Posted in Emotions, Memories

May 4, 1970

Posted on by debthumanblog

Find the cost of freedom buried in the ground.

1970 was the year I graduated from high school. I had a clock radio and always woke up to the news. When my clock radio woke me on May 5, I heard about Kent State for the first time. I felt cold terror in my bowels and nausea in my stomach. I went to school dazed and sad.

A friend of mine was a student at SUNY Buffalo on May 4, 1970. The Buffalo police locked the building he was in, and fired tear gas canisters into the building. In retaliation for the student protests, when the Amherst Campus – second site of SUNY Buffalo – was designed to accommodate the Tactical Police Unit. Forerunner of SWAT. To get from the parking lot to the law school, you go up a hill, down a hill and up another hill. There are windowed walkways between buildings. The glass is so the police can fire tear gas canisters and fill the walkway with gas. Because the walkway is narrow, it would be difficult for students to get out of the walkway in a panic. There’s a little snack bar in the law school. There are little tables designed to hold no more than 3 students. The theory is that cuts down on planning a demonstration of any size.

Ten years after Kent State, I was in college. In early May, Buffalo State College where I was enrolled had Commuter Daze taking place around May 4-5. It’s a kind of blow out party just before exams. There were hotdogs, raw clams, and soft drinks for free. I was halfway through my hotdog when two fellows next to me had a conversation. One asked the other what that sign meant. He pointed to a bed sheet hung from the second floor of the student union. The sheet read: My God, my God, they are killing us. May 4, 1970.

The other answered the one’s question. “Some kids died.”

I felt as if I had been kicked in the stomach.

Buried in the ground.

Every year, I remember the national guard firing on unarmed students who were more than 200 feet from the national guard. The excuse was the students were throwing stones at them. Show me a kid who can throw a ball accurately 200 feet, and I’ll show you a happy MLB scout

Mother Earth will swallow you, lay your body down. Neil Young

Every year, I listen to Find The Cost of Freedom and Ohio. I think about the 4 dead students and the 9 wounded students. I think about the families of the dead students and how they live with a hole that won’t ever be filled. I think about how someone gave the National Guardsmen to fire their M-1 rifles. Some fired into the ground or air. Some, fired into the crowd. Estimates of the size of the crowd are 2000-3000 unarmed students. The students were retreating when the Guardsmen fired at them.

I read somewhere that when he heard about Kent State, Neil Young went off into the woods for a couple days, and wrote these songs.

Tin soldiers and Nixon coming, we’re finally on our own. This summer I hear the drumming. Four dead in Ohio. Got to get down to it, soldiers are cutting us down. Should have been done long ago. What if you knew her and saw her dead on the ground. How can you run when you know?

Posted in Emotions, Fat, Photography

Now that I’m 70…

Posted on by debthumanblog

Now that I’m 70, I can do things I thought I couldn’t. When I turned 40, I decided I could learn anything I wanted. The entire world was open for me to explore. When I turned 60, I discovered that finite life wasn’t a far-off thing, it was real and it was immediate.

When I turned 70, telling people I’m a nude model is fun. There’s nothing embarrassing about sitting in front of a class full of art students who are dutifully drawing my flab, sags, and bags. I get paid $18 an hour to take off my clothes, sit in a chair and hold still.

When I turned 70, I felt the same as when I turned 40 although what I want to learn now is different. I am convinced I can return my body to health. I am convinced I can learn why I over eat. There’s a reason, but I’ve never figured out what it is.  I’m pretty sure it has to do with growing up in a toxic family. But I don’t have that family anymore, so now I can heal.

I’m convinced I can heal and reverse the peripheral neuropathy. Forget the crap spewed out by neurologists. Nerves regenerate. The fact that nerves regenerate slowly doesn’t negate the fact that they regenerate.

I am learning how to regain and maintain a healthy weight. Unfortunately, I don’t know how to cook. I come from a long line of throw it in the pot and hope it’s edible cooks. Now that I’m 70, I can learn how to cook.

I am learning how to paint although I’m not good at it. I’ll get better if I keep painting.

I am learning to take sewing seriously, take my time, and do it right. Before, it was a matter of how fast I could complete a project.

