by Marty Coleman | May 11, 2011 | Jim Rohn, Well Wealth - 2011 |
What is money attracted to? It’s attracted to worthy people. Who is worthy? Those that invite money in, give money something to enjoy and appreciate, and appreciate money in return. Just like personal hospitality with family and friends, right? So, treat money (and the people who have it) with respect and admiration, offering something of value and money will be attracted to you.
Drawing and commentary by Marty Coleman
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by Marty Coleman | May 10, 2011 | Well Wealth - 2011 |
I like this quote because it asks a logical question that I haven’t heard before. I really haven’t thought about it or researched it long enough to have a definitive answer. So, help me out, tell me what you think is the root of all money.
Drawing and commentary by Marty Coleman of The Napkin Dad Daily
Quote by Ayn Rand (Alisa Zinov’yevna Rosenbaum), 1905-1982, Russian born American novelist
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by Marty Coleman | May 9, 2011 | Anonymous, Well Wealth - 2011 |
Do you know how much money Einstein had? Do you know how big Mark Twain’s house was? Do you know if Florence Nightingale had expensive clothes? What kind of car did Amelia Earhart own?
Chances are you don’t know the answer to those questions. That is because their wealth and worth weren’t defined by their money and material possessions. What about you? Are you under the impression that your wealth and your money are the same? If your money goes away does your wealth go away? How can you protect your wealth even if your money and material goods disappear?
Perhaps your wealth is your legacy, not your money. What does your wealth look like now? What would you like it to look like?
Quote by Anonymous
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by Marty Coleman | May 8, 2011 | Marty Coleman, Sunday in Sunrise - A short story |
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapters Ten & Eleven
Epilogue
Chapter 3
By the time I arrived home it was time to feed my dogs. I have 2 dogs. One is named ‘Flat’. She got this name when we brought her home from the pound 3 years ago. My precocious youngest daughter, Maria, (which her mother insisted was to be pronounced“MAR e uh”) age 7, asked if it was a boy or a girl. When I said it was a girl she said with a snicker ‘Then where are its boobies?’ I said ‘girl dogs don’t have boobies that show unless they have babies.’ Her deadpan older sister, Daria, in middle school and growing unequally in her various body parts said, ‘In other words, she’s flat.’ The name stuck.
The other dog got its name in similar fashion. We found it roaming the streets in a rain storm. We brought it home and before I could dry it, it shook all it’s wetness off, all over me. That same precocious daughter said ‘It likes to shower people!’ Its name is ‘Shower’.
After the dogs were satisfied, I noticed the little yellow light on my phone was blinking. Getting a message was almost as rare as getting mail. The voice on the other end was gravelly but clear. The man speaking said he was interested in the art lessons I advertised. He said his kid wanted to learn how to paint and he couldn’t afford the money or take the time to drive to the museum school in the city 30 miles away. He asked if we could do lessons on Thursday afternoons as it was his only day off.
I called him back and we made plans for him to bring his ‘kid’ over. He must have said ‘my kid’ about half a dozen times. He had that type of voice that you imagined had at least 30 years of cigarette smoke behind it. Right before he hung up he said ‘Oh, the kid wants to learn watercolor stuff most of all. Do you even know how to do that type of art?’. I assured him I did.
Maria, asked if I really was going to give art lessons. I said, ‘Yes, why do you ask?’ She said, ‘Because you are REALLY going to have to clean your studio now!’ I was not looking forward to that.
By the time Thursday afternoon rolled around I had done a pretty good job of cleaning up. I had found 3 sets of watercolors I forgot I had, a broken electric pencil sharpener that I put on the large pile of things to fix on my garage work bench, an apron I had used when I was a waiter and, down in the back of the bottom drawer of my art dresser (where I was stuffing the apron) a very old card I had received from my unwife. Yes, I call her my unwife. She calls me her wasbund.
The card was a first anniversary card. We had been living in a very small farmhouse in Michigan at the time, close to the graduate school I was attending. It made me tear up to read how happy she was about our first year of marriage and how excited she was for our future. The painting on the front was of a sunrise.
