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Your Honor,

On behalf of the People, we are requesting detailed information about what is going on beneath our sidewalks and streets. There is undoubtedly a major cover-up underway and we intend to unearth the truth and get to the bottom of this hideous and confusing situation.

The following photo was taken in what was once our beautiful “America’s Finest City” center near the intersection of Broadway and State Street.

Just look at this mess of urban hieroglyphics.

We assume this is supposed to be a map of the underground utilities. For starters, we don’t know anyone who would be capable of deciphering those ridiculous snakey symbols. And how  could they possibly translate them to something useful in the tangled underworld?

For cryin’ out loud people, what we have here is a recently finished sidewalk ramp (see the fresh new concrete curb and pavers above), along with another irregular patched-up street that’s now covered in disgusting orange graffiti. And if that’s not enough, it’s all evidently slated for major demolition that’s too complicated for anyone to decipher. The entire area will be sliced and diced yet again.

Our once beautiful street has become the canvas for incomprehensible demo “instructions.” Oddly enough, breaking the asphalt would destroy the very map of those essential utilities buried below. Although these contractors/craftsmen may be quite proficient with heavy machinery, demolition will certainly require an aggressive steam-shovel or a not so delicate jack-hammer that will wreak havoc once again. This isn’t going to be pretty.

To amuse ourselves we imagined what the symbols might mean. We set out to decode some of the orange hen-scratches in this absurd display of government-authorized tarmac graffiti. Below is the preliminary evidence we offer for your consideration. However, no matter what we figure out, someone must at the very least, answer for the obvious violations of spray can over-reach and asphalt cover-up.

We certainly haven’t completed our investigative work yet, but wanted to share some of the early results before something changes or the paint fades. Help us solve this mystery. Time is of the essence!

The People’s Evidence

Exhibit A

Clearly, what we see here isn’t about utilities at all. Instead, the ICOX! Is code for “I can only exit!—meaning, whoever begins digging in that spot will need to leave work immediately and not return to the job site until a new pay package is approved. In other words, there is an impending strike being planned right before our eyes. Beware!

Exhibit B

This codex is one of the oldest tricks used in street graffiti. Those lines are the directions from that very intersection to the designated road (in red) and diner where all workers will meet for breakfast at 7:00 am on the “start day.” The “C” and the line beside it indicate that they have great coffee (free refills) and an alley in the back for parking.

Exhibit C

That unusual white mark forming the top of a “T” signifies that they will all be riding together in Tom’s white “Crew Cab” pick-up truck (room for 6 total, first come first served). The other lines around it are merely distractions to confuse the un-initiated—very clever indeed.

Summary

The public has a right to know what’s hidden beneath their streets. The time has come for urban transparency! Don’t you agree, that after seeing the above evidence, what we have here is a perfect example of  “Civil Mapping Abuse,” which needs to be exposed. The evidence can no longer be ignored nor obfuscated with the excessive use of orange spray paint!  We intend to fully reveal the truth about what is going on above and below the very ground we walk on. We need some clear indication that our concerns and our words, although not orange, have weight.

The People rest, uneasy and with trepidation,

Thank you Your Honor.

Related Story

Speaking of street graffiti, you might also be interested in another story called “Expression: Art or Vandalism,” which explores some interesting and quite humorous examples of civilian alterations to public street signs at home and abroad. Just click the link above to check it out.

 

 

 

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The real thing

The name Bird-of-Paradise, although originally intended for an exotic bird, is also the popular name of a beautiful flowering plant. After all, the flowers bear a striking resemblance to the bird’s colorful plumage and the shape of its beak. First observed in New Guinea by Europeans in 1522, the bird’s unforgettable appearance spawned myths of having arrived directly from heaven. As a result, the storied fowl became synonymous with power and wealth. Eventually the bird achieved peak status as the National symbol for Papua New Guinea representing freedom and independence.

In contrast, the flower by the same name hails from South Africa, growing wild along the coast and river banks. You might say they are “normal” there. However, in 1773, along came Sir Joseph Banks, a Botanist who recognized the flora as extraordinary, and took the treasured plant back to his home in England, placing his prized specimen in the Royal Botanic Gardens. Due to the striking resemblance between the flower and the bird, the borrowed name “Bird of Paradise” stuck and became the common moniker that followed the exotic plant as it migrated into every warm, frost-free climate around the world.

