Oh, Chihuly

OKC Museum of Art, Chihuly centerpiece

Chihuly floor to ceiling 

Playfully reacting to art is how I define a memorable moment in a museum.  Even though Chihuly Art * strikes me as "Do Not Touch" glass, in reality it's expressive nature demands more than a stance and stare by viewers.  Dale Chihuly tempts and teases me to reach out and touch, "I dare you."  But years of my mother's quick arm lashings and Do Not Touch scoldings prevented me from doing something costly and stupid. 


While touring the OKC Museum of Art with friends Lora and Leah, we were delighted to walk through the Chihuly gallery filled with illuminated colors of topaz, gold, scarlet, silver, cobalt blue, emerald green, and shapes that shift like in a dream.

The three of us did our best to be content with looking from various angles at the colorful structures of sapphire, amethyst, canary, and indigo. When we walked into a hallway leading to another room filled with bold designs, we were stopped in our tracks.  The lighting in the ceiling flooded the hallway in streams of colors from the Chihuly art hanging above us. Our mouths dropped open in amazement.  Not being satisfied to stare with heads leaning backwards we took our own bold move, and sat ourselves down on the floor at the far end where no one would walk on us, merely by us. From sitting we finally built up the nerve to lay on the floor. 

3 L's laughing not lounging on the floor

A ceiling filled with Chihuly's colorful designs. 

We laughed, pointed, admired, and gazed at the incredible art illuminating the hallway.  Dale Chihuly's art gave us a moment to remember. His designs and colors still float serenely through my mind's eye leaving me with the desire to discover more  Chihuly at Crystal Bridges, Bentonville, Arkansas.*


The temptation to touch, to peek, lurks within my spirit. On the cruise ship last year a magnificent blue glass Chihuly stood in the middle of crowded room. Since no one seemed to notice the art amidst the throngs of people and with an ever so slight desire to touch the magical art, I walked over to view the glass tentacles of twirling blues and greens.  Suddenly, before I could reach out to touch two little girls scooted in front of me pointing, twisting their hands and arms like licorice, and giggling at the glass work that sat on the floor reaching upward to five feet in the air, just the right size for children.  It was their giggling that caught my attention, so rather than touch I giggled. After all, the glass work demanded a show of spirited feelings.  

Similar to the swirling art on the cruise ship.
It can be viewed at the Atlanta Botanical Gardens. 

So, until I win the lottery and buy my own Chihuly to touch, I will continue to giggle in delight, twirl in circles like the swirls in his spherical shapes, and admire the glass art from a distance.

**Please click on the colored links to other sites. 

This is what we have to look forward to at Crystal Bridges.
Thank you Annette Mackey for sharing.

Sex in the Sixties

Sex in the ‘60’s is not the same

  As Sex in the Sixties!

It took me nine years and nine 
 months

  To come up with that line.

I could have been laughing about it

  For nearly a decade.  

Sex in the ‘60’s is not the same

  As Sex in the Sixties.

The playboy’s death must have

  Streamed through my mind.

I never wore a bunny tail

  And never felt sexy,

But oh, could I clean house and cook a meal

 To the music of Janis Joplin,Get It While You Can

Dance to Aretha late into the night, and

  Jump into bed and frolic till the sun came up.

Then wake up, go to work, sexercise before dinner,

  And do it all over again by a Bad Moon Rising

 

Sex in the ‘60’s is not the

  Same as Sex in the Sixties!

In the early morning sunrise

  We watch the bunnies play in the yard.

Cleaning house is teamwork

  Before company arrives.

Eating out is our reward for a     day

  Or to meet up with friends.

An evening drink on the patio gives us time to admire

  Our colorful flowers, butterflies, and birds.

A good novel to read, a game to watch on TV,

  Our needs and energies have changed.

Sex in the ‘60’s is not the same

  As Sex in the Sixties!

Then I looked at dining room tables and giggled

  Wondering how many positions we could enjoy.

Nature’s bushes and quiet lake shores

  Offered sexy retreats for couples.

On hot steamy nights at the drive-in movies

  Lovers parked on the back rows

Hiding their passions from their parents

  Sliding down onto the vinyl seats

Exploring, touching new places as hearts

  Beat faster and moans were muffled.

Sex in the ‘60’s is not the same

  As Sex in the Sixties.

