The Midnight Mascot and the Chewed Cover

This is another Lola the Cat entry.

Lola, as our readers know, is the OFFICIAL MIDNIGHT IN CHICAGO STUDIO CAT. We gave her that designation because she seems to make her way into the Midnight In Chicago Podcast Recording Studio at every possible opportunity, and recently she left her mark on one of Elyse’s efforts in a big way, although this time it was not a podcast.

Elyse and I are busy people.

We both have a number of MIC irons in the fire — the website, this blog, the newsletter, upcoming CDs, forthcoming podcasts, future appearances, impending MIC related events, and more.

She teaches music lessons, is a mom to a wonderful young boy with Asperger Syndrome, and we both moderate nine forums for people with Asperger Syndrome.

All of it takes up so much time that we barely have time for ourselves.

We do manage to get out though. We do things like hike trails, and with Elyse being a shutter-bug, we go on “photo safaris” around our respective hometowns.   Not that long ago, we saw Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull.  Going to movies is a luxury for Elyse in terms of time spent.

Not long after Elyse and I started meeting up in person and got the project going –- more than two years ago and nearly three years ago at this point – Elyse started knitting this HUGE … and I mean gigantic afghan/bed cover. In her typically meticulous style, every stitch looked like every other stitch, and every row was straight as a ruler. She just finished it a few weeks ago.

Up until the cat got to it, I figured it would wind up on “The Antiques Roadshow” maybe two hundred years from now and bring fifty thousand dollars (US OR Canadian). In fact, in looking at its size (big enough to drape a queen sized bed), the yarn alone must have cost that much.

Then Lola the Cat, our Midnight Mascot and OFFICIAL MIDNIGHT IN CHICAGO STUDIO CAT got an interesting idea in her head, which in English probably translates into: “Hey! Yarn!”

She chewed a hole in the afghan. And a big one too. Enough for her to see through it and bat her sheepish and sorrowful eyes at us.

Picture a golf course where the lawn mowing man looks at his watch and veers off on a tangent before he realizes what he is doing, and then steers back onto the straight line he was cutting. The grass left uncut sticks out like the repair on the Afghan.

And yet, we all survived.

Despite the fact that this repair took Elyse some time to accomplish, undaunted and undeterred, she valiantly continued to do the work necessary to keep Midnight In Chicago thriving in the meantime.

THAT, ladies and gentlemen, is representative of the commitment that BOTH of us have to this project.

Thomas D. Taylor
Co-Creator
MIDNIGHT IN CHICAGO

Aspie Art and Heart to Heart

Elyse and I were at the Erin Oaks Autism Convention in Mississauga, Ontario in February of this year.   Lewis came with us as he was the one invited to attend and to display — and sell – his artwork.  The youngest of all the Artists exhibiting, Lewis was confident that his Art would touch people’s hearts.  He was right, of course.  

Quite the artist he is, when he is inspired.  I may find myself playing second fiddle to him at some point in time.

While Lewis always enjoys the chance to display and sell his art, what he enjoyed most, I believe, was meeting other people on the spectrum. These spectrum dwellers he was meeting were artists and craftspeople as well, which made the meeting an easier thing for Lewis because immediately, everyone had at least one thing in common — Art.  I don’t think Autistics need much else for a conversation once a common point of departure for discussion has been established.

It was made apparent to me after this episode that Autistics CAN be socially gregarious under the right circumstances, and that maybe non-autistic people would do better to try to relate to people on the spectrum in spectrum-speak.

The artwork produced was fabulous, and when I myself got to talk to these Artists, I was made to understand –- as I have been made to understand many times — that their artwork is, for the most part, windows into their hearts.  They are handing the world a view of Autism on a silver platter, in other words.

I’ve tried to reflect this concept in my own painting entitled “Reaching the Autistic Mind.”  

In that painting, the viewer will see four mazes. Family members enter one way, friends another. Psychologists go through still another, and psychiatrists have their own entrance too.   Four separate mazes, each of varying length, some pathways more quick than others, but all leading to a thing of beauty in the center: The Autistic Mind.

In the painting, I have represented the mind as a sunset on a beautiful beach, but I have also made the viewer look through something like a window to see it.

The painting works well.  It is the same vein as the “Love People With A Difference” painting that I have talked about in a previous entry, and yet different in that one has to take a journey through the mind of an Autistic to understand what the Autistic feels.

The point is, the more I work for this project, the more I realize that I am not just raising funds and awareness for Autism; I am “reaching the Autistic mind” AND the Autistic heart, I suppose, and in so many ways that do my heart good.

Thomas D. Taylor
Co-Creator
MIDNIGHT IN CHICAGO

The Adventures of Lewis Schofield, Professional Kid: Part Three

While it was only Lewis clapping his hands, others in the group were looking on in bemusement.  Some even recognized the melody of the song that had been lifted right out of a more traditional American song.  

