Life Behind the Art: Paul Smith

Once again, we are reminded by the God Almighty that everything that He has created fits perfectly in its place. We are called to believe in His divinity and we are called to serve a purpose in our life. As we go on with our daily routine, as we gather strength to overcome our recent failures and as we continue to entertain the spirit of doubt and discontent, I ask you to take a look at the images here, and most especially, I ask you to take a look at the great man and his life’s purpose behind his great art.

 Images are taken from http://www.paulsmithfoundation.org

More of his art at  Paul Smith Foundation

 This is his story taken from the Paul Smith Foundation

 
Paul was born in Philadelphia on September 21, 1921. Although severe cerebral palsy kept him out of school, it didn’t prevent him from having a remarkable life. Never having a chance as a child to receive a formal education, Paul taught himself to become a master artist as well as a terrific chess player. With much humility and a charming, self-depreciating sense of humor, he became a man who excelled at making the lives of those around him much richer.

Paul spoke of his family and of his upbringing in very affectionate terms. He often recalled boating trips on the Delaware River and, later, to Bermuda. It’s no surprise that he made a couple dozen pictures of boats and ships.
As a young adult, Paul moved with his parents to Hollywood, Florida where he lived until they passed away.
His incredible visualization and calculation skills helped to make him a formidable chess player. Paul would stop doing just about anything else when he had a chance to play a game!

When typing, Paul used his left hand to steady his right one. Since he couldn’t press two keys at the same time, he almost always locked the shift key down and made his pictures using the symbols at the top of the number keys.

In other words, his pictures were based on these characters …

@     #     $     %     ^     &     *     (     )     _    

Across seven decades, Paul created hundreds of pictures. He often gave the originals away. Sometimes, but not always, he kept or received a copy for his own records. Be sure to visit the gallery at this site to see images of his pictures in detail. As his mastery of the typewriter grew, he developed techniques to create shadings, colors, and textures that made his work resemble pencil or charcoal drawings. In the sample collection of his work at this site are examples from a variety of stages in Paul’s development as an artist. It’s interesting to see how he gradually refined his use of perspective and coloring, and how his subject matter reflected the events and personalities of the times.

From 1967 until his death on June 25, 2007, Paul lived at Rose Haven Nursing Center in Roseburg, Oregon, USA.
He was, and is, an inspiration for all.

For more information about Paul, and additional samples of his work, please explore other parts of this site or read Chess and Art — Two Expressions of One Man’s Life, at Chessville.com.

 

 

 

Wipe Away Tears

I had just finished preaching on the heartaches of life, when a couple approached me at the front of the church. The woman told me about the burden they bore as a family. Their young son had severe physical problems and the strain of the constant care of this needy little guy, coupled with the heartache of knowing they couldn’t improve his situation, sometimes felt unbearable. As the couple shared, with tears in their eyes, their little daughter stood with them - listening and watching. Seeing the obvious hurtetched by the tears on her mother’s face, the girl reached up and gently wiped the tears from her mother’s cheek. It was a simple gesture of love and compassion and a profound display of concern from one so young. 

Something to think about:

Our tears often blurour sight and prevent us from seeing clearly. In those moments, it can be an encouragement to have a friend who cares enough to love us in our pain and walk with us in our struggles. Even though friends can be a help, only Christ can reach BEYOND our tears and touch the deep HURTS of our hearts. HIs comfort can caryy us through the struggles of our lives until that day when God Himself wipes away every tear from our eyes - Bill Crowder 

Image Source: ldswhy.com, 1.bp.blogspot.com

Article Source: Bread of Life

Everyday Prayer

God grant me the serenity

To accept the things I cannot change;

Courage to change the things I can;

And wisdom to know the difference.

Living one day at a time;

Enjoying one moment at a time;

Accepting hardships as the pathway to peace;

Taking, as He did, this sinful world

As it is, not as I would have it;

Trusting that He will make all things right

If I surrender to His Will;

So that I may be reasonably happy in this life

And supremely happy with Him

Forever and ever in the next.

