the hands-on experience, I did not leave home without them! In those memory lane flashbacks, I am assured my evaluation of Roodys missed career path can only be found in a quote by Robert Kirby of the Utah County Journal: The mark of a true professional is giving more than you get. Since Mr. Kirby does not know Roody, but I must also affirm, New York City as, this is the place, a virtual potpourri of the sublime and the ridiculous. However, I have discovered it is a city blessed. The metropolis is embedded with an international cohesive richness of many cultures, embellished with the reality of the performing and visual arts with architecture that reaches to the clouds, and it is rightfully empowered as a world-class emporium for commerce. New York City truly balances the scale of indifference with ones admiration for having it all, yet it agitates a rage of repugnance with its external human suffering. But, those opinions demand a respect because it has and does welcome all into their home, regardless if you have none.
On our way home that night, I recall turning back and seeing the city aglow from the Garden State side. The lights were like a conflagration, which made me mawkish and overrode my fears from the days happenings. Reasoning why was because of Roodys courage. It was contagious. I knew I would return because I had amassed a vast collection of joyful memories.
With only a pinch of invention, Ben Raymans PortraitOf-Life non-fiction short stories narratives realism. He focuses on people surrounding singular events which gives rise to action, blending wit in a gentle, penetrating, and pervasive way. Reprinted
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SUNNY HATED HAVING AN OVER-PROTECTIVE MOM - UNTIL ONE DARK NIGHT!
It was one of those hot, blistery evenings without a breath of breeze when everyone sits outside until the mosquitoes invade the skies and swarm around the front porches. "Ouch!" Sunny wailed, slapping her arm. "That's it! These bugs are eating me alive. I'm going in. Ill be there in a second." Although Sunny Martin was 12 years old, she still the nights when her
and tee shirt stuck to her sweaty body so dad was away on business. she flipped on the fan and dropped to the floor before it. She was still lying The huge white house there when Mom hurried in. seemed empty and silent, " Sunny! I just talked to Mrs. Kruse, and her Tommy is missing!" she said, even though it was wringing her hands. "Have you seen him?" surrounded by hundreds of "You mean that creep who lives on the city homes. corner? No, I haven't seen him. But I'm sure he's around." Sunny's voice Worse than the hollow was casual, bored, her large brown eyes feeling of Dad's absence fixed on the television. Mrs. Martin stormed across the room was being stuck alone with and turned off the TV. Sunny! How Mom. Sunny can you talk like considered her that? Don't you understand that They prayed together for a long the biggest little boy is time.ForTommyssafety,forhis worrywart in the parents,andforstrengthtohandle missing!" Sunny didn't world. whateverthenextdaymightbring. like Tommy Kruse. He could "Have your ride his bike after dark, and bike in by dark. his parents didn't care whom he played Who are those new kids with. And he was always making fun of her. you were playing with? "What's the matter, Sunny?" Won't your Mommy let you play?" the 11 year Don't go down the block old Tommy would tease. without asking." "Oh, Mom. You worry too much. He'll show up." Sunny sounded confident. It seemed to Sunny that "He's probably playing one of his Mom had to know every dumb tricks." But two hours later, she found herself move she made. She wasn't sitting in the Kruses' living room, beside her mom. Tommy wasn't home yet, and a baby anymore and didn't most of the neighborhood was out like being treated like one. looking for him. Sunny's eyes grew big as policemen With another slap at the wandered in and out, asking questions. The subject of kidnapping came up; they mosquitoes, she dashed into asked neighbors for information. They the house. Her cut-off jeans even wanted a picture of Tommy to take with them. Mr. and Mrs. Kruse paced the floor, blaming themselves for giving Tommy so much freedom. Grief poured from their faces. They reminded Sunny of her relatives at her great aunt's funeral, and their unashamed grief made her uncomfortable. But Tommy wasn't dead. A mean little kid like him just couldn't be! "More than fifty thousand children disappear in the United States every year," one of the policemen commented. Near midnight, mother and daughter finally walked home. Sunny noticed the night's stillness, and with each footstep she felt like the earth was giving way. It had to be a dream. Such a numb feeling couldn't possibly be real. Tommy couldn't be gone. She'd seen him just that day. Kids don't disappear without saying goodbye. Climbing into bed, Sunny heard her mom walking down the hall. "Mom, may I talk to you for a minute?" she asked, her voice small. "I've always got a minute for my favorite daughter," Mom said, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "Your favorite daughter? How can I be your favorite daughter when I'm your only daughter?" Mom laughed. "May I ask you something?" Sunny quizzed. Her hands folded and refolded the bed sheet. "You know sometimes when we pray together? Well, sometimes I'm not really paying attention. I think about going back to school or swimming. Stuff like that. What I want to ask you . . . does God still listen to me when I have something really important to ask Him?" Mom noticed the pool of tears rimming Sunny's eyes and gently took her hand. "You're a brave girl, Sunny. Sometimes a little too brave. But God always hears our prayers. Sometimes He doesn't intervene to stop bad things from
heres Tommy?
happening, but if we pray, we're in His care. We're the ones who don't always listen." Bending down, she kissed Sunny on the cheek. "Do you want to pray for Tommy?" Sunny nodded, and the tears overflowed. They prayed together for a long time. For Tommy's safety, for his parents, and for strength to handle whatever the next day might bring. For the first time in a long time Sunny understood why her mother worried so much. Why she was so concerned where she went and with whom. And Sunny felt ashamed to have caused much of that worry. The sound of a phone ringing awoke Sunny early the next morning. Crawling out of bed, she squinted her eyes against the bright sun rays that flowed through her open window. Slipping quietly down the stairs, she waited outside the kitchen door, straining to hear the conversation. Finally, she heard the receiver click. Then she burst into the kitchen. "Was that about Tommy? Did they find him?" She searched her mother's face for clues. Mom closed her eyes and inhaled a deep breath. Then a wide smile spread across her face. "Yes, they found him. He had a bad fright, but he's all right!" Her arms flew around Sunny, hugging her tightly.
"Thank you, God," Sunny whispered.

