It was Friday, May 11th, 2001. I Woke up at 5:30 AM to begin preparing for my 2:00 AM Saturday morning departure to the Albany two day Tulip Festival. I realized after breakfast and after a trip to Dunkin' Donuts that the FIRST of twenty-nine mats I had measured and cut for my first-ever portfolio rack had been measured incorrectly. Three full sheets of "Dover Gray" mat board, each costing $12 were cut too small as a result of my not having included the white space dimension around the art in my overall measurement. I had devised what I thought would be a time saving method for calculating the overall mat sizes. It was in the form of a Lotus 123 spreadsheet. Having complete faith in my summation formulas, I later learned that the missing measurement would involve four more hours of cutting all mats over. It was not until 9:00 PM, however that it was suddenly brought to my attention that more than this FIRST mat was incorrect. ALL of them were incorrect. Throughout the day I had been thinking that it had been the WINDOW in only this first mat that had been the problem. At this late hour I realized all exterior dimensions would ultimately effect the windows to be cut in the remaining 28.

At 7:00 PM, two hours prior to the discovery, I made the decision to go ahead and build my first portfolio print display rack. I was very conscious of the time as I had only 7 hours left to mount all the new prints to their respective mats and to build this rack. I began with a 10 mile drive to Home Depot to get some materials for the rack. The plan in my head was to build something involving two "X" type of things between which I would run a 16" x 40" piece of 1/8" thick foam core in the shape of a "V." About two thirds of the way there, feeling a little stressed, I decided to turn around and to look for wood in my cellar instead of spending money at Home Depot. Amazingly, the following items were found. The cost of the rack (in the end) cost $0.00.

1) Four 1" x 1" tomato stakes 3 of which were exactly the 38" length I had needed. The fourth was 4" too long, so I cut it down to size with a Skill saw.

2) Two additional 2" x 1" wooden struts to prevent the rack from leaning over to the left or right -- and collapsing.

3) Heavy smooth steel wire to run between 2 sets of screw eyes at the base of each leg -- to prevent the "X" arrangements from expanding beyond the limits of the required "V"

4) Four large screw eyes

5) Time, a good drill, Phillips screws, and a screw driver

It was now 11:00 PM. The rack was completed with all the raw materials found at home. It was at this time that I had to make the decision weather or not I would pull an all niter and cut all the new mats (by the 2:00 AM deadline) so that I could have something to offer in the show. There was more car loading to do, so I did that. Following this, I began cutting all the windows for what would end up being 19 out of the 29 prints generated on my HP 1000 deskJet printer.

I was finished at 1:30 AM. I was noticeably tired, shaky, and bleary-eyed. I did more heavy packing of all the paintings in their plastic tubs and was amazingly out the door at exactly 1:55 AM for Albany.

I made it as far as Gardner, Mass when it was obvious I HAD to get a medium sized coffee at Dunkin' Donuts. But, at 2:50 AM when I pulled into the Dunkin' Donuts, my coffee idea had to be abandoned because about six young high schoolers -- who were heavily into piercing many parts of their bodies (and who were into tattoos BIG time) -ordered a random assortment of complicated Dunkin' Donuts breakfast items (all at once). I could see that I would not be able to wait for their order to be processed (in short order) so, I got back in the car and continued on without any coffee.

I stopped in Vermont somewhere and finally got a Dr. Pepper at a Mobile station that also sold lots of fast food. The station had a noticeable odor -- sort of like the smell of urine. I could even smell it on the can of Dr. Pepper as drank it in the car. The caffeine DID get me to another gas station/variety store which was about one hour outside of Albany. It was here that the shop manager gave me a set of hand written back road directions that proved to be invaluable! They were scribbled on a napkin and went as follows:

" 7 NORTH TO LEFT ON 346 TO RIGHT ON RT-22 TO 7 LEFT FOLLOW 7 THRU CITY OF TROY TO 787 SOUTH DOWNTOWN ALBANY PORT OF ALBANY RT 20 WEST TO WASHINGTON PARK"

He suggested I follow these instead of taking "the very winding" Route 2. I carefully followed them. The sky began to lighten and with the light I began to really get a second wind. My mood was good. Life was fine. I was taken by the beauty of the old Albany suburban countryside, with its many old barns, antique shops and natural "Connecticut-like" landscapes. There was an abundance of long stone walls and rolling hills with old trees on them.

I arrived at shortly before 6:00 AM at a place I would later revisit: The Ramada Inn near the Greyhound Bus Terminal. I asked for directions to Washington Square and eventually found were I needed to set up my canopy. The car held up well on its first trip WITHOUT the large box on its roof -- something I opted not to use on this 2nd show in 2001 since there seemed to be a bit of a safety risk to say nothing of a MAJOR loss in "car aerodynamics."