The incredible Twin

That brings us and our story to one of those warm climates some 250 years later. We were walking in downtown San Diego the other day, as part of our daily routine to a favorite coffee shop. We passed apartments and condos along the way, and by chance, came upon a couple photographing a particular flower (He was apparently the designated photographer while she provided the necessary narrative). There in a flowerbed outside their condo stood one of those gorgeous “bird/plants,” strutting its stuff. We paused to watch as she circled the bloom, swooning and describing its unique qualities. Evidently, what we were looking at was no ordinary “bird-flower.” This one boasted two opposing “beaky things” rather than just one. She declared the anomaly to be a “twin,” and excitedly proclaimed its virtues. This phenomenon of “twin beaks” may or may not be rare, but she was quite taken with it and so we chose to accept her narrative.

For us, this chance encounter with the enamored couple and their flowering Bird was a classic moment where a variety of interesting details came swooping together. A coincidence? A serendipity? Who can say?

In this curious age of AI and “created” reality everywhere we look, we intuitively stopped to briefly connect with real life. We were reminded that there are flashes of sweetness all around us all of the time, we just need to stop and notice. Sometimes we get distracted with “Breaking News,” politics, and world events that are overwhelming. Yet, on a regular Monday morning walk, out of nowhere, various snippets of life from hundreds of years swirled together into a magical encounter. We experienced a heavenly Bird of Paradise that metaphorically flew down and landed at our feet.

Note: The famous Papua New Guinea National Flag with the Golden Bird of Paradise representing freedom and emergence, and the five stars representing the Southern Cross—their proud Pacific location and cooperation with the other Pacific Nations.

Papua New Guinea Flag

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Monarchs Rule

The Unexpected

Today, an unexpected guest arrived at our home. On a beautiful sunny, cloudless June day in San Diego, something amazing happened. Following our lunch on the patio, we left the door wide open to let outside breezes in. Suddenly, there was a fluttering—a shadowy silhouette against the stark white ceiling.

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This quote is from the Lyrics of the musical story called “Follow the Leader.” We all participate in the spectacle of the showman at one time or another whether we know it or not—for good or sometimes not.  Just click the link above and you’ll be whisked away to the original story, music, lyrics and more.

Follow the Leader

 

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The Duomo

Imagine a hiking trail 100 miles long with no particular destination. Rather than hiking to some specific place, what if the trail encircled a landmark, the most magnificent symbol of the Italian Renaissance—the Duomo, Cattedrale Santa Maria del Fiore—the main cathedral in the heart of Florence?  Well, there is such a trail, called The Renaissance Ring, Anello del Rinascimento. The hiking experience results in the deepening of the magic and mystery of that special place known as Firenze—the heart of Tuscany!

The Pinnacle

The famous dome of the Duomo, was thought to be impossible to build, but has been a reality now for nearly 600 years. It’s both a miracle and masterpiece, designed in the 15th century by the great Filippo Brunellischi. Located near the banks of the River Arno, the unforgettable dome can be seen miles away, rising prominently amid the red tile roofs of the old city center. It looms with a rather surreal presence, seen from miles away.

Florence Italy

Florence has history, art and architecture like no other city. However, not many understand the unique relationship the “City of the Lily” has always shared with the rolling hills and beautiful countryside that surrounds the Arno river valley—the small towns that grew up alongside her, but certainly not in her shadow. Characterized by centuries of mutual influence and respect, the connections between the various areas become apparent as you experience the rather intimate valley, not from its center, but rather from its outer edges.

The people who lived in, and loved the surrounding countryside, gazed down into the city where the compelling dome stands watch. Or, if by chance the Duomo was not within view, they knew it was always there, visible from a nearby point just around the bend. And just like us, they surely felt a comfort at its familiar, awesome presence.

