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’s just the nature of the world in which we live. Although in fly fishing we definitely “catch” things, we generally release back to the wild all that we catch. Truth be known, I don’t know how someone can shoot a deer, a bear or moose. I understand why they do but I cannot bring myself to blast another living thing to pieces with a bazooka. I’ll leave it at that.

And so I sit here planning my next great adventure. I have three free airplane tickets that were given to us because we were “bumped” off a flight a while ago. I have to use the tickets before October. W can’t decide between Northern California, the Oregon Coast or The Canadian Rockies. We have to make a decision by this Friday. Life is tough sometimes.

My one dilemma right now is that I have taken some heat for my photography. I met with a big time architectural photographer in New York City a few weeks ago. I showed him my books and I carefully detailed the process I use to make photographs. I prefer natural lighting and I use film in my 120 and 35mm camera systems. He felt the artistic qualities of my work was exceptional but felt that I was living in the dark ages. Most professional photographers today, I was reminded, use digital equipment. I am very well aware of this. But after considerable discussion it became very apparent that you need a Ph.D. in engineering and computer sciences just to figure out how to even make a simple image digitally. While in New York also I spent time in one of the huge camera stores reviewing technical manuals for state-of-the-art digital cameras. And frankly, I just don’t have the ability or patience to understand all that stuff. I also spoke at lengths with my production manager (Marty) who oversees the production of my books. He and another individual whom I also respect offered the sage advice that I should stay in my comfort zone and use the system I’m familiar with and have used successfully for the past forty years. True, you can do extraordinary things digitally but the time it takes to figure out the technical necessities (to say nothing of the expense for professional equipment) of new equipment can confound the best of us. And frankly I have other things I’d rather do than struggle with a complicated technical system at this point in my life.

The Ralph Kylloe Band is being asked to play more gigs as the summer approaches. And unfortunately, its becoming harder and harder to get the other band members together to rehearse. Travel time is prohibitive and as adults we all have jobs and families that require our attention. One gig requires that we begin playing at 10:30 PM and play until three in the morning. And once we’re packed up its five in the morning when we get home. Frankly, I don’t know how bands manage to play six nights a week and not drop dead after just a few years. Nonetheless, rock and roll music is a young man’s game. And if you have managers and roadies to handle all the “deals” and set up your equipment it makes life infinitely easier. Then you might last five years in the business. But I fully understand why there are so many alcoholics and drug abusers in the business. It’s a tough game but if you hit it big it can be rewarding and great fun…..but few of us ever make it in the business.

Sorry I don’t have a lot of interesting stuff to offer in this Newsletter. I’ll try to have some interesting adventures to report next time. Right now its 4PM and I’m headed off for a nap before I have to make dinner for my family. Think I’ll try the Hungry Mans TV dinner spiced up with some Hamburger Helper for our meals tonight. And for desert I’ll offer some Twinkies that I know my daughter will love. And for drinks I’ll offer up a fresh batch of Kool-Aid (red)! Regardless, when my wife comes in and sees the menu I’m convinced that she’ll suggest that we go out for Italian food at the local boutique Italiano bistro. And while we’re there I’m certain she’ll order a carafe of very excellent wine just to enhance the quality of the dining experience! I’ll have spaghetti with meat sauce, the same dinner I’ve had the last fifty times we’ve been there. And I’ll pick out the black olives from my salad because I hate them. Olives are the food of devil worshipers! And for desert I won’t have their damned gourmet “fru-fru” crème broulet Italian ice cream cheese cake with cinnamon flavored whip cream and Brazilian nuts on top. I just won’t have it. I’ll pick up a package of red licorice Twizzlers for the ride home. That’s what real men have for dessert. Nonetheless, the entire dinner will cost me dearly………..but I don’t care in the least because I won’t have to do the dishes!

Take care and keep in touch please, Ralph

PS Its now four hours later. The dinner was great, I had the spaghetti, and the red Twizzlers were a perfect way to end the evening. I was not in the least disappointed!

Two weeks ago I took my wife and daughter on a Disney Cruise. My daughter had “begged” to partake in such an experience for years and for her eighth birthday I gave her three tickets for passage on the Disney Wonder. We flew into West Palm Beach a few days before the cruise and enjoyed the warm weather and green landscape. Considering that we had about six feet of snow on the ground in Lake George the timing for the trip could not have been better. Eventually we made our way up to Port Canaveral and spent a few hours on the local beach before we boarded the Disney vessel. The local beach provided me with great entertainment as a few thousand college kids romped and played in the water and on the hot sand.

I have to be honest here. Most eighteen year old women are gorgeous. Their bodies are perfect, their skin is how it should be and everything about them is angelic. And frankly, sitting on a beach staring at almost totally nude, eighteen year old women is a sight for sore eyes. If this is a definition of a “dirty old man” than I’m it. I admit it freely and I’m proud of it! I really dislike the term “object” but I really do see women as objects of art. Kindly don’t misconstrue this statement. It is only a term of endearment. I have the greatest respect for all life on the planet but gorgeous women just knock me out. They are an absolute gift from the gods! And I suspect that fifty percent of the people in this country (of which 90% will be straight men and 10% will be gay women) will agree with me. But I’ll change the subject now before some idiot takes extreme offense at my comments.

But as long as I’m on the subject of beach bathing I feel the need to comment on today’s swim apparel. It seems that in the past few years men’s bathing suits have gotten longer and larger and women’s bathing suits have shrunk to almost non-existence. And that’s fine with me.

And so after a few hours of just sitting and admiring the view my family and I made our way to the port of huge ships. I have to admit that there are virtually no “bugs” in the organization of Disney cruises. Other than the fact that I was nearly run over by a Disney bus when I parked my car ($36) and even though twenty five hundred people wanted to get on the ship at the same time, the customs line, the luggage line , in fact, just about everything went smoothly.

So on we went and at first it was rather thrilling and exotic. Sailing on a huge cruise ship to the Caribbean is, in truth, a rather romantic thing to do. Once on board we wandered around the ship and I have to admit it was amazing. But as time went by I noticed things that I, as the perpetual critic found, well, strange.

Our cabin was tiny although well appointed. Further, it was an interior cabin and once the lights were turned off it was pitch black. Because there were no windows the air was almost suffocating. And I can completely understand why people often come down with respiratory illnesses on board ships. Further, if I was claustrophobic I would have “freaked out!” Nonetheless, our luggage arrived in the room within an hour of our boarding. The dining rooms were extraordinary as was the food and the service. Unfortunately, we were assigned to sit at a dining table for the duration of the trip with another family. And at each meal the grandfather felt the need to describe to me, in great detail, the problems he was having passing a kidney stone. The rest of the family remained quiet and withdrawn at each meal and they seemed almost upset as my wife and I chatted throughout our meals. We did our best to engage them but there was, frankly, no chemistry between us. Further, we found the gratuity arrangements interesting. A fifteen per cent addition was added onto each bill for meals and at the end of the cruise each passenger received an extra form telling us the appropriate amount we should leave waiters, hosts, servers, assistant servers, and room cleaners as extra tips. And we could, the form mentioned, leave such tips on our credit cards or in the special attached envelopes complete with the individuals name and position neatly printed on the front!

But what really gets me is the marketing at any Disney experience. You might as well just give them all of your money before you arrive. There are Disney photographers everywhere. They take your picture at meals, at parties, standing in line, on the beach, with Disney characters, around the pool, at sunset, at day break and on and on. And each photo, if you purchase it, is just $89 complete in a cardboard frame! And it’s not surprising that there were long lines to have photos made with Mickey Mouse and all the other Disney characters. And if it’s not the photographers, its cocktail servers. Each drink is eight bucks. And the servers are in your face every ten feet and every two minutes. “Just a quick swipe your card please sir”, I heard a million times. I didn’t have any cocktails on that trip or buy any of their photographs. I’m certain that the finance people at Disney were upset with me for not spending more money.