The park was very confusing as it had many paths, gardens, and a central lake. The 6:30 AM park festival guides were helpful in directing me although some sets of directions had me literally going in circles back to guides I had just spoken with!

The weather was ideal up to this point. I started my setup at 6:30 AM and finished completely at 10:40 AM -- about 4 hours later and 20 minutes prior to show time.

I sold one painting -- "Visiting in the Canyon I" and two prints all day. At 4:00 PM there was a sudden change in the weather. The sky opened up sending down a torrent of rain. The winds gusted to 35-40 mph. The sky darkened and many artist scrambled to save their work. The festival crowds were huge and they too were caught off guard by the 20 minute cloud burst.

I had been keeping my eye on the sky all day and safely was able to attach the fourth (front) side wall to my canopy. A mother and her daughter sheltered in the scurry asked if they could come inside as I zipped all three of us in the calm, warm, and very dry canopy. My paintings were safe and at no time did they ever get wet. This was one investment that was really worth the expense. I later learned that one photographer had lost nearly all of his work. (The next morning, he reported that he had stayed up nearly all night to reframe replacements which he had brought along!)

During the show I got a number of helpful ideas from one particular artist named Denis Lablanc from Maine. His setup was 16 years in the making and we talked several times as the crowd visited us all day. The show's first day ended at 6:00 PM. I was very tired and wanted to go out for some wine somewhere. It was at this point in time -- around 6:30 PM -- that everything changed dramatically for the worse.

I stayed for quite some time at the bar. Several hours past and it was now dark. I was not too sure where I was in relation to the artist's setups, but I decided to give a mental set up directions a shot. I turned the key and the engine barely turned over. The drive lasted for about 5 minutes. The headlights grew dimmer and eventually my '94 Toyota Corolla died in the middle of Madison Avenue at 2:00 AM in traffic. A young lady in her 30's, sitting on a park bench, waiting for a cab, offered to help me push the car backwards off Madison onto the sidewalk. She confidently suggested I flag down a motorist to get a jump with my cables. I did so and in not more than 10 minutes I was on my way again. But the lights grew dim again and in about 10 minutes the car stalled again. This actually happened TWO more times in traffic.

Seeing I was up the creek without paddle, I stopped at a chicken eating place and ordered a 2-piece chicken dinner. It was now about 3:00 AM. I was lost, and wondering about the feasibility of MAKING IT back to the show. It could not happen without the so much needed car. I was beginning to put two and two together about my engine ALTERNATOR as being the possible culprit.

I decided to call 911 on a nearby pay phone so I could get the Albany Police to possibly help me by giving me a jump "just one more time." But this did not pan out and they said I would need to call a local towing company for that to be done. "We can't help you," they said.

I was now stuck on a dimly lit residential side street illegally parked in front of an ally driveway. At this time I had HAD it. My mood was poor and getting rapidly worse. I wanted to give up, but couldn't. I had no place to go (other than hopefully back to my canopy) and no WAY to get there. The situation was looking pretty grim since the car was now fully loaded with all the paintings I had carefully taken down in the early evening. EVERYTHING was in the car and I was not too close to where I needed to be anymore. Fortunately, the night air was warm, it was dry, and people -- as it turned out -- were coming out of the woodwork to help me.

Some gay guy pulled up alone side of my car without my even flagging him down for help. He said (for some reason) that he would like to park in the spot I was taking up. I did not alert him to its being an illegal spot and instead decided to take him up on the request by asking him if he would care to jump me (well, you know: the car.) I was thinking he just needed an excuse to talk to me as I looked pretty "available" at the time. We got out my cables again and after we got the engine running I asked for as quick a set of directions BACK to Washington Square as I could get. The headlights began to grow dim as he gave them to me. I listened carefully and then took off with my foot constantly trying to give enough gas to the soon to be failing engine. THEN, almost as if I was in some amazing movie, I began to SEE familiar landmarks. There were the food vendor trucks. Then there was the huge array of Port-o-potties. Then I saw where DANA PATH was way up ahead. That was where I needed to be! At about 1/4 mile to go, the engine QUIT! I was dead in the water again. But I could SEE the canopy. I could do this. I could walk with my paintings!

A park security guard drove up alone side of me in his golf cart equipped to carry more than just himself and a passenger. My presence concerned him as did the presence of various drunks in the frequently traveled park at these hours. He was like an angle from heaven I found myself thinking. He kindly asked if I would like my paintings and things to be driven to my canopy with his electric golf cart. Does the sun shine on cloudless days? "Definitely," I said. I think I thanked him 7 or 8 times! He allowed me to sleep in my canopy even though there was (I think) some sort of park curfew.