EDITORIAL DIRECTORS NOTE: Sometimes good reads are required to be republished, and this one is by the Palettes Kate Garton who is like most writers, who shapes the scenes from memories of ones past by taking those bits and pieces, and puts them together like a puzzle. Although, the end results may be quite different from what really happened; I believe fiction is created on what if. However, this authors voice paints a real-life illustration where the real meaning of events unfold the truthmainly-in life it is how we treat each other by taking the time to really see what makes us all His children. The Art-to-Art Palette - Bugle Section/Storybook department - 2008-09 Fall/Winter Edition - 129
My Seductress Southern Belle
Animals are such agreeable friends - they ask no questions, they pass no criticisms.
George Eliot [1819-1880]
The first time I ever saw her face, it was a gleaming bright sunny morning. The ground had been blanketed with a new fresh snow during the night. As I sat in the bay window of the kitchen clad only in my pajama bottom, cradling a hot steamy cup of coffee in my palms, the lenses of my eye glasses fogged up with every sip. I could tell the outdoors was frigid. I could feel the snows crispness as it glistened with a ice-like hardness. I had to put on my robe until the heat took the chill off the room. Minutes later, my body was feeling regret because my mind did not want to surrender the warmness. However, I knew I had to get ready for work and brave the assault of the external coldness.
As I swung open the back door porch door, the wind slapped me in the face. I felt my facial skin tighten. I purged my lungs with the morning air and began to slowly pan my farthest surroundings. The outdoors gave me the feeling of purity, however that quickly changed as I stood over an open hole on the porch floor. The freezing air gushed up my slacks and I felt the goose pumps on my thighs. Simultaneously, I recall wishing I had put on my long johns when I spotted her eagerly approaching me in a cunning way. My immediate thoughts registered an Oh No! I was already behind schedule and I didnt have the time to get involved. I wanted to push this misfortune animal away from me, but I could not muster up that manlike trait needed to forget about another life and to remain emotionless because I was faced with this situation twice before. I knew the domestic cat population was in the mega millions in the United States, but I could not bring myself to make an abrupt exit because only half belonged to homes. Furthermore, money was not a deterrent and another mouth to feed would not jeopardize our family financial framework. She had a meticulous southern-like charming style; I figured she was sort of an Artisan in the game of mating. Her passionate pleas grabbed at my heartstrings. My vision doubled and then teardrops started to stream from my face. Her scrawny frame was enhanced only by her haggard eyes, but her voice hummed feelings of love. It was obvious she was not getting the right amount of sleep and the ever-increasing intermittent rumbles from her abdomen were not signs of gas, but pains-of-hunger. She hovered around me like an airplane waiting to land. She weaved in and out brushing lightly up against my body. Through her thin-ragged overcoat, the touch of her softness made my heart tremble. I asked her what she was doing out in this brutal weather, but she did not respond. I told her to go home, but she said nothing. Then suddenly, swirling arctic wind made me rush to the garage to take cover. I summoned her to come in and she blurted out a lonely screeching cry. I attempted to comfort her by brushing her hair away from her face and told her I would return. As I headed back into my house, I could see her peering out of the garage door window. I felt her anticipation for food, and when I returned, she was turning in circles. She devoured the toss-together meal as if it was her last. Hurriedly, I went back into the house for more food. As she ate, I went and laid a blanket on the patio lounge. I told her she was welcome to stay until she is ready to go home. Soon after, I left for work. On my way home, I began to feel a great deal of empathy for the