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December 31, 2005

Posted by trevor at 11:35 AM | Comments (6)

December 28, 2005

The Box

Holiday time means gifts. Many gifts. Big ones. Small ones. Pointless ones. Pathetic ones. Thoughtless ones. Waste-of-money ones.

When I was a kid, the best gift I ever got was a box. A simple, plain old cardboard box.

I don’t even recall what came in the box because the box was better than the gift itself.

Over the next two weeks the box took me on the most amazing adventures. My particular box could fly, travel underwater, become invisible and morph into whatever I wanted it to be.

I was able to visit outer space in my box where I recall having tea with an extraordinary nice "hippocrockanellieduck" on a purple planet.

I went back in time in my box and witnessed my grandfather winning The Great River Jump. Nobody has ever been able to achieve that feat since. (I actually think the story was fabricated.)

I won the Cape to Cairo motorcar rally in my box, beating out more expensive and faster rally vehicles.

I hid from a nasty thunderstorm in the box.

I kissed Janet from across the street in the box.

I got slapped by Janet from across the street in the box.

During that time I was spared certain death from a killer cockroach that chased me into the box and held me hostage for at least three minutes before my mum perfumed it into submission with a full can of deodorant spray . (My box lost smelled pretty good for a while after that.)

I flew three missions over Germany during the Blitzkrieg and shot down four Stuka Dive Bombers in my box.

I hid in the box when my dad lost his job and my mother was crying.

I smiled in the box when my dad climbed into the box with me and held me and told me everything was going to be okay.

Posted by trevor at 05:19 PM | Comments (5)

December 26, 2005

From Whence It Came

I was asked last night when I first realized that I had a sense of humor:

It happened on a Monday morning. I was approaching the gates of Linksfield Primary School. I was in second grade. I was walking with my satchel on my back and my hands deep in my pockets to stave off the cold wind blowing off Linksfield Ridge.

The sky was a deep blue and I noticed my reflection in a car window as I passed. I recall wondering how silly us school boys must look wearing suit coats, ties and caps with short pants and long socks...in the middle of winter!

“Who ever designed school uniforms was not a good designer,” I remember thinking.

The body blow came out of nowhere.

I was bowled off my feet.

“Hoezit moegoe?” came a voice from the body towering over me. (How are you doing, sucker?)

I knew that voice only too well. It was Darrel Lobel. My nemesis.

He pulled me up by my tie, almost strangling me in the process.

“I just don’t like your bladdy face, hey. I just want to moer you every time I check you.” (I just want to beat you up every time I see you.)

“I’m going to klap the snot out of you, china.” (I’m going to smack the snot out of you, buddy.)

“Wait,” I pleaded. “Listen. I'll save you the time. Let me beat MYSELF up. I know where it hurts. I’ll do a good job. I swear.”

Darrel looked at me with the strangest expression on his face.

I closed my eyes, waiting for the blow.

It never came.

I opened my eyes again.

Darrel suddenly burst out laughing and let go of me.

“Cheers Arnie,” he said, laughing as he walked away with his cronies. “He’s okay.”

“It’s not Arnie, it’s Trevor,” I said to his back, fully expecting him to turn around and confront me once again.

“Ja Arnie, I know,” he said, still laughing.

I retrieved my cap and put it back on my head.

He never picked on me again.

Posted by trevor at 01:59 PM | Comments (1)

December 25, 2005

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December 24, 2005

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December 23, 2005

The Smile

There’s an old lady who lives in our neighborhood.

She’s mean. Real mean. I saw her yell and swat a little kid with a broom the other day because he went to get his ball in her yard. The kid was petrified. You should have seen his eyes.

She deflates the tires of people who park their cars outside her house.

She’s mean. Real mean. She complains to the police if someone in the neighborhood has a party that continues after 8:30 at night.

She’s mean. Real mean. She probably has posters of Scrooge (in his pre-nice era), mean Mr. Mustard and the president of Iran hanging in her house.

I don’t think she has smiled since we won World War Two.

Not until today.

I saw her down at the park on Town Lake walking her mean dog this morning. (Her dog growls and snaps at everyone and everything in sight. Even unsuspecting bushes that vaguely resemble people.)

The mean old lady was scowling at some kids who were feeding the local gaggle of geese with breadcrumbs.

Suddenly one of the geese chased the group of kids who ran off giggling excitedly. One of the kids was rather slow and the goose managed to nip him on the backside. The kid shrieked and burst into the most delightful, hearty laugh as he ran into his mum’s arms.

It was so cute that everyone around found themselves smiling.

Even the mean old lady.

Granted, it was only a 1.7 second smile that was framed by a scowl that could probably crack open an oyster at twenty paces.

Never the less it was a smile.

And I saw it.

I hope and pray she finds a few more of those in the New Year.