As I wiped away my tears I heard a knock on the door. Maria ran to the front door first and opened it. Walking up I saw a grizzled old guy in a pair of bib overalls, a John Deere hat and boots with dry, caked-on mud. He had a face that matched the voice I had heard on the phone. And next to him, with eyes as big as an owls, was red headed Melissa.
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by Marty Coleman | May 1, 2011 | Marty Coleman, Sunday in Sunrise - A short story |
Chapter 2
I rode from the Village Mart to Selma’s Quilt Shop. I was riding a bike, not driving as I usually would. The bike is an old, I mean really old, derailleur type. I found it at a garage sale in the neighborhood I sometimes walk in. The lady selling it told me she couldn’t ride it anymore because a spider living under the seat bit her. She said it was a nasty spider and the bite had left a nasty scar on her derriere. Her husband had found a bunch of spider eggs underneath the seat confirming that that was the spider family abode. She said she was afraid to ride it now but it was a good bike. While I felt sorry for her derriere I was happy to get the bike for cheap.
I go to Selma’s because her store doubles as an art store. I get pencils, markers, watercolors and paper there. Selma is funny and sassy. She wears very thick glasses and very low tops. Imagine a cross between a librarian and a burlesque dancer and you have Selma. She is another who ended up in Sunrise with no idea how she got here. Nobody else has figured out how she got here either.
I needed to check if my little advertisement on her cork board needed replacing. It was one of those simple ones offering art lessons where you take the little tab at the bottom with the person’s name and number on it. I would get a call once in a while but usually not from people in my town but from the larger town a few miles away. The ad in that town I had to replace more often. The ad at Selma’s only had about 3 tabs ripped off, just one more than had been ripped off last time I came by a month ago.
I was also needing some new watercolors and she usually has a set sitting off in a corner waiting just for me to come in every couple months. Today, however, the set wasn’t there. It was instead in the hands of a young girl waiting at the counter. She was perhaps 10 years old, maybe 11. All I could see was her shoulder length red hair, flopping down to pretty much obscure her face. The skin on her shoulders was a mottled mix of brown, red, white and tan, as if she had recently peeled from a sunburn. I got behind her and waited for Selma to return from helping a customer find American flag fabric.
I said to the little girl, “You know, you stole my watercolors”. She turned around with big eyes set in a round freckled face and said “Really? but I really need these today.” I said “Sorry, they are reserved exclusively for me and no one else is allowed to buy them.” The girl looked a bit scared but right then Selma returned and said “Do NOT pay any attention to that man! He thinks he’s the only artist in town but now there is another one and he’ll just have to get used to it!” The girl caught on quick, realized the fun going on and said “That’s right, he will just have to get here before me next time!” I responded “Oh, next time I will be here at sunrise, you can bet on it!” She smiled and paid for the paints. As she skipped towards the door I said “Don’t use too much water with those watercolors”. I wasn’t sure if she heard me as the door closed and she went out of sight.
Selma looked at me sternly and spoke, “You scared the daylights out of her”. “She was ok, I was just about to let her off the hook and tell her I was joking when you came up.” I said. “Yea, well you better be nice to her, Melissa hasn’t had an easy life.” Selma responded. But she didn’t say any more.
I rode my bike back home. As I passed the house of the barking dogs I heard Selma say her name, Melissa. Maybe she is the Melissa of the beautiful sunrise envelope I thought as I speeded up.
