A Thing of Beauty - Part 140

R.a.n.t. of week 06/08/14

I''m going to take a blog hiatus for a while. However, blog contributor Charles Winthrop has agreed to guest blog for the month. The following is part of one of his longest running series. I thought it would be interesting and he has agreed to share it here. I hope you enjoy it.

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It's truly amazing what some people discard and treat as garbage, when in actuality what they have is a prized possession, something of great beauty and value. I was reading this morning of a women who went to a rubbish sale (flea market) and procured a box of various items for only seven dollars. One report suggests a Paul Bunyan mini statue was in the box which is what caught her eye. (A clear indication of the typical junk found there). Going over the items, the painting barely caught her eye. The frame was of interest to her, but the actual object of the frame was not, much like the previous owner. On a gut feeling, she decided to have the painting appraised. Turns out, what she thought was worthless or unimportant, was a lost painting from Frenchman Pierre-Auguste Renoir (1841-1919). An auction was established with hopes of raising as much as $75,000. Certainly, this painting was worth far more than originally thought. And someone just threw it away? There are countless tales in the art world of works of art turning up in the oddest places, usually in attics, basements, or behind paintings of less value. So what about us? Is there a true objet d'art in your life? And how do you treat it? Would you devalue it? Damage it? Throw it in the garbage? Certainly not. It doesn't matter if it's a painting hanging on the wall, an antique piece of furniture or even a person. How we treat our valuable possessions is certainly an indication of who we truly are on the inside. How sad it is some people are miserable, horrible people on the inside, who feel the need to damage, destroy or devalue things of beauty.

This excerpt from the online publication - 'Art Beautiful',
used with permission.

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Charles Winthrop is a Washington
state writer & D.J. His interests
include music (both modern and
classical) and is a fine art connoisseur.
His articles have appeared in various
magazines including, 'Art Beautiful',
'Music of the Renaissance', and 'The Walla Walla Whistler'.


♫ Like a beautiful smile
 That fills I know why
 Such a beauty won't die
 It's eternity's mile 
 That we walk all this while ♪

Bonus Photo - Les Deux Sœurs

Vagrancy At It's Finest

R.a.n.t. of week 03/16/14

Years ago, I used to work in an office close to the down-town area. One of my closest workmates was named Olga. She would always come in complaining about homeless people she met. But she never called them homeless, she always used the word transient. It was an expression I had never heard before. She was always interesting to talk to, even though she swore her name was pronounced 'Elka', a pronunciation I had never heard before either. She passed away while I still worked there, but any time someone mentions the word transient, I think of her.

When I hear the word bum, I think of  Frank Ferguson. He was an actor who appeared on the show 'Leave It To Beaver'. His character was a bum who tricked Beaver into letting him come into the house for a sandwich, then a quick bath and then to helping himself to one of the Beev's fathers suits. Even as a child I realized how dangerous the Beaver's thought process was. Like Olga above, I believe that actor is dead now.

Long before the word tramp meant a trashy women, it was applied more to a happy go-lucky sort of out-of-their luck character. Remember Disney's 'Lady and the Tramp'? The tramp in this film was not a cigarette smoking, tattooed, female dog (innocently whistling). Rather, it was the adorable, scampering mutt.

Passing a rail-road yard, I think of the word hobo - a person travelling the country via boxcar. Some might know who Boxcar Willie is. Personally, I have no idea but in name alone. One day in my youth I was perusing the local Mainstream Record store and bending down I laughed to myself as I read this artists name out-loud, a name I had never heard before. Suddenly from behind, an older lady says, "You found Boxcar Willie?" "Yes," I said as I pointed to where the artist cassette was. I walked away from this quite older couple thinking how ironic it was I found exactly what they were looking for. They are probably dead too now.

The word vagrant has always held a negative connotation for me. I think of someone dark and sinister. In a way, the word reminds me of those clown/vagrant 'art' pictures I used to see all the time in children's waiting rooms at hospitals and clinics as I was growing up. Clowns automatically creep me out, but to be a vagrant variation as well? No thank you! Sometimes, sitting in a room with those works of 'art' made me wish I were dead.  

Now we come to more modern times. In the area I live, there are many, many pan-handlers. People standing on street corners, holding signs and begging for money. Though I would never condone being selfish and unhelpful, I often wonder if these people are just a co-ordinated network and make a living doing this, actually living very well off, perhaps even better than me. I've seen a few reports on news programs which suggest this. So I'm always hesitant to help these people out. It seems if one person is out, I see half a dozen more, each on various streets on my drive home. Even if I did not live on a tight budget already, helping everyone looking for a handout would certainly put me on the street begging for money or food. I've even seen one guy take a few step away from the corner to make a cell-phone call. That always confuses me too. So, as I said, I don't offer help monetarily. Am I being smart and cautious? Or just greedy and selfish? Sometimes I wonder.

So just how these transients come about. What decisions have they made in their life that has led them in this direction? Are they truly the victims of unfortunately circumstance? Or have they been given opportunities to improve themselves over and over again but still find some way to mess things up. Problems with drugs / alcohol or just lazy, selfish and make poor choices over and over again?