Monday, February 11, 2008

Right now I’m sitting in an airport terminal bored and tired. It’s been a very stressful past few days and with nothing to do but sit and wait it’s probably better for my physical and mental health to write stuff then to eat more airport hot dogs. Yesterday morning I went to my gym where I continued my quest for both mental and physical health. Frankly, I don’t think all of my hard work is working because every time I look my hair (what’s left of it) is a bit grayer and there are more wrinkles on my face then I care to admit. Nonetheless, a serious winter blizzard was well under way but I was accustomed to driving in winter and just did what I was supposed to do under the present circumstances. On my way home I stopped at two different stores to purchase a few mattresses that would complete the new set of bunk beds I had set up in my daughter’s new bedroom. Both stores were closed. I then traveled to the local lumber yard where I purchased a few sheets of plywood that were needed by my contractor. The young man who cut the plywood to the sizes I requested should have been in a different career as he complained about the job, paid little attention to the task at hand and literally wasted an hour picking his nose and trying, half-heartedly to figure out the huge saw he would use to cut the wood. I sincerely hope that he never applies for a job at my gallery.

As my wife would be using my vehicle I stopped at the local gas station and spent another sixty five dollars to fill up the tank. Once back in my truck my cell phone rang. My wife informed me that my daughter was in great pain with a serious ear ache. I drove home to find my daughter hysterically crying because of the pain. I immediately drove her to the local hospital about a half hour away.

Hospitals are funny places. Most people who work in them just pay attention to their jobs and basically ignore people coming in for emergency treatment. The woman who first greeted us was very professional and got us through the paperwork in just a minute or two. Keep in mind that my daughter was crying hysterically and it took nearly a half hour for a nurse to come and take her temperature. Realizing the situation she correctly got an MD to OK the administration of some short term pain meds. Fifteen minutes later my daughter was quiet. That lasted for about a half hour. The meds wore off and my daughter returned to state of discomfort. Finally an MD arrived, checked out her ears and concluded that it was a simple, yet painful ear infection. Unfortunately, my daughter was again hysterical. And after fifteen minutes of no one helping I twice took her to the nurses’ station and asked for help. And there they sat picking their noses, shuffling their papers and talking on the phone. It was the closest I had come in fifty years to really loosing my temper. How trained nurses and doctors could ignore my daughter and not administer some pain meds to a crying little girl is beyond me. If I had gone to the station one more time I would have clobbered someone. Fortunately my wife found someone to help. But it was almost an hour before someone retuned with more pain meds. There is nothing more discomforting then to see you child in pain.

Once we had the prescriptions we drove the nearest pharmacy were I asked the female pharmacist to "rush" my order. Needless to say I was disappointed as I listened to the three pharmacists gab about their hair-dos, their vacations, their boyfriends, and other crap. I was also shocked when they could not figure out how to correctly fill a bottle with a liquid antibiotic. It was inconsideration, unprofessionalism and incompetence at its finest. It was a troubling morning. Finally, we returned home where my daughter fell asleep and I hurriedly packed my bags for yet another trip.

And so after great effort of driving in a storm I finally arrived at the airport where I did the self check-in thing, checked my luggage and made it through the security line. Wanting a bite of food before I departed I took a chair in the airport restaurant. Two pilots were seated at the table next to me. They must have just landed as they talked about landing their airplane in the seventy five mile an hour winds. Their comments about passengers on their flight being quite upset about the bumpy ride did not go unnoticed by me. Nonetheless, after a sandwich I found the gate and eventually boarded the plane where I found my aisle seat and settled in. Nonetheless, I did notice how the plane occasionally shook as strong gusts of wind slammed us even as we sat on the ground. In time a large gentleman indicated to me that he had the window seat and I politely stood while he struggled to take his chair. Weighing at least three hundred pounds he needed an extension strap to finally fasten his seat belt. To my disappointment his fat arms and bulging midsection spilled over into my space and basically engulfed me. I resigned myself to my fate and repeated a familiar mantra that the flight was only a few hours long and I could endure it. Better times were not far away.

But as I repeated this over and over I could feel the plane shutter from the increasing wind gusts. Eventually the flight attendant (I dare not refer to them as waitresses or stewardesses) announced that because of the winds the plane needed to be "lighter" in order to take off. The plane was significantly overweight for the flying conditions and they needed a few volunteers to take a later flight. In exchange volunteers would receive a free ticket anywhere in the states. Of course I volunteered.

Unfortunately there were no other flights that evening and I was forced to spend the night near the airport. I finally arrived at the hotel at about 10PM, had a late night sandwich and fell asleep. At 4 AM the phone alarm rang and fifteen minutes later I was on my way back to the airport. With no problems I was assigned a seat and made it easily through the security line. At 5:30 AM I boarded the plane and settled in. No Problem. I was a happy guy. But something did not smell right. And I mean that literally. Everyone else noticed it too. We sat on the tarmac for nearly an hour and then were asked to collect our belongings and leave the plane. It turns out that the entire contents of the on-board toilet system had spilled into the plane and because of unsanitary conditions the plane had to be cleaned before we could depart. I can assure readers that I was very happy to be seated in the front of the plane and that those passengers seated in the rear, whose shoes were now soaking wet from standing in raw sewage, were quite happy to leave the plane.

And so there we sat in the airport. We waited as cleaning people came and went and did what they were supposed to do. Hour after hour we sat. The pilots eventually inspected the clean-up job and were not satisfied. Eventually a serious professional cleaning service (an old individual with a mop) was called in and did what they were supposed o do. And so there we sat. Most of the passengers had connecting flights and almost everyone on the plane had to be rebooked on other flights. Finally after six hours of waiting we were allowed to re-board the plane. Once on the plane the flight attendants profoundly apologized for the delays and gave each passenger a coupon for a $25 discount on their next flight! Big deal, I thought to myself. Frankly, most people on the flight, myself included, were significantly inconvenienced and felt like using the coupon as toilet paper.

Eventually I landed in Detroit. I found the Passenger Services Desk and was told that I would have to wait nearly seven hours for a flight to Salt Lake City. Once I arrived there I would have to wait a few more hours before I could get a flight to Bozeman, Montana. But I had two choices. I could bitch and moan and feel sorry for myself or I could enjoy the time away from my phone and just look at the day as a grand adventure and something to write about in my Newsletter. Being an optimistic guy I’ve actually come to enjoy many of the airports around the country. Many offer boutique shopping, good restaurants and good bookstores!

And so I purchased the new John Grisham novel titled THE APPEAL and got through about half of the book as I sat in the airport. I also had a sushi dinner during my wait. But there is something unsettling about having a fresh sushi dinner in Detroit. I can’t put my finger on it exactly but raw fish would taste better if it was icy cold and the rice would be better if it was tasty and moist and not chewy and room temperature. I’m not complaining in the least because I did not violently vomit a few hours after eating the raw fish.

I finally arrived in Bozeman late that evening and by midnight I was sound asleep in a hotel bed. The following day I attended a few meetings, met privately with a few business associates and had a great dinner with architect Larry Pearson, his family and another individual.

The following day I sat through a four hour meeting with a few of the most creative people on the planet. Frankly, it thrills me to sit in with mega talented people. The time flew by so fast that it was noon before any of us realized we had sat there for four hours. I’m not going to discuss the details of the conversation now but will do so in the future. Nonetheless, I will be begin work on a book about the works of Larry Pearson this coming summer and hope to have the completed project on the market in the fall of 2010.

That evening I drove through a serious storm to Chico Hot Springs Resort, about an hour east and south of Bozeman. It was only about twenty degrees outside and snow covered everything. I paid the seven dollar entry fee at the lobby desk, changed into my bathing suit and quickly entered the outdoor pool where the steaming water registered 98 degrees. And there I sat, soaking in the hot water, for nearly three hours. And frankly, I needed it. The stars appeared and an occasional passing cloud dropped large snowflakes that shimmered brightly as they fell on my face. An hour into my "soak" I struck up a conversation with a couple of "locals" who had spent the day skiing and were now relaxing in the pool as they had done for many years. We spoke about all kinds of things and the individuals with which I was speaking were apparently quite bright and wealthy. They owned a large home on the shores of the Yellowstone River just a few miles away. Throughout the conversation I asked the man three different times what he did for a living before he retired. Strangely, although he asked detailed questions about my life, he commented that he had been a failure at a bunch of things in his life and basically refused to entertain my questions. I left the pool wondering what he did to earn enough money to own a ten million dollar home in Montana. I suspect that I’ll never know. But I do know that I had floated by his five bedroom home on many occasions as I drifted the Yellowstone River fishing for trout. I would have loved to have known exactly what he had failed at to own such a home.