But what I really found most depressing were the vacationers on the cruise. Imagine twenty five hundred fat people, stuffing themselves twenty four hours a day with food and drink. Most of these people really did make pigs of themselves. And most of these same people should not wear bathing suits. What was most disgusting were women with tree trunk legs, big fat asses and their tits hanging out all over the place. And all they did all day and all night were to lounge on reclining chairs and drink their drinks and smoke their filthy cigarettes. I sat next to a few of these “sun worshipers” one afternoon and all they talked about was hair styles, the latest Wal-Mart fashions and how much they hated the new bathing suits K-Mart was offering at their discount stores. And the men were no different. How some people can live with themselves and their beer bellies is beyond me. I’m convinced there is some sort of personality change once people reach thirty years old. Most people under thirty (actually under twenty) are reasonable fit. After thirty people just seem to think about immediate pleasures and much they can dominate food and drink. It’s a bad approach to healthy living.

At any rate the ship departed, my daughter went away with other kids and Mickey Mouse, and I took a lengthy nap. In the morning we landed in Nassau, departed the boat and were immediately accosted by a hundred or so black guys with bright white teeth and all wearing suits and ties and wanting to sell us everything from Voo Doo dolls to private tours of the island on horse drawn carriages. We declined all offers but wandered through town for an hour before returning to the boat. I was tempted to buy myself a new watch but balked at the $2,500 price tags. Considering that I have worn the same watch (I found it in my driveway) for four years I just couldn’t justify the expense. My daughter spent the afternoon with other kids on the boat, my wife spent the afternoon at the spa and I wandered aimlessly around the ship wishing I was somewhere else. That night I listened to the grandfather at our dining table describing the different types of kidney stones he was trying to pass. The following day we landed at Castaway Cay, a private island operated by the gentle folks at Disney. It really was spectacular. In the morning we rented bicycles and took a tour of the island. My daughter spent the afternoon with a Disney group where she was bitten by a stingray and my wife and I lounged on the beach where I refused to have my photo made by more than a dozen photographers and declined cocktails from more wandering servers than I can remember. That evening I again listened politely to further stories of kidney stones and then retired for the evening. In the morning we left the boat and easily made our way through customs.

As I write this I can think of nothing more boring than a cruise. The mere thought of going on another cruise is tortuous for me. And if it were not for gorgeous young women in bathing suits, sitting on a beach is nearly as bad. But the thought of exposing myself to millions of rads of radiation from the sun is quite upsetting. And the thought of having to look at overweight people in bathing suits who shouldn’t be out there in the first place is not my idea of a vacation.

That afternoon we picked up my sister-in-law and father-in-law in Miami and made our way down to Key West for a week in paradise. Truly heaven on earth the old, historic section of Key West with its lush vegetation and old conch houses is sight for tired eyes. True, the Keys are very “built-up” and commercial but we have a tendency to stay away from the tourists traps. Our favorite B&B is the Ambrosia House on Fleming Street. It’s a small place occupying three or four old conch homes. The facility includes dramatic tropical gardens, two heated swimming pools, a great breakfast and sits in the heart of the old section of town. For my taste the Ambrosia House is everything I could ask for. My favorite activity (strange as it seems) is to wander the old section of Key West and feed the cats and wild chickens that run freely all across town. The local restaurants are a delight. My favorite is B.O.’s. In truth, in any other city, the building that houses the restaurant, if you can call it that, would be condemned. It is nothing more than a shack made from local architectural salvage. Chickens and wild cats wander below your feet and you can carve your initials on any wall or table in the house. But the food is great as is the atmosphere. It’s my kind of place.

While in the Keys I always have several plates of raw oysters during my stay. On my third day there I ordered a dozen of the slimy things and happily ate the first half while downing a few pina coladas. The final few oysters didn’t look right to me so I didn’t finish them. That afternoon I went fishing but failed to land anything. That evening I went to bed early. Around midnight I woke shivering so I took a hot shower. It was then that the waves of nausea washed over me. I can assure readers that there is nothing worse than throwing up all over yourself in a shower. It was horrible but at least I was able to clean myself after an hour of retching my guts out on the shower floor. I didn’t sleep the rest of the night. In the morning I was mumbling to myself and couldn’t keep anything in my stomach. I can assure anyone reading this that I was very near death (at least in my mind). So without further hesitation my wife drove me to the hospital where I spent the day having IV fluids of all sorts pumped into me and having more blood drawn from my body than I thought existed. Three days later I was OK. But I can assure everyone that I will never again eat raw oysters (or take more pills then are prescribed)!

Nonetheless, I was not to be denied the opportunity to fish the flats off key West for tarpon! So for the next three days I fished with a guide for the ultimate game fish. On the second day my wife and daughter came with me and in the early afternoon my fifty pound daughter did a brief battle with a sixty pound tarpon. To my horror she was nearly pulled from the boat (there were sharks around) when the fish slammed her bait. Unfortunately, the fish was too much for her and the battle lasted only half a minute or so. That evening I landed a great looking eighteen pound permit. The following day produced nothing other than a few quick looks at migrating tarpon and a near miss with a bull shark that cruised near our boat.

But I was not to be denied. I called the guide in the late afternoon of our last day in the Keys and he agreed to take me out for the evening bite. It’s magical on the ocean in the evening. To the west a dull haze turned the sun a glowing red. As I watched the sun surrender to the edge of the earth I marveled in the realization that everything I am, every element and every atom in my body was made inside of a sun that burned violently millions and millions of years ago. And to the East I stood mesmerized as a full moon poked its face from below the horizon of the ocean. And a smile came to my face with the thought that our very moon once rotated only a few thousand miles above the earth. And at that time the tidal waves from the pull of the moons gravity were more than ten thousand feet tall and drove waves hundreds of miles inland. That violent activity churned elements and atoms into a chemistry that ultimately led to the creation of enzymes and life on the planet. Quite an amazing thought if you think about it!

As the sun set my fishing pole jerked with an unexpected violence. Some thirty feet from me a tarpon roared from the shallow waters and tore line from my reel. He jumped three times before spitting the hook in my face. It was enough, however, to appease my tired and sore spirit. Thinking we would then return to dry land I was only too happy when the guide anchored up in a channel about three miles off shore. My first cast and retrieval was met with violent resistance. The fish immediately pulled fifty yards of line from my reel. He ran directly under a nearby boat and succeeded in tangling up their lines with mine. With the fish still on my guide tried to cut the tangled lines but only succeeded in driving a hook from the other boat deep in his hand. A few minutes later the fish jumped and dislodged the hook from the corner of his mouth. I was somewhat disappointed but thrilled that I had a second opportunity to battle a trophy fish.

