Landfill Harmonic…by ARHuelsenbeck

This article previously appeared on ARHtistic License.

You may have heard of the Recycled Orchestra of Cateura, Paraguay. This YouTube video, posted in 2012, has been viewed more than seven million times:

Cateura is the site of a huge garbage dump. The 2500 families who live there make a living by scavenging the dump for materials they can sell.

All of their need come from discards. Even their homes are built from garbage.

Favio Chavez, an environmental engineer employed by the dump, observed thousands of children who lived their lives surrounded by garbage. And drugs.

Wanting to provide a ray of hope, Chavez volunteered to teach kids to play musical instruments. He started with a number of donated instruments, which quickly ran out.

Chavez justly gets credit for his vision. He must be an accomplished musician, but I was unable to find any information about his background. For sure, he is an excellent and inspiring teacher, as evidenced by the accomplishments of his students.

And the children! Their dedication to practice shows in the way their performances shine.

A documentary about the orchestra, called Landfill Harmonic, came out in 2016:

In my opinion, the unrecognized angel of the orchestra is Nicola Gomez. A carpenter by trade, “Don Cola” Gomez is who Chavez turned to when he needed more instruments for his students. Could he fashion some violins from materials from the landfill?

Gomez had never seen or heard a violin before. But somehow, he made one out of baking sheets, pallet wood, a fork, and old wires. And then he made some more. Soon, he branched out to other kinds of instruments. Trumpets made from drainage pipes. Drums with x-ray film heads.

Amazingly, despite the humble materials he used to build the instruments, they sound remarkably good. It’s not easy to hand-make instruments that will play in tune with other instruments. Especially without specialized training. The man is an acoustical genius.

60 Minutes produced this segment about the Recycled Orchestra:

I recently visited the Musical Instrument Museum in Phoenix, and some of the Cateura instruments are on display there (click on the small pictures to enlarge and read captions):

Posted in Hope, Music, Uncategorized | Tagged , , , , , | Leave a comment

In the Meme Time: When in Doubt

Do What is Right

Posted in Memes | Tagged | Leave a comment

Video: The Unicorn in Captivity

Sharing a discussion about my favorite tapestry by Khan Academy:

Posted in Art, Uncategorized | Tagged , , | Leave a comment

I is for Icon…by ARHuelsenbeck

This article first appeared on ARHtistic License.

Christ

An icon (from Greek εἰκών eikōn “image”) is a religious work of art, usually a portrait-style painting, used in Eastern Orthodox churches and homes. The most common subjects are Christ, Mary, and saints.

Menas

Eastern Orthodox tradition holds that the creation of Christian images dates back to the very early days of Christianity, and identifies Luke the Evangelist as the first icon painter. Icons can only be traced back as far as the 3rd century A.D. The icons of later centuries can be linked, often closely, to images from the 5th century onwards, though very few of these survive.

 

St. Peter

Though the Roman Catholic church encouraged religious art, other Christian denominations are wary about the veneration of “graven images,” forbidden in the commandments (see Exodus 20:4). Even the Orthodox church outlawed images at times. During 726-842, the Byzantine Iconoclasm destroyed most existing icons.

Madonna of Czestochowska

The iconographer is expected prepare himself for his work by following a strict discipline of fasting and prayer. Painting the icon is not a use of imagination. Instead, the icon is painted using the prescribed regimen and style passed down through the centuries. Everything from the facial expressions to the colors used is predetermined. It is understood that a person who saw him in the flesh painted the first icon of an individual; each subsequent iconographer will use the original icon as a guide.

401px-Vladimirskaya (our lady of Vladimir

Icons depict silence; no actions displayed, no open mouths. The icon invites the Christian to enter into contemplation, prayer, and silence. Space is not defined as three-dimensional and time is insignificant. Lighting proceeds from the character portrayed in the icon. There are never shadows in icons. And since the icon’s purpose is to lead the believer into worship, the artist never signs his work.

Angel Gabriel

 

Trinity_tikhon_filatiev

Information for this article was taken from:

Posted in Art | Tagged , , | 1 Comment

Why to Read Aloud to Children

Posted in children, Parenting, Reading, Teaching | Tagged , | Leave a comment

In the Meme Time: Marriage

Marriage rachael-crowe-78854-unsplash

Posted in Doing Life Together, Faithfulness, Forgivness, Love, Marriage, Memes | 3 Comments

Life Lessons Learned from my Parents

Mom passed away in 2004, Dad in 2013. I miss them every day.

Mother's Day; Father's Day

My parents, 1951

In this season between Mother’s Day and Father’s Day, I would like to honor my parents by enumerating the ways they made me what I am.