The week prior to my Bozeman visit my family and I journeyed to Phoenix where I photographed a great home owned and designed by interior designer Heidi Weiskoph, the daughter of famed golfer Tom Weiskoph. Frankly, the home was quite spectacular and it took several hours to complete the photography of this project. It was, however, quite an enjoyable day. The images of this home will appear in another upcoming book of mine due out in the fall of 2009. The following day we traveled down to Tucson where I met with an old friend. The meeting was held in his home which is, without a doubt, the most spectacular Southwestern style home ever created. His home, appropriately called THE HACIENDA, appears in my book The Rustic Home. That evening we had a great dinner with a number of folks. Because we had unfinished business we agreed to meet again four days later. In the morning we drove back up to Tucson and then departed for Zion, Utah which was supposed to be a gorgeous six hour drive. It took us twelve hours to get there. The winds were clocked at seventy five miles per hour and the ice and snow made driving almost impossible.

But if you want to see some extraordinary country check out the parks in that part of the world. It’s just north of the Grand Canyon and the scenery is gorgeous. It’s well worth the visit. At any rate we spent the night in a beautiful rustic home and in the morning I made photos of the setting for another project. We left later in the day and made our way down through Nevada. Frankly, I really enjoyed the warm weather and the scenery and would have been perfectly happy to drive back to Phoenix. Nonetheless, my wife wanted to spend the night in the pentacle of sin, Las Vegas. So after talking with a few different people at different hotels we settled on staying at the Paris Hotel right on the main drag of Las Vegas.

Frankly, I can’t stand Las Vegas. Too many people doing absolutely nothing. I must admit however, that the food we had was great as was the room. But it’s a strange place and strange places draw strange people who have strange passions and interests. After dinner we attended a showing of an IMAX presentation on life in the sea. My daughter found it to be quite fascinating. I however, felt it was just another Hollywood scam and it was quite apparent to me that most of the film was photographed at the local aquarium.

At 6 AM the following morning I wandered down to the main floor for coffee and a quick stroll. In the casino I watched with interest as a group of men sat playing black jack and sucking down bottles of beer. And they were apparently having a great time! So far be it from me to comment on the interests and lifestyles of others. The world is a huge place and there are all kinds of people in it. Nonetheless, I have better things to do at 6 AM then gambling, sucking down beers or pulling the arms on slot machines. But, hey, what do I know? I’m just another strange guy trying to make his way through life. And who knows…. maybe one of the people dropping quarters in the slot machines or playing black jack will win a million bucks and live happily ever after!

The ride back down to Phoenix was quite enjoyable. In the middle of the desert we found a seriously, out-of-the-way-place that advertised Chicago Hot Dogs! So we stopped and went in. And the steamed, Vienna hot dogs and the very greasy fries were, in fact, quite delicious! But I must admit that both my wife and daughter have serious genetic disorders. How anyone can put ketchup and nothing else on a hot dog is beyond me. It really is one of life’s mysteries and I will forever be troubled by the character flaws in my family. Hot dogs require mustard, relish, tomatoes, onions and a splash of celery salt. Anything other than that is pure and unadulterated blasphemy.

That evening we relaxed at an in-laws home in Phoenix and enjoyed a great meal and conversation. In the morning I set out by myself on a return trip to Tucson and drove by the stadium where the Super Bowl would be played a few days later. The night before a tragic accident had demolished four vehicles and injured many. I vowed to concentrate on driving instead of looking at the plethora of tents, Ferris wheels and other attractions that surrounded the stadium.

On my first trip to Tucson, a few days earlier, I noticed a sign on the road that read “Visit the Ostrich Farm” about twenty miles north of the city. And so with a few hours to spare before my meeting I found the sign and the farm that housed not only ostriches but fallow deer and parrots as well. And so, without delay, I paid my five dollars and was given a large can of deer and ostrich food! And for the next two hours I entertained myself by feeding the hundred or so fallow deer and trying my best to keep from being killed by the ravenously hungry ostriches that can ripe ones skin to pieces with just one bite! But the most fun for me was the parrot house. For a few bucks you can have a small paper cup of honey. You then enter an outdoor covered pen and are immediately accosted by dozens of hungry parrots. They land all over you and several succeeded in ripping out the hair growing in both my ears and in my nose. And they battle with each other over which one gets access to the cup of honey! It really was quite delightful but a few days later I had to explain to my wife exactly why I had spent fifty dollars on deer and bird food. I just pray that I don’t get audited by the IRS this year because I submitted the receipts to my accountant in hopes of writing off the expenses of the deer and bird food on my taxes.

Once I returned to Tucson I attended various meetings with business associates. In the evenings I stayed with friends at their home and enjoyed myself more then I had in a long time. The conversations went well into the night and encompassed all kinds of interesting subjects. It was a breath of fresh air for me. I departed for Phoenix and the airport very early in the morning. The ride back to my in-laws and the flights home were, mercifully, uneventful. A few days later my team, the New England Patriots lost the Super Bowl. Oh woe is me!

And to add misery to company my computer has crashed several times during the past three weeks. I can assure readers that this has been a nightmare for me. I returned the computer to the place that custom made it for me and I was assured, after paying three hundred dollars that the machine had been completely checked out and was in fine condition. They didn’t tell me that I had to re-install all of the software and other stuff. To make a long story short and to save me the agony of reliving the nightmare I eventually bought a new computer and I pray that my newly hired computer wizard can save my past ten years of work and install it in my new computer.

But life is how you perceive it. I had an interesting experience a month or so ago that reminded me of many things. I was at my health club early in the morning and it was a very cold, snowy day. Out of the window I could see snowplows pushing snow around and a few people struggling to get out of their cars and into their workplaces. As I pounded away on a treadmill a car pulled into a parking place about twenty feet outside of the window I was looking through. The car door opened slowly. In time an elderly lady dressed in a parka and wearing goulashes appeared. From the back seat of her vehicle she retrieved a snow shovel and made her way toward me shoveling each step of the way. I really didn’t know what to think as I couldn’t see any reason for her to be shoveling snow let alone being out of her home on such a day. But she kept at it. And it was apparently no easy thing for her to lift shovel after shovel of heavy snow. And frankly, I was worried for her.

But in time she came within a few feet of my window. Then she returned to her vehicle and reappeared several minutes later with a broom. With the broom she swatted the steel poles right in front of me and spent quite a bit of time cleaning off some platforms that rested on the tops of the poles. Once she had the platforms cleaned she returned to her vehicle and placed the broom and the shovel in her trunk. Then she reappeared with some large bags that she brought close to the poles and my window. From the bags she produced a scoop and placed its contents on the platforms just a few feet from where I was using the treadmill. Within a few moments several cold and apparently hungry birds landed on the platforms and began eating the bird food the old lady had brought for them. After a few minutes a number of other birds landed on her shoulder and seemed to thank her for her efforts. A slight and unmistakable smile came across her face she as she held out her hands containing birdseed and a few breadcrumbs. Black capped chickadees that were sitting on her head flew down and ate the food from the hands of the old lady. Then the wintering blue jays showed up and gobbled food from the platforms. In time the feeding stations were refilled and slowly but surely the old lady returned to her car and placed the containers of food in the trunk. Then ever so carefully she made her way on the ice to the front of her vehicle, opened the door, entered and then drove off into the falling snow. It ‘s a strange tale and, in truth, probably none of the others who saw her from the gym that day gave the old lady a second thought. But to me it was a brief look into the spirit of humanity, if not just that of an elderly individual. I really admired her and her strength. The pure pleasure of doing something as simple as feeding the birds is an experience worth fighting for. The contact with other living things, things other than humans, and to in some way feel their gratitude is one of life’s grand pleasures. For me feeding the birds on a cold day in winter is far more gratifying then playing black jack and slurping down beer at 6 AM in Las Vegas. But that’s just me and what I do and think is not right for everyone.

NEW STUFF

And so now I remind myself that I’ve just been rambling for a few hours and most people will probably wish I would stop with this stuff and get about the task of writing about the rustic furniture business. OK, OK
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My TV show, RUSIC LIVING WITH RALPH KYLLOE will probably begin airing in July. We’ve put a lot of work into the show and are thrilled that it may finally be on the air! I’ll post the times and stations that will offer the program once we have some final signatures on the contracts.

In truth I’ve not exhibited at shows lately. And with good reason. There’s lots of work and my gallery seems to be full with clients at all hours of the day. However, a great new show is happening this year in the Lakes region of New Hampshire. I have literally delivered hundreds of pieces of high end furniture and accessories to that region over the past few years and this show promises to be great! I have personally taken three booths for myself and will be selling my furniture and books during the show. And I’ll also be giving a slideshow presentation about rustic design during the show! If you’re a builder or have a business related to Cabins and Lakeside Living I really do believe that this show will be a great opportunity to exhibit your services and products to a very affluent and sophisticated retail market. I’M NOT KIDDING. And if you’re a vacation home owner or desire to become one then you really should consider attending this show. You’ll find all kinds of stuff related to cabins, camps and living the rustic life. The dates are July 18-19-20. The show will be held at the Gunstock Mountain Resort near Gilford, NH., very near Lake Winnipesaukee, NH. Trust me on this…….this will be a great show! Call Blain Anthony at 518 479 EXPO or visit their website at www.lakesidelivingexpo.com for more information.