I am learning to accept that I don’t do pretty art. My art kicks you in the gut even if you don’t want to be kicked.

I am learning to write honestly and not hold back. If I embarrass someone who needs to be embarrassed in the process, then that’s what happens. It’s not my job to hide someone else’s flaws.

What I’m not learning is how to get past this feeling that everything I create is crap. It’s not that my work is technically flawed – that I could fix. There’s something missing in my work and I can’t figure out what it is. Colors don’t look right. Lighting doesn’t look right. Clothes don’t look right. I can’t find the problem and if I can’t find the problem, I can’t find the solution.

I tried to photograph an entire ocotillo plant. That’s not easy because the plants are a good 8′-10′ tall. By the time I get the entire plant in a photo, I get too much background. My point in taking this photo was to show the spiny branches and how they are devoid of leaves at the moment. I failed.

I tried photographing a spike of ocotillo flowers and managed to show the spines. The photo is technically correct, but it doesn’t sing to me.

The yuccas that are blooming now are the variety where the flowers hide in the leaves. It shows what I meant to show, but it doesn’t sing to me. I’ve tinkered with saturation, but that doesn’t solve the problem.

Maybe I’m trying too hard? I did get a shot of a single flower, but I can’t isolate the flower. And maybe the flower doesn’t need to be isolated. Maybe it’s enough to show the plant as it is. Used to be, that was enough for me.

I managed to show new growth on the prickly pear, but there’s nothing exciting in this photo.

It’s almost hidden that I wanted to show the buds on this prickly pear.

I’ve been playing with fabric designs, but the joy is missing.

I’m linking with Nina Marie here: https://ninamariesayre.blogspot.com/

My Spoonflower shop is here: https://www.spoonflower.com/profiles/deb_thuman

Deb Thuman Art is here: http://www.DebThumanArt.com

Posted in bipolar disorder

Some days, bipolar disorder sucks

Posted on by debthumanblog

Some days, and this is one, the best I can do is get through the day without screaming.

I had to go back down on the wellbutrin dose because the brain fog was driving me nuts. Today, I’m irritable and worried that I will eat everything in the house. Wellbutrin takes away the food cravings.

We’re having work done on the heating and cooling. The furnace and air conditioners are 21 years old and cantankerous.  The work is badly needed, but it has disrupted the house. Today is the last day they will be working here which is good because I’m not sure I could get through another day. I wanted to spend the day in the sewing room, but that’s a bad idea. They are working across the hall from the sewing room and I don’t want to be interrupting them every time I need to go in or out of the sewing room.

Brady is going nuts barking and trying to drive off the intruders. I’m not able to deal with a barking dog today. I feel guilty because I’m not being loving to Brady today. She still loves me, though. Amazing how a dog can give unconditional love no matter how the human is feeling.

My ears are messed up again and the vertigo is back. I see the physical therapist tomorrow.

I’m behind in my painting class. This is an independent study and I’m auditing. It’s okay if some of my work is not finished. I’m finishing the 15th and 16th painting this semester. Some of the art majors can’t manage to finish two paintings. Still, I’m bothered by the specter of not finishing my work.

While reading the New York Times this morning, I felt as if I absolutely cannot write. I’m not writing great stuff. I’m writing about bipolar disorder, loving a cop, an officer involved shooting, and the crap that was my childhood.

Both my husband and I need to make some radical changes in our eating for a host of health reasons. Great, but not only don’t I want to cook, I can’t cook for beans.

I only had 3.5 hours sleep, and I want to go back to bed….except I can’t while workmen are here.

Other than that, my life is perfect.

This is what bipolar disorder looks like.

Posted in Beads, Emotions, Photography, Sewing

Burnout? Or maybe not doing enough?

Posted on by debthumanblog

Some days, today being one, making art is difficult. I put beads in a row to make a necklace, and I hate every necklace I try to make. Nothing looks right. Aquamarine beads don’t look right coupled with any other variety of bead. I’ve got blue, teal, yellow and red tiger eye beads. None look right with any other variety of bead.  Swarovski crystals don’t add anything to a collection of beads. Neither do pearls. I just bought sparkly black opals. Even though I have severe bling addiction and love sparkle, I can’t come up with a design in which to use them.

