Whittoons

Our last night on the trek in the wagon across America, did not start out well. The sun had set and we were late in locating out campground, Dad took a wrong turn on the way to the campsite. Once he realized the error in reading the map in the dark, we were on a single lane road climbing up the mountain…with no space to turn around. Mom was on the outside looking down…way down into the valley below. She did not like heights. She was not happy. It did not help that we kept pointing out the distant, tiny lights way below.

No way to back down with the trailer. There was nothing to do but keep heading up. And UP. And UP. We were doomed.

Finally we reached the end of the road at a fire tower. And there was room to turn around. We were saved.

On my safe return to the family, the group was very relieved. In appreciation, Dad gave me one slap on the butt for all my pathfinding. I was so confused. I thought I had done the right thing in heading from the point of no return to our last known place of contact. But I guess I was guilty of abandoning the team when it faced the insurmountable odds of survival. Next time I would speak out and rally the troops. All for One and One for All.

On a yearly basis, as we approach Easter, I move from drawing two dimensional cartoon characters to molding three dimensional characters inspired from film and literature. The egg is the fundamental building block for these creatures…carefully blown eggs.

Originally I used boiled eggs. Big Mistake. My wife took one to work for a show and tell. On the bus home, the character exploded. Not pretty.

In blowing eggs, I also learned not to bust a gut. After drilling fine holes at both ends of the egg with a needle-like implement, blowing out the fluid was an ear popping experience that brought stars to my eyes…and often led to cracked eggs and a gross mess. I found the right tool – a baby nasal aspirator that does wonders extracting the egg yolk and whites.

Each year I have searched the papers and internet for popular cartoon films, looking for my muse egg or two, waiting for some characters to speak to me. I heeded the call, “To Infinity and Beyond!”, “My Precious!”, “Oh, I am detecting nuttiness.”, “We’re all mad here.”, among other catchy phrases. If there is a theme, I might do two or three characters from the same film.

Given that certain nieces and nephews loved the creations, I started making duplicates so that my own cast of characters might surround me in my studio, posing in my muse gallery.

Some of my egg creations met grim fates in their adopted homes, crashing like Humpty Dumpty due to the over exuberance of a child handler. So as the kids have grown older, I have hoarded the creations for myself.

I Am the EggMan, Goo goo g’joob.

They say there is no looking back. But after my mad dash, and inspired by Davy to vanquish the creatures, I turned.

Nothing. They had vanished. Perhaps my deadly stare turned them to stone. Or Bear’s GROWL had sent them scurrying back into the Ocean.

Forget fight.. this was all flight. If this was Survival Of The Fittest, I was going to rely on my homing instinct and track our footprints back to the car and where we last saw the adults.

I heard the crunching gravel as the creatures pursued me on turgid tails and slimy arms. Their putrid, hot breath exhaled with malice aforethought made me choke as I gasped for salty air. At this terrific pace, I did not know how long my adrenaline rush would last. My muscles burned.

I called upon the spirt of Davy Crockett to give me strength so I could outrun my pursuers. After all, I was in my element. They were not in theirs.