No, your calendar doesn’t have a misprint. In this first month of the new decade, the full moon isn’t until January 24, but perhaps that is where the collision started.
Here’s what happens to me – things collide. They don’t just sort of quietly merge together; they slide with a bang, images tangling with words.
After fully and doggedly procrastinating about approaching weather, I had bundled against the wind and left the house, with Kate, today known as Bonnie Kate, racing ahead after the two cats that have adopted us and join all excursions. The task? Find a fairly dry spot to lie flat on the frozen ground next to the water heater in the corral and, reaching into the innards under the tank, unplug and change a non-functioning water heater.
It was an ideal time to create my New Year’s “Things I’m Going to Do Better List,” right?
With two screws undone, reaching for the screwdriver to pry the cover off the tank base, I realized I had the first list item…and it wasn’t “quit procrastinating”: Share a late holiday/new year’s wish (and yes, even add a bit of writing to spur me to write, not just for me but to others).
Lifting off the cover, I peeked in the hole, making sure no furry was basking by the lamp’s orb. “Plus, looking through old photos is sure to trigger a great starting idea.”
As I scraped dirt and dried debris (manure and maybe some flecks of rust) out of the grooves that held the cover in place, I added the next item: Organize the photos in the “to be filed” folder. (That would ensure finding that interesting photo I took of the black branches outlined against a January full moon. Yeah, that one. The one with the A that made me think of Hawthorne’s book, The Scarlet Letter.)
Reaching for the new heater on the ground next to me, I wished that I could think of new ways to approach the things I wanted to write about, perhaps ways to help others find connections.
Then I reached into the bowels of the under-tank, plugged in the new cord, and came up with the next addition to my list: Share more often what I wrote, even that piece that I had started nearly seven years ago challenging us all to search out connections in the least obvious. So, here with amendations and additions, are some words and an image, along with all my deepest wishes that your year fulfills your hopes and dreams, bringing you joy and content :
The richest connections often seem almost random, may be the least obvious…or they can happen suddenly…or build over time, like: Devo with their energy-dome, aka flowerpot, hats, Rust-Oleum, and Lacey black branches outlined against a January full moon.
Devo was a punk rock band that became known for its deadpan humor and dissonant sound in the early 1970’s. Their name comes from their word “de-evolution,” their idea that humans are regressing and that Americans and their group-think are but one example of the slippage. In 1982 Devo played the part of garbage men who played in a band and mishandled nuclear waste in a Neil Young movie.
Rust-Oleum, which makes protective paints, was founded by a sea captain who noticed that fish oil spilled on metal decks seems to stop corrosion. It may be urban myth, but some believe that the makers of Rust-Oleum, known for its capability to slow or prevent rust, hired Devo to create a slogan for an advertising campaign. Thus, the company phrase was born, “Rust never sleeps.”
One of Devo (after all, they had done a 10-minute jam with Young in that movie) suggested the Neil Young should use the Rust-Oleum slogan “Rust Never Sleeps” to name his 1979 album, which mark a new direction in music for Young and his return to prominence.
The seemingly simple sentence, “Rust never sleeps” carries several layers of meaning. Anyone dealing with rust knows that if iron is exposed to water and air, it will begin to rust, a process of decay. Critics say that Young’s song and its title was his realization that he needed to make sure that his music continued to grow and change. Rolling Stone wrote that Young “understands that self-renewal is the only way to avoid burning out.”
“Rust never sleeps” holds special meaning for artists and all of us who create. In order to remain “rust free,” we must keep creating, continuing to search for new solutions, trying, testing, pushing, and avoiding the entropy of the cliché.
It means stopping to watch the full moon rise behind the black web of an old cottonwood tree. It means finding a design, perhaps even a calligraphic A, in the tangle of the branches and searching for the crazy possibilities.
First published Jan 9, 2012, revised Jan 4, 2020.
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