My books continue to sell well and I am hard at work on four others as I write this. I find myself turning down more and more offers as my time gets gobbled up with both my work and my family. I hope to last another decade or so as nothing would thrill me more than seeing my daughter grow to adulthood. In all honesty I should hire someone to take care of lots of small stuff but I enjoy traveling, seeing the homes of my clients and making photos of great family compounds. Today I find that I’m less tolerant of people who don’t do what they say they’re going to do and I have no interest in people who don’t try to do their best. Life is very short and it’s over so soon. I’ll be sixty one years old this June and there are so many things I would like to do before I take the great journey to six feet under.

At any rate it’s now time to pack my bags as I’m heading off to Key West in the morning. I need a vacation and I’m going with my family for a relaxing week of doing nothing more than being a good dad and a good husband. Nonetheless, as I find it nearly impossible to sit still even for just a few minutes, I am bringing my laptop, cell phone and my old Dobro guitar. And I can guarantee readers that if you want to visit with me down there I’ll probably be sitting on some corner of Duval Street playing my guitar and hoping someone tosses some spare change my way so I can buy another plate of oysters on the half shell at the Turtle Krawls Restaurant!

My best to all of you,. Ralph

Sunday, December 23, 2007

It's the holiday season and I'm going to refrain from complaining about all kinds of stuff. Nonetheless here's a little "tid bit" that happened to us a few nights ago that some people might find interesting.

We were having dinner at the local Olive Garden restaurant just south of us. Most of the time we do not frequent the "chains" but we've come to enjoy the Italian food offered at this restaurant. Because we eat there often we know many of the wait staff and often banter with them as they attend to our needs. But on this day we were waited on by a gentleman whom we had not seen before. Nonetheless I started in on him right away.

"What kind of a guy wears black earrings?" I asked. I was making reference to the several black earrings he wore in each ear. He just looked at me. "Do they ever get rusty?", I asked. No response. "Where are you from?" was my next question as he served us bread and water. Keep in mind that this was no typical waiter. He was more of a tough guy in waiter's clothes. I would not have expected him to be in his present occupation. His head was shaved clean and his face offered dark contouring beneath his bleak eyes. His tight shirt and unbuttoned collar suggested a muscular physique and I suspected that he sported several tattoos of varying nature. I was not surprised at what happened next.

After looking me right in the eye he spoke. "I lived on the streets of New Orleans for a long time. I busted heads for a living". I was not surprised. I asked if he was in New Orleans during the hurricane. He then pulled a dozen tattered photos from his shirt pocket and said "I lost my entire life in the hurricane". The photos showed a demolished home in absolute ruins. Wrecked cars, twisted trees, splintered lumber and carnage were all that was left of his home. He then went on to say that he had gotten nothing from FEMA and felt completely abandoned by his community and his government. His anger and disappointment was apparent as he talked of his nightmares. Eventually, out of frustration and abject despair he and his wife moved to upstate New York to be near other family members. I could do nothing more than listen to his story and offer condolences. I hope to never experience the difficulties he had. He faced a hard road ahead. I wish the man and his wife well.

I've thought about the waiter often during the past few days and I'm reminded over and over again at how incredibly lucky I've been. I do not feel blessed by some fictional supreme being, I simply feel grateful for my ability to work hard and the luck I've had. I really do give thanks for the progress I've made in my life. Many people are not as lucky.

I'm not big on organized religions or mandates from supreme beings. Frankly, I find the world's religions both astonishingly hypocritical and arrogant. Stop and think about this. Everyday throughout the world forty thousand children die of starvation. That's everyday! And our great religious leaders are sitting in churches worth trillions of dollars. And here in America they don't even pay taxes on their properties. If they really were "Men of God" they would sell their properties and their big cars and buy food to feed the hungry and provide health care for the people who really need it. Does this make sense or am I off the wall?

Throughout the years I've had many long talks with religious zealots and have been told on many occasions that I would not be going to heaven because I have not been "saved". Many people have told me that the reasons they do good deeds is because they will be rewarded when they die by going to heaven where they will sit all day long basking in the glory of god. That's at strange approach to life for me. Frankly, I don't need the bible and I don't need the ten commandants and I don't need some guy foolishly dying on a cross to rescue me from my sins. All that is just folly to me. I don't do good deeds in hopes of profitable return. I don't do things because I fear the wrath of God. I don't misbehave because Moses told me not to.

I do good things because it's the right thing to do.

This is not that hard to comprehend. At some point most people grow up. In our hearts we intrinsically know what will be good for us as individuals, good for our families, good for our communities, good for our countries and good for our world. Good deeds done for the sake of "going to heaven" or for some other mystical reason are, in reality, doomed to failure. Deeds done in the hopes of some sort of reward are founded on greed, mistrust, egotism and selfishness. It's a sad day when we can't give something and not expect something in return.

This discussion could go on for all eternity. But I would like to think that somewhere in the hallowed halls of our own minds we all understand this. The world would be a much better place if we acted in a less selfish manner.

For me this is still a wonderful season. Actually, I really prefer Thanksgiving as a holiday but Christmas has its place. For me both holidays are a time for acknowledging others and in some way thanking others for their friendship and help. Both are times to reflect on the absolute miracle of being alive.

I also believe in helping others (that's why I'm not rich). This year we "adopted a family in need". A local social service agency called and asked us to help a single woman with three kids. Her fourth child had recently died and the mother was in the hospital. So my daughter and wife spent a few days buying and wrapping several needed gifts for the kids. It was a privilege to help them. It was the right thing to do.

For me, I still think of the guy who lost his home in New Orleans due to Hurricane Katrina. I left him a twenty dollar tip and my sincere hopes that life would get better for him.

Here's a typical day.

Friday, December 7. Woke at four AM and responded to about ten emails by 5AM. I then fed the cats, my daughter and my wife in that order. I called two clients to assure them that I would be at their homes later that day. I then hooked up the trailer to my truck and had to mess around with my trail hitch and trailer lights to get them to work correctly. My wife and I, along with an early rising employee loaded a seven foot tall, two hundred pound moose antler chandelier in the trailer. My plans were to make the deliveries and then be home no later than three in the afternoon. We left my gallery at about 9AM. First we drove into Manchester, VT., where we visited the Orvis Outlet store. My wife talked me out of purchasing another fly rod as I really don't need another one. On the way out of town we stopped for hot dogs at an outside corner vendor. I would have preferred Mexican food but my daughter wanted hot dogs. Most parents will understand that an eight year old girl stuck in a truck all day long can become quite emotional unless she has the food she wants for lunch.

The drive up to Stratton Mountain Ski area was far more hazardous than I expected. Ice and snow were falling and the truck, even in four wheel drive, began to slip and slide on the winding mountain roads. Near the top of the two mile driveway to the private home we actually began sliding backwards on the ice covered road. In time however, we made it to the compound where we picked up a few items and left off a few pieces that were requested by the decorators. The home, an absolutely spectacular 12,000 sq. ft. structure, will appear in a new book of mine due out in the fall of 2009.

At any rate the descent down the mountain from the home was nothing less than hair raising. My truck and trailer actually skid down the road for nearly a mile before finally stopping. Needless to say that there was enormous potential for disaster and I was warned by both my wife and daughter about driving more than five miles per hour down mountain roads.

At the bottom of the "hill" I inspected my trailer hitch and kicked off a significant layer of ice that had built up. As I kicked away a chunk of ice broke off and hit me in the eye. A half hour later I rinsed both eyes with a bottle of water but felt no relief. In time my vision blurred and with tears pouring from my left eye my wife drove me to a hospital in Rutland, Vermont. And there we sat for three hours before finally seeing an MD in the emergency room. Apparently I had cut the cornea of my eye and was given treatment and meds to help heal the wound. By now it was dark outside and we drove slowly along winding roads on our way to another delivery near Woodstock, Vermont. Finally, at eight PM we arrived at our client's home and stood outside in zero weather for quite some time before they answered their door.

Because we were so late the workmen who were to help unload the chandelier had gone home. So with great effort we managed to drag the chandelier across the ice and snow and into a barn where it would sit for another month or so before it and three others we're building are hung. We finally left their place at around 9PM. We found a restaurant a half hour later and enjoyed a great meal and several cups of coffee. From there I drove for nearly four hours through ice and snow back to Lake George. My wife and daughter slept for most of the ride home. Around 2 AM we pulled into our driveway and I was thrilled when a message on my answering machine said that my meeting with another client in New York City in the morning, just a few hours later, was cancelled. As I collapsed in my bed I thought to myself.... "just another twenty two hour day in the life of Ralph Kylloe".

Here's another one for you. During the past two months or so I've been on at least a dozen different airplanes. And I'm happy to say that most have been brief, unremarkable experiences. However, my return trip from Bozeman, Montana, back to Albany just about set my hair on fire. My flight was to be at 1PM from Bozeman. I arrived at the airport at 10:30AM and returned my rental car. Once in the terminal I was disappointed to see at least a hundred individuals , all dressed in full camouflage outfits standing in line at the United Airlines ticket counter. And there we stood for more than an hour before an agent finally showed up and began checking us in. Because all of the people in front of me were hunters and all of them had bazookas and assault rifles capable of bringing down elephants and tanks, each gun case had to be opened and inspected. Finally, it was my turn at the counter to be awarded a seat!