It was dark now and with the exception of the full moon the only light was from the strange, iridescent glow of the eyes of shrimp as they ventured out for their evening activities. I took my last cast. A giant swell broke the calm of the water where my lure had landed. Twenty feet from me a hundred pound behemoth exploded from beneath the surface sending a spray of water across the boat, the guide and me. Line tore from my reel. The fish, a monster of a beast, jumped six times very near the boat before diving for safer waters. For a half hour I tugged and he pulled. There were no winners during this battle. If I gained line on him he would rip another twenty yards from my reel. Back and forth it went. During such battles, time stands still. Wandering thoughts do not interfere with the present. The strength of the fish seemed to increase as he struggled. I have no doubts that he knew he was fighting for his life. But my intent was to neither hurt nor kill him. I only wanted to be a part of him for a few minutes; I only wanted to know his secrets and his power. I wanted to experience the realities of his world. In time realities came to bear and the strength of the equipment and the experience of the fisherman won out over the brute force of the fish. We brought him near the boat and the guide gently removed the hook from his mouth. In time, I took hold of the fish and tried to pull him from the water so that the guide could make a few photos of me and the fish. But the fish was too heavy and I could only pull him a few feet out of the water.

After a few photos were made the guide started the engine and I held the fishes head in the current to glide water over his gills. Moments later, with a quick push from his mighty tail, the fish descended into the dark water never to be seen by me again. I will never forget him and I’m certain that he will make certain that the food he eats in the future is never connected to a hook, line and fisherman.

Back on dry land I had a late dinner with my family and quietly smiled to myself as I thought of the fish and the quiet evening on the ocean.

The following morning we left Key West and traveled up the keys. We could not help but stop at a few of the tourist traps to make photos and buy a few souvenirs. As evening approached we left my in-laws off in Palm Beach and drove another hour south toward Miami where a plane would take us home in the morning. Before we reached our hotel I took a wrong turn off the expressway and wound up in a neighborhood with trashed cars, liquor stores and homeless men on each corner. I stopped for a red light. From my review mirror I noticed a man approaching my vehicle on the driver’s side. He should not have been there. My blood pressure shot up like a Roman candle. I’ve seen too many movies and read too many news reports about car jackings. I slammed my foot on the gas and did a u-turn in the middle of the intersection. Two cars had to slam on their brakes to avoid hitting me. But I couldn’t care less. Within minutes I was back on the expressway and out of harm’s way. I really don’t need some drug addict attacking me or my family. I will do whatever is necessary to survive and keep my family safe..

So the following morning we landed back in Albany and drove back to Lake George with its four feet of snow, a few hundred emails and a few dozen phone calls that needed to be returned. We went to bed early that night and woke to twenty degrees below zero in the morning. It would have been incredibly easy for me to hop on a plane and return to the Keys. And I would have done so if my daughter was not in school. I’m tired of battling extreme elements.

While I’m thinking about my daughter I believe that I have failed as a parent in some way. Where I went wrong I don’t know but I know things are not right. Last fall I had my daughter in Yellowstone National Park. I woke her early from a sound sleep in the Old Faithful Inn. It was still dark when we drove from the parking lot. About fifteen minutes north I parked the van and walked with my daughter about a hundred yards on a trail to a small ridge. In the meadow below us was a vast heard of bison grunting and moaning as they do. Some fifty yards from away a huge bull elk appeared from a thicket and bellowed and bugled his majestic presence to the world. In the far distance we heard the solemn howls of a wolf as he sought the companionship of his fellow clan members. And as we watched the scene before us the sun poked its head from behind a few billowing storm clouds off in the distance. It was, no doubt in my mind, a magical moment. A few minutes later my daughter looked at me with all her innocence and said “Daddy, can we go shopping?”

On another subject my love affair with the sun as a youth has come back to haunt me. My bi annual trip to my dermatologist last week was a real wake up call. The cancerous and pre cancerous cells on my face had come back with a vengeance. My MD decided to blast me with his laser gun for a half hour. It was, perhaps, the most painful thing I have endured to date. The numbing crème he applied was worthless during the procedure and it was suggested that I take Aleve that evening. I walked out of the office looking as red as a boiled lobster and feeling just as bad. I really did look like a bright red tomato. Fortunately I had some left over painkillers from a root canal procedure that proved to be mildly effective during my week long recuperation. So I sit here today with the skin on my face is peeling like a fried onion. It’s been a miserable week for me and I can assure people that spending time in the sun can come back to haunt you.

But I suppose I should talk about business for awhile. Frankly, we’ve never been busier. I guess my thirty years of effort is finally paying off. Our beds are selling like hot cakes and everything else, as long as it’s very high end, are quickly finding new homes. But I have to be really honest here. My business is not for normal people. The average professional business individual would laugh at my efforts. Here’s why; we keep our margins very low on everything. There is nothing in my gallery that we “double out” on. Our margins are anywhere between five and forty percent. And in truth, there is not a “normal” business in the world that offers things for less than a one hundred percent mark-up. Up until the first of the year we even offered hickory furniture at 40% off the suggested retail price. But, unfortunately the manufacturers have dramatically raised our prices so we can only offer hickory furniture at 25% off the retail price.

Nonetheless, we make a living by volume. We sell lots of stuff. And I have lots of irons in the fire.

Tragically, I am now paying ten thousand dollars a year for health insurance for myself and my family. This is a big chunk of money and I can only hope that our elected officials do something (I don’t know what) to ease the burden on small businesses regarding the health insurance issue.

My latest book, RUSTIC FIREPLACES, will be on the market shortly. The book shows more than a 150 different fireplaces and will be an important resource for builders, contractors, masons, architects and anyone looking for an enjoyable evening curled up in front of their own fireplace (or wishing they were!). I have an advanced copy here and I’m thrilled with the book. The book retails for $30 but! , I’ll happily sell it to my subscribers for $20 plus $6 shipping.

My next book, CABIN IN THE WOODS, will be on the market early this fall. The book will feature some of the absolute greatest rustic homes in America. It started off to be a book on small rustic homes but quickly evolved to include a few large homes as well. This book will retail for $40 but as the time approaches I’m certain I’ll offer it for a significantly cheaper price to interested readers.

On March 31and April 1 I’ll be exhibiting at THE RUSTIC SHOW at the O’neill Center in Danbury, Ct. This promises to be a significant event as great artists such as Barry Gregson, Bill Coffee and Russ Gleaves, Jerry Farrell, Reid Crosby, Dan Mack, Bim Willow, Steve Chisholm and other extraordinary artists show their recent creations. I’ll be there with several pieces from Barney Bellinger, Randy Holden and others as well as signing books for interested individuals. Call Richard at 1-800-834-9437 for more information.

And between April 13-15, I’ll be exhibiting at the LAKE, HOME AND CABIN SHOW at The Schaumburg Convention Center just outside of Chicago. Right now there are about 152 different businesses that have signed up for the show and each business will occupy between 1 and 6 booths each. That means that there will be lots of stuff to see. From what I understand there are still a few booths available so if there are any artisans out there wanting a great place to show off their work consider exhibiting at this show. It will be a great place to meet people and sell some of your products. Personally, I have a very large 20’-30’ booth and plan on bringing several very high end items and signing books as well. While there I’ll also be doing at least two TV appearances to promote the show! For more information please call Porch Light Productions at 952-471-1192.

I’ll be in Montana for most of June and most of August I’ll be in Washington State and Canada working on different projects and books.

This summer I’ll be working on a book called THE GREAT AMERICAN BOATHOUSE and other projects as well. I’ll have the Boathouse book completed by early January and hope it will be on the market in the fall of 2008. I’m also working of several other books at the same time and will announce the titles as we get nearer the time of completion for each project.

And then this fall is the annual RUSTIC FURNITURE FAIR at the Adirondack Museum followed by the ADIRONDACK MOUNTAINS ANTIQUE SHOW in Indian Lake, NY. The first week of September also sees the Western Design Conference held this year in Jackson, Wyoming. And there are plans for another show and exhibit in Cody, Wyoming, this year as well. More on that event as plans and dates are announced.