Dick Hoyt: The True Ironman

I would like to share with you the story of a man who has exemplified the true essence of LOVE. I think this story was one moving factor why I had to simply put up this blog. As a young man, struggling to find a purpose in my life, I am deeply moved by his courage and his motivation to look deeper into all the challenges life threw at him. He never failed to see the BIGGER picture. The very same picture that God is painting for each and every one of us. Sometimes we become selfish and discontent with the things that are always within our reach. We ultimately fail to realize that all things that we have and ALL THAT WE ARE belongs to Him, the Supreme Being. I am grateful to the Lord always because He has never forsaken me despite my inequities and my weakness. - lifeunlimited

                                               My Redeemer Lives: Team Hoyt

  Paying Tribute to Dick Hoyt

by: Rep. Duncan [R-TN]: www.govtrack.us

Mr. Speaker, I rise tonight to pay tribute to a man who is not from my districts or even from my State, but who certainly must be one of the most wonderful men of whom I have ever read. The story of Dick Hoyt of Holland, Massachusetts is one of the most amazing, inspiring stories I have ever read.

Rick Reilly, a columnist for Sports Illustrated, wrote about Mr. Hoyt in a column published in that magazine the week before last. Mr. Reilly described it as a love story that began 43 years ago when Mr. Hoyt’s son Rick “was strangled by the umbilical cord during birth, leaving him brain damaged and unable to control his limbs.”

The Hoyts were told Rick would be a vegetable for the rest of his life and that they should put him in an institution. They refused.

When Rick was 11, they took him to engineers at Tufts University to ask them if there was some way to allow him to communicate. They were told, no way, nothing was going on in Rick’s brain.

“Tell him a joke,” Mr. Hoyt said. “They did. Rick laughed.” They had noticed the way Rick’s eyes followed them around the room. There was a lot going on in Rick’s brain.

The engineers rigged up a computer that Rick could peck letters on by hitting it with a stick attached to the side of his head. His first words were, “Go Bruins!”

After a high school classmate of Rick’s was paralyzed in an accident, and a charity run was organized, Rick pecked out the words, “Dad, I want to do that.”

Mr. Hoyt, who called himself a porker, pushed Rick in that race, and Rick typed out “Dad, when we were running, it felt like I was not disabled anymore.”

Now, here comes the amazing part.

Since that first race, Dick Hoyt has pushed Rick in 85 marathons, 26.2 miles each. Twenty-four times they have run in the Boston Marathon.

Listen to Rick Reilly’s column: “Their best time, 2 hours 40, minutes in 1992; only 35 minutes off the world record which, in case you don’t keep track of these things, happens to be held by a guy who was not pushing another man in a wheelchair at the time.”

Now Dick Hoyt is 65, his son is 43. They have done 212 triathlons, including four grueling, 15-hour Ironmans in Hawaii, 8 triathlons altogether where the father not only pushed his son 26.2 miles in a wheelchair, but also pulled him 2.4 miles in a dinghy while swimming, and pedaled him 112 miles in a seat on the handlebars, all in the same day.

Columnist Reilly wrote, “I try to be a good father, but compared with Dick Hoyt I suck.”

What a special son. What a special father. What a special story.

I thank Rick Reilly for writing such a wonderful column.

It is an honor to pay tribute to a man like Dick Hoyt.

I am sure that his special relationship with his son has inspired countless numbers across the land and has, in a very unique way, made this Nation a better place.

Mr. Speaker, I think it is the most inspiring story I have ever read. I would like to attach the column from Sports Illustrated to my remarks here tonight and call them to the attention of my colleagues and other readers of the RECORD.

Strongest Dad in the World

I try to be a good father. Give my kids mulligans. Work nights to pay for their text messaging. Take them to swimsuit shoots.

But compared with Dick Hoyt, I suck.

Eighty-five times he’s pushed his disabled son, Rick, 26.2 miles in marathons. Eight times he’s not only pushed him 26.2 miles in a wheelchair but also towed him 2.4 miles in a dinghy while swimming and pedaled him 112 miles in a seat on the handlebars–all in the same day.