To celebrate the relationship between Florence and the communities that hold it, local organizations were tasked to create a continuous ring of trails leading past monasteries, castles, ancient walled cities, and country churches that all grew up together in that larger “Florentine family.” While unraveling the story, we’ve walked meadows, old Roman roads, mule trails, through olive groves, vineyards and cypress woods. There are 13 unique itineraries that break the 170 kilometers (100 miles) down into day-length pieces. With the help of train and bus schedules in hand, we charted our excursions, to experience the entire circle—slowly and thoughtfully, just like it evolved over the centuries.

Every leg of the grand circle can be coupled with a quaint overnight, or a relaxing Italian meal and a bus or train ride home. In any case, there will be a series of unforgettable experiences that add up to one grand loop around one of the world’s most fascinating regions.

Below is a companion story about one particular section of the circular trail that is known for its intact collection of ancient “Butter Houses,” scattered around the mountainside.  Just click below to discover the rest of the story which is a unique hiking exploration all by itself.

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The Butter Houses

Fonterinalda

C’era una volta, once upon a time, in the Tuscan hills just north of Florence, Italy, lived some very poor farmers. Their homes were usually one room, built high in the mountains, where both family and animals dwelled together. Life was difficult, but they were thankful for what they had.

 

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This quote comes from the lyrics of the song called “Little Things.” Can you remember that last moment that crept up on you and you laughed so hard that you experienced rare tears of joy? What was it that brought about such a powerful visceral response? Buried within that moment is a treasure-trove of information about some part of you. Aren’t we all puzzles, piecing together the aspects of who we are? Take a look inside—there may be a surprise awaiting.

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Yesterday Me

Understanding the origin of tears can take a little digging. Do I cry because a tender moment surfaces from my memory bank ? Maybe a secret longing has awakened and it leaps into my throat. Are my tears ones of joy or sadness? Perhaps the source can’t quite be found or articulated. These lyrics were penned years ago in a story called “Yesterday Me.” Although the words weren’t written yesterday, the sentiment persists.

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Recently, I read a post online about nature and the relationship between birds and branches. The pondering was simple. Yet the thoughts went deeper. The pondering/wondering went something like this: When a bird nears a branch, does she anticipate the branch’s ability to hold her or does she land without calculating the branch’s strength, but rather trust her ability to fly?

Trampoline trust

Since reading the post, I’ve been observing birds more closely. The day before yesterday I saw several birds actually using thin branches in a pretty elaborate and playful “dance.” One landed while the others fluttered. A second one landed and the one on the branch immediately  sprang into the air. They resembled trampoline acrobats, engaged in a fascinating synchronized routine. I watched them for several minutes as they continued to create variations of that same pattern. Was it a mating ritual? Was it some form of bird zoomies after the rain? All I can say is that none of the birds seemed concerned about the strength of the branch, even with all of the bouncing. 

Birds trusting the dance

So for me, the post/riddle seems to have been answered. It appeared as if the birds trusted in their ability to land or take flight at just the right moment. Their self-trust allowed them the opportunity to touch and fly, touch and fly. This very practiced routine continued for several minutes. Then suddenly the birds abandoned the swaying branch and flew away. I didn’t see any movement nearby, so I don’t know if they continued their dance on another close-by branch. I pondered their activity and then shifted my focus to humans in relationship with one another. Do we mimic the dance of the birds? Do we decide about whether or not to trust our abilities or do we calculate the strength of the branch? 

At any point in time we could ask ourselves: Am I the bird? Or am I the branch? Is my confidence in myself or do I rely on something to support me? And if I am the branch, who counts on me to be strong enough to hold them? Does holding them keep them from flying or give them a springboard? Is this a mutually beneficial dance we’ve created?

Related Musical Story

Circle of Trust

Circle of Trust: This story is about a relationship of trust for us, that plays out around a campfire instead of on a tree branch. There is a similarity between our flitting exchange of conversation and the playful dance of the birds. Just click the title above to go directly to the story, or have a quick listen-in to the accompanying music below.

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Here we are, greeting the new year again. Hard to believe, it’s 2026. January 1st brings us to a natural pause in the day-to-day action for some much needed reflection, resolution and gratitude. We would like to offer a simple note of hope and quiet optimism for the new year.