homeless female. I couldnt get her impoverished appearance out of my mind. I kept wondering if she had made her way back to her family. Even though, I know charity starts at home, I knew from first hand experience the reality of being used. I just didnt want to have to endure a past of jumble of events. I knew they would conjure up deep-rooted hurt feelings from sticking my neck out helping others. I have been burned too many times and I often thought if sucker was written on my forehead in indelible ink. Nevertheless, I hoped she would still be there, nestled in the heavy blanket I left so I could finish my Good Samaritan deed. About four blocks from home, I prepared myself for the possibility that I would not be able to finish my goodhearted goal. I calmed my zealous confidence using the old counting to ten theory. It was working because I kept thinking how supportive the girls, Daisy Mae and Mindy Lou would be. They would humbly accept the possibility of a new baby sister.
The car radio was tuned to Fort Waynes Magic 95.1. They were playing the oldies from my teen years. I heard the faint music of The Captain and Tennille. They were singing, Love Will Keep Us Together. The songs words were doing a tug-of-war number with my emotions. I thought of switching the music to rock. With the volume at an ear-piercing loudness, it would force a hard-heartedness. It worked and I felt prepared for anything. Entering the driveway, I pushed the remote control to open the door. I drove in and shut down the engine. I sat a few minutes in the quiet starring stiffly forward. My mind kept repeating a line from that oldie song, You belong to me now. I turned the key on so the radio would make music to forestall the negative presupposition she is gone struggle. Nonchalantly, I started to look for her; saw nothing. Presumed gone. I swung open my door and like a shooting star, she jumped up on my lap --- brushing and turning --- her head against my chest; purring those feelings of love. Gleefully, I caressed my seductress southern belle in my arms and crowned her Samantha Jo. She climbed higher up around my neck and I smoothed my cheeks over her soft fur. Instantly, my mind recognized the music playing. The singer sung the line describing what I was feeling and I whispered to her those words: The Lion Sleeps Tonight. I am happy to report, Sammie Jo filled my life with thirteen years of happiness.
This republished story is by Ben Rayman who makes his home in rural Van Wert County, Ohio. Although Daisy Mae and Mindy Lou have went on to join Samantha Jo, today his fourlegged family has continued to grow. Two, Maggie Kay and Gracie Ellen were adopted from family friends. Others stopped by for lunch, stayed for dinner and were always there waiting for breakfast. They, Mickey Thomas Edward, Smokey Joseph and Mitzy Marie were chosen to enter inside. Several years later came Molly Ann, who was very small, just would not leave. A home was made for her in the garage to come and go because her original family was not known. Later it was discovered, she was with children. Mama Molly was kept well-fed as she bloomed and then one day, she was no longer around, but to my surprise in the corner of the garage, I lifted a sheltered area and there she was feeding her creations, a total of six. Once they all were on regular food, we found homes for three, but Scooter Joseph, Peaches and Gretchen Anne were welcomed to grow up in the Rayman Hilton as their doctor has once described their forever home.
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight For the ends of Being and ideal Grace. I love thee to the level of everydays Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light. I love thee freely, as men strive for Right; I love thee with the passion put to use In my old griefs, and with my childhoods faith. I love thee with a love I seemed to lose With my lost saints,I love thee with the breath, Smiles, tears, of all my life!and, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death.
Sonnet 43 from Sonnets from the Portuguese - Elizabeth Barrett Browning (1850)
The Art-to-Art Palette - Bugle Section/Storybook department - 2008-09 Fall/Winter Edition - 131
Funeral Dress for Eternity