Keep in mind that this was two days before Thanksgiving and I promised my wife and daughter I would be home for the holiday.

"I'm sorry sir, but the flight is significantly overbooked and you do not have an assigned seat. I can get you to Albany the day after Thanksgiving".

"What about later today?", I asked.

"I'm sorry, sir but the soonest flight is on Thanksgiving day."

"What time is the flight?", I asked.

"1PM sir"

"What time will I arrive in Albany?"

"About midnight."

"Please...can't you get me home so I can spend Thanksgiving with my eight year old daughter?"

With that the agent worked feverishly on the computer. And I could hear fifty people behind me moaning and groaning about another delay.

"We'll sir, I can get you on a flight tomorrow morning at six AM".

"Great, I'll take it!"

A few minutes later she handed me a ticket.

"Just a few comments sir, you'll have to get a ride to Butte, Montana (about a hundred miles away). You can spend the night in the Holiday Inn (it was free to me!)." So without complaining I took the ticket and the hotel reservation and rented a car. From there I drove four hours through ice and snow and finally arrived in Butte. As it was early evening I noticed an advertisement for a hot springs a few miles past the city! And so I drove over and spent a glorious evening soaking outside in 100 degree water as gigantic snowflakes fell from the sky! It was a grand evening.

In the morning I woke at 4AM and drove to the airport. Fog and clouds blanketed the area. And no one, and I mean no one, was at the airport. So I waited and waited. Finally an hour later someone showed up and unlocked the door. An hour later I was on the first leg of my journey. The first flight was to Salt Lake City. The second flight was to Dallas, then Cincinnati, then Detroit and then to Dulles in Washington, DC. And finally, fifteen hours later, we landed in Albany! I'm not complaining, I did make it home for Thanksgiving but that's just too many flights in one day. I probably could have taken a train or a bus and gotten home earlier. But I was just thankful to finally be home.

Other Stuff

I know I promised not to complain but I feel the need to ramble on for a bit. Something is wrong in our country today. And I am perfectly serious when I say that we need a violent revolution in our government because the way we are running our country is, quite frankly, disgusting.

Doesn't it bother anyone that one out of one hundred and fifty kids is born with Autism? Doesn't it bother people that breast cancer, Alzheimer's disease, leukemia and all kinds of other cancers are running rampant in our country? Is no one worried about global warming? It seems to me that our present leaders are only concerned about war. And Why? Because wars make money. We spend trillions of dollars on new war machines when we should be building better schools and libraries and medical research facilities. It sickens me to hear about kids with no health care or Christmas presents. It's disgusting to see millions of Americans in jail in our own country. True most of them belong there but I wonder if their lives would have been different if they were raised in a good home with good parents and food and education and health care. It disgusts me to see our young men and women losing their limbs and lives in wars that have no legitimate reason for existing and have no foreseeable conclusions. It disgusts me that we are having a war on drugs and I can buy just about any kind of illegal drug on a street corner in a nearby town. It nearly kills me to think that we still sell tobacco products when twelve hundred people die every day from using tobacco products.

And I'm sick of hearing about deranged individuals shooting up schools and malls.

And the drug companies are just as bad. It's astonishing that they make all kinds of laxatives and charge fortunes for their products when all people have to do is buy a box of bran for less than a dollar, eat a few tablespoons a day and they'll be so regular they won't believe it. And that would be the end of colon cancers and all kinds of other digestive tract illnesses.

I want to breathe clean air and drink clean water. Honest to God, I don't think that's too much to ask. So we need to have a mental revolution in this country. We have to dramatically change our priorities. The government is supposed to serve and protect its citizens. We would be the envy of the world if only we would educate our citizens. OK, Ok, OK, I'll stop for a while.

Other tid bits

A week ago I took my daughter for her weekly violin lesson. My wife also came along. She's taking violin lessons from the same teacher as well. So we entered the home and were greeted by the teacher. And for the first ten minutes of the lesson I sat patiently on the couch reading a book as my daughter practiced her lessons. The teacher, who could charm the socks off an Eskimo, could take no more of my insensitivity to the music before me and ordered me to stop reading and pay attention. And of course I followed her every command. She then handed me a violin and for the next forty five minutes instructed me in violin posture, finger positioning and technique. And I'm happy to say that I can now competently play Three Blind Mice on the violin! But that was not enough for my teacher. She said that I had great talent and that I should take more lessons because I could very quickly become quite competent. I will admit that I picked it up fairly easily! And I was quite proud of myself. But I'm certain that she tells everyone that so they will sign up for her lessons

Nonetheless, after my first session I was invited to stay a bit longer for the group lesson. So along with several six to eight year old girls I graciously played Jingle Bells for nearly an hour! And we did sound great! I do realize that I might have looked a bit out of place but in truth I had a great time and have given the teacher, as requested, a month's worth of tuition fees for my next four lessons!

On my way out the door I was also told that I needed to get my own violin as my daughters was significantly too small for me. I completely understood and vowed to have my own violin for my next lesson.

Once we arrived back home along with a few glasses of wine we had a great dinner. And then a few after dinner drinks as well. In truth, I really am not a "drinker" and usually stop at two cocktails. But this night we got a bit carried away.

Later that evening I remembered my promise to acquire my own violin so I "booted up" EBay on my computer and typed in "violins". I was not surprised to see over four thousand instruments in the category. I was very happy to see a violin offered for forty dollars and without much thought I typed in forty one dollars.

One thing I learned that night was to never, ever bid on something when you've been drinking. I checked my bid a half hour later and to my horror realized that I have typed in Forty One Hundred dollars. And keep in mind that bids are legally binding contracts. This was not a good thing because I really didn't want a Stradivarius violin I just wanted a violin so I could share the experience of learning music with my daughter. But I was cool about all of it. I didn't get excited. I just remained calm. Needless to say I was pleasantly surprised when the auction ended the following morning. The final price for the violin was well over six thousand dollars! I was off the hook!

I will say that I did purchase a new violin on EBay this afternoon for $51 plus shipping! And I'm greatly looking forward to learning Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star and Mary Had A Little Lamb in class over the next few weeks. And we will be performing the songs before a group of proud parents at a Christmas Pageant in my area! If anyone is interested in attending the show let me know. I'll make certain that you receive front row tickets, a glass of red Cool Aid and Christmas cookies!

And talk about doing stupid things. About a month ago I was driving back from New York City where I had lunch with and meetings with friends and business associates. In front of me on the highway were two burly guys in full motorcycle regalia proudly wearing their colors. These were not just old guys on touring bikes. These guys were the real thing. The kept just over the speed limit but every once in a while one would roar ahead of the other and make lots of noise as he did so. In time they pulled off the highway and into a rest stop. I did the same. After using the restroom I stood behind the two bikers and waited patiently to order a coffee from the concession stand.

The bikers took their time about ordering. Finally they ordered double lattes with extra vanilla and nutmeg. After they placed their order they moved a few feet and allowed me to place my order. "I want a real mans drink. I want a large coffee, black. None of this fru fru stuff," I said. I then moved to my left to allow the guy behind me to place his order.

As I turned I was taken aback by the two bikers standing only a few inches from me. Towering over me one of the guys said "what did you mean by that crack?" Like a fool I said, "real men drink coffee". Now even closer one of the bikers, with chewing tobacco running down his chin, said "you don't like my drink?"

This was now very serious. I joke and kid with lots of people and only once did it back fire on me. This was the second time. I didn't know what to say. "I asked you a question" the biker said with a tremor in his voice. I was still speechless. "You don't like my drink?" said the other biker.

I was fully aware that I was now in potentially serious trouble. "I really hate people like you", came from the lips of the biker on my left. Several people were now watching wondering if I was about to have the brains beaten out of my head. I have to admit that I was scared. And I felt my voice tremble as I said "I'm just trying to find some humor somewhere." It was a feeble, stupid response but I will admit that I was painfully intimidated.

A few seconds later both of the bikers broke into giggles and then laughter. I thought for a moment they were going both go into cardiac arrest they were laughing so hard. "We got you man" they said. "We really got you!" They were pointing their huge fingers at me. Both continued their gut splitting outburst. "Hey man, we love doing this to people", the big guy said. "We scare em to death and love doing it. You should have seen the look on your face. You were great man. Don't pay any attention to us, Man, we're just having some fun with you." Moments later they picked up their lattes with extra vanilla and walked off to relax in a booth. I could still hear their laughter as I walked out the doors without my large, black coffee. I have to admit that the two bikers with all their tattoos, chewing tobacco and leathers were quite convincing. When I finally got home I took a triple dose of my blood pressure medicine.

REALITY STUFF

And so we are taking another direction here at my gallery. The gallery itself is doing very well. In fact it's doing so well it's caused me to inadvertently ignore my website for a while. That's because every time I bring a new pieces of furniture in they sell almost immediately. Which is a good thing!