And so spring is just around the corner. Its fifty degrees outside here today and the ice is melting. Pools of water have formed on Lake George but the diehard ice fishermen are still out there in their shanties trying to catch one last fish before the ice fads away. The deer in my back yard have lost their antlers and in a few months I expect to see a few tiny fawns on wobbly legs prancing on the lawn out behind my home. I doubt if I’ll have a chance to again use the new skis I bought this year but winter and nature have a way of fooling you. St. Patrick’s day is next weekend and my family and I will see the great Chieftans for an Irish music festival this coming weekend. Tomorrow morning I’ll have to dig out my trailer so that I can make a few deliveries over the next week and soon there’ll be a flood of people in my gallery looking for new items as summer residents open their cottages and camps for the spring. In truth, it was a short winter. The snow and cold came late this year and I won’t be sorry to see them go. Or maybe it’s just that time passes faster now that I’m older. I’ll be sixty in June, not long from now. I find myself thinking of people I knew when I was younger now. Several of my friends have passed on and I wish I could have just a few more minutes with them. And I think of the people who I would have liked to have known better but I was too immature in my younger years to tell them how I felt. And I wish that I had worked harder throughout my life. And I think of regrettable things I’ve done that bother me more and more now that I’m older. But I suppose we all think this way sometimes. And I think of my family now and my life and my hobbies and abilities and remind myself, with a little smile in my heart, that life can be great sometimes. I hope to experience more of it. Take care, Ralph

PS. We saw the Chieftans last night in Albany. If you want to see a really great show please see them. They are playing at Carnegie Hall Saturday night, St Patrick’s Day, in New York City.

I have to admit something. The world is such a crazy place. We’re constantly bombarded with both bad and shocking news. And this kind of stuff pulls at the sanity of everyone. I have to admit that seeing the Chieftans last night reminded me that there really are good things in the world and there really are lots of people working to make the world a better place. It’s a good thought to keep in mind once in a while. And we all need something to lift our spirits. Let’s hope that the people who run the world realize that it’s better to make great art than to waste lives and money on things that don’t improve the quality of life for all humanity.

The world is full of nutty people. I’m not kidding. I’m the only one who is normal. And I often wonder about that. My last newsletter opened with a photo of me in a Popes costume that I purchased from Wal-Mart for about $20. It was a fairly convincing outfit and I had fun wearing it to a Halloween costume party where my band played. A few days after I posted the photo I heard from several different people. One group of people thought that it was a Klu Klux Klan outfit and that I was advocating hatred and segregation. A few people told me how proud they were because I was finally preaching the true religion of hatred. Another group, who though I was a Klan member that had finally come out of the closet, told me that Jesus would come down from heaven and strike me straight down to hell. Another group declared “blaspheme” and said I was mocking religion and their savior Jesus Christ. To all of you people who sent me comments…go screw your selves. You’re all nuts. No one is going to save you or anyone else for that matter. If you want to be saved stop drinking and smoking, get some exercise, be responsible, develop your talents, finish your high school education, get educated and try to make the world a better place. Stop complaining about other people…just do something good for a change and take your crazy religion elsewhere. And leave me alone. And to the “ordained” individuals with your academic religious degrees……go out and get a real job. If you want to see miracles spend a Saturday evening in an emergency room in any inner city hospital. Medical doctors save more lives that any religious fanatic ever has.

And while I’m on the subject, to all of the people out there who lead their lives on exactly what the bible says please read the following;

“If your brother, the son of your father or of your mother, or your son or daughter, or the spouse who you embrace, or your most intimate friend, tries to secretly seduce you , saying “Let us go and serve other Gods”, unknown to you or your ancestors before you, gods of the peoples surrounding you, whether near you or far away, anywhere throughout the world, you must not consent, you must not listen to him; you must show him no pity, you must not spare him or conceal his guilt. No, you must kill him; your hand must strike the first blow in putting him to death and the hands of the rest of the people following. You must stone him to death….” (Deuteronomy 13:7-11).

And then on the other hand somewhere the bible says “Thou Shalt Not Kill”. Am I misreading something here? Is this a contradiction of earlier biblical teachings? I’ll let all the sage, biblical intellectuals figure this one out. And when you do please let me hear from you. I’d love to try to understand your reasoning.

But what really gets me is when certain religions declare that they are the "chosen ones". And that all the rest of us are "less perfect, inferior or less blessed" than the ones who are "chosen". Or others that state that "blond haired, blue people" (Aryans) are better than everyone else. Or that Catholics are following the wrong god or that Lutherans are only interested in deer hunting and fishing. This kind of talk is the epitome of absolute arrogance. It makes me sick to my stomach to hear people say this kind of stuff. It’s the absolute cradle of stupidity. This is how hatred begins and wars are started. This is the kind of stuff that leads to oppression, violence and death. And all in the name of religion, in the name of God. It’s a sad world we live in because kids learn this kind of stuff from their parents and their parents learned it from their parents. And frankly, our stupidity and arrogance will be the end of us. Tragic, it is, to see the product of millions of years of evolution destroying itself. It nearly kills me just to think about it."

So here we have our president who goes to church every Sunday, prays daily and follows the teachings of Jesus and the Bible. And so far more than three thousand American soldiers have been killed in Iraq. I could go on and on about all this but frankly the entire organized religious thing disgusts me!

And it’s shocking to think that more than a third of the people in America actually believe that Jesus Christ himself is actually going to return shortly to judge us and put an end to the world. People who believe this kind of crap are nothing more than fools and puppets. And every week they donate money to the priests, prophets and rabbis who laugh all the way to the bank.

So what do I personally believe? Consciousness is a unique electro/chemical interaction in the brain. Each living thing has it. Each living person has it. It is an astonishing thought. When you finally realize the uniqueness of each living thing you may come to the conclusion that we all share something extraordinary in common. The thought of taking life aware from anything is appalling to me. Further, the thought of an “after life” disgusts me. Why? Because it debases and devalues the life that we presently have. It makes people lazy. “Oh, I’ll just sit around and be lazy, pray a lot and wait for heaven to come along”, is a pervasive thought that I’ve heard before. Let me tell you something. Life will never get any better unless you make it better. Our lives are not to be wasted sitting around doing nothing or praying all day long. As an old saying goes “its better to study for two hours than to pray for two hours asking for help to pass a test.” Life is astonishing. Its only happens once. Clerics argue about near death experiences, heading toward the light and a bunch of other stuff that happens when you die. Each of those phenomena is easily explainable. Deprive the eyes and a few other parts of the brain for just a few seconds and you get the same sensations. The greatest thrill is getting good at something. When I watch my fingers slide over my guitar strings, when I make a great photograph, when I see a beautiful scene; these are heavenly experiences to me. And they don’t just happen. Its takes years to become a competent musician, or, for that matter, competent at anything. Art is worth the struggle, it’s worth the effort. Art is a profound blessing on ones live and it is available to everyone. Life will kick in the pants often but living a life of effort and competence is an absolute blessing.

But enough of this kind of stuff (at least for the time being)..

So how did you like the Presidents State of the Union Address? How many times have you heard that we must stop our dependence on foreign oil? Every president since Jimmy Carter has said exactly the same thing. But NOOOOO. No one has the courage to stand up and suggest that in two years we eliminate six and eight cylinder vehicles. That would solve our dependence on foreign oil immediately and make a serious dent in global warming as well. But our politicians are all cowards…everyone of them. None of them have the courage or foresight to think more then a few years ahead. And listen very carefully to this. If we just stopped importing oil the Mid Easterners would no longer have the money to buy weapons to do battle with us. They would be begging us for food in six months. We would no longer have to sacrifice the lives of our young men and women in a stupid war. Are not our young brothers, sons, husband’s, daughters and wives important enough to us to curtail our use of oil? Or am I the only one who thinks this makes sense?