Dick’s also pulled him cross-country skiing, taken him on his back mountain climbing and once hauled him across the U.S. on a bike. Makes taking your son bowling look a little lame, right?

And what has Rick done for his father? Not much–except save his life.

This love story began in Winchester, Mass., 43 years ago, when Rick was strangled by the umbilical cord during birth, leaving him brain-damaged and unable to control his limbs.

“He’ll be a vegetable the rest of his life;” Dick says doctors told him and his wife, Judy, when Rick was nine months old. “Put him in an institution.”

But the Hoyts weren’t buying it. They noticed the way Rick’s eyes followed them around the room. When Rick was 11 they took him to the engineering department at Tufts University and asked if there was anything to help the boy communicate. “No way,” Dick says he was told. “There’s nothing going on in his brain.”

“Tell him a joke,” Dick countered. They did. Rick laughed. Turns out a lot was going on in his brain.

Rigged up with a computer that allowed him to control the cursor by touching a switch with the side of his head, Rick was finally able to communicate. First words? “Go Bruins!” And after a high school classmate was paralyzed in an accident and the school organized a charity run for him, Rick pecked out, “Dad, I want to do that.”

Yeah, right. How was Dick, a self-described “porker” who never ran more than a mile at a time, going to push his son five miles? Still, he tried. “Then it was me who was handicapped,” Dick says. “I was sore for two weeks.”

That day changed Rick’s life. “Dad,” he typed, “when we were running, it felt like I wasn’t disabled anymore!”

And that sentence changed Dick’s life. He became obsessed with giving Rick that feeling as often as he could. He got into such hard-belly shape that he and Rick were ready to try the 1979 Boston Marathon.

“No way,” Dick was told by a race official. The Hoyts weren’t quite a single runner, and they weren’t quite a wheelchair competitor. For a few years Dick and Rick just joined the massive field and ran anyway, then they found a way to get into the race officially: In 1983 they ran another marathon so fast they made the qualifying time for Boston the following year.

Then somebody said, “Hey, Dick, why not a triathlon?”

How’s a guy who never learned to swim and hadn’t ridden a bike since he was six going to haul his 110-pound kid through a triathlon? Still, Dick tried.

Now they’ve done 212 triathlons, including four grueling 15-hour Ironmans in Hawaii. It must be a buzzkill to be a 25-year-old stud getting passed by an old guy towing a grown man in a dinghy, don’t you think?

 Hey, Dick, why not see how you’d do on your own? “No way,” he says. Dick does it purely for “the awesome feeling” he gets seeing Rick with a cantaloupe smile as they run, swim and ride together.

This year, at ages 65 and 43, Dick and Rick finished their 24th Boston Marathon, in 5,083rd place out of more than 20,000 starters. Their best time’? Two hours, 40 minutes in 1992–only 35 minutes off the world record, which, in case you don’t keep track of these things, happens to be held by a guy who was not pushing another man in a wheelchair at the time.

“No question about it,” Rick types. “My dad is the Father of the Century.”

And Dick got something else out of all this too. Two years ago he had a mild heart attack during a race. Doctors found that one of his arteries was 95% clogged. “If you hadn’t been in such great shape,” one doctor told him, “you probably would’ve died 15 years ago.”

So, in a way, Dick and Rick saved each other’s life.

Rick, who has his own apartment (he gets home care) and works in Boston, and Dick, retired from the military and living in Holland, Mass., always find ways to be together. They give speeches around the country and compete in some backbreaking race every weekend, including this Father’s Day.

That night, Rick will buy his dad dinner, but the thing he really wants to give him is a gift he can never buy.

“The thing I’d most like,” Rick types, “is that my dad sit in the chair and I push him once.”

Living the Life

Life is simply awesome. Come celebrate life with stories, tunes and clips that will truly inspire and motivate you, make you laugh or cry. Whatever the case may be, I hope it becomes a driving force for you to strive to become better people and influence others positively.