Posted by trevor at 11:01 AM | Comments (4)

December 21, 2005

Two Bicycles

We went for a long, slow bicycle ride, my dad and I.

On December 21st nineteen-sometime-ago.

We stopped at the ‘Wilds’, a wonderful park in Houghton, Johannesburg, for a sip of water and a little break.

We sat on the grass alongside a goldfish fishpond and talked about creativity.

About how important it is to express those effervescent feelings that bubble inside your soul like lava deep within a sleeping volcano.

About how art or writing or music or dance is a fissure through which those feelings can flow.

About the sensation one has when those feelings erupt in the form of energy and are finally able pass through your body and into the medium you have chosen as a conduit.

About how brilliant it feels when you see the reflection of that energy in someone else’s eyes.

About how satisfied and relieved you feel once the energy has been expended.

About how exciting it feels when the energy starts stirring deep within your soul again, especially when you feared that the previous eruption might have been your very last.

About how important it is to sit by a goldfish pond and talk about creativity.

It was the last bicycle ride I ever had with my dad and I think about it often. Especially when those effervescent feelings start to bubble inside my soul like lava deep within a sleeping volcano.

Posted by trevor at 04:29 PM | Comments (3)

December 20, 2005

The Equalizer

It really amazes me how the universe knows how and when to put people in their place.

I have been so caught up in myself just lately. The letter “I” has been dominating my vocabulary a little too much.

Apparently the universe agrees.

I bent down to pat a cute little dog in the neighborhood yesterday and, yes, he peed on my leg.

He did not care about all the books I have written. He couldn’t care less about my video awards. He couldn’t give a hoot that my jeans, upon which he peed (a lot) cost ninety three dollars.

He did what he needed to do and in the process brought me down to earth…and gave me a huge laugh.

Thank you little dog for reminding me that I am not as important and I sometimes think I am.

Posted by trevor at 07:24 AM | Comments (4)

December 18, 2005

The Tree of Sighs

I called it the tree of sighs because the wind blowing through the intertwined trunk sounded like a person sighing.

I think it was a fig tree.

I spent a lot of time under that tree during the latter part of my high school years. It was my secret spot. The place I escaped to when the world and I were at odds. The place where I went to lick my wounds and mourn lost loves and to compose romantic notes that never reached their destinations.

The tree and I sighed many times together.

I spent countless summer afternoons resting under the tree and chewing on a piece of grass while contemplating the meaning of life.

I said goodbye to Babette, one of my favorite loves, under that same tree.

I was alone when I said goodbye to her. It was just me and the tree because Babette had died while I was away exploring the United States.

An asthma attack took her life just before her twenty-fifth birthday.

I was going to be in America for at least six months so we decided to put our relationship on hold while I was gone.

I had a great time in the United States sketching my way across the continent and writing in my journal about the places I visited. Babette made me promise to read every single entry to her when I got home.

I never kept my promise.

Until now.

After reading through that same travel journal today, I decided that Babette needs to hear what I wrote, because I wrote it for her.

I have decided to visit the Tree of Sighs when I go home to South Africa in January and read the book out loud to her from under the tree.

The tree is still there; guarding a myriad of hopes and dreams I left lying under its branches all those years ago…

Posted by trevor at 04:04 PM | Comments (3)

December 17, 2005

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December 16, 2005

Anyone For Tea?

Behold the power of tea!

They say tea has healing qualities.

They say tea calms the nerves.

They say tea started the revolution.

They say I am obsessed with tea because my business card reads: Author. Illustrator. Tea Drinker.

They say Michael Knobbs, fellow artist and blogger, is crazy about tea too. (That makes it two for tea, I guess.)

What they didn’t say is that tea can be used as a substitute for paint. I accidentally dipped my paintbrush into my teacup instead of the paint water once and, hey, guess what? Tea CAN be used as paint.

I actually used tea from a used tea bag to ‘wash’ the above drawing from a picture of my favorite old building in Johannesburg, South Africa. (I hope the building is still standing.)

Tea is art. Art is tea.

Posted by trevor at 12:52 PM | Comments (1)

December 15, 2005

The Plan

It is so nice when things work out the way you hoped they would:

We created the animated video “Taking the Duh out of Divorce” to help kids deal with divorce and to help families negotiate the rough waters brought on by divorce.

We specifically designed the videos to bring families ‘together’ so they can work through tough issue with comfort, kindness and a smile.

Recently, my book editor from New York showed the video to her six year-old son. Her divorce has been pretty rough and he has been having a particularly hard time.

She put on the video and they both sat on her couch to watch.

He refused to sit next to her.

He sat himself on the opposite side of the couch.

Apparently, as the video played, he began to watch intently.

As he watched, he put his feet on the couch and touched her with his toes.