Nonetheless, within the month I plan on launching the new and improved, industrial strength Ralph Kylloe Rustic Design Website! I think you'll enjoy the updates we're adding and please feel free to comment on whatever you like or offer suggestions or ideas on how to improve what we do here at the Ralph Kylloe Gallery.

I also made great progress on my TV show. I really don't like to talk about stuff until I have something concrete to say but at this point I'm thrilled with the progress we've made. I'll let everyone know when they can see the entire program.

Well in two hours we're taking off for Chicago to spend the holidays with family and friends. I'll be playing the blues with a few musician friends out there and will probably eat too much food and sweet stuff. Please drive carefully this holiday season.

My best to you, Ralph

It’s shocking to me how many people don’t take global warming seriously. I now do. But I’ll tell you, I really like my Toyota SUV. And I really like my eight cylinder Toyota Tundra pickup truck. Both have lots of room, all kinds of gadgets, I feel safe in them and both have all-wheel drive. The SUV gets about 18 MPG. And when I’m pulling my trailer with my truck I get about 9 MPG. But at $3.45 for a gallon of gas it’s a little depressing to spend nearly two hundred dollars a week just on gas. At the same time the global warming thing is in the back of my mind. Nonetheless, I’ve always been one to light candles rather than curse the darkness for hours on end.

So this past week I went out and traded in the SUV for a Toyota Hybrid Prius. It’s definitely smaller and does not have all- wheel or four wheel drive. But it does have all kinds of “cool stuff” in it. And a few days ago my wife and I went to New York City for a few days and the car is presently averaging 51.2 miles per gallon of gas! And it only cost me about thirty bucks to fill up the tank!

I want to be quite honest here. In my life time, between my wife and I, we’ve owned about twenty new Toyotas. And in truth, we’ve never had any problems with any of them. And on many of my trucks I’ve put 200,000 and 300,000 miles on them and never had any problems. So here’s the question. Why can’t American build great cars? Why do the Japanese, whom we destroyed in WW II, make us look like idiots? A year or so ago a big guy, who was drunk, came up to me after a late night gig and asked why I drive a “Jap Car”. “Because if American’s built better cars I’d buy them” I said. He didn’t appreciate my comment. I was very happy when he just walked away.

Apart from all that it’s now necessary to take global warming seriously. Without rambling on and on about it the people who read my comments are bright and well educated. As a nation we know what to do to solve the problem of global warming. I just hope that we choose to do the right thing. And quickly!

Three hours ago I got a call from my wife. She needed me to come to our cabin as soon as possible. So I dropped what I was doing and drove over. Our association was putting our boat docks in and I was requested to be there. I was one of the ones who needed to be in the water. Unfortunately, the ice had only been off the lake for less than a month. Nonetheless, without a wetsuit and in my bathing suit I plunged in and spent almost two full hours in 50 degree water. And as I now sit here the color blue is slowly leaving my body, the shivering is less than it was a few minutes ago and my skin, which for the past few hours has closely resembled prunes, is starting to look normal. But at least the docks are set and I can finally put my boat in the water for the year.

It’s now a week later. I was supposed to leave for Montana on an evening flight from Albany last night. All flights heading west were cancelled due to computer problems and bad weather. I stood in line for three hours at the airport. Once it was my turn with the reservationist I was politely told that I could travel to Detroit and spend the night there and maybe I could get out the following day (if the problems were fixed and the weather calmed down). I chose to postpone the trip and depart from Albany the following Monday. The ride to the airport from my home is an hour and because we hit rush hour traffic in Albany the return trip took nearly two hours. I just hope that this is the last “glitch” for this trip and in my never ending saga of “weird experiences” in airports and airplanes. Time will tell.

The only bad thing about postponing my trip is that I lost two days deposits on hotel rooms, my fee for fishing on a private river in Montana (non-refundable for any reason) and the opportunity to photograph a great home. But hopefully I’ll be able to reschedule the photo “shoots”.

On another note my photo trips out west are always filled with peril. I had six gorgeous homes lined up to photograph this trip. At the last second two of homes owners had to cancel my visits. This has happened often and is part of the nightmares of what I do. The worst are interior designers. They guarantee that the homes are ready. After I receive their assurances I make plane, hotel, car and a ton of other arrangements and reservations. Then, a day before I am to leave a designer will call and say that the home is not ready. I’ve heard all kinds of excuses. The pipes burst, the furniture is not in, the landscaping is not complete, the chandeliers are not hung, the window treatments have to be changed, the house burned to the ground, locust infestations, famine, nuclear holocausts, Communist invasions, anarchy and on and on. And the funny thing is that I go to great pains to make certain the homes are ready before I make my travel plans. I normally ask the architects, builders and others if the buildings really are ready. But bad things do happen and I understand. The down side to all of this is that travel is now extraordinarily expensive and my own time is important to me. Nonetheless, when photo shoots are cancelled I prefer take advantage of the situation by fly fishing in some of the greatest rivers in America and wandering around Yellowstone National Park enjoying the sights. Life is cruel sometimes! It’s best to make lemonade from lemons.

And so its Americade is here in Lake George this weekend. Right now there are fifty five thousand (55,000) motorcycles and a hundred and ten thousand visitors registered for the event here in my sleepy town of Lake George. Americade is a motor cycle rally. All day and all night heavy duty designer bikes roar up and down the streets like bees buzzing a hive. And for the ten days the bikers are around I’ll have no walk-in traffic here in my gallery. Bikers, frankly, don’t have interest in rustic furniture. And no one in their right minds would come to my area with this many motorcycles around. But in general the bikers here are great people. They’re not biker gangs or thugs. They’re just a bunch of aging, wealthy professionals trying to hold on to their youth and fantasies and getting a big kick out of a roaring, throbbing, vibrating machine between their legs.

And so just a few minutes ago my daughter asked me to come along with her to a birthday party for one of her eight year old friends. The party will be at her friend’s home where all twenty girls will swim in her pool, eat junk food and sing “happy birthday” at the appropriate time. And I always shutter when I watch the birthday child blow saliva and germs all over the cake when she blows out the candles. God help us.

Nonetheless, I’ll happily attend the party. I’ve been told by my daughter to not sing or dance or go swimming. I’m also not supposed to tell any stupid jokes or do anything else to embarrass her. So I’ll just bring along a good book, sit in a corner, eat a few celery sticks (the hosts token attempt at healthy diets), and not say anything to anyone least I embarrass my eight year old. And I’ll do my best to keep her happy!

On the way over I informed my daughter that she had to wear a life preserver whenever in the water. She didn’t have one with her so we stopped at the local department store. And of course the life preserver thing became a point of real contention with her. She didn’t like any of the ones “off the shelf” but I informed her that she was either going to wear one or we would be going home. The pool at the home where the party is being held has a very deep section and there would be lots of kids there. I choose my “power struggles” with my daughter very carefully. And I would not budge on this issue. We purchased a new life preserver and she wore it all day. I told her very clearly that the most important job I have in the world is to keep her safe. She seemed to appreciate my concerns. Just about every day ten kids drown in pools in America. And it only takes a second of looking the other way. I have been told that the worst thing that can happen to anyone is to lose a child. I will do my best to insure her safety. It’s what all parents should do.

On a related subject are you aware that every year more kids drown in private swimming pools than are killed by handguns?

Here are a few thoughts that have been on my mind for quite some time and I suppose it’s time to comment on them. We seem to be in an age of inconsideration. There are tons of little examples of inconsideration out there that drive me nuts. And they occur only because people don’t consider the effects that their actions (or lack of them) have on others. Consider this:

A. Last fall I promised my daughter that I would take her to the local water park for a late afternoon plunge in the wave pool. I picked her up from school and we drove to the park, paid the ten dollar parking fee and then the $26 admission fee for each of us. Once we arrived at the wave pool we were told that it was closed. Needless to say that this brought a tear to my daughter’s eye. I told the manager that they should have put a big sign out at the admissions gate informing people that the wave pool was closed. I also asked for a refund which he promptly denied. Refunding my money and putting a sign out would have been the considerate thing to do. We won’t visit the park again.

B. Motels sometimes drive me nuts. It is a bit of an effort to get off a highway, pull into a motel parking lot, go into a lobby, wait in line and then be told that the motel is full. I understand realities but it would be very considerate if they simply put a sign outside the motel that read “Full/ No Vacancy”. It would save me significant effort…especially when I’m tired.

C. Office people often drive me nuts. On many occasions I’ve approached clerks, sales persons, waitresses and waiters, check-out attendants, etc., and gotten the cold shoulder. I know they’re busy but if they would just look up from their work, look me in the eye and say “I’ll be with you in just a minute”, I would feel like a real person. I know that they know that I’m standing there and it would only take a second to greet someone and at least acknowledge my presence. It’s incredibly inconsiderate to be ignored.

I’m actually going to stop with the examples now. I can literally feel my blood pressure rising as I think of more examples of inconsideration. I am far from perfect but if we all just considered how our actions affected others it just might be a more considerate world.