My parents taught me:

  1. To work hard. Whatever chores they assigned me, I was expected to do them well, without complaining, and be happy that I was contributing to my family. (I often disappointed them by not complying with the no complaining and happiness stipulations.) My father worked long hours and sometimes worked a second job to support our family. He worked so hard at his baking job that he eventually became a partner in the business.
  2. To learn as much as I can. There was never any doubt that my brother and I would go to college. My parents didn’t have the opportunity, but they were determined that we would. Excellence was expected. My mother didn’t like to see anything less than an A on our report cards.
  3. To do the right thing. My parents sent us to parochial school because they wanted us to have a Christian education. Imagine my surprise to learn that many of our house rules grew out of the Ten Commandments. I thought my parents’ strictness was out of a desire for me not to have any fun. When my teachers reinforced my parents’ guidelines, I realized a higher authority decreed them.
  4. To play outside. My mother wanted me to enjoy being active in the fresh air, but I didn’t appreciate it at the time. (I think she also needed a break from me.) In the summertime especially, she always told me to go play outside, maybe ride my bike. Summer in New Jersey is humid and miserable, so I’d ride my bike—to the library, which was air-conditioned. Which takes me to the next item.
  5. To read a lot. I was reading by the time I started kindergarten. I think it was because my mother read to me every day and underlined the words with her pointer finger as she said them. We had a collection of Little Golden Books because they were inexpensive. When a neighbor family invited me to go to the library with them, I was thrilled to learn I could borrow as many books as I wanted as long as I brought them back two weeks later. My world expanded, and reading became a life-long love.
  6. To look for bargains. When I grew up, my parents were struggling financially. My mother pinched pennies until they cried for mercy. Often when we asked for something, my mother would say, “Maybe when it goes on sale.” To this day, I find it hard to pay full price for anything. Whenever I enter a store, I head for the clearance rack first. I hate to waste money when a more economical alternative might be available.
  7. To save things that might be useful. My parents were incredibly thrifty and upcycled and reused long before it was fashionable. When they remodeled our childhood home to include a second floor, Dad reused the attic stairs as access to a treehouse he built us. My mother saved the strings on teabags and used them to darn my father’s white work socks.

In a nutshell, these lessons my parents taught me have served me well and contributed to the making of the person I am today. Thank you, Mom and Dad.

Your Legacy
by ARHuelsenbeck

Watching you, I learned how to nurture.
You modeled how to put another’s needs before yourself.
You gave me what I needed to grow.
You showed me how to make wise decisions.
You taught me to act with integrity.
You helped me find the beauty hidden by the pain.

If you can see anything of value in me,
It’s because of you.
I am your legacy of love.

Posted in Family Life, Family Stories, Father's Day, Fathers, Life Lessons, Mother's Day, mothers, Parenting | Tagged | 7 Comments

Unwanted Houseguests…by ARHuelsenbeck

I always wear shoes in my house.

I live in the Arizona desert.

I actually live in a lovely urban/suburban area outside Phoenix. But, technically, it’s a desert.

Because it’s rather densely developed, we don’t have some of the wildlife Arizona’s famous for, like javelinas, Gila monsters, and rattlesnakes. When we first moved here, there was a roadrunner in our neighborhood, but he eventually disappeared.

scorpio-1165688_640

However, thar be scorpions. And occasionally they come inside. We see one four or five times a year in our house—climbing up the dishwasher, strolling down the hallway, blending into the carpet… My husband and our five children have all been stung. So far I’ve not had the pleasure.

Shoes and clothing lying on the floor are favorite hiding places for scorpions. One daughter put on her jeans and got stung on her butt.

After one of our children was stung, she said, “I’ll never worry about getting stung again.” Our common scorpions here are not deadly. The stings hurt initially, but soon the affected body part turns numb, which lasts for a few days.

Friends who moved here before us told of going out scorpion hunting at night (when they’re most active) with blacklights. The lights cause the scorpions to glow, making them easy to see in the dark. Frankly, they’re crunchy. Just whack them once or twice, and they’re history. We keep a couple of flyswatters hanging on nails in the kitchen and the hall by the bedrooms. I’m our family’s prime scorpion executioner.

I’ve heard that if you hit a pregnant scorpion, you’ll release her many offspring, although I tried Googling that, and I didn’t find any articles to support that theory. (Apparently, it’s true of wolf spiders, though.) Mother scorpions do carry their young on their backs for 22 days, so if you try to whack one of them, you’ll have to be certain you get them all.

Raid didn’t even slow this scorpion down. (Note: Raid does not claim to be effective against scorpions.)

Sprayed pesticides have limited effect on scorpions because their bodies don’t touch the surface of the ground. One way to decrease your scorpion population is to address their food source. Do you hear crickets? Better put down some cricket crystals, because scorpions consider crickets gourmet delicacies.