Where do you want to be buried, Grandma? I have to admit, I considered saying that I hadnt decided yet, but she was 16 and her thoughtful question deserved a truthful answer. I think I want to be cremated. Why do you want to do that? I want you to be in a cemetery, so I can bring my kids to your grave and tell them about you. You can tell them about me without taking them to a cemetery. I thought I might have my ashes scattered in the air so that they would go back to nature you know, to help plants and trees grow. I will think about it. I didnt tell her so, but I had already thought about it, quite a bit in fact. I had conflicted feelings about it, not because of my own beliefs, but because of the way I thought my family might feel. Should I follow through with my own wishes, or should I consider what would bring them peace-of-mind? If I ask my family to carry out my bidding, perhaps I owe it to them to explain my thoughts. That way they can understand how I see this as a freeing of my spirit a comfort to me and hopefully to them. This body is meant for this world only I see no way of carrying it along. When it no longer serves the spirit, it is abandoned, and others are left with the task of deciding what to do. Though cemeteries are pleasant parks for reflection and meditation places to remember names and stones for children to climb on most people buried there are not remembered beyond the lives of their grandchildren. It is not because of any inattention or neglect, but because generations of time separate us from these spirits. It is my wish that my spirit be remembered by those who loved me that they will know of my love for them. Let them speak to their families of my quick wit, intellect, and appreciation of the peculiar. Let them read poems I have written, share recipes I once prepared, and enjoy pictures I have drawn. Look at flowers, sunsets, the seasons anything with color and enjoy the morning. Remember how I love my family, protecting each one as long as I could, and trying long after I knew it was impossible.
By Donna J. Rice
ThePoetsVoice
Work by Ober-Rae Starr Livingstone
Poets Corner
The Empty Swing
In the back yard between the tool shed
& the burning pit lies the tent collapsed & flat from the wind & the rain. The lazy pain of not wanting to change anything from the way it was before the tiger lilies died, turned brown from orange & cried down to the unmown grass; before the time passed when they were the way they were before he sent her away
MICHAEL C. FLANIGAN
The literary giants of yesteryear do not just magically appear in our textbooks nor their popularity measured by the public media. They possess a rare, distinct gift of suggestive language that is used to convey experiences, ideas and emotions that cannot compete with most writers and artists and their work finally comes to be duly noted. The recognition of Walt Whitman, Edgar Allen Poe, E E Cummings and others of American Literature have all been recognized for their true compositional techniques but only after their lives had passed. Wouldnt it be a memorable treasure to have known these greats and their work, a history in the making, before their lives ended and their abilities finally realized? Michael C. Flanigan is a name that our great grandchildren will most likely remember during their studies of poetry, literature and art and fortunately for our generation, his work is currently being uncovered to share and enjoy. His library includes nine volumes of poetry and work, one book in particular, Scrapbooks that was considered for a Pulitzer Prize in 1976. He is currently working on a CD, instructional in nature, to the art of writing poetry, a must have for any serious minded poet. A contributing poet along with Robert White Creeley (1926-2005) and Charles Olson (1910-1970), Flanigan was part of the onset in the changing of American literature, a second generation of poets, residing mostly at State University of Buffalo, aka UB and often referred to throughout american literary knowledgeables' as Blackmountain Two. In fact both Olson and Creeley taught at UB as did Flanigan as a guest lecturer/poet, giving many readings. Many of the original Black Mountain poets read there and were often seen in the halls. Blackmountain College, located near Asheville, North Carolina, was a fabled institution in art education and practice, short lived from 1933 to 1956, having a large impact on our society in revolving traditional education to one of progressive education using creativity and manual arts. Noted speakers at Black Mountain included such names as Albert Einstein and William Carlos Williams. More will be published on Poet Flanigan by The Art-to-Art Palette and Art-to-Art Palette Books with his literature in the near future. But for now, grab a cup of coffee, get comfortable in your easy chair and prepare to let your mind wander down a path of a sometimes forgotten art, poetry.
whatever that means.
To save us
Cricket screams roll over the slope thats cleared most to the ridge & all the way down to the woods now lookin more like an oriental garden scene everyday. What was it they used to say? Less is more. Maybe
sometimes in Mother nature but in his the line is Less is less when a white porch swing in a tree is full of nothing. When all it holds is one old Poet & one old Shameless cat who sleeps in his lap way past midnight restless, remembering nothing. but understanding Einstein
Old dreams & the laws of physics, & E=MC squared
134 - The Art-to-Art Palette - Bugle Section/Poets Corner department - 2008-09 Fall/Winter Edition
The Sailor
tell him a swing is full when it holds someone but hes been chasin Heaven long enough to know whats out of love & whats in & when a swing isnt shared when its all said & done he knows an empty swing when he feels one.
The sailor comes & goes round the bend of the earth free as the water with no mirth in his laughter. Always after a dream with no dog at his feet, no hearth or fire & only memory to serve the ghosts hell meet between port of call desires. The sailor studies stars like a road map of the sea searching for a path to better things he thinks will give him peace & land legs once again. He dreams of women like land men during drought might dream of rain & the pain of his freedom bends him like a compass gone wild in the wind. Tattoos & rings replace a womans burning hands of love & childrens sunlit faces. Dolphins on the sea on an off duty Sunday become a weekend park he strolls through with friendly strangers on the way & a 6 x 8 cabin serves as cottage wrapped in ivy. Inside every man theres a sailor half loving the sea & half wondering what his freedoms really worth & wed all cast off when the dolphins call if we werent afraid wed sail off the edge of the dark side of the earth. Sailing tonight, half free & half tamed I wonder whats right & whats only arranged. & if I were a sailor would I ever come back home again.
Written 12- 23-1979 4:40 pm-6:15 pm
Early morning light up all night cat stretching half waking, pink tongue showing knowing no more than he did before sleeping in the stiff arms that hold him Like the Baby Oohhmmm.ing in his fur both missing her,
Sun dont rise Moon wont die Birds dont sing Staring all the way down the road from Indiana to Austin a man alone face full of fur heart full of her wondering in an empty swing!
Written 7-22-1996 1:53 pm - 3:00 pm
The Art-to-Art Palette - Bugle Section/Poets Corner department - 2008-09 Fall/Winter Edition - 135
Autumn Etude
At dusk, they gather among cornstalks left behind -starlings, by the hundreds -black dots on an ochre field.
By Etrra B. Jackson
Grounds
Hanged by your own words Hurt by your own actions Broken by your own moves No insight for peace No destination for calm Tries of no means Calls of no sound Rides of no waves Grounds of no gravel What are you? Who are you? Where did you come from? How did you get there? Questions askedno answers to find Like paints of no color. You are the child of the other
Dance on Oyster Pond Chathem, Massachusetts