Here’s some other stuff to ponder. I am often amazed at how apparently insignificant comments from other people or very minor events have triggered changes in my life. When I was an undergraduate I took a course in personality disorders. In one of the books I read that people with short attention spans squeeze their tubes of toothpaste in the middle. To this day I purposely squeeze toothpaste tubes from the bottom and roll up the tube as time goes by. God forbid that I should be identified as having a short attention span. Years ago I had a two second conversation with a well known artist. His exact words regarding one of my photographs were “needs foreground”. To this day I make certain that I purposely have a foreground and background in my photos. They are better because of it. And I thank the artist to this day for his comment. I also remember an incident when I was in fifth grade. I stood in front of the class and read my paper about my summer vacation. The class and the teacher were in stitches. It was a good report. Then one kid shouted out “it’s just a bunch of stupid comments”. His comments ripped into me and I didn’t write prose or essays for some twenty years. His remark was hard for ten year old kid to take.

In 1978 I took a winter survival course with Outward Bound, a wilderness adventure school. It was ten days of serious winter camping in the mountains of Maine. There was four feet of snow on the ground. Our packs were at least sixty pounds. For two days straight it was thirty below zero. And that does not include the wind chill factor. We slept in tents and sleeping bags, cooked our own food. We also did a three day solo. I made an ice fort and sat by myself and pondered life, my life day and night. Near the end of the expedition it rained for two days. Forty six people started out in the class. Eighteen of us finished the course. Frankly, it was both mentally and physically brutal. And very dangerous. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.

In time I came to really dislike several of the people in my course. Near the end of the class one woman argued aggressively that we were all too tired and exhausted to complete our final ascent on a mountain. We were not capable of going on, she said. It was too dangerous. She spoke powerful words and people listened to her. The group acquiesced. They were convinced we could not go on. So we made camp and prepared to rest and recuperate. Frankly, this attitude made me sick and I told her so. I argued that we should go on. No one backed me up. But at that time I’d be damned if I was going to let some sniveling, filthy bitch tell me what I could or could not do. So I packed a tent and sleeping bag, took some food, put on my snowshoes and left for a solo ascent on the mountain. It was pitch dark when I left. I hiked up the side of a moonlit mountain for five straight hours before an instructor finally caught up with me.

Once the instructor reached me I was told that I was part of a group and the decisions made by the group applied to everyone. I was ordered back to the base camp. I complied. The instructor was correct in that it was both dangerous and foolish to wander into the wilderness alone and at night. But to this day I’m happy I left the group. I would do it again in a second and I would make it to the top. Screw the others. In many circumstances being a team player is critical. But to just blindly follow along when you know your own potential and the ability of the others, benefits no one. No progress is made and complacency rules. I don’t lead my life like that. I was capable of completing my climb to the top of the mountain at that time. I had the training, the supplies and the strength to go on. It was an incredible disservice on the part of the sniveling bitch to convince the others in my group, who were all capable of more, that we had failed and that we were weak. One of the greatest sins possible is to render people into passivity and complacency. It destroys progress and wrecks lives. Disasters come from blindly following the dictates of quasi-charismatic leaders who lead by bad examples and dissuasion. To this day, almost forty years later, I still think of the sniveling, filthy bitch that prevented people in my group from achieving their own potential. I wanted to stand on top of the god damned mountain. I hope she was hit by a truck.

And as I sit here and ponder all this I am reminded at how powerful our words can be. Things we say can and do profoundly influence the lives of others. It’s best to choose our words very carefully least we push someone in the wrong direction. Suggestions offered in a positive way enhance humanity. Debasing, demeaning statements only serve to destroy creativity, individuality and personalities. We are capable of such great things in our lives. And we need our teachers, parents, leaders and mentors to provide meaningful examples and meaningful words to help us find the strength and inspiration to help us achieve our own potential. We, as adults, often fail to realize how powerful and how influential we really are. It’s best to use our power wisely. I hope others understand this.

On another, quite different note I’ve been in the Antique business for many years. Three times a year there is a huge antique show on the east coast. I haven’t missed it in thirty years. For the first twenty years I had my way with the rustic furniture business. I had virtually no competition. Then, suddenly, everyone thought I was making millions of dollars and began purchasing all the things I’d been buying for years. Prices escalated dramatically. And fewer and fewer things started showing up. I used to be able to fill a thirty foot trailer with absolutely great stuff.

But it’s different now. I have my competitors. And I miss things that I was once able to buy. In other words…someone bought it before I saw it. But that’s OK. I get my fair share. During this past spring show friends that I’ve known for decades brought me five major pieces, including three hickory pieces, a killer mosaic root table and a great pair of early snow shoes that had been stashed away for me! All kidding aside, however, each item easily cost me five times what I would have paid for it years earlier. Here’s an example. I bought a great pair of early Native American beaver tail snow shoes for fifteen hundred dollars. When I brought them home my wife told me I was nuts. Ten years ago I would have paid no more than three hundred for them. Great art, however, always goes up in value.

Regardless, all things change. I certainly do. For years I slept in my trailer for five straight nights at this show and worked the fields methodically buying and selling all kinds of antiques. Today I only stay for three days and spend my nights in a comfortable motel with running water! My camping days are over!

I also recall my earlier years in the rustic antique business. I lived in Boston and advertised in many Midwestern antique journals for rustic furniture. Three or four times a year I would hop in my four cylinder pick- up truck and pull a ten foot, open bed trailer out to Indiana, Michigan, Wisconsin and Minnesota to pick up stuff. I must have knocked on every door in Indiana looking for hickory furniture. I met tons of really great people and had all kinds of adventures. I looked like the “Grapes of Wrath” when I returned from the mid west. My truck and trailer were piled high with all kinds of hickory furniture! I had a great time.

At one time I had nearly six hundred pieces of antique hickory stashed in a barn just outside of Boston. I always thought rustic stuff was greatly underpriced, undervalued and underappreciated. To me it was folk art at its finest. And in time others came to appreciate rustic furniture as well. My wife at that time, however, thought I was nuts (she was probably right) and she promptly divorced me. My divorce from her was one of the best things that ever happened to me as it allowed me to pursue what I loved doing! Realistically, I loved every second of my life then and still do today. I would not change a thing. I hope everyone can say that about their life’s work.

Nonetheless, I did not plan all this. It’s not what I wanted to do. I have had my fair share of failures but I looked on such things (after a brief bout of depression) as learning experiences. Sometimes, however, you just have to go with the flow. And my direction, whether I liked it or not, was rustic.

I was also “virtually poor” back then. I slept in my trailer at truck stops and rest areas in both summer and winter. I couldn’t afford even a cheap room at that time. I took showers in truck stops and floated more checks than I should have. Regardless, my checks always cleared the bank! I ate bologna sandwiches and “two for one” hot dogs at gas stations. I owed a ton of money for my education and had four “maxed out” credit cards. Nonetheless, in time I paid off all my bills and began to actually prosper.

It seems now like a strange lifestyle for a guy with a Ph.D. from Boston University and graduate degree from Harvard. But I’ve always loved what I do. My mother, when she was alive, thought I was nuts to be selling stick furniture with my education. But she was proud of me (at least I hope so).

So here’s where I am today. I’ve got nineteen books to my credit and am working on two more. I am also thrilled to say that we are in the process of producing my TV show RUSTIC LIVING WITH RALPH KYLLOE. We’ve been filming homes and the initial segments have come out far better than I expected. In fact I’m so proud of it I want my readers to see the first few minutes of the first segment. Here's a link to watch it now: Rustic Living Please feel free to comment on the video. This is your chance to beat me up or say something nice (which I hope at least a few people do). So now it’s your turn to comment on what will become a national program. Let me hear what you have to say and I can assure you that I greatly look forward to hearing your comments and suggestions

On another subject I commented in my last newsletter about three beds that we made that developed problems. We installed the beds a year or so ago and all kinds of things, despite our best efforts, continued to grow on them. The logs were simply not dry when the beds were constructed. So we built a kiln and dried them to the proper moisture level. Well, the beds still had problems so, at great expense, we constructed completely new beds and installed them in the home. Unfortunately the rails didn’t fit right and we had to return a few days later to adjust the rails. While modifying the rails we succeeded in putting four holes in the walls of the bedrooms. So now we have to return in a few weeks to repair and repaint the walls. Sometimes nothing goes right. However, it’s necessary to take care of business and do the right thing. Frankly, however, I thought of burning the beds, shooting the builder and firing the guy who put the holes in the damn walls. But if I allowed my rage to guide me I would have gone to jail. Since I would prefer not to be incarcerated (even if I was to share a cell with Paris Hilton) I’ll just get the cursed job done and write the entire thing off as a business loss. I’ll probably also have to spend a few extra months in my therapist’s office and try antidepressants. Tragically, however, such expenses are not tax deductable.

On another note June 27 will be my 60th birthday! I’ll be here in Lake George and will spend the day with a few friends and family. I certainly don’t feel 60 but time catches up with all of us. But just to have some fun here’s a little surprise for my readers. The first five people who email me on June 27 and wish me a “happy birthday” will receive from me an autographed copy of my latest book, RUSTIC FIREPLACES. And I’ll even pay the shipping costs! These will not be damaged or “misprint” books. These books retail for $30 and shipping is between $8 and $11. So mark your calendars and email me with your Happy Birthday wishes and addresses! I hope someone remembers.