And it’s now apparent that our government has suppressed hundreds of reports warning of the impending disaster of global warming. Isn’t the president supposed to “serve and protect” the citizens of the United States? And good old George W. is leading us right into an epic catastrophe. And he’s doing it so he and filthy friends can make more money by selling oil. I really hope that other people in America can both see and understand this. Frankly, George W. and his entire cabinet should be impeached.

OK, OK, I’ll stop rambling on about this kind of stuff. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.

On another, more relevant subject, I should mention the Adirondack Mountains Antique Show, held annually in Indian Lake, NY, in the middle of September each year. I’ve exhibited at every one of these shows for the past fifteen years. This past year there were fewer exhibitors than the year before. Nonetheless, I had the single best day I even had in thirty years of being in the rustic furniture business. The right retail people were there. I just about sold out my entire booth and several retail people came to my gallery after the antique show was closed. We stayed open until nearly midnight as car after car pulled into my parking lot. Anyone who does not exhibit at this show is missing a great opportunity to sell their stuff. For more information call Jerry at 518 861 5062.

As long as I’m talking about shows the Western Design Conference has been sold to new owners. The WDC will no longer be held in Cody, Wyoming. Its new home will be Jackson, Wyoming and will occur September 6-8. For more information contact: Nancy McCullough –McCoy, Publisher, Teton Home and Living, (208) 354-3466. I suspect that this will become one of the great shows in America and its new location will bring many of the wealthiest connoisseurs and lovers of Western art and Rustic furnishings in direct contact with the greatest rustic artists in the country.

At the same time plans are underway for a new show to be held in Cody, Wyoming. Cody has long been the bastion of Western Rustic furniture builders and the local artists will, no doubt, put together a great show. I have every intention of attending the new Cody show and I hope others will as well. Once plans for the show, dates, and a new name for the exhibit are established I’ll happily post the information on my site.

And keep in mind the Rustic Show For Contemporary Living to be held on March 31st - April 1st in Danbury, CT., I’ll be exhibiting, lecturing, and signing books at this new event. on my site.

Contact Richard at (800) 834-9437

And between April 13 and 15, I’ll be exhibiting and signing books at the LAKE, HOME AND CABIN SHOW in Schaumburg, Illinois. Call Dave at 888 471 1192. The Lake Home and Cabin Show is also held in Minneapolis and Milwaukee the two consecutive weeks before the Schaumberg show. This is the first time the show will also be held in the Chicago area and it promises to be a grand event. I have many customers in the Chicago area and many of them plan on attending the exhibit. I look forward to a great event in the ‘Windy City”!

This past weekend I took my daughter skiing here in the Adirondacks. She’s been taking ski lessons for the past month and I’ve been told she’s been progressing nicely. We’ll, we rented all of the gear, put on our best ski outfits and stood in line for a ride to the top of the runs. I hadn’t skied in years but quickly remembered the moves. It’s like riding a bicycle. You just don’t forget that kind of stuff. On several occasions I amazed myself with my ability to drive in the edges of my skis, make quick turns, and stop on a dime whenever I wanted. I enjoyed the quick rush of the snow on my face and the wind in my hair. My wife and daughter were both impressed and I was quite proud of myself as well! And I didn’t fall once! We’re returning to the slopes this weekend and I promise I’ll try something other than the Bunny Hill!

All in all business continues to be excellent here at the Ralph Kylloe Gallery. It’s only the high end things that are selling. Beds, dining room tables, paintings, sets of chairs, entertainment centers, desks, end tables and sofa tables are all selling well. We’ve also taken many orders for vanities and complete kitchen cabinet sets. We have a new supply of bear heads hanging on our gallery wall and we are expecting a half dozen moose heads within two weeks. Our original Persian carpets sell as fast as we can bring them in and our antique rustic accessories almost walk out the door with eager buyers. And although I don’t advertise my antique items last year we sold nearly a hundred pieces of antique hickory furniture and five major historical birch bark, Adirondack pieces from my gallery as well.

Speaking of hickory furniture. I’ve always been an “underdog” kind of guy. There are several “big” companies out there building hickory furniture but some of the “little guys” deserve a chance as well. And I love to see talented, entry level people make a career for themselves. If you’re thinking about hickory furniture call;

Kevin Sluder
Flat Creek Rustic Furniture
173 Old Mars Hill Highway
Weaverville, NC 28787
828 645 5899
www.flatcreekrustics.com

Kevin builds exceptional hickory furniture and has progressed into some great looking regional rustic pieces as well. I’ve sold several of his pieces here in my gallery and plan on having more in the future. Check this guy out! You won’t be disappointed.

Another individual to call is:
John Ketchum
Woods Rustic Furnishings
1013 Washington Ave.
Shelbyville, Indiana 46176
317 392 4347

John was a cabinet builder for Old Hickory for several years and went out on his own a few years ago. He’s a very talented guy and can build anything out of hickory wood you could ever imagine. I also carry his furniture here in my gallery.

And so winter is here. We lost power for a few days last week in a major ice storm. We spent the night in a local hotel and my daughter enjoyed going up and down the indoor water slide at the hotel. I could only do it once as the ride nearly scared me to death.

In the early afternoon the turkeys eat the food we leave out for them in my backyard. In the evening the deer show up and seem to honestly appreciate the cracked corn and grain we place near the rustic gazebo in our yard. Soon the ice fishermen will place dozens of shanties on Lake George and will no doubt enjoy catching perch and lake trout through the ice. And it’s always interesting to see a pizza delivery truck stop at several of the shanties as the day progresses.

We will be spending the last two weeks of February in Florida. The first week we’re taking a Disney Cruise which I pray will not be too boring for me. The second week we’ll be in Key West to feed the cats, wild chickens and an occasional pan handler. I plan on bringing my old Dobro guitar down there and playing it late at nights on a corner of Duval Street. I’ve always wondered what it was like to be a street musician in a big time tourist town. If you see me down there I hope you’ll take pity on me and toss a quarter in my “tips can”. I can use the money. This is also the start of the Tarpon run in the Keys and I’ll spend some time fly fishing for these monster fish. It’s strictly catch and release as I have no interest in harming these beautiful creatures.

I couldn’t help but notice but in the past few years there have been more than eight hundred and fifty five thousand (855,000) visits to my website. Holy cow! Or maybe it’s just some misdirected soul who looked at the site 855,000 times. I’ll never know but I will say that I really do appreciate hearing from people. Strange as some people are I love to hear different view points. I just hope that too many people don’t condemn me to hell. It just might be terrible if I was wrong about things.

Please take care of yourselves, Ralph

In October (I don't remember the exact date) my band played a gig in Albany at a trendy wine bar. We started playing at around eight in the evening. More than a hundred people watched us closely and applauded wildly during the middle and at the end of many of our songs. As we took a break at the end of our first set I couldn't help but notice the large screen TV directly over the band stand. The audience had been cheering for their favorite team in the World Series and not for our musical talents and showmanship. Life is cruel sometimes.

We also played on Saturday night (November 18) at a private party in Albany. After the gig I finally arrived home at around two in the morning. I ate a light breakfast, packed my bags and left for the airport an hour later. I had to fight with my self just to keep awake during the hour drive to the airport. I parked my car, got a ride to the terminal in the shuttle bus and waited in line for nearly an hour while computer illiterate people struggled with the self service check-in computer terminals. There is a new "identified" malady in the annals of professional psycho-babble today. It's called "computer rage". People have been known to actually shoot their computers and every once in a while someone tosses a computer out an office building window without shouting "look out below"! And every few minutes I could hear someone complaining about the "god damned computers" in line at the airport.