Oh, you will never see him dance free on Oyster Pond, for when the early mist is burned he surely will be gone. His audience, Ive seen them, are masthead, fern, and swan. June trees exhale a fragrant hint while watching from beyond. An instrument, his body, plays leaps upon the sand; he curls, then slowly lifting far extends his graceful hands. The fog draws round its curtain of expectancy and laud; the actor does his private dance exploring self and God.
They rise, clouds of birds mass dark, in a synchronized swarm like waves on a dry ocean. Who calls them? What cockswain orchestrates each airy undulation, such avian acrobatics? Who gives the order to infest that grove of trees, to screech, and rustle fierce inside those orange leaves? And then, on whose command to silence (not a sound) do they stop and start again on cue without rehearsal or a wand?
About the author . . .

Ettra B. Jakson was born and raised in Tappahannock, Virginia , the youngest of three children. Educated in the Essex County public school system and a graduate of the University of Mary Washington, Fredericksburg, Virginia. During her professional years, she has worked seven years as a Commercial Artist and a total of almost 20 years as an Art teacher for the Laurinburg Institute in Laurinburg, North Carolina and for the King & Queen County public school system in St. Stephens Church, Virginia. She retired in 2004. She is a mother of one and grandmother of three. Since retirement, she has been very active in painting, floral arranging, wood working, and Poetry writing.
About the author . . .
Donna J Antram-Rice is a gentle woman of many titles: Loving Wife to her husband David; Caring Mother to her son, Thomas and daughters Deborah and Joann; Giving Grandmother to Morgan and Quinten, a Respected Educator for a quarter-of-acentury, a Highly Experienced Master in the food preparation, a Gifted Writer who began writing poetry during high school and has been actively putting her thoughts to prose to this day, and an award-winning Visual Artist who makes her home in Allen County, Ohio, the place that gives her the inspiration to practice her art, painting subject matters that illustrates an essence of elegancy.
136 - The Art-to-Art Palette - Bugle Section/Poets Corner department - 2008-09 Fall/Winter Edition
Henry nabs top prize in poetry competition

