Date: 2008 7:11 PM
Subject: Re: Dear Annette.
Great library show! It was a nice time all in all.
I got a copy of Regional Ramblings from Chuck and as we looked through it, him thumbing the pages all the way to the index in the back, he asked,"Are you in here?"
and I said, "I'm not sure, let's look..."
"Nope, guess not," I said quickly reading the alphabetical listing. "Why not?" he quipped. "Miss another, deadline?... "
"Ooo, that guy, Annette... He's a wit, I tell you... a wit, but I suppose that's why the guy is the librarian. I mean, how many librarians do you know, aren't total wits? Bet you can't name many."
"Ennaways, in answer to your suggestion, I'll do a show next spring at the library--yeah, it's time I do something around town that way. I'd really like to do an exhibit of varied mediums. I'll begin putting something together. You say, Chuck has some frames at the library I can use/look at?"
"I went to the Plains Art museum's 10th anniversary Arts Award banquet last night with David D. Dave had a photo collage accepted for the exhibition. Three hundred applied for the show, his was one of forty-three accepted. He didn't win anything but was excited about being included in the crowd that made the cut.
"There was a live band/entertainment at this extravaganza called "The Stage Door Johnnys," who started playing toward the end of the lecture, etc, etc. Our table was four feet from the amps and uffdah, their volume forced us out eventually--but not before their keyboard caught literally fire and set off all the fire alarms, strobe lights and sirens in the building...
"Here came the Fargo Fire Department: hook and ladder trucks, the hoses, the men in their yellow fire fighting uniforms and fire helmets jumping off the trucks into the street. Red lights reflected off all the buildings at odd angles. People in apartments across the street peered from frosted over windows to observe all the excitement.
"Here came the cops, and fire rescue rushing to the Plains Art Museum and all their support crews in full fire fighting regalia literally swept into the building ahead of a great volume of wind from the street through the six glassed-front doors, the whoosh of wind knocking over all the potted flowers set down ascending the steps to the vaulted 5-story open atrium on either side and scattering arts brochures and posters from the hand-out box in the lobby into the air, sort of reminiscent of the street scenes of September 11th...
"Here came all the firemen with oxygen tanks on their backs, the respiratory masks dangling against their chests, guys talking into hand-held radio, rushing up the stairwells, firemen walking briskly into galleries overhead the band. We could hear their verbal communications from floor to floor. In came more firemen carrying red axes and hose connections...
"The art patrons sat calmly imbibing their liquor and treats at their little white tables looking all about them with a look of the surreal on their faces. I walked around with my beer in hand amid all the excitement thanking the greeters (one of whom was Bob Bergland's granddaughter) who had checked us in as we arrived, telling them, "You folks really know how to throw a party...This is great stuff..."
"Seeing all these virile firemen, a sudden thought came to mind and I shouted for the band to begin playing, "YMCA," but they must not have heard me... It was a thought amid all this rampant activity; a lot of excitement for a guy from Palmville... Uffdah. You know what I'm saying? But this prepared me for the banquet at the Roseau library today and for that I'm thankful, believe you me..."
Steve
Blame it on the keyboard.
ReplyDeleteMusic is inflammatory.
Pictorial art is a slow burn.
My sister was a Librarian - not a total wit - smart, and pretty. My dad was a virle fireman. Every night at the dinner table, we would ask him to tell us about the day’s fires. This one would’ve been a fun report
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