Technology is great but for me nothing is more irritating than having to touch twenty different buttons on my phone in order to solve a problem. Just try talking to a real person at Amazon.com or Ebay or just about any airline. It's nearly impossible. Personally, I really like talking with real people. Big business is no doubt saving money by having computers answer their phones but, Holy Cow, the impersonal service is really disgusting.

So I finally get my ticket and proceed through the security check point. There just about every woman (and several men) had to discard their bottles of perfume, water, toothpaste and all kinds of other stuff before they could get to the flight gates. I completely understand the realities of this but I just wish that people who want carry that kind of stuff on board planes would realize that they can no longer take things like that with them. An enormous amount of time is lost as people want to argue and complain with the security agents who are just trying to make the flights safe for everyone.

On another note it's incredibly sad that security agents are often both completely unresponsive and unconcerned with the comfort of people going through security checkpoints. The worst of the experience for me and others is shoes. Sure, its necessary to run shoes through the x-ray scanners but at least provide some chairs so old folks like me can sit down to retie our shoes. In Chicago I saw one elderly woman sitting on the floor struggling with her shoes. I had to help her stand because there were no chairs for her to sit to redress her feet. And none of the "guards" appeared anxious to help her. I expressed my concern about the lack of chairs and the poor lady on the ground to one of the agents who obviously was preoccupied and unconcerned. He turned, and towering over me said in his finest junk yard dog attitude, "do we have a problem here?" I just walked away.

Just another strange incident in an airport I thought to myself as I finished my second hot dog while I waited three hours for my next flight.

I finally arrived in San Francisco. It was a non-eventful flight. I watched Pirates of the Caribbean in English for the first two hours and then watched the same movie only in Spanish during the last two hours of the flight. I didn't understand a word that was spoken during the second viewing but the graphics and special effects were, as my seven year old daughter says, "way cool!" Upon arrival I found my luggage and picked up my rental car. Things were going well.

I made my way into downtown San Francisco and enjoyed the sights of that great city. In time I found a parking space and wandered into a trendy restaurant near the bay and Fisherman's Wharf. It was still early and only one table was occupied. I sat at the bar and ordered a beer and dinner. The occupied table was surrounded by a dozen or so men who all seemed to be having a good time. As I drank my beer one of the men came over and sat down on the bar stool next to me.

"Hi", he said.

"Hello", I responded. In truth, although I am a friendly guy and usually enjoy the companionship of others, I was tired and just wanted to be alone, have a nice dinner, find a hotel room and pass out.

"You're in town on business?'

"Yes, I am".

"Where are you staying?'

"I don't know yet". After several more questions he asked me if I would like to join him and his friends at his table. "No, thank you" was all I said. He left and rejoined his group.

A few minutes later another man from the table sat down next to me.

"We're going out dancing tonight. Why don't you come with us?"

I looked him right in the eye and said "no, thank you". I returned to my fresh fish sandwich. He left.

As I was finishing the last of my fries another gentleman from the same group sat down right next to me.

"What kind of business are you in?" he asked.

I'm going to be really honest here. I have no problem with gay people. At the same time I have absolutely no interest in hearing about their lives or their life styles. I do business with lots of gay decorators and as long as they don't get weird with me I'm OK. In the early 1980s I did business with many gay men in New York City. But they all died of Aids. Some people like apples and some people like oranges. I'll leave it at that.

But it's the raging "fags" and hard core "queens" that get me. They are the strangest people to ever walk the planet. How evolution created overly effeminate gay men is beyond me. They serve no obvious purpose in the giant scheme of things. They are an aberration in the species. My blood pressure rises when I'm around them because I don't know what kind of weird stuff they're thinking. And frankly, I don't want to know.

So here I sat, exhausted, having to explain myself to a bunch of raging fags who wanted me to go dancing with them. What they saw in me was beyond my imagination. About the only person who ever thought I was good looking was my mother. And I'm sorry to say that she was mistaken. I'm just an average guy. I'm sorry, I try to be nice to everyone in the world but sometimes things are beyond my control. I am not a paragon or monument to social graces.

"I haven't had a job in twenty years", I said.

"Where are you coming from?', he asked.

"Prison", I said.

"What were you in for?" he asked.

"Murder", I said.

The smile on his face disappeared like a politician at tax time. I could tell he was searching for something to say. But there was just silence. Moments later and without saying a word he returned to his friends. A few minutes later he and his crowd paid their bill and left the building. None of them looked my way or acknowledged me in any way. For dessert I had a great piece of apple pie and ice cream. After finishing my second beer I paid my bill and left. I than wandered around the Wharf for a few hours, fed the seagulls and listened to the barking of seals that inhabit the bay by the Wharf. It was a grand afternoon.

The following morning I met architect Larry Pearson at the airport. He and I were going to visit a few homes, look at some potential properties and make a few photos of homes he had completed. We drove south through the rolling hills of coastal California. As we passed through groves of mature redwoods I completely understood why people want to live in California. It was seventy degrees, the sun was shining and the ocean smell was intoxicating.

That afternoon we photographed a spectacular Arts and Crafts home in Santa Cruz that had been created from recycled fir and spruce lumber. Late in the afternoon we had a personal tour of a company called IDEO, an impressive think tank that employed seven hundred creative individuals. That evening we had dinner with the owner of the company and several of his friends. It was one of the most enjoyable evenings of my life.

The following day Larry and I wander further south. Years earlier he had completed an addition on an historical home in the redwood forest. The home was spectacular. Bold and majestic, towering redwoods stood like giants as they dwarfed the cabin. We built a raging fire in the fireplace and made photos of the interior of the home. The photos came out well. I hope to use them in an upcoming book.

That evening three of us strolled casually along the beach and talked of architecture, design and the beauty of the area. As the sun set we wandered amongst shops and homes that overlooked the Pacific Ocean. I could not help but notice a "for sale" sign on an older, regional "ground floor condo" that had direct access to the beach. Two small bedrooms, one bath and about 800 sq feet of living space the flyer read. The price tag? Three point nine million. I knew I would not be buying that home in the near future.

I spent the night in a small motel right on the beach and listened to seals barking throughout the night. Great white sharks were known to inhabit these waters and I could not help but wonder about the "mindset" of the many surfers who casually rode the waves.

In the morning I woke significantly before the sunrise and walked along the docks and wharf marveling at the setting. The stars were bright and the sound of the breaking waves was mesmerizing. Near the end of the dock a stair way led to some small rental boats moored to the pylons beneath the pier. I walked slowly down and marveled at the crustaceans and other sea life that had "fixed" themselves to the tall poles. Resting on a horizontal support beam a dark object just a few feet from me raised its head and screamed. Moments later a few hundred elephant seals woke from their sleep, screamed and hollered at me and dove for the safety of the ocean. Weighing up to a ton each they are an intimidating lot.

I was certain that my pounding heart could be heard a mile away as the experience was no less than intimidating. In time, however, one by one, the seals returned to their resting places, complained briefly of my presence and finally relaxed and fell asleep. It was, for me, a very wonderful experience.

As the sun finally rose I found myself back at my room packing. The drive back to the airport was a bit tormenting because California rush hour traffic is nothing less than a trial by fire. At any moment I thought some irate driver might pull a gun on me as cars whipped in and out of traffic like bees returning to a hive.