 

“They ran through the snow and they ran through the forest.  They ran through the bushes where the beavers wouldn’t go.  They ran so fast they forgot to take their culture back to America and Gulf and Texaco-oh-oh-oh-oh,” he continued.

 

Until you’re the parent of a very engaging and forward thinking child, you’ll never know how often you will find yourself in a similar position to the one being described here.  Suffice it to say that parents with these sorts of children – engaging and forward thinking children – oftentimes find themselves having to think quickly on their feet in order to avoid unfortunate consequences that might happen along the way.

”So if you go to Washington — its buildings clean and nice,” he sang somberly as the song drew to the serious message at the height of the song.  “Bring a pack of matches …” 

At this point, I was very thankful that we hadn’t been strung up and left in the centre of Mammoth Cave by our group.  I was grateful that no one had decided to pull out a Magnum 45 – seeing that it is legal to bear arms in America, I can only assume that in certain states it’s more legal than in others – and shoot us silent.  But then I realized that we weren’t out of the dark yet as Lewis careened into the last line of this specific verse

“Noooooooooooooooooooo!” my mind screamed in terror as I realized that Homeland Security would probably get involved at this point and Lewis and I would be placed on the infamous “No Fly” list all because of a stupid song he heard at the Festival of Lights one summer in Peterborough.

”And we’ll burn the White House twice,” he wailed with as much gusto as he could summon in his little body.  Our fate had been sealed by seven little words.  Twenty-nine letters would end our ability to cross the border from Canada into America for all eternity. 

 

Blissfully unaware of the dangers that awaited us once we exited Mammoth Cave, Lewis finished up the song in fine style that would have made Scotty of the starship Enterprise proud as punch.  “And the White House burned, burned, burned but the Americans won’t admit it.  It burned, burned, burned… it burned and burned and burned.  It burned, burned, burned; I bet that made them mad.  And the Americans ran and cried like a bunch of little babies – Wah Wah Wah — in the war of 1812.”

 

It’s not shame that made me hang my head but rather the hope that in keeping my head down, I could maybe see a secondary route out of the cave that would allow us to avoid our imminent arrest by Homeland Security.  Alas, there was no such escape and we stepped out of the cave into the bright afternoon sunlight.

 

There was no one waiting for us.  

 

“Aha!” I thought to myself.  “They wouldn’t grab us here.  They’ll wait until we’re back at the starting point at the top of the stairs so the witnesses will be warm and comfortable while they give their statements to Homeland Security.”

 

As it was, there was no Homeland Security waiting for us.  Lewis was happily bouncing ahead on the pathway back to the parking lot.  I looked over at Thomas and saw him chuckling.  You see, he’d been watching all the drama the entire time and knew that Homeland Security wouldn’t be called.  It appears that he had been observing the group and realized that they found Lewis’ comments and song rather amusing if not educational.  

 

And what happened to the guard who sounded like a retired Marine drill sergeant?  He calmly went back to his office to prepare for the next group of visitors and with a better of understanding of what he might be in for if he had another young Canadian raise his hand in the cave and say, “I have a comment.”

 

THE END

Elyse Bruce
Founder and Creator
MIDNIGHT IN CHICAGO

The Adventures of Lewis Schofield, Professional Kid: Part Two

“Oh no!” I thought to myself. “Anything but THAT!” But it was too late as Lewis began to sing, the walls of the cave resonanting richly with his charmingly innocent voice.

“Oh come back proud Canadians to before there was TV … no Hockey Night in Canada, there was no CBC!” he began.  The Arrogant Worms, a trio from Kingston (ON) had performed the song — which is actually a “Three Dead Trolls In A Baggie” composition – two summers earlier at the Festival of Lights in Peterborough.  Lewis had taken a shine to their music two years prior to that and knew most of the AW songs by heart.

“In 1812 Madison was mad; he was the president you know.  He thought he’d tell the British where they ought to go,” he continued, his voice picking up steam.  I knew where this was going and it didn’t bode well for the two Canadians in the cave at that point.

“He thought he’d invade Canada; he thought that he was tough.  Instead we went to Washingt-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-on,” he sang, holding the third syllable an inordinately long time before moving on.  When he did move on, he lurched joyfully into the next section of the verse with a hearty, “and we burned down all his stuff!”  There was no stopping him now as the song took on a life of its own down in that cave.