I’m stuck.

I’ve got a pattern for pajama bottoms laid out, but I don’t feel like cutting it out and sewing the pieces together. I’ve got a pair of slacks almost done, but I don’t feel like doing the final chore: inserting elastic. I need a pair of white slacks and I’ve got some white linen/cotton blend. I don’t feel like laying out a pattern.

I’ve started writing a second novel, but don’t feel like writing it. Maybe it’s because of how I’ll feel while I’m writing it. I don’t write fluff. I write my guts. My guts take a lot out of me. The novel is about the hell I went through working at the Public Defender Department – a hell that nearly killed me.

I want to blame this malaise on external events. Except external events aren’t the cause of my malaise. My painting teacher said my work is self-taught folk art. Um….doesn’t taking art classes take my work out of the self-taught category? Folk art? What the fecal matter is folk art? Anna Robertson Moses created folk art. I like to think my work is more refined than Moses’ work – which isn’t taken seriously. If Anna Robertson Moses’ work were taken seriously, she wouldn’t be known as Grandma Moses.

Maybe the subject matter of my current work contributes to the malaise. I’m doing another painting about mass shooting. Painting about antisemitism during Passover and on Holocaust Remembrance Day is a strange experience. I paint while thinking about hatred, oppression, slavery. The two landscapes I’m working on aren’t enough of an emotional break. Worse, a third mass shooting painting is working itself through my mind.

I take photographs of the spring blooms in my yard, but I hate the photos. There’s no magic in them. There’s nothing in the photos which grabs my attention.

I love yucca flowers. I don’t love the photos of yucca flowers I’m taking.

I don’t think the problem is my photos. My photos are technically good, but they don’t give me joy.

Why am I not happy about the crisp detail in this photo?

Why am I not pleased with the playfulness of this composition? I can’t even imagine turning this into a fabric design – and I love designing fabric.

I’m stuck. How do I get unstuck?

I’m linking with Nina Marie here: https://ninamariesayre.blogspot.com/

Deb Thuman Art is here: http://www.DebThumanArt.com

My Spoonflower shop is here: https://www.spoonflower.com/profiles/deb_thuman

Posted in Law, words, Writing A Novel

Never Flush A Condom If You Have A Septic Tank.

Posted on by debthumanblog

It took me seven years to finish writing my first novel, Don’t Flush The Condom. Finding an agent is hard. I can’t figure out what genera would contain this story. Creative non-fiction? The story is based on my real life. Fiction? Okay, but for whom? It’s definitely not chick lit or a rom com. It’s not action filled. It’s not a mystery. It’s not fantasy or science fiction.  Cross genera is about the best I can do picking a label. Writers have to match their work with agents who represent writers who are in the same genera. There’s no genera named: Damned If I Know What Genera This Is.

Putting 43,000+ words into one sentence that will make an agent want to read my work is harder than writing the novel. One of my writing teachers said the goal of writing a novel is to get it written not to get it published. Fine for him, but I want my work published. I have something to say, and people need to hear it.

The story is about a Jewish, bipolar, widowed criminal defense attorney who is in love with a police officer. She’s Wonder Woman with insecurities working for an unnamed law firm and is supervised by an unnamed, inept supervisor. Her neighbor is shot and killed by police and one of her homeless clients is murdered. The story takes place in a fictional town in New Mexico. Included is a nearly verbatim recitation of what happened when I crashed my mother’s funeral. There’s also an explanation about why I can’t get through airport security without getting manually searched. I left out the part about how I deal with TSA. If I’m going to be felt up, I’m going to give the person something to feel. I never wear a bra when I fly.

Soon after I finished the first novel, I started writing the second novel. The first novel contains bits and pieces of my life as a criminal defense attorney. The second novel will likely be about the mental health toll working for a public defender department takes. I wanted it to be about the female character proposing marriage to the male character while dancing on the bottom of the earth, but that story can’t be written. I haven’t yet visited the South Pole – somewhere I badly want to go. I want to dance on the bottom of the earth at the geographic South Pole.

I’m extremely careful not to mention the name of the law firm where the female character works because I don’t want to get sued. The public defender department is top heavy with vindictive, petty, incompetent managers.