The long flight home was tolerable. Both planes were full but I have long since accepted my fate of having to sit between fat people with excess gas. It could be worse I keep reminding myself.

I did however, read a very enlightening article in the United Airlines magazine "Hemispheres". The article (November, 2006) , by Nancy Wurst, was titled "Who's Afraid of Ethics?" It was a very enlightening few paragraphs about a man, Bruce Weinstein, Ph.D., called "The Ethics Guy". The article talks about ethical situations and then offered five premises by Weinstein that I found quite profound. Actually, I've written about principals to live your life by for years but this guy offers very concise ideas. Frankly, I wish I wrote them but I have to give credit where credit is due. Here they are, including;

1. Do no harm. This is the bedrock of everything else. Without it there would be chaos.
2. Make things better. This is different from the Law. It demands more if us.
3. Respect others. Maintain confidentiality, tell the truth and keep your promises.
4. Be fair. Especially when allocating resources and punishments.
5. Be Loving. At least strive to be kind and compassionate.

From my perspective this is a very insightful set of principles.

The world would be a much better place if we at least tried to follow the above ideas.

I returned to New York around midnight the day before Thanksgiving. I was very happy to be home. Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday as we all have lots to be thankful for. Keep in mind that nothing is so bad that it could not get worse. At any rate I slept late in the morning. Around three in the afternoon five of us went to the Sagamore Resort for a feast. The Sagamore is a grand hotel on the shores of beautiful Lake George. We had cocktails in the lounge and then helped ourselves to a gourmet buffet in the dining room. It was a grand feast until the bill came. Considering that my seven year old daughter only ate a hot dog and coleslaw I felt that $350 was a bit much. I felt better when I realized that they only charged me $18.50 for the hot dog. But I didn't dwell on this. I paid the bill and spent the evening watching football games, playing with my daughter and doing family things. It was a good day. I hope to celebrate more Thanksgivings before my time is up.

Last week I ventured into Manhattan to attend a dinner at the Anglers Club of New York. The event was called "All Thumbs Night". Several of the accomplished "fly tiers" in the club gave demonstrations of their latest creations and taught us neophytes a thing or two about the basics of tying flies. It was a grand evening.

Earlier in the day I had entered the Lincoln Tunnel from the New Jersey side. I had been troubled by my career over the past few days and thoughts of changes in my life echoed in the walls of my head. Once out of the tunnel and on a bill board in New York City, a handsome, elegant black man dressed in the finest religious garb, peered down at me in my vehicle. "Career Change?", read the billboard. "Learn Natural Healing. Bishop Womack, E.I., School of Prophetic Physicians". I really didn't know what the E.I. at the end of the Bishops name meant but I'm certain it's something very important. On the sign was his website and phone #. I may just call him for the inside scoop on his school. The number is 800 4 WOMACK. We all need a change in our lives once in a while. Nonetheless, I'm not exactly sure what a Prophetic Physician does but I don't think it can hurt.

Tragically, I was so enthralled with the possibility of a new career I missed a few turns and wound up going back through the Lincoln Tunnel. Once I figured out where I was the return trip through the tunnel was cost me another six bucks at the toll booth.

Because I had to have some film processed I parked on a side street and wandered through the cement valleys of Manhattan as I looked for my photo lab. On Twenty Third Street a man was walking with six dogs. In time he stopped and a few of his dogs urinated on an iron grate that obviously covered a subway or below-street work area. After a few seconds I heard a man shouting from underneath the sidewalk directly under the grate. I believe he was not happy to have dogs "peeing" on him. I did not wait around long enough to see if he ever emerged from his workspace. From his language and tone in his voice he was not pleased with the situation.

As evening fell I found myself wandering near "ground zero". It was quiet and dark. There were ghosts there. I could feel them. The images of the falling buildings and the terror filled my mind. I left the area after spending only a few minutes there and eventually found my way over to the Anglers Club where I had a very pleasant evening.

And so winter is here. The golden leaves are long gone and I said good night to my cabin on Lake George once I drained the pipes, covered the windows and turned off the electricity for the season. I'm certain in the spring I'll find evidence of the mice who'll winter in my cabin and I'm also certain that the huge moose antlers that rest above my front door will have been further chewed upon by the many squirrels, raccoons and porcupines that eat such things.

My father-in-law, John, is presently living with us until his new home in Chicago is complete. It's a pleasure to have him around as he offers a different perspective on the many different subjects that come up around our dinner table. He's a retired Chicago policeman. He will be here until the first of the year.

In January I'll be back in Montana to finish the text and captions for my book A CABIN IN THE WOODS. My other new book, THE RUSTIC FIREPLACE, is presently at the printer and will be available this coming spring.

In February we're taking out daughter on a Disney cruise in Florida during her winter school vacation. We also plan on spending a few days in Key West as well.

I will be exhibiting at the RUSTIC SHOW FOR CONTEMPORY LIVING in Danbury, Ct., March 31. Call Richard at 800 834 9437. I'll also be exhibiting at the LAKE, HOME AND CABIN SHOW in Chicago, Illinois on April 13. Call Dave Greer at 888 471 1192. Both shows promise to be great events and I look forward to being involved in both exhibitions.

Recently, there has been a misunderstanding between Jeff Fraser, the promoter of the Adirondack Living Show, and my self. I am happy to say that we have resolved our differences and I greatly appreciate his efforts to both clarify and resolve the situation.

Regarding my website: business has been extraordinary the past few months. It appears, however, that nothing has changed on my site. That's because when I bring a few new pieces in my gallery and they sell within a few hours. And most things never get posted on my website! At the same time we're in the process of "remodeling" the site so check back with us soon.

And so it's the holiday season again. Trees in my neighborhood are being trimmed with lights and decorations. We're receiving lots of cards in the mail and my wife has been busy sending packages around the country. It's a good time of the year. I hope that each of us takes just a second out of our busy lives and offer a bit of kindness to others in the world. We'll all feel better about ourselves if we do. Take care and may all of you have a safe and prosperous holiday season. Ralph

PS. If you want to see the famous Ralph Kylloe Band featuring Jill Gautie as lead singer stop on by the Cabernet Café in Albany in January 4, 2007. The music starts at 8PM.

It was a long, strange trip. A few days before I was to leave for Cody, Wyoming and the Western Design Conference I was told that I needed root canal work. I could not find a dentist that had the time available here in New York, so I took off, untreated, for Montana and the West on Monday, September 22.

The first leg of the flight was non-eventful. However, the flight from Chicago to Salt Lake City was strange. It was a huge plane, seven seats across including two isles. One entire family of Spanish speaking individuals occupied three complete rows. I sat in the middle of them. Frankly, on top of the music they were playing each of them talked (actually shouted) at break-neck speed in a language I could not understand. They also were eating beans and other non-identifiable smelly stuff. (I wanted to ask if they all had green cards but felt it was politically incorrect to do so.) At any rate the lady sitting right next to me was holding a little, two year old boy. Once we were off the ground I smiled to the kid. The boy immediately broke from his mothers arms, jumped into my lap and clung to me as if he were attached with gorilla glue. First his mother tried to reclaim him. Then all twenty members of his family tried to retrieve him. The boy was screaming as he clung tighter and tighter to me. You just cannot imagine how strange the situation was. I was just finishing a book on Robert Oppenheimer and the creation of the atomic bomb at Los Alamos. And here I had this kid screaming in my ear and frankly, I had a "buzz" going from the pain killers my local dentist had given me. Within a few feet of me were several highly charged Mexicans yelling in Spanish and trying to pull the kid away from me. Finally, I stood up and said loudly that the kid was OK sitting on my lap. "Leave him alone", I said. I don't know if they understood my statement but they all back off. So there I sat for two hours with a little Mexican kid drooling all over my new $275 Ralph Lauren sport jacket. In time the plane landed, the kid woke up and reached for his mother who seemed to thank god for the return of her son and that he was not harmed by a white haired "gringo" who was reading a book about atomic bombs. She offered me a bowl of black beans in exchange holding her kid for two hours. I declined her offer.