”And the White House burned, burned, burned and we’re the ones that did it.  It burned, burned, burned. while the president ran and cried.  It burned, burned, burned and things were very historical.  And the Americans ran and cried like a bunch of little babies — wah wah wah  — in the war of 1812!”  I had visions of the group returning to the main lobby where the tour had begun minus two Canadians.  I was concerned the Guide might veer the group off in one direction while I tried to quiet my child, my back turned away from the group, leaving us abandoned in the bowels of Mammoth Cave.

Lewis continued, singing louder yet, “Those hilbillies from Kentucky …”  I knew we were dead.  We were IN Kentucky and it was playing with your life to refer to anyone in terms that might be considered derogatory.

“Dressed in green and red, left home to fight in Canada but they returned home dead.”  The song wasn’t even at the halfway point and it was certain that this was not only going to be our last vacation out of the country, but our last vacation period at this rate. 

“It’s the only war the Yankees lost except for Vietnam,” he continued in a reflective part of the song and adding as much musical drama as possible to the song. A large grin spread across his face as he added, “And also the Alamo and the Bay of …HAM!  The loser was America – the winner was ourselves.   So join right in and gloat about the war of 1812.”

The chorus slammed into the second verse with as much gusto as he could muster.  I couldn’t see how we were going to get out of this conundrum I found us in.  And right beside me was a child delighting in the singing of the song, having forgotten that this all began because he and the Guide had differing views on the War of 1812.

Lewis continued with the next verse, singing in his best George M. Cohan Yankee Doodle Dandy presentation, “In 1812 we were just sitting around, minding our own business, putting crops into the ground.  We heard the soldiers coming and we didn’t like that sound so we took a boat to Washington and burned it to the ground.”

It was a train wreck of a song if ever there was one and I could see that we were not going to make it out alive.  In fact, I was certain that everyone was more than willing to become accessories after the fact if any of them decided to silence us permanently.  My mind was reeling.  My stomach was pitching.  What was I going to have to do in order to keep my enchanting offspring from getting us strung up by our ears?

”Oh we fired our guns but the Yankees kept a coming; there wasn’t quite as many as there was a while ago,” he sang, sailing into the bridge of the song.  There was no turning back and no hope for either of us. 

Then I heard the sound of hands clapping together, keeping the beat of the song as the words grew louder and louder with each encouraging clap.  “We fired once more and the Yankees started running — down the Mississippi to the Gulf of Mexico.”

I looked up cautiously and could scarcely believe my own eyes!

END OF PART TWO

Elyse Bruce
Founder and Creator
MIDNIGHT IN CHICAGO

The Adventures of Lewis Schofield, Professional Kid: Part One

It’s been a while since I’ve written in this blog and I thought people might get a chuckle out of reading a more in-depth explanation of the Mammoth Cave (KY) incident in December 2006.

 

Now without a doubt, I will tell you our guide, who I am certain was an ex-Marine Drill Sargeant, was an excellent guide who ensured that his group understood the importance of staying together as a group.  He impressed upon us well before we entered Mammoth Cave the seriousness of disregarding his instructions and what the consequences could be.

 

Descending into Mammoth Cave was magnificent to say the least and I strongly suggest that if any of you have a chance to detour to Mammoth Cave that you do so.  Words cannot describe how absolutely magnificent and awesome the experience is.

 

In any case, Thomas, Lewis and I were part of a small group on that cool day in December when we decided to venture to Mammoth Cave. The subterranean labyrinths of Mammoth Cave have been toured since 1816 but they’ve been used by area people long before then.

 

At one point, our guide who sounded very much like an ex-Marine Drill Sargeant turned to us and announced proudly, “This cave was used to hide munitions in the War of 1812 — the war where the Americans soundly defeated the British invading from Canada.”

Lewis’ hand shot straight up into the air as he had been taught to do in school when he had something to add to the conversation or had a question.   He waited for the guide to notice him, all the while waving his fingers wildly in the hopes he would get his attention in this lightly lit cave.

“Yes, young man, you have a question?” the guide said in a clear, resounding voice.

“I have a comment,” Lewis responded in a calm, polite tone.

 

“And what would your comment be, young man?” the guide asked, his booming voice echoing loudly throughout the cave.

 

“The Americans did NOT soundly defeat the British invading from Canada in the War of 1812.  In fact, we burned your White House down.” 

There was silence.  Dead Silence.

“I’m a retired school teacher,” one senior commented quietly to no one in particular, “and I believe he’s right, you know.”

 

“Young man,” the guide barked out in his most polite bark, “I will not discuss politics with you.”

“I’m not discussing politics, sir,” Lewis answered naively.  “It’s historical fact.”

There was no response from the guide as he turned away from Lewis and continued the tour of the cave in brief silence.  We walked a few steps when suddenly, I heard unmistakable humming coming from right beside me. 

END OF PART ONE 

Elyse Bruce
Founder and Creator
MIDNIGHT IN CHICAGO