Dancing is for the Stars now

  Since my back is not so limber.

Exercising is at the gym before ten am

  Naps fall anywhere throughout the day.

One day on the golf course

  Takes two days to recover.

Heating pads and ice packs give more comfort

  Than a shot of tequila or a “screaming orgasm.”

Maybe not…..

Sex in the ‘60’s is not the same

  As Sex in the Sixties!

Sittin’ on the Dock of the Bay

  Rings of Otis and times that have drifted by.

Purple passions are the flowers in my backyard

  Not the drink that caused our bodies to gyrate.

I Want to Hold Your Hand means the same thing today

  As it did then, and goose bumps still signal that feeling. 

Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow once consumed my worries

 But love in the sixties calms my soul and keeps my heart beating.

Sex in the ‘60’s is not the same

  As Sex in the Sixties.

Pushing myself day by day,

  My body groans in pain and aches.

Believing that I could do it all then

  And I can do it all now.

But I’ve been fooled before.

  Nightfall can’t come soon enough.

The gentle kiss, a light touch of love, a brush of the hand,

  Our bodies touching in pleasure.

With the deepest love of my life

  Sex in the Sixties is still Beautiful. 


* Take moment and enjoy the music that is linked to the highlighted words.

Along the Way-- The Mick

He stood bigger than life in the eyes of every child who'd ever heard his name. He'd always smiled at the kids as he autographed baseballs, golf balls, bats, and more. I stood near my father watching the commotion around us. Even though Mickey Mantle was nearly a household name for every American child in the 50's, seeing him in person and knowing his family made it special for many of us kids growing up in Ottawa County. 

My father, Johnie Stapp, with Mickey Mantle about 1956

One day he and his twin brothers, Roy and Ray, along with other Yankee players showed up at the Miami Country Club to play golf. It must have been in the summer because there were many people swimming, who suddenly jumped out of the pool and began to gather around the large and loud group of men. What I recall and what the facts are sometimes become twisted, but that day with a gallery of people we watched "The Mick" hit a tee ball off the first tee and fly it over the green (a par 4 about 360 yards), across Elm street behind the golf course, and into the fenced horse stalls owned by Mr. Lou Newell.  The gallery roared and the teasing and bets were on. "Johnny Dial" was the stud horse owned by Lou Newell, and for only a moment someone worried that he might have hit the horse, which made the golf shot even more lavish to retell.

My memories of Mickey seem quite colorful, when I recall my dad coming home from work sharing episodes of the days when Mickey and his friends came to the club to get away from the crowds and feel at home.  Billy Martin, Mantle's manager, asked my dad to give him golf lessons. Dad suggested that Martin come back often,  "so we can get that slice fixed." Martin just laughed. 

The Yankee players who came to Miami along with Mickey, George Coleman, and other celebrities sometimes played what dad called "destruction derby" with the golf carts.  I'm sure it wasn't what my dad liked to see, but Mickey and his friends always paid for the damage they imposed, and the men loved to retell the stories.  

Along the way, decades pass and memories grow fuzzy. This summer on my way to a golf tournament in Joplin, Missouri, along with my friend Kay Dalke, we took a sideways trip along old Route 66, and stopped at the Dobson Museum in Miami so I could take care of "burden and worry" that wouldn't leave my mind. As I talked about my problem with Jordan Boyd, Kay noticed the display on Mickey Mantle. Jordan suggested we locate the Mantle home a take a peek at history along the way to Joplin. 

With map in hand we headed north on Route 66 to
find his Commerce home.  Kay regaled me with her love of baseball and childhood family memories. Her grandmother's brothers were Paul and Lloyd Waner from Harrah, Ok. They are both in the National Baseball Hall of Fame. The Baseball Hall of Fame treated her family as special guest when they visited. She, like so many of us, remembers meeting Mickey Mantle, so finding his home was very special to both of us.

We were humbled by his small home. The plaque read: At the age of 5 or 6 his father started teaching him how to hit, they used the tin barn as their backstop. Mutt, his father (a miner) would pitch righty and Mick's grandfather would pitch lefty while teaching him the fine art of switch hitting....


Kay said, "Seeing Mickey Mantle's home was so exciting. It is hard to imagine the life of simplicity some of the greatest athletes of our lifetime have come from." 

Along the way, there's just so much to see and think about.