© 2011 Marty Coleman
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by Marty Coleman | Apr 29, 2011 | It's A Tornado! - 2011, 2013, Marty Coleman |
In honor of the Royal Wedding of William and Kate, which I stayed up all night to watch (yes I did) I present you with the one hat you should have seen, but didn’t because Posh changed her mind at the last minute, dag nabbit. Another chance of fame and untold wealth down the drain. Oh well.
|
Drawing, exquisite design and pithy commentary by Marty Coleman of The Napkin Dad Millinery Consortium, LTD. |
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by Marty Coleman | Apr 28, 2011 | Anonymous, It's A Tornado! - 2011, 2013 |
Serenity is Not Freedom From the Storm, But Peace Amid the Storm
I helped raised 4 daughters. There was plenty of drama over the years, but what I loved seeing as they grew is their increased ability to hold on with some degree of peace and serenity when their personal or communal storms were raging all around. They weren’t, and aren’t, always successful, any more than I am, but the maturity to have that peace hold longer and stronger is always growing in them, and I am very proud of that.
The ability to find some peace amid a storm is not just beneficial to you, but to everyone around you.
Drawing and commentary by Marty Coleman
Quote by Anonymous
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by Marty Coleman | Apr 27, 2011 | It's A Tornado! - 2011, 2013, Rose Kennedy |
GREAT NEWS! As some of you may know, I do artwork outside of the napkins. I have focused on photo-collage work for many years and I found out yesterday that an exhibition proposal I submitted 6 months ago has been accepted. The show will open in Tulsa in January of 2012. I am very excited about it! I will keep you posted about the details as the time approaches. If you want to know what the theme is, read this napkin and commentary, it tells it all.
We look at ancient ruins and we think they have value. Toppled over, chipped, missing big chunks and yet we see their beauty. Oil paintings covered with years of grime and soot, cracked and drying and yet we see them as beautiful. Old furniture on Antique Road Show, better not have refinished it since the original condition, all scratched up and dirty, is much more valuable.
What about what remains of you after a storm? Are you chipped, scarred, damaged, missing pieces? You are MORE valuable and MORE relatable in that condition than in a pristine one. You have become real after that storms.
Drawing and commentary by Marty Coleman
Quote by Rose Kennedy, 1890-1995, Mother of President John F. Kennedy (among others)
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by Marty Coleman | Apr 26, 2011 | It's A Tornado! - 2011, 2013 |
YOUR TORNADOES
When I do drawings on natural disasters, like the tsunami/earthquake series of last month, I always think of them as metaphors. In this case the crazy way our thoughts and feelings can twist us all around, even if all looks peaceful and pretty on the outside. It’s hard to overcome habitual tornadoes in our mind, those storms we are so used to in our head that we almost would miss them if they were gone. I think of it often when I see people purposefully create drama in their lives.
It’s true on reality TV shows, where the draw comes from watching people who have interesting tornadoes they are more than happy to share with the world. It’s also true among any who are more interested in feeding the storm than escaping it.
Where are do your tornadoes come from?
Drawing and commentary by Marty Coleman
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by Marty Coleman | Apr 25, 2011 | It's A Tornado! - 2011, 2013 |
Every spring in my neck of the woods, Oklahoma, we get hit by some pretty severe weather. This past week we have had high winds that almost blew my small car off the road, hard hail the size of quarters and half dollars that dinged up my car, incredible rain that has created an almost swimmable pond in my back yard, and solid black thunderclouds that look like an anvil about to drop on you.
Of course the superstar in this weather cataclysm is the TORNADO. To those outside the midwest of the US, tornadoes seem like the most capricious and dangerous of events, but in truth they are among the most predictable. I don’t mean you can always know when and where they will hit, but you can know the circumstances and environment when they will create themselves. If those circumstances aren’t there, the tornado will not form.
When those circumstances are there, when it’s bearing down right on you, you get in the basement. If you don’t have a basement you get in an interior room, preferably a bathroom and you get in the tub. You then put a mattress on top of you.
I have a friend who is going through a life tornado now. She is hurt by the storm so far, but she is also doing the smart thing by getting as far away from the storm as she can. She is no longer on certain social networks, she is removing herself from a job, and (not because of the tornado) she is moving to a new town. You might think she is giving up but she is not. She is protecting herself from a very mean and vicious tornado as best she can.
Sometimes it’s what you need to do when a life tornado is approaching.
Drawing and commentary by Marty Coleman of The Napkin Dad Daily
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