New Camden Times

Remove the influence of money;
Government runs smooth as honey
Replacing the lobbyists
With lawmaking hobbyists
Making things go much more sunny

Anxious Laugh

MY COW © PortWhitmanTimes 2005
     Miss Billington was a kinder, gentler teacher, but she had a will of iron, kept in reserve for use when needed. For a first grader who was probably too young (5) for the class, she was an awesome personage, and what she said went. No student rights or any of that stuff at Columbus school. We learned or we flunked. As I didn't want to be left back, I of course learned right along with the others, despite my tender years. In fact I did rather well, considering, and later on even skipped a grade so that I wound up 2, sometimes 3 years younger than my classmates.
     On this day, Miss Billington, to test our artistic aptitude, asked everyone to draw a red & white cow. Easy enough. Each of us, equipped with a red crayon, one of those big thick crayons that fill up your whole hand, to do the job.
     We set to work, and I manufactured my cow, your basic rectangle for a body, a skewed rectangle for a head, with lines for a neck, legs and a tail, finally installing oval eyes and a closed mouth. Udders I hadn't encountered, so they were, literally, out of the picture. My cow was plain, efficient, easy to feed. Of course with such a simple drawing, I was one of the first done, taking it up to turn in to Miss Billington. I lay it on her desk, and noticed her eyes widen as it came into view. "No, Henry, I said a red and white cow" she instructed. Of course(!) As I took my cow picture back to my desk, I noted the elaborate designs, pinto, spotted, etc., that the others were incorporating into their animals. Very artistic to be sure, showing great imaginations, even fantasies painted on these laconic animals that merely eat, give milk and make chips.
     At my desk, I proceeded to continue along the same lines originally established with my efficient cow, drawing a line through the middle of the body and coloring the lower half of the rectangle red, leaving the upper part, including the head, plain, the color of the paper. Back up I went again to teacher's desk, which now sported a line of maybe three others, waited my turn, and placed my drawing in front of her. With a perfectly straight face she accepted it, giving me a sideways glance that spoke volumes about what she thought of my masterpiece, and that was the end of it. Well, almost.
     After everyone was done, the drawings were pinned up on the wall for fully a week, showing the bright designs of the others, and of course my pure and efficient effort. Then came PTA, which all the parents attended, and I got the picture that my artistic talent was not as "matured" as that of the others. But that didn't matter, I got the job done, and my cow left much to the imagination of the viewer. Needless to say, Art didn't become my forte. But then who knows what could have been, had I been exposed to the cubism of Picasso & Braque, or if they had been first grade teachers instead of immortal artists.  
Henry Francisco-Portwhitmantimes


©Port Whitman Times

Hey, it's only life
You live you die, rife
With available parts
To quicken your hearts
Perked up with occasional strife

When life gets you, go out
Buy fruit, foregoing a pout
You'll find that sweetness
Will overcome neatness
Effecting a coming-about

Adapt to mortality
Accept the fatality
Of lifetime dimensions
Ensuing ascensions
Or hot hospitality…

In your life, Hey
Never work a day
The lifestyle exists;
Of what it consists
Is waiting beyond dismay

Living in the now
Could maybe end in how
Our death is approached
When the subject is broached
Then into "Hereafter" we plow

Henry Francisco

Pure power expressed

Gathers attention when it

Affects witnesses