A bit of irony. Eventually, I managed to piss off just about every manager I dealt with. One day, I put up a major fight for a client. He had a sex offense conviction from California and the prosecutor wanted to convict my client of not registering as a sex offender. The pertinent statue, Molest or Annoy a Child, is so vague that if you make your child eat broccoli you can be convicted and have to register as a sex offender. I lost. I filed an appeal. I won. The prosecutor filed an appeal. The NM Supreme Court decided in my favor but had to toss in a number of hoops through which prosecutors have to jump. Said hoops are based on the rationale I used in the original appeal. Eventually, a manager who I happily pissed off used my case to further his career. Except his career went nowhere. As a friend says, he was kissed by karma.

Posted in bipolar disorder, Depression, Fiber, Photography

Has It Stopped Hurting Yet?

Posted on by debthumanblog

I’m filled with unease. Unsatisfaction. Emptiness. Depression. There’s an unspeakable lack inside. Something so basic, and something which cannot be discussed. Discussion won’t fill the emptiness. I know; I’ve tried. I don’t have any answers. At least I’m not suicidal. Yet this misery disappears as quickly as it appears. While it’s here, I think whatever art I’m working on sucks. The photos I take don’t amaze me, yet I can’t tell if they are bad shots. The necklaces I’m working on look ugly to me. There’s no magic in them.

I’m about to embark on another Magical Mystery Ketamine Tour. I have a zoom meeting on Tuesday. I’ll get sent my supply of Ketamine and I will be working on how to love myself.

I’ve finished writing the novel. Now, I need to find an agent; but to do that, I need to distill 43,000 words into one gut-grabbing sentence. Writing the novel was easier. In the meantime, I’ve started writing the second novel. I’m not looking forward to writing pages only to discard them. It’s the only way I know to write a novel.

I’ve been working on some fabric designs. I’m waiting for a good sale at Spoonflower so I can get 168+ designs proofed.

I’ve been playing around with lines and dots.

And squiggles

I love designing with metallic colors.

I think this one might work with the kaleidoscope faces for Apple Watch.

This one is just for fun. I may do some more faces.

There’s a fairy ring in the back yard. It’s not made of mushrooms and toad stools. This one is made of yucca plants. The circle of yuccas was growing wild, and we left it where it was. We’ve been here 21 years and this is the first time the fairy ring bloomed.

Fairy ring.

Blossoms hiding among the leaves.

This was a tough one to expose. Get the plant exposed properly, and the sky blows out. Get the sky exposed properly, and the plant is black.

Peek a boo.

I haven’t decided if I like this next shot. I usually avoid the traditional golden hours when the world has a golden cast. When I got up yesterday, I saw the fairy ring, and started photographing the blooms in the back yard.

I’m linking with Nina Marie here: https://ninamariesayre.blogspot.com/

My Spoonflower shop is here: https://www.spoonflower.com/profiles/deb_thuman

My online store, Deb Thuman Art is here: http://www.DebThumanArt.com

Posted in Uncategorized

Trying To Ease The Depression

Posted on by debthumanblog

I don’t feel like doing anything and had to push myself to do some photography. Being outside and concentrating on flowers helped, but not enough. I’m going to have to take an extra antidepressant today. My doctor knows I do this when necessary.

I think these would make interesting whole cloth designs.

Jim broke up the iris clump last fall and now we’ve got little clumps flowering.

Each of the claret cup cactus bloom at a different time.

Close up of claret cup flowers.

I’m linking with Nina Marie here: https://ninamariesayre.blogspot.com/

My Spoonflower shop is here: https://www.spoonflower.com/profiles/deb_thuman

My shop Deb Thuman Art is here: http://www.DebThumanArt.com

Posted in Photography

Moon Magic

Posted on by debthumanblog

While I’m a whole lot steadier than I was before physical therapy, I’m still not ready to get out the tripod and the 150-600mm lens and shoot the moon. I’m afraid I’ll start to feel unsteady and trip over the tripod. I’m still using my 18-400mm lens for moon shots.

Next, I added magic.

I’ll use the shots for fabric designs.