He then began to slowly migrate across the couch until he was sitting next to her.

By the time the video ended he was on her lap and she had her arms around him.

It is so nice when things work out the way you hoped they would:

Posted by trevor at 04:41 PM | Comments (0)

December 14, 2005

Life

Today I received an e-mail that stopped me in my tracks:

Dear Trevor,

You don’t know me but you helped save my life. See, I am depressed and I often hate living. Sometimes I just want to end it all. I visit your blog most days and was so touched by the cancer kids you talked about yesterday. Seeing the pictures of those kids made me realize how valuable my life is and I just wanted to thank you. You’ll never know how much those kids helped me make up my mind to appreciate what I have instead of giving up and throwing it all away.

Jeff

Jeff said it was okay to share this e-mail and I'm doing that because so often, under a cloud of depression or sadness, we simply can’t see the light at the end of the tunnel until we become aware of others who are suffering terribly and how they cherish each and every day for what it is worth.

(I have been in touch with Jeff to offer him an ear and I have answered his e-mail under separate cover for obvious reasons.)

Posted by trevor at 02:56 PM | Comments (1)

December 12, 2005

For Always

(All Images © Jed Share 2005)

This past weekend I was truly blessed. I had the honor of spending time with a group of delightful kids who are suffering from childhood cancer. (See above) It was one of the most memorable weekends I have ever experienced.

The strength, faith, hope and love flowing from the families of these children is unbelievable. I honestly don’t know if I could ever handle what these families are going through myself. Their steadfast hope and resolve is unbelievable.

I was with these families to take photographs for a book and a television piece we (the Candlelighters Childhood Cancer Foundation) are doing to gather national and international support for children in treatment, survivors and the families of those who have passed away from cancer.

During the weekend I spent most of my time on the floor of the National Children’s Hospital doing my job as the Doctor of Mischief. My task was to make the kids feel at ease so we could capture their personalities on film. I wrestled on the floor with little kids with cue ball heads. I joked and shared incredible stories with an amazing teenager from Bulgaria. I made an idiot of myself trying to distract kids from the camera and that awful cancer shadow that stalks them twenty-four hours a day.

My friend Jed Share (a world class photographer) Ruth Hoffman (Executive Director of the Candlelighters) and myself (world class buffoon) cried and laughed the whole weekend. I cannot tell you how full my heart feels after celebrating life with these kids and capturing their courage and hope on film.

Jed Share is a much sought after photographer and has shot pictures in 80 different countries. Some of his work has appeared in the National Geographic. I want to thank him, not only for volunteering his valuable time for this project, but for taking the time between his portraits to snap the above pictures. I drove Jed nuts every five minutes asking him for photographs of me with the children. I wanted pictures because I never want to forget my time with these great little people. I will post some of Jed’s powerful, haunting and stunning images of the kids once he has edited them.

We spent three days taking hundreds and hundreds of pictures and then on Saturday night we all joined together in the old Post Office in Washington D.C. to light the incredible Candlelighters Christmas Tree. The tree was adorned with thousands of gold ribbons to support kids in treatment, honor those who are no longer with us and celebrate the precious lives of those who have survived childhood cancer.

After the tree lighting I had a real hard time saying goodbye to my new friends, especially to a little four year-old chap named Alex. We really bonded and I had a huge lump in my throat when I saw Alex’s bald little head hang in sadness when he said goodbye to me.

“Can you be my friend for always?” he said when I hugged him goodbye.

“Yes, Alex,” I whispered in his ear. “For always.”

Posted by trevor at 10:18 PM | Comments (13)

December 08, 2005

Just to let everyone know...

Just to let everyone know, I'm away in Washington D.C. (if I can ever get off the frozen runway in Austin) for a few days. (Don't let that stop you from commenting though, I will post comments as soon as I get back.) I will be attending the National Candlelighter's Christmas Tree Lighting this weekend. The blog will resume on Sunday when I return home.

Posted by trevor at 01:06 PM | Comments (1)

December 06, 2005

Okay

Okay, okay, I’m NOT going to give up writing!

I was, you know, until ten minutes ago. I was never going to write again. I was about to retire. Throw in the pen. Turn my back on my muse.

See, writing is tough. You get to sit alone in a room all day until the words swim. Then you’ve got to deal with the Word Thief. He is the guy who pretends to be your ‘in-head’ editor. He likes minimalism. He wants no fluff. He wants bare bones sentences.

I have fired that stinking Word Thief three thousand two hundred and twelve times. That’s right. Three thousand two hundred and twelve times and he refuses to go. How can someone not leave when they are fired?

It’s lonely writing. You sit all by yourself in a room while other people in office buildings stand around the water cooler gossiping and spreading awful rumors about infidelity.

You sit all alone in a room while people in cubicles discuss things like ‘pay checks’ and ‘insurance’.