Once I finally landed in Montana I was told that my luggage had missed the flight and would not arrive in Bozeman until the following day. Fully aware that my slides for my presentation at the Western Design Conference in Cody, Wyoming, were in my luggage I nearly panicked. If the slides were lost my presentation would be greatly impaired as people love to see photos of the homes I photograph.

Leaving the airport I found a local hotel and tried to sleep. In great agony however, I called several local dentists but each was too busy to see me. Finally, my wife, God bless her, found a young dentist who was able to fit me into his schedule the following day. He gave me some good drugs in the morning and stuck an IV in my arm once I was sitting in his chair. His wonder drugs allowed me to sleep throughout the procedure. When I awoke he politely drove me to a hotel and told me not to drive a vehicle for at least sixteen hours. Two hours into my nap a loud knock on my door shook me from my bed. My luggage had arrived. How they found me I'll never know. It was now midnight and I had to be in Cody, Wyoming at eight in the morning for my presentation. I packed my car and started to drive. An hour into the trip I realized that I was driving north toward Glacier National Park. In disgust I turned the rental vehicle around and headed south toward Cody. It was dark throughout the drive. Several deer jumped in front of my vehicle but I avoided hitting each.

I arrived in Cody at eight in the morning. I had driven all night. I brushed my teeth in a gas station washroom and tried to make myself look presentable. Shortly, I was in the Buffalo Bill Historical Center speaking to about seventy five people. Frankly, I didn't know where I was or what I said during my speech. I told the audience of my present condition and I believe they understood. I do remember rambling on about something and I do remember the audience applauding when my time was up. To this day, however, I do not know if they were thankful my presentation was over or if they were applauding my talk and slide show. Other than that I don't know what happened. I just hope it went well and that I'll be invited back to the conference sometime.

The Western Design Conference is an extraordinary event. The best builders in the country exhibit their work and I have many friends there. I was also one of the judges for the annual competition. Sam Maloof was also a judge. Sam is America's greatest living furniture builder. His rocking chairs start at $50,000 and he has a five year waiting list. He's also 91 years old and a great man. Charming and charismatic an entourage follows him where ever he goes.

Judging a design contest is not as easy as it sounds. There were five judges and it took about four hours to reach a consensus on the eight awards. However, great art is still great art. Construction techniques, use of materials, design, balance, color, form, and a bunch of other intangible concepts all count. Each judge gravitated toward four or five great pieces and we all agreed on the final few pieces. But the discussions went on and on. In time we awarded the Best of Show prize to Ron Shanor for a gorgeous couch and ottoman set. We also handed out prizes for best leatherwork, jewelry, metal work and a few other awards. Randy Holden from Maine was awarded an honorable mention for one of his exceptional cabinets.

After the show I wandered through the auditorium and chatted with the many artists exhibiting there. I often comment on their pieces and let them know how the judges felt about their furniture. Many find my comments very helpful. For instance, the legs on a table may be too heavy or out of proportion for the top, there may be too many elements or a builder is trying to add too much to a piece when often simpler is better, joinery may be incorrect or the color or staining may be too muddy. It's mostly common sense stuff. Mature people greatly appreciate my comments. Some people do not.

A few years ago a gentleman was greatly insulted when I mentioned that the judges (five of us) felt that the legs on his table were too heavy for the top. He took my comment as a personal attack on him. Nothing could be further from the truth. I didn't know the guy at all. Later in the day I was asked to sign one of my books by another exhibitor at the show. I was right next to the gentleman who I had offered suggestions to earlier in the day. I set the book down on his table and the builder verbally attacked me in front of several others. I could ruin the finish or scratch his table he shouted. I quickly moved away from him. Later several people expressed shock at the exhibitor's outburst. Criticism and suggestions from others, especially when offered in a supportive and encouraging way is not a personal attack on someone's character. I actually felt bad for the guy. He has not spoken to me in years. And unfortunately the legs on his tables are still too heavy for his tops.

But offering suggestions is like walking on thin egg shells. I usually "sandwich" my comments when asked for my opinions on items. For instance, I may say "I really like the selection of materials but you might have made the overhangs a bit more dramatic. And I also like the position of the back splash on the top". Putting the suggestion between positive comments is, at least in my opinion better that blurting out "I really hate the piece".

During the show Lester Santos and his wife, along with Interior Designer Chip Kalleen, Reid Crosby and I visited a great ranch about two hours from Cody. Down an incredible, muddy dirt road and in the middle of a great valley we photographed a stunning ranch complete with taxidermy and western rustic furniture created by Letter Santos. The photos will appear in a new book by me titled A CABIN IN THE WOODS due out a year from now.

All in all I had a great time in Cody. If you get the chance anyone interested in great western designs should attend the Western Design Conference held annually in Cody, Wyoming. It is my favorite event of the year.

I left Cody on Saturday morning. I drove through Yellowstone National Park on my way back to Bozeman. It was peak foliage. Elk and bison were ever present and I stopped occasionally to toss a fly or two in the Shoshone, Fire Hole and Gallatin rivers. It was a magical drive.

That evening I boarded a plane that first stopped in Salt Lake City and then Anchorage, Alaska. It was a red-eye flight to Alaska and I had three seats all to myself. I slept the entire trip. Once we landed I was told that my rental car was not available. Fortunately, however another car was found and I left the airport at around 1: 30 in the morning. Two hours later I arrived in Cooper Landing, Alaska. From previous conversations with the resort manager I was told that my cabin would be open and to just walk in. Upon doing so, at 3:30 AM, I succeeded in startling three others who assured me that the cabin was theirs. I found the managers cabin and was told that they thought I was arriving the following night. Unfortunately, the remaining cabins were completely booked. Nothing was available. However, they kindly erected a tiny tent in their front yard, gave me a blanket and pillow and said "good night". They failed to mention that monstrous brown bears often wander through their front yard each night. So there I rested, frozen in the 20 degree temperature and in great fear that at any moment I would be eaten alive by a two thousand pound Alaskan Brown Bear. Fortunately, the owners did not charge me for the use of their tent that evening.

I did not sleep that night. I crawled from my tent two hours later, cleaned myself up in the nearby ice cold stream and had two pancakes for breakfast. I met my guide a few minutes after breakfast and fished for the day on the stunning Kenai River.

Fishing in Alaska ruins you. With the exception of one day I landed about thirty trout in the 18" to 24" range each outing. Each day I also landed 3 to 4 trout in the 24" to 26" range. My largest for the six days was 28" inches. And I know that I had several fish on my line that were above 30". The vast majority of fly fishermen in the world never catch a trout above 20". Usually, for people living in the lower 48 states, fish that size are a once in a lifetime event. In Alaska, a 20" fish is common and nothing to even mention in the course of conversation. So when I fish back here in the Adirondacks and spend an entire day to catch a twelve inch trout it's a little discouraging.

A few days later a friend of mine and his son showed up. It was their first trip to Alaska and although frequent visitors to Alaska, like myself, felt the fishing was just average, they marveled at both the quantity and quality of the fish. Several of my friends from The Anglers Club of New York, of which I am a very proud member, were also in town and we had cocktails and conversation with them