Early that day, before any of the car incident started, I was told that LAST year someone had slashed the fronts of some of the art canopies with a razor blade. LATER that day (after the show) I was told (and I am not making this up) that "a canopy" HAD been slashed again. My sleep was a very sound one in the last three hours of this night. And only once did I hear drunks walk by. They must have been nice guys. The man who later told me about his canopy being slashed was obviously pretty upset. I felt for him. I think I would have died had this happened to me that night. I had been through enough.

I had brought my sleeping bag contemplating maybe doing this anyway. I slept on my oriental rug. It was a peaceful 10' x 10' x 8' place.

At 7:00 AM I got dressed and began to hang my paintings. By 8:15 AM I was fully ready again. I kept the canopy closed and went out for coffee at a Dunkin' Donuts about 1/4 mile away outside of the beautiful Washington Park grounds. The show would not begin again until 10:00 AM. I figured this would be a good time to make some towing arrangements. So, I walked across the street from Dunkin' Donuts to a Mobile Station. I spoke to a young kid who told me I would have to stop back on Monday morning to speak to the manager. Only then would I be able to set up a possible tow appointment and a possible alternator replacement job. According to the schedule book he was looking at, he suggested that Tuesday might be "a better day" to do the job since only one mechanic was on duty on Mondays and they have "a lot of inspections" to do as well. I was pretty resigned to the situation by this time and accepted what I was hearing. Having the morning coffee helped. At the end of the show, my mood was getting worse again.

Jumping ahead a bit here: I HAD to give in to the idea of getting a shower and a nice room to sleep in, so I asked for directions to the Ramada Inn "near the bus terminal." I was $1 overdrawn on my Visa card (yes, $1) and was a little worried that the $74 transaction might be declined. To check to see if it might still be a valid transaction, I ate dinner after the show at a small Chinese restaurant also across the street from the coffee shop and the gas station. I paid by Visa and it was accepted. I walked to the Ramada and enjoyed the comfort of room #333. I asked for a non smoking room and there were several from which to choose.

Now backtracking a bit: I must say, I was helped considerably by numerous people at the show. I sold a second painting and 3 more prints making the print total FIVE! Then, as if the gods were on my side, a nice and somewhat OFFICIAL looking woman came to my booth and told me I had won an HONORABLE MENTION for this year's festival. She handed me a pink ribbon and wrote my name on the back. I felt really good to have been selected. I hung the ribbon on my IMAGINE DESIGNS sign clearly in view on the back wall of the sun-lit canopy. Denis Leblanc also received an honorable mention. He too was happy for his. I think we may have been the only two besides the first and second prize winners. Total sales for both days amounted to $368. "Winter Silhouette" sold for $140 + 8% New York Sales Tax on the second day. Denis sold 6 or 7 original watercolors (quite large) each for around $300 a piece as well as several prints. I learned a lot from Denis, but was also feeling pretty weary about the recent events with the car. I could not help but admire Denis' van.

At the end of the show, at exactly 6:00 PM, after a day of totally beautiful weather and a big crowd, it was now time to try if I could to get the car battery jumped one last time so I could physically GET the car TO my canopy. I HAD to load it and to try to get off the park grounds. In an earlier conversation between Denis, me, and a photographer, a theory developed where I had lots of difficulty with NIGHT driving since the headlights might be draining the charge from the battery. The theory was that I would need to wait until daylight to get the car jumped AND to attempt a drive back to Harvard with a completely dead alternator! It COULD be done they thought, but only if I did not use any accessories. It sounded pretty risky and I was feeling pretty uncomfortable given the number of jumps I had already been given.

During the show, a thoughtful, scruffy old man who made puzzles for a living (and who this time helped his wife sell her watercolors) offered to CHARGE my battery with his van if I wanted to borrow any tools from him to remove my battery and bring it back to his van. I took him up on the offer (before the show opened). I requested the following tools:

1) an adjustable wrench
2) a screwdriver
3) a pair of pliers
4) and a hammer

The adjustable wrench, the screwdriver (and his hand truck) did the trick. At 6:00 PM, after the show, I zipped up the front of the canopy leaving all the paintings just as they were, and went to reinstall the battery hoping there might be some possibility that the earlier charge might ignite the engine on its own -- getting me back to the canopy without a jump.

The car did not start!

But the old man with the van came through again offering to give me the needed jump after he finished dismantling his booth.

The car was on its way again! I returned to the canopy and began my own dismantling around 6:30 PM. By 8:45 PM, just when darkness was beginning to become a factor in finding canopy parts remaining on the grass, the reality of my situation began to take hold. I had to face the music. How was I going to get out of the park? Would a kind officer or a security person come by with some magic golf cart again -- with a good battery? Or would that food vendor I was noticing off in the distance be