Back to the point. So, you spend hours alone writing. Then you spend hours looking at the words you have written and wonder what made you think that you could write in the first place. I mean, people are not ‘chosen’ as writers. There’s no certification. There’s no test. They just decide themselves. I just decided. “Mmm,” I though. “I’m going to be a writer. It sounds romantic.” And after my decision, at least three teachers turned in their graves. Twice.

Then there’s the submitting process. Talk about putting your face out there and waiting to be punched. I mean, we actually invite, yes, we INVITE people to criticize us and tell us that our work is “Just-not-that-great-and-thank-you-for-submitting-it-and-good–luck-in-placing-it–elsewhere-hee-hee-hee.”

Then if you are lucky enough to have a book published, you face the next hurdle. Your publisher loves your book but… “I’m sorry we are putting out four-hundred-and sixteen other books this season we can’t possibly send you on a ten city book tour and we definitely can’t take ads out in local papers and we certainly can’t PAY for your book to be on a HIGHLY VISIBLE shelf in the book store because the money is reserved for Peter Straub and Danielle Steele. We suggest you start by filling up your trunk with books and visiting your friends for impromptu book signings in their driveways, garages and dens. Yard sales work well too.”

Then everyone you know says they love your book and they are going to buy a copy and then …’Aww…sorry dude, I forgot to get a copy of your book. I swear I’ll get one next time I’m in the bookstore. What was it called again?”

Then your mother asks you to help her out with a little cash because she’s tight…due to the fact that she secretly bought seventy-two copies of your book without telling you so that you’d think seventy-two people loved your book so much that they bought it.

So, today I decided to pack up the old Remmington typewriter and trade in the tweed jacket with the real leather elbow patches.

Yes, I was about to give up writing forever when I saw a young boy at lunch this afternoon devouring the book he was reading, just like the large gentleman next to him was devouring his Pastrami sandwich. Except the boy did not have half-eaten words all over his face.

The boy was enjoying his book so much he could not put it down. Not for a second. I mean you should have seen the look of pleasure on the kid’s face.

I saw him reading in the car as it pulled away from the curb.

Seeing the boy reminded me of why I started writing in the first place. Because I LOVE reading!

So, to repeat myself. I’m not going to give up writing! I was, you know, until ten minutes ago. But I’m not anymore.

Posted by trevor at 07:07 AM | Comments (6)

December 05, 2005

The Message

I will be visiting Washington DC later this week to photograph children with cancer for the Candlelighters Childhood Cancer Foundation’s web site. (It is also the tree lighting for the Candlelighters organization of which I am a board member.)

One of the children I will be meeting is a sixteen year-old cancer patient whose father died of cancer two weeks ago. Despite her loss, this amazing young woman is filled with faith and hope and she is eager to have her picture taken as a spokesperson and member of a club nobody wants to belong to. I am blessed to have the opportunity to meet and work with her.

I told my art student Ashlin about the upcoming trip during our art lesson on Friday. Ashlin is an incredible eleven year-old who knows about pain and suffering himself. (He has had countless surgeries over the years to correct a cleft palate and faced much ridiculing when he first started school.)

Despite all he has been through, Ashlin is one of the most compassionate kids I have ever met.

“Would you do something for me when you see that girl who has cancer?” he said, with a big, albeit lopsided smile

“Sure,” I replied.

“Would you please give her this?”

He lifted his sleeve, and removed a maroon rubber bracelet from his wrist.

I took the bracelet from him and cradled it in my palm.

It had the word HOPE embossed on it.

Posted by trevor at 08:04 AM | Comments (1)

December 03, 2005

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December 02, 2005

Idle Hands

I am often asked what I do when I’m not illustrating, or writing, or painting, or creating songs, or speaking at schools, or visiting hospitals, or running, or swimming laps, or going to the gym, or making animated videos, or drinking tea?

There are two answers:

1) I sleep.

2) I design improbable machines. (As evidenced by the totally impractical submachine shown above.) I design most of these ‘could-not-possibly-be-built' machines during meetings. Meeting bore me to death. Especially those involving accountants and lawyers.

Ah yes, since childhood I have been an incessant doodler. I doodle constantly, specially during lectures, meetings, weddings, bar mitzvah's, family reunions, sitcoms, and anything related to Martha Stewart.

Posted by trevor at 09:48 AM | Comments (0)

December 01, 2005

A Life In Color

I discovered something wonderful recently. Color. I have always been a “white wall” in my home type of person. I have mostly illustrated in black and white or sepia tones. For some reason I did not think I liked too much color. I was wrong! I discovered this after I painted the interior of my house recently. (See above.) Having color in my home has brightened up my world. I live in a rainbow and I’m loving it!

Posted by trevor at 06:52 AM | Comments (4)