Quiet Comes Along

We wrote the following song as a lullaby, to shift ourselves into a more serene space, even if only temporarily. We feel the need to close each day and year with something soothing, something to calm frazzled nerves and agitated thoughts. The swaying rhythm and the reassuring words give us hope and the strength to face each tomorrow. When those new moments arrive, we will hopefully be refreshed and open with anticipation, yet braced, for whatever arrives. Yet, we are fully aware that at the end of every day, or extended period of challenge, once again, serenity will prevail. Quiet will surely Come Along.

Wishing you the very best,
Cheryl and Emerson

Music

Related Music and Story

Respite

You may also enjoy another song and story called “Backyard Tent,” where we recall our own special “quiet places” from childhood—where did we go to get away? The need to retreat is a human need that never changes, no matter our age.

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Italians are very clever people—a trait that we admire.

Good Tuscan Soil

Especially in the country, people have always had to struggle just to get by. Tuscany has to be the rockiest ground in the world, and that alone is enough to get the juices going as to how to make a living on the land. Resourcefulness is in their blood. Someone once said that if he was a farmer and found himself in Tuscany, he would ask God what he did to make him so mad. Even today, the habit persists of scouring the countryside for nature’s abundant bounty. Old habits die hard as you see people along country roads foraging for part of their dinner—whether it’s for mushrooms, berries or whatever they can find that’s edible. They know how to fend for themselves. But the energy and persistence required to eke out subsistence is just one part of the intriguing Italian puzzle.

Strong Group Identity

Italy has been divided and conquered for almost as long as anyone can remember. Rivalries have endured over the centuries, because provincial identity was about as good as it could possibly get. A friend from Florence actually told us that for him, Tuscany doesn’t exist south of the Arno River. It wasn’t until the mid-eighteen hundreds that anything resembling a truly united Italy was even a remote possibility. And now, even though it is one nation state, the strong sense of regionalism or family identity endures, rooted deeply in the culture.

Family Ties

We have often thought that, and perhaps rightfully so, there is little trust in Italy. They have experienced wars and takeovers, new and often bad rulers for their entire history. They never knew what would happen next, so it was always best to maintain strong personal capabilities. They relied on knowing that the family was and is one of the truly trustworthy groups in which to invest yourself for true security. For these reasons and more, you won’t find Italians dutifully waiting in line, or simply following the slower car in front of them. Windows of opportunity are created to jump through. Dangerously passing on a winding two lane road happens because they can, and not because they need to, almost as if practicing to stay nimble. We’ve seen passing cars narrowly miss the oncoming car, the bicycle or the nonna, grandmother out for a stroll. Then the same speeding vehicle immediately turns screeching into the next driveway.

An Italian can take any law apart piece by piece and then put it back together in a way that suits them. In Italy, it’s common to keep asking different people until you get the answer you want—and every “correct” answer is out there somewhere. We think this is partly where the slow processes, the famously Italian bureaucracy comes from. Everyone wants to make things happen the way they want them to happen, and they’re willing to take their sweet time to get their way—even if it seems to take forever.

Keep your balance

There is a special word here that aptly describes a unique quality of resourcefulness that frequently comes into play. It’s known as furbo. In English, the closest word is “clever,” however that doesn’t really do it justice. Furbo balances on that fine line between a compliment and a insult. The fact is, many of the problems that pop-up in Italy just plain won’t get solved without a special technique or perspective. Unfortunately, it’s in that gray area of cunning and covert activity that the line sometimes gets crossed, and furbo becomes questionable. You have to be careful that you don’t fall into becoming a victim of unseen opportunity—for the benefit of others. Someone could be dancing on that fine line, trying to make progress on their own agenda, perhaps seeing you as an easy mark.

You could say it’s possible to be too clever for someone else’s good. But, if you’re on your toes, you can successfully engage in this unique Italian free-for-all, where almost everybody eventually gets what they want—we said almost. Come to think about it, there really isn’t anything unusual about such behavior since there’s probably some version of that trait the world around. Maybe the difference is simply in the way the Italians play the game—which, frankly, makes it so much fun!

First posted on October 1, 2010

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You might also be interested in “The Art of Trickery”: The brain picks up visual cues that are recognizable, instantly fitting them into familiar patterns. In a flash, it issues a report about what’s going on. The brain fills in the blanks. This form of trickery is harmless and quite entertaining as you will see, a thing of beauty.