With a fan club including her family, friends, English teacher, poetry coach, and members of the Virgin Islands Council on the Arts, 16-year-old Shawntay Henry of the United States Virgin Islands captured the audience with her poetry recitations and was named the 2008 Poetry Out Loud National Champion. Along with her title, Henry, a 10th grade student at Charlotte Amalie High School, receives a $20,000 scholarship prize. The Poetry Out Loud National Finals were held in the Lisner Auditorium at the George Washington University in Washington, DC. Henry was among 12 finalists and 52 state champions from around the country who participated in the third annual national poetry recitation contest, sponsored by the Poetry Foundation and National Arts Endowment. Poetry was never something I thought Id get involved with, but I realized I had a hidden talent, said Henry, who capped her winning performance with a thoughtful recitation of the poem Frederick Douglass by Robert E. Hayden. This was the first year that the U.S. Virgin Islands participated in the Poetry Out Loud program. Henry advanced to National Champion from a field of competition that included more than 1,500 high schools and 200,000 high school students around the country. The second-place winner was Sophia Elena Soberon of Brookings-Harbor High School in Brookings, Oregon, who received a $10,000 scholarship prize. The Utah State Champion, Madison
Niermeyer, of Skyline High School in Salt Lake City, received the third-place prize and a $5,000 scholarship. The other 12 finalists included Elijah Orengo of Georgia; Sequoia Jelks of Indiana; Gabrielle Guarracino of Massachusetts; Charles White of Michigan; Allison Strong of New Jersey; Hannah JoBeth Roark of Oklahoma; Elsa Vande Vegte of South Dakota; BreAnna Jones of Washington State; and Carolyn Rose Garcia of West Virginia. Each of the top 12 finalists received a $1,000 scholarship prize and each of finalists schools received a $500 stipend for the purchase of poetry books. Special guest judges presided over the competition, including Garrison Keillor, host of the radio show A Prairie Home Companion; Pulitzer Prize-winning poet Natasha Trethewey; novelist and journalist Leslie Schwartz; Poetry Daily editor Don Selby; 2007 Poetry Out Loud National Champion Amanda Fernandez; and memoirist, activist, and poet Luis Rodriguez. Host of National Public Radios Weekend Edition Saturday, Scott Simon, served as master of ceremonies. About . . .
Poetry Out Loud seeks to foster the next generation of literary readers by building on the resurgence of poetry as an oral art form, as seen in the slam poetry movement and the popularity of rap music among youth. Through Poetry Out Loud, students can master public speaking skills, build self-confidence, and learn about their literary heritage. Now in its third year of national competition, Poetry Out Loud has inspired thousands of high school students to discover classic and contemporary poetry. To find out how to get involved in the 2009 Poetry Out Loud National Recitation Contest, visit www.poetryoutloud.org.
The Art-to-Art Palette - Bugle Section/Poets Corner department - 2008-09 Fall/Winter Edition - 137
The life of an artist is a careful balance between freedom and control, between chance and planning, between memory and careful observation.
Doug Fiely
www.fielyarts.com
Direct: 419-392-3846

Bugle Section/2008-09 Fall-Winter Art-to-Art Palette Journal Print Edition

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2008-09 Fall/Winter Edition - 105

without it, adds Luber. Fortunately for not

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Most lasting legacy

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Continued from previous page

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ideas fail, words come in handy.

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ife obstacles opens womans artistic pathway to salvation

break all the rules because

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Teaching strategy gives educators another help tool in the classroom

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2008-09 Fall/Winter Edition -

Ohio Art teacher raises the bar for her students

Pete given nod of approval on education's 'pinnacle' road

Creative side of professor is a collage of mediums

His future is 'full' and 'bright'

Mans journey continues to flourish

Meet Hoosier states new Poet Laureate

Wright State Dean taking giant steps for education

SUNNY HATED HAVING AN OVER-PROTECTIVE MOM - UNTIL ONE DARK NIGHT!

"Thank you, God," Sunny whispered.

My Seductress Southern Belle

George Eliot [1819-1880]

Funeral Dress for Eternity

The Empty Swing

In the back yard between the tool shed

whatever that means.

Old dreams & the laws of physics, & E=MC squared

Written 7-22-1996 1:53 pm - 3:00 pm

Dance on Oyster Pond Chathem, Massachusetts

About the author . . .

About the author . . .

Henry nabs top prize in poetry competition

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