posted: July 1, 2009

NY Times art director, Nicki Kalish, called the other day with an assignment. It's always a pleasure to work for Nicki and, of course the Times, but this was an exceptionally fun project. Normally my favorite kind of job is a simple spot, but it's also a welcome challenge to jump into the roiling waters of a complex "mob scene" illustration. "Turf War at the Hot Dog Cart" by Julia Moskin, is--as the headline suggests --a story about the increasing hostility between NY City street vendors. I was asked to create an unruly mob of vendors at war. The editors asked me to avoid handguns of any kind--probably because an angry vendor could easily carry (and put to use) a loaded pistol--but otherwise they gave me the freedom to draw any weapon I thought my characters might wield. What red-blooded American humorous illustrator wouldn't delight in the opportunity to arm a band of crazed citizens with loaded cannons and hard rock maple rolling pins? Delicious.



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Turf War at the Hot Dog Cart

TruNews

posted: May 8, 2009

Thank you, one and all, for your loving, heartfelt, supportive responses to my two Jude articles. I am overwhelmed by the tenderness and words of wisdom. I've been away from Drawger for some time, now, and I sometimes forget what a great group of people inhabit this blog. It can be an amazingly nurturing place and I really must carve out time to be a more active participant. It's good around here for creative inspiration. And awfully good for the soul.

-Elwood

posted: May 6, 2009

My sister, Jude (Judith Arlene), battled cancer for eight months. She was my oldest friend. Born more than two years before me, Jude was there, that morning in 1941, when I replaced her as Elwood and Virginia's center of attention.

She was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer on May 22, 2008 and died on January 22, 2009. She and I had long, heartfelt and emotional telephone conversations regularly over that eight month period--nearly every night during the hardest times. We discussed her illness and hammered away at the unfairness of it all. We wept together and we spent long stretches reminiscing. We tried to make sense of the creepy, hidden cancer cells growing in her pancreas and of the mystery waiting for us all at the end of life. Those intense conversations might explain, at least in part, why I'm not as emotionally devastated following her death as I  imagined I'd be. I anticipated an emotional body blow right after Jude succumbed to the cancer, but I seem to be at peace. I have moments when the reality of her death overwhelms, but the feeling doesn't hang around long.

It has been hardest for her husband Bill Wright, who spent the full eight months caring for her. He learned to administer the insulin injections and arrange and monitor her ever-growing pill regimen. He was at her side for the chemotherapy that was cut short due to a blood clot. He was there for each radiation session that followed. Her well being became Bill's entire focus. He kept amazing notes. They were concise and completely legible. His task--one he embraced without complaint despite intense pain from a degenerative disc in his lower back--ended suddenly with her death. He knew my sister for most of his life. They began dating in the late 1950's when he was 16 and she was 18. They were married for 46 years.

Over the eight months my sister fought the deadly cancer, Maggie and I trekked down to her home in Tennessee four times. Like me, Jude was a world class worrier, and she did not consider herself to be a brave person. It was not an easy task, I know, but she valiantly fought the disease and she regularly amazed us all with her determination, courage, loving heart and sense of humor.

I've had three dreams of my sister since her death:

Jude Dream 1
January 23rd - The day after Jude died

Jude was young and light on her feet, nearly twirling with happiness as she and I walked along a paved walkway--it may have been a waterside park--with several other blurry, out of focus, characters. I, too, felt carefree, caught up in Jude's buoyant, joyful energy. Suddenly, the reality of her death hit me. I moved away from the others and stood alone by a streetlight weeping as they continued along the path. I awakened from my dream, still weeping.

A couple of night later, I had a second dream.

Jude Dream 2

Jude and I were walking arm and arm, heading to the Staten Island Ferry in lower Manhattan. She was about to take the ferry and we had to say goodbye. I began weeping and she held me and told me not to worry, that she was fine. As she parted, I awakened, still crying into my pillow.

Jude Dream 3
February 7, 2009

This dream, the third I've had since my sister, Jude, died on January 22, 2009, began in a commercial kitchen, where I was helping others scrape food off plates into trash cans. After scraping a couple of plates, I wandered into the next room where people were gathered. I told them that, in my view, even if there was a heaven or some other kind of life after death, my sister would be way too busy adjusting to her new existence to hang around with those she left behind. I began weeping and turned away from the others. Jude appeared from an adjoining room and we hugged and wept together

Like my two other dreams, I was sobbing as I awakened.

Treasures

posted: May 6, 2009

"Sister's Holding Tight", a video of the recording of a song I wrote for my sister, Jude, is available for viewing as a QuickTime movie on my .Mac HomePage


Jude asked me to write a song for her memorial. Not an easy task, but I did it. She got to hear it before she died and the the recording was played at her memorial service.


Although I created the song, it was realized and enriched with great love and generosity by friends of my longtime pal, Will Osborne. Since I don't consider myself a singer, I asked Will to sing the song with another old friend, Jean Marzollo (who, sadly, was unable to make the recording session). Will not only offered his singing skills, he immediately called on a talented family in Litchfield, CT (not far from his home in Goshen) to lend their considerable talents to the project.  I hadn't intended to sing, but everyone present at the session, having heard my solo demo version with rhythm guitar, insisted I sing lead. I did, reluctantly. I don't care for the sound of my voice, but Jude loves that I ended up singing her song.

I am forever grateful to Will, Janet Marlow, her husband, Alan Brennan & their two sons, Colin and Ross for backing me up with sweet vocal harmony on the choruses. They also provided some tasty, laid-back banjo, mandolin, bass and fiddle licks to support my rhythm guitar. The session took place in Janet's studio and she was the recording engineer. (She is also master classical and jazz 10-string guitarist.) Will & Mary Osborne's talented nephew, Andrew Boyce, shot the footage, edited it and produced this wonderful film. I am humbled by all the talent and generosity of everyone who helped bring this song to life.

We rehearsed and recorded "Sister's Holding Tight" within a four hour period on Sunday, July 20. It was a magical experience.

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