My Spoonflower shop is here: https://www.spoonflower.com/profiles/deb_thuman

My shop Deb Thuman Art is here: http://www.DebThumanArt.com

Posted in bipolar disorder

Some Days, Being Bipolar Sucks

Posted on by debthumanblog

I seem to be having a mixed episode where I get to be simultaneously manic and depressed. So far today, I walked into a shit storm and got viciously attacked. Next, I made the mistake of believing someone who said they wanted to understand. Hah! Found out the hard way the person wasn’t serious. I have a good reason for being depressed. I can’t solve the problem my myself and I’m the only one who wants to solve the problem. Alternative options aren’t ones I’m willing to pursue – mostly because the options are irreversible and likely worse than the original problem. Although I try hard to handle customer service issues via email, that’s not always possible. I had no choice but to make a phone call. Naturally the customer service number on the website wasn’t the correct number. I did get the issue resolved, but there’s no reason for it to be this difficult to rectify a simple matter.

So. What do I do? I don’t feel like making art. I don’t feel like reading. I don’t feel like doing anything. I had to force myself to take my psych meds. I wish my dog were fully trained to be my service dog. I know she could help me if only she had learned what smells needed her attention. We’ve just started the service dog training. At present, she’s learning how to navigate Hobby Lobby and JoAnn’s.

I feel like eating everything that isn’t nailed down, but that would only make me feel worse. And it’s Passover so treats are difficult and I don’t feel like driving to the store to buy chocolate chips so I could make matzoh crack.

And so I sit here feeling depressed, miserable and not finding a viable solution. Today, being bipolar sucks.

Posted in Beads, Peripheral neuropathy, Photography

Painkiller

Posted on by debthumanblog

I’m having a peripheral neuropathy flareup and the only reliable painkiller is to make art. I’ve been making lots of art.

One of the claret cup cactus clumps is blooming. We have several clumps, and each one blooms at a different time. The clump that is blooming now always blooms first and always has the most blooms.

Because the vertigo is under control, I can do more night time shooting. I prefer to shoot a less than full moon because I think smiley moons are intriguing.

I’ve been making jewelry and I’m s….l…..o….w….l….y getting the pieces put into my online store, Deb Thuman Art. The problem is it’s hard to tell if the entire necklace is in the photo online. I have to put an item in my store, write up copy, and then check the store to see if the entire necklace shows in the photos. So far, I have to reshoot one necklace.

Deep blue tiger eye, creamy pearls and Swarovski crystals. Swarovski is no longer making crystal beads. I do have a stash of Swarovski crystals, but once they are gone, I can’t get any more.

Agate and quartz. What the gem looks like depends on what flies out of the volcano, where it lands, and how fast or slow the lava cools.

I couldn’t resist buying these iridescent glass leaves.

These three necklaces are in my on-line store, Deb Thuman Art http://www.DebThumanArt.com

I don’t often make jewelry for myself. I gathered all my favorite gems – smokey quartz, malachite, rhodochrosite, pearls among others and made a necklace for myself.

I have a Spoonflower store here: https://www.spoonflower.com/profiles/deb_thuman

I’m linking with Nina Marie here: https://ninamariesayre.blogspot.com/

Put Your Foot Down 183 here: https://fortheloveofgeese.com/put-your-foot-down-183/

An Accidental Finish here: https://alyciaquilts.blogspot.com/2023/03/an-accidental-finish-and-finished-or.html

Posted in bipolar disorder, Child abuse, Depression, Mental Illness

Ketamine

Posted on by debthumanblog

I’ve finished five ketamine treatments and have one to go. My original goal was to be able to decrease the dose of my psych meds. I was trying to find a dosage that was high enough to be effective and low enough that I didn’t turn into a zombie.

Ketamine is supposed to cause the brain to form new neural connections. And it does. After I had a ketamine infusion in 2021, my brain felt full and illuminated by a golden white light. Suddenly, the debilitating depression was gone. I was hoping at home ketamine would be as helpful.