And so that’s about it for now. I plan on making a pasta dish for my family for dinner and then taking an evening boat ride on beautiful Lake George. The lake was clear this morning as I drove my boat in the cool air before the sun came into view. A gaggle of some thirty geese flew in formation for a few miles along side my boat. For just a few moments I felt as though I was a part of their lives. Every few seconds one would look over to me and acknowledge my presence. I dare not say that each goose that caught my eye was smiling at me. Their honking seemed to say that they were taking great pleasure in their morning flight. Regardless of my desire to interject my thoughts on them they gabbed amongst themselves in what I could only consider to be their morning gossip and their desire to be close to their other family members. In time they gracefully set down on the clear water and sent small waves of water and pollen in all directions. They honked for a while as they rested. After a long winter I suspect they are happy to return to the land of their past. Here they’ll raise more little chicks and continue the ongoing cycle of life. It was good to see, at least from my perspective, natural things doing natural things.

I continued on past the geese and fished for a while over a few rock beds in the shallow areas of the lake. My daughter caught several rock bass with her new fishing pole and I landed two huge small mouth bass. All the fish were released safely back to their homes. We finally docked the boat and after breakfast and my wife and daughter took off for violin lessons and a dance party for girls at the local YMCA. I’ve spent the day in my office, spoke with several visitors and sold a few things. As I look out my window now I see clouds rolling in. The wind is now softly whispering and bending the massive hardwood trees I see out my window. A boat ride tonight may not happen. Regardless, after dinner I’ll pick out a few of my daughter’s books and read to her as we keep warm under old blankets in our cabin. I’ll tell her a few made-up stories about princesses and mermaids and by dark she’ll be fast asleep. Life is good sometimes. Take care, Ralph

PS. Monday evening. Much to my chagrin the remaining homes I was to photograph this week in Montana fell through at the last second. This time it was the “new furniture was not completely installed” and “the driveway is being paved and no one can walk on it for a few days” and the “landscaping does not yet compliment the home”. Regardless, I rescheduled my trip to Montana for this coming Friday and will fish for a week with my buddies. Who wants to work anyway?

PSS. I have recently purchased a large number of my books from my printer and I am offering them to my readers at a greatly discounted price. These are first printing books. And personally autographed by the author/writer(me!). Here’s the deal:

ADIRONDACK HOME Retails for $60. On sale now for $25 plus shipping!

HICKORY FURNITURE Retails for $29.95. On sale now for $19.95 plus shipping!

RUSTIC FIREPLACES Retails for $29.95. On sale now for $19.95 plus shipping!

RUSTIC HOME Retails for $60. On sale now for $30 plus shipping!

A month or so ago I received a phone call. I didn’t quite understand the individuals name but they said they worked for some political committee somewhere. They asked if I would consider working for a local politician (I didn’t get his name either). The conversation went something like this.

“What is your position on President Bush?” I was asked.

“The man is a bumbling idiot”, I said. “He and his entire cabinet should be impeached.”

“And the war in Iraq?”

“An incredible waste of money and lives”, I said. “Bush and Cheney both lied about it and they both should be impeached”.

“What is your position on abortion?”

“I don’t think I’m a good candidate for one.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t think I could find a doctor who would perform one on me.”

“So you’re against abortions”

“Listen to what I saying. Abortions are not performed on men. Therefore I am not a candidate for one.”

Moments later the caller hung up the phone without saying “good bye”. I guess I didn’t pass the interview and I suppose now I’ll never make it on the national political scene. I’m incredibly disappointed and hurt. Life is cruel sometimes.

On March 17, my wife, daughter and I were in New York City where we watched, in the snow, the St. Patrick’s Day Parade. It was a great day. That evening we saw the famous Irish band the Chieftains perform at Carnegie Hall. It was a sold out show. We were on the far right side of the lower balcony. Front row! During the third song a commotion happened directly below us. A woman was frantically performing CPR on an overweight man. Several people lifted him from the middle seats and began CPR on him once he was flat on the ground in the isle. The band wisely took a break and left the stage. Defibulator paddles were brought out by emergency people who rushed to the scene. The house lights were turned on and a packed house held their breaths as medics pounded on the guy’s chest in an attempt to get his heart going. Minutes passed. Then, as if right out of a movie, the guy came back to life, lifted himself off the floor and began walking. After a few steps he stopped, looked at the sea of staring faces and waved. The entire audience applauded him as he walked out of the auditorium followed by an entourage of medics, officials, family members and well wishers. Minutes later, the house lights went out, the band returned to the stage and played to an appreciating audience for two more hours. Just another strange incident to write about I thought to myself.

There is a strange fascination with the macabre. We are an aggressive species. We love to watch people pound each other nearly to death in fight rings. Action movies and violent video games make millions of dollars and occupy the minds of millions of humans around the world. People go to Nascar races not to see the race but in hopes of seeing the crashes. Guns are everywhere and people seem mesmerized by atrocities. Nearly a million hand guns are sold, legally and illegally, here in America every year. And every day in America thirty murders are committed with handguns. We are a strange species. I’m surprised we’ve lasted as long as we have. I’m just happy that the guy who had the heart attack at Carnegie Hall was able to get up on his own two feet and walk away. And I hope, at least, that he enjoyed the first three songs played by the Chieftans.

(I normally edit my ramblings and after reviewing the above paragraph I probably should have either eliminated it or changed it dramatically. It really doesn’t “flow” with the paragraph preceding it. But I’m going to leave it like it is. I wrote it and that’s how I felt as I recalled the entire experience.)

I’ve been thinking about my efforts during the past few months. Sometimes it’s hard for me to get started when it comes to writing my Newsletter. It’s not writers block or laziness. It’s probably closer to exhaustion. I need to take a day off once in a while just to recuperate. Last fall my MD told me my blood pressure was significantly up, my cholesterol level was too high and I was overweight. It’s just the sort of news no one likes to hear or admit to themselves. So in an attempt to hold on to some semblance of youth I started a rigorous fitness program last October. And frankly I’m proud of myself! Three times a week I go to the local YMCA, shoot baskets for a while, pound away on an exercise machine and finish off with a half hour of weight training. So far I’ve lost about ten pounds and feel better than I have for a long time. Nonetheless, it’s the mental nightmares that wear on me. We’re busier now than we ever have been and I really do need a talented person to manage my business. It’s stupid to think that I can do it all. But problems are, in reality, opportunities. And one by one I’ll take care of the stack of “opportunities” on my desk that require more of my time than I care to allot to them. None of the problems are serious…its just there are lots of them. Deliveries need to be made, bills need to be collected, orders need to be filled, etc. It’s just standard stuff. But frankly, I would rather be working on another book or something more important to me than going to the dump, recycling plastic bottles and mowing my lawn.

Nonetheless, just to clarify what kind of problems one might encounter here at the Ralph Kylloe Gallery let me briefly outline one little “opportunity”. This has been my biggest headache in a long time and it took valuable time and energy to resolve it.

A very good customer of mine ordered two pairs of bunk beds and a king size organic bed for their lake home here in the Adirondacks. I had my “bed guy” build the beds and we installed them a month or so later. The client was thrilled and their check cleared the bank! A year later the client called and said that funguses were growing from the beds and asked if we could take care of the problem. We visited the cabin a week later and knocked off a dozen or so funguses and re-varnished the beds. A few months ago the client again called and mentioned that the funguses had returned with a vengeance. We again visited the cabin, this time in the dead of winter, and were surprised to see all of the new growths on the beds. It was definitely a serious problem. I called the individual who actually made the beds for me and was politely told that he was out of business and no longer responsible for anything he had done in the past. So a month ago I and another individual returned to the cabin with a moisture meter to measure the amount of moisture in the wood. It turns out the original builder of the beds had used “green, un-dried” materials to build the beds. As a result all kinds of things started growing on the beds. Unfortunately, the beds were so heavy and there was so much snow on the ground we could not remove them at that time. So we came home, hired two really big guys, returned to the building (two hours north of us) and removed the beds. I then spent two days trying to find a kiln to dry the beds. No luck. So for just about seven thousand dollars and two weeks of time I purchased and constructed our own kiln. Unfortunately, we had problems with the electrical components in the new system and had to spend more time and money getting the beast to work correctly. The beds are now in the kiln but may have significantly more damage than I originally thought. I’ll know within the next week. And if they are not perfect we’ll build the couple new beds and take the loss as part of business. I will not compromise on our commitment to quality products. I am happy to say however, that I have a new, incredibly competent bed build, Brian Kelly, right here at my gallery and our new, albeit expensive kiln, is working well. And our new beds are gorgeous!

But in truth I would rather have been working on new books, making photos, being in my gallery and being productive than spending so much time on “opportunities”. Having to spend so much time on problems is counterproductive but a necessary reality when running a business. I am certain other business owners have “opportunities” as well. They are nothing new.