Posted in Doing Life Together, Uncategorized | Tagged | 2 Comments

What Good are Student Demonstrations? …by ARHuelsenbeck

On National Walk-Out Day this past Tuesday, students at thousands of American high schools left their classrooms at 10:00 a.m. to protest against gun violence such as the attack at Stoneman Douglas High School in Parkland, Florida last month that resulted in seventeen deaths. One comment I heard about the walk-out was, “What good do demonstrations accomplish?”

Empty classroom feliphe-schiarolli-445578-unsplash

Students are virtually powerless. Most of the protesters are too young to vote. But their eloquence and their unwillingness to accept the status quo could help sustain attention on the issue of gun violence and the need for our society to come up with a feasible solution.

I don’t know if stricter laws are the answer. People who are determined to do evil don’t respect the law; they find ways to circumvent it.

I think what we really need in our society is more concern for others. Love should be taught by parents starting from their children’s infancy. Quality mental health care should be more readily available. Clearly, the Florida shooter was a deeply disturbed young man. But enough of my theories.

Getting back to our original question, if students can continue to challenge the national stagnancy on gun violence, I believe they may be able to influence significant change.

Studentssamantha-gades-540992-unsplash

I read a scripture verse this morning that encouraged me in this regard. “Don’t let anyone look down on you because you are young, but set an example for the believers in speech, in life, in love, in faith and in purity (1 Timothy 4:12 NIV).”

These words were written by the apostle Paul to Timothy, whom he appointed leader of the Christian church in Ephesus. Scholars approximate Timothy’s age at around thirty, unusually young for such a high level of authority in a culture that respected the experience and wisdom of the aged. Paul’s advice to Timothy was to be above reproach in his behavior.

My counsel to young people who desire to effect change:

  • Keep speaking out. Don’t give up.
  • Act with integrity. Your good behavior validates your message.

Do you think young people can bring about a paradigm shift in our culture of violence? Please share your thoughts in the comments below.

Posted in America, Gun violence, Hope, National Walk-Out Day, Uncategorized | Tagged | 7 Comments

My First Job…by ARHuelsenbeck

My parents were immigrants from Germany. My mother’s sister married an American G.I. after World War II, and she and her husband sponsored my parents’ entry into the United States. I was conceived in Germany but born in the United States.

After my parents became American citizens, they sponsored my mother’s cousin’s family to come over from Germany. I knew her as Aunt Lizi and her husband as Onkel Willi. Their three children were Volkmar, Claus, and Gudrun. My dad helped Onkel Willi (a professional baker) get a job in the bakery where he worked. The family lived with us for a short time. I don’t remember that because I was so young, but Claus told me years later he remembered watching Hopalong Cassidy on television with me.

My mother and Aunt Lizi had many fallings out. Some years they wouldn’t even speak. But then they’d forgive each other and start visiting each other again. I have memories of lots of fun times together at their house or ours.

greta-punch-62508

Toward the end of junior year in high school, I wanted a real job to save money for college, something other than babysitting (although I continued to babysit through college). My dad talked to Uncle Willi, who now owned a bakery two towns away. He hired me to work in his store. I wore a white uniform and waited on customers. I sliced bread, filled jelly donuts and eclairs, and eventually frosted and decorated cakes.

My school let out early enough that, even with taking the bus to the bakery, I got there before the nearby Catholic high school released for the day. Many of the students (some of whom had been my classmates in elementary school) stopped in to buy a brownie or a giant cookie before they returned home—the after-school rush. (I enjoyed a certain status by working at a place that was popular with teenagers.) I also worked on the weekends. Sunday morning was another busy time, with parishioners buying crumb buns, cinnamon raisin buns, and hard rolls for breakfast after Mass.

ramiro-mendes-371663.jpg

One of Onkel Willi’s little quirks was that he left the drawer of the cash register open when he closed the store for the night. He wanted to be sure that if a burglar broke in, he wouldn’t destroy the cash register trying to get into it. (Cash registers were expensive.) He left about forty dollars in the machine, reasoning that any less, and the burglar might vandalize the store. He figured forty dollars was the threshold at which the burglar would just take the money and leave. (We’re talking 1969. Forty bucks was a fair chunk of change in those days.)

I worked at the bakery until I left for college. When I came home the first summer, I found a new job at a local dry cleaner, because I wanted a position won completely on my own merits, without my dad’s help.

But I always remember with fondness my very first job at the bakery, where the fragrances of vanilla, butter, yeast, and cinnamon greeted me as I passed through the portal.

What was your first job? Was it a good experience? Share in the comments below.

 

Posted in Memoir | Tagged , | 15 Comments