Music

Here’s a song called “The Pusher,” about a different form of trickery—when a cleverly furbo individual loses their balance, they can become an overt bully instead. It’s a slippery slope!

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Disney Pinocchio

The Adventures of Pinocchio is a classic, right? Disney put the marionette on the big screen in 1940 and Jiminy Cricket became an overnight success. But the real story is from Italy, Tuscany, to be exact. It symbolically represents Italy, as it grew into a unified country.

So we decided to read the book, first penned by Carlo Collodi in 1883—in its original language, as they say—Italian. Little did we know that our simple decision would be such a task. We decided to read one chapter a day. Pretty good, right? Well, no, when you consider that the average chapter is only about 5 pages long, and that includes pictures!

Our Pinocchio kit

Here’s our routine: we have an English version that we keep handy to check our translations; we have an Italian version in which Emerson writes copious notes (definitions, idiomatic phrases, verb forms etc.); I also have the original Italian version on an iPad; together, we use 2 dictionaries and one verb book; and finally, we access a translator online called, My Translator. Once we have our pile of books, pencils, erasers and various accoutrements, we begin just after lunch each day with a strong sense of anticipation and determination..

Pinocchio fully notated

Emerson reads the chapter title, for example, Pinocchio è derubato delle sue monete d’oro e, per gastigo, si busca quattro mesi di prigione. Translation: Pinocchio is robbed of his coins of gold and, for punishment, is put in prison for four months. Now, we think this is more than a regular title. A title is something like, “A Day at the Beach.” You know, there’s some over-arching topic that captures the essence and your attention. But the Pinocchio chapter titles are spoilers. They tell you what happens BEFORE you read it. Then Collodi goes into all the details of how the chain of events took place, but you already know the poor marionette is going to prison.

In the pokey

The other thing about the title is that we look up nearly every word. For example, Derubato. Oh, it’s a verb and this is the past tense. Okay. Monete. Oh, coins. D’oro. This is a common contraction. The word di means of. When it’s placed before a word that begins with a vowel, you leave out the i because, heaven forbid you put two vowels together! Okay, got it. Di oro = d’oro = of gold. Well, you get the picture. Every chapter is a language lesson as well as a lesson in logic. Why would Pinocchio go to prison? He was robbed. Well, the logic here is that if you’re foolish enough to be duped, you deserve punishment. Really?!

Actually, the Italian culture and thought process is something quite unique. The stories they concoct and the way they choose to say it, are nothing short of original art—funny and entertaining, yet thought-provoking at the same time.

Taccini ceramic

When we first discovered that Pinocchio is Italian, we went to a town west of Florence called Montelupo (which means wolf mountain), where an artist named Eugenio Taccini lives and works creating unique ceramic pieces. He’s well known for his depictions of Pinocchio. In fact, he actually made pieces of artwork for each of the chapters, exploring their deep psychological meanings. It became a form of therapy for him as he dove into the hidden messages. As an Italian, he wanted to use the original story to explore the process of change and transformation. Beneath the external beauty of Italian life, love and laughter, there are many deep thinkers pondering something profound and meaningful.

Pinocchio’s home town

Then we decided to make a trip to Collodi, the town where young Carlo Lorenzini spent summers and from which he took his pen name. Collodi is now known as the town of Pinocchio. There are restaurants named for those in the book. There’s an amusement park for children with all things Pinocchio. But in addition, there’s an amazing hillside baroque park called Garzoni Gardens. It’s considered one of the most beautiful gardens in all of Italy. It’s another example of the paradox that underlies Italian thinking: the whimsical, childlike attitude juxtaposed with the heady formal, compelling, meticulously planned.

So we’re on chapter 21 in the book. My bookmark only jumps a few pages a day. But, for the first time, I’m beginning to understand Pinocchio on multiple levels. As you might expect, the original is much more earthy than the Disney version. He’s more real. And that’s just the wood marionette. I can hardly wait to see how the world changes when seen through the eyes of a real boy.

First posted on October 1, 2011

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Reading the Yogurt Cups: Pinocchio is perhaps one of the earliest “Psychological Thrillers” ever. No story is any more psychologically rooted than that classic. This other story about yogurt cups is much more straightforward, but holds its own human potential