On another note, I really don’t like doing shows anymore. It generally takes a day to pack the trailer, another day to travel and set up the booth. Then I talk with all kinds of people for two or three days once at the show, then pack up and go home. It’s too exhausting at my age.

Nonetheless, I had agreed to do the RUSTIC SHOW in Danbury, Ct., which was held a few weeks ago. The show was promoted by long-time show promoter Richard Rothbard. I really didn’t want to do the show but I said I would and I always do what I say I’m going to do. So at 4AM on March 31, Lori Toledo and I drove down to Danbury and set up a booth full of great looking furniture. In truth, I’ve exhibited at hundreds of shows around the country during the past three decades. Some have been great…. some not. On several occasions I’ve set up next individuals selling pots and pans, self incinerating toilets, hot tubs, real estate, and all kinds of other stuff. Some people have blared loud music all day, some have cooked food all day and extolled the virtues of their wares and, others, dressed in full turbans, sold trinkets and mattresses from India. God help me.

But I really enjoyed the Rustic Show. It was an exhibit of great art. Half of the exhibitors offered quality rustic furniture and related rustic accessories and the other half offered contemporary artwork such as paintings, sculptures, and carvings. Several of the “better known” furniture builders were there including Barry Gregson, Jerry Farrell, Bill Coffee, Russ Cleves, Robert Stump and a few others. There was not a typical “rush” at the opening of the show where people lined up by the hundreds for the doors to open but rather it was a constant “flow” of traffic all day. Saturday the weather was warm and mild. Sunday was cool and brought about twice as many people into the show than the day before. I signed books continuously throughout both days and had a few great sales near the closing of the show on Sunday. As I write this a month has passed since the show was held and I have had several calls and several major orders from people I met at the show. The exhibit was professionally organized and the move in and out was virtually painless. The hotel where most of us stayed was easily four stars and Saturday night most of the exhibitors partied in the hotel lounge until late at night. On Sunday I was asked to “judge” the show and award prizes. When asked to do this sort of thing I always ask as few others for their opinion as well. I gave out two awards. One was given to a gentleman who created extraordinary sculptures from window screens and I awarded another prize to Barry Gregson for his extraordinary chairs. Truth be known, I have had my fair share of “squabbles” with Barry early on but am on complete speaking terms with him and his family at this time. I have always said that Barry is the finest rustic chair builder in the country and I gave him a cash award and first prize in the rustic furniture division of the show. Great art speaks for itself.

Most of the exhibitors did well at the show. Some did not. That is, however, typical. Would I do the show again and would I encourage others to do the show? Absolutely. This was the first year for the show and it can only draw more interested individuals as the show grows.

I had also promised to exhibit at the LAKE, HOME AND CABIN SHOW held this past week just outside of Chicago. And frankly, my heart was really not into repacking my truck and trailer, driving eighteen hours, setting up another booth, talking with people for three straight days and then driving another eighteen hours home. But I did it anyway. It was a long drive. Lori Toledo, who builds many of the mirror frames we offer in my gallery, again came with me. It was a long, exhausting drive. Nonetheless, we found the convention center after fighting Chicago rush hour traffic for what seemed like days. We arrived at ten in the morning and were told that our set-up time was to be a 3PM. So we moved into our separate hotel rooms and rested for much of the rest of the day. Late that afternoon we set up our 20’ x 30’ booth, had a great Mexican dinner with friends and then passed out in our hotel rooms. Friday morning we indulged in a great breakfast buffet at the hotel and spent the rest of the morning and early afternoon putting the final touches on our booth and talking with other exhibitors.

The show opened at two PM. Considering that it was a work day the early traffic was slow. But as evening approached more and more people filled the hall. By 9PM I was exhausted from speaking with more people than I can remember. I had a sandwich for dinner and went to bed. Saturday the crowd increased significantly. I spoke with many, many people who came to the show just to meet me. And as always a half dozen or so architects and designers showed up with photos of their projects they wanted me to see. A few of projects were outstanding! Saturday evening seven of us, including Tony and Robin Williams (arguably the greatest rustic furniture builders in the Midwest), Even Steven (an internationally known song writer from Nashville), Tina Keller (a nationally known exhibit organizer and all around grand lady) and a few others went out for dinner and we didn’t return to our room until well past midnight. Sunday was another great day as I spent time with several individuals who wanted and needed furniture for new homes they were constructing in Wisconsin. Throughout the show I sold several dozens of my books as well as several pieces of furniture and three sets of hickory chairs. During the show I also gave four, half-hour slide shows which were well received. Sunday evening we quickly packed the remains of our booth and took off for Lake George but not before having another great dinner with my sister-in-law Tina Keller.

The Chicago show was part of the Lake Home and Cabin Shows based in Minneapolis. The shows are professionally run and well attended by an adoring audience. We found that most of the visitors to our booth were shocked at the quality of our furniture and didn’t realize that rustic furniture “had come of age”! There is definitely a very strong, untapped market in the Midwest and rustic builders should consider exhibiting at any one of their shows. If time permits I know I will.

The ride home was long and laborious. We were caught in an ice storm in central New York near the end of the second day of driving and after seeing five vehicles rolled over and in the ditch I called it a day and found another motel. The following morning the local TV station announced that there had been more than 200 accidents as a result of the storm. We finally made it home the following day.

On another note long drives can become monotonous. I’ve known Lori Toledo and her partner, John Bennett for several years. And considering that we spent nearly forty hours driving to and from Chicago and sitting in a booth with her all day long for three or four days it was no wonder that we often told the same stories to each other over and over again. In time we both realized that we were coming to the bottom of the barrel regarding our life’s tales. Just to find some humor we decided to number each of the stories so we would not have to repeat them in their entirety. So every few minutes one of us would shout out a number like 25 or 34 which indicated a story.

The above comments are indicative of what happens to two mentally and physically exhausted individuals who face another eighteen hour drive and are looking for anything to keep them awake. There is no point to the above paragraph so if you want you can just ignore it and say something like “Ralph just gets weird sometimes”. I won’t be offended in the least because its true!

My latest book RUSTIC FIREPLACES is presently on the market and doing well. The book sells retail for $29.95. It you want a signed, first printing copy send me a check for $26! And that includes delivery!

I also have another book coming out this fall. CABIN IN THE WOODS will show about 160 photographs of some of the greatest rustic homes in the country. These are all new photos and new homes that I have not featured in any of my other books. This book will be on the market in early fall! It retails for $29.95. And a check from anyone for $26 (USA only) will insure that your will receive a signed, first printing copy. And that included delivery!

This summer I will be working on another new book titled THE GREAT AMERICAN BOATHOUSE. I’m very excited about this project as I get to cruise around some of America’s lakes and look for great boathouses. There are many here in the Adirondacks and we’ll also search the Thousand Islands area of upstate New York for classical boathouses as well. This July I’ll be spending a few days on the Brule River in Wisconsin to fish their famous waters and photograph some of the great boathouses in that part of the world. I’ll be staying with the promoters of the Lake Home and Cabin Show at a private home on the river!

This summer I’ll also begin work on what I consider will be my greatest contribution to the rustic movement in America. I have recently contracted with my publisher Gibbs Smith, Layton, Utah, to produce a mega book titled RUSTIC AMERICA. The final retail price has not yet been decided but the book will cost between $125 and $250 and will include 500-600 color photos. It will include both historical and contemporary homes that have not appeared in prior publications. The focus of the book will be on details. So many of the homes I visit and photograph are extraordinary objects of art in themselves. And I really could spend weeks photographing just one building. With that thought in mind RUSTIC AMERICA will offer far more details than have been presented in my other works. I need to have my work on this new book completed by January of 2009. The book will be on the market September of 2009. So I will spend the next two years photographing homes all over the country. It promises to be a great adventure. And it will be the most important and significant book on the market! After that book I don’t know what I’m going to do. I might just take some time off to enjoy myself!

I’ll be in Montana for most of June and then back to Wyoming in September. In August I’ll be in California for a few weeks with my family and I’ll be in Alaska at the end of September for my annual fishing trip with old friends. Then I’ll be in Montana part of October and then finally home before the snow falls.

The fly fishing season is finally upon us here in the Adirondacks. As expected the rivers in this part of the world are still “high and near flood stage.” At the same time I have no doubt that tiny insects who have lived under rocks at the bottom of the river for two years are now preparing to emerge from their dark, cold homes. The fish will happily feed on them and the cycle of life will continue. After rising to the surface some of the bugs live only for a few hours or days before depositing their eggs back in the river. After that they quickly die only to fall back into the river and again offering their bodies to other living things. It’s a strange cycle…..but it works. And who am I to question a process that has been successfully going on for fifty million years?

Fly fishing, for me, is a personal thing. One does not think of life’s worries or problems when fly fishing. Time fads away. Fly fishing is a profound art form in itself. It’s a necessary activity for me and I greatly miss it when the snow covers the ground and ice covers rivers.

In my early years I hunted with hawks and falcons. I was a falconer. It was an all- encompassing life style. But I tired of “killing things”. Fully aware that just about all living things feed on other living or dead things I harbor no resentment against anything that kills another if its intentions are to eat it. That