I’m using ketamine from Mindbloom https://www.mindbloom.com/?utm_source=adwords&utm_medium=cpc&utm_campaign=PM_Search_Branded_Exact_12.2021&utm_device=c&utm_content=634257646790&gclid=Cj0KCQjw2v-gBhC1ARIsAOQdKY3DwvUHrMYjpVEMOfzeIRw_Vp33LvOZiZEw9mBxC2bj0EcZkQ7l1nIaAvhDEALw_wcB, an on-line treatment for depression. Instead of the Magical Mystery Tour with hallucinations, I was merely relaxed during the ketamine session. My brain would daydream. And progress was made without hallucinations.

I’ve been able to decrease the dosage of lamictal and wellbutrin. I have less brain fog. I still lose words and thoughts, but not as often as before ketamine.

There have been some interesting effects I hadn’t expected. Sixteen years of child abuse followed by 18 years of being treated like crap left me with complex PTSD. While I don’t remember the last time I had a repeating nightmare, I still had flashbacks. The flashbacks were no longer debilitating, but they were unwanted and irritating. After struggling with flashbacks for more than 50 years, the flashbacks are gone. The memories are now powerless. I feel stable. Freedom from complex PTSD was unexpected, and wonderful.

I find I’m eating less. My misery with food has a history. The earliest memories are about my grandmother making me toast and a soft boiled egg for breakfast and my mother making pancakes on a weekend. The pancake memory features me sitting in a high chair. A month before my 4th birthday, my mother married, and my life became confusing hell in which I tried to stay quiet and small enough that I wouldn’t get hit. I was never successful. My mother didn’t eat breakfast, so she refused to feed me, or my siblings, breakfast. I remember sitting in school being so hungry and waiting for lunch. Food became a symbol of love. As I tried so hard to get my mother and her husband to love me, all I had of love was food. And fear of fat. So I ate. Or I didn’t eat. Am I “cured” of emotional eating? I don’t know. I just know I’m not eating as much.

My sixth and final dose of ketamine will be sometime this coming week. I haven’t yet scheduled the session. I have options. I can do nothing and watch my emotional responses. I can go to the next step, going deeper, and have another six sessions. I haven’t yet made a decision although I’m leaning towards going deeper. I don’t want to lose the healing momentum.

Posted in Abstract Art, Photography

Hibernian Heritage Day

Posted on by debthumanblog

is dlíodóir atá ionam

Literally, it is a lawyer that is in me and would be the response to a question about what I do for a living. I believe language is a reflection of a culture. Gaelic is the language of a story teller.

Used to be, I thought St. Patrick’s Day was a great day if one was Irish and an excuse to get drunk if one was not. Then, when I was 34, I discovered I’m Scot-Irish. I was right; St. Patrick’s Day is a great day if one is Irish. The first St. Patrick’s Day I spent knowing I’m Irish was special. I celebrated who I am and who I always was. A friend and I ate at McGinty’s in Buffalo, NY. I had corned beef and cabbage. Once a year is about how often I can eat corned beef and cabbage. It’s not haute cuisine. I washed it down with Guinness. If I ever get to Ireland, the first thing I want to do is walk into a bar and order Guinness. I want to know if Guinness in the US tastes the same as Guinness in Ireland.

After surviving Moot Court in my second year of law school, Jim, Subrata – my moot court partner, and I celebrated at Sean Patrick’s. I should have figured out I wasn’t in an Irish restaurant when I read the house special in the menu: spaghetti. Still, I asked the waitress if they had Guinness. “No. What is that?” It should be a felony to try to pass your establishment off as Irish and not serve Guinness.

Last year, for the first time, I managed to make edible Irish soda bread. The other recipes I had tried were dense and salty. No, I don’t remember the recipe I used last year.

This is spring break, so Jim and I have the painting studio mostly to ourselves. I’ve finished up a self-portrait as viewed from the inside and I think I’ve finished a social commentary painting.

This is the self-portrait as viewed from the inside.

Social commentary.

It’s spring in the desert and the claret cup cactus is blooming.

I’m linking with Nina Marie here: https://ninamariesayre.blogspot.com/

My Spoonflower shop is here: https://www.spoonflower.com/profiles/deb_thuman

My store, Deb Thuman Art is here: http://www.DebThumanArt.com

Posted in Abstract Art, Garden

Spring And Stuff

Posted on by debthumanblog

Today, we spring forward. Bleah! I detest daylight savings time. Just when it’s starting to be light out when I have to get up, the time changes and I’m back to getting up in the dark. When it’s light out, my brain tells me it’s time to get up. When it’s dark out, my brain is convinced it’s the middle of the night. As for permanent daylight savings time….it’s like ripping off a bandage. Put it in place so people can see for themselves what a dumb idea it is – especially when their kids have to wait for the school bus in the dark – and then permanently get rid of it.

Spring in the desert is a little different from spring in the north east. No crocus. No tulips. No iris.

I’m not sure what this is, but it’s growing in the back yard.

Claret cup cactus buds. They should be open in about a week. There are several clumps of claret cup cacti in the yard, and each clump blooms at a different time.

I’ve been working on fabric designs.

I’m linking with Nina Marie here: https://ninamariesayre.blogspot.com/

My Spoonflower shop is here: https://www.spoonflower.com/profiles/deb_thuman

My store, Deb Thuman Art is here: http://www.DebThumanArt.com

Posted in International Women's Day

A Woman’s Place Is

Posted on by debthumanblog

Anywhere she wants to be.

Today is International Women’s Day. When I entered the workforce in 1970, pregnancy was mandatory, women needed higher grades to get into college, and help wanted was divided into: Help Wanted Female; Help Wanted Male.

Many years, many fights, many lawsuits later, we still have a wage gap, pregnancy is once again mandatory, and we have a generation of women who have no clue how long and how hard we had to fight so they could have more opportunities.

When I was in college majoring in biology, there were two women professors in the biology department. One allowed students to address her as Mrs. Wilson. She had the same doctoral degree the men had. They were Dr. She was Mrs. A chemistry teacher, male, after refusing to answer my question, told me I was incapable of learning. The next chemistry teacher, also male refused to answer questions women asked….until the day I had enough and we had a battle in the middle of class. No one won. In a physics class, I was confused about something or other. One of the male students told the professor: Come on, answer the girl’s question. The professor ignored him, too.

When I entered law school at a notoriously liberal law school in 1990, mine was the first class to be half female. It only took 101 years to achieve that.

When I started practicing in 1994, I was stuck in the Women’s Area Of Law. That would be family court dealing with abuse, neglect, custody, and all the crap that two people can hurl at each other. I knew I had to get out of family law the day I decided the best way to handle custody disputes was to throw each parent off the roof of the courthouse. Whichever one bounced the highest got the kids. The sick part wasn’t my idea. The sick part is the parents would have agreed. The other half of Women’s Area Of Law was sex crimes – especially sex crimes against children. I managed not to get stuck in sex crimes.

It’s been a long fight, and a long fight remains.

No matter your age or experience, pick up the torch and carry it. What lifts one of us lifts us all.

Posted in Abstract Art, Judiasm, Photography

There Used To Be Magic

Posted on by debthumanblog

Mine is the last generation that will see magic in the night sky. Ancient people looked up at the sky, and saw stars arranged into constellations. Legends were created for these constellations. Escaping slaves followed the drinking gourd which pointed to the north star as they traveled along the underground railroad. The moon was made of green cheese. People counted, and some still do, time by the phases of the moon. There was a Man In The Moon. The night sky was filled with magic.

In July 1969, the magic died. The instant Neil Armstrong’s boot touched the surface of the moon, we exchanged magic for knowledge. We lost more than we gained.

I took Brady out to pee, and looked up. There was a smiling moon and a bright venus. I tried to put magic back into the night sky by making the moon out of green cheese.

Life. This one surprised me. Although it was not my conscious intention, there’s a Hebrew letter here. It’s called “shin” and the letter makes the sh sound. It’s also the first letter of one of our most important prayers and the letter that adorns a mezuzzah.

Gestation.

This is the first in a series of three paintings about life. When I was little, I tried hard to remember where I was before I was born. I couldn’t access the memory but I knew I existed before I was born. I eventually came to understand the concept of a soul. The soul exists long before conception and long after death.

Life.

Death.

I need to clean up the edges on this one.

I’m linking with Nina Marie here: https://ninamariesayre.blogspot.com/

My store is here: http://www.DebThumanArt.com

My Spoonflower shop is here: https://www.spoonflower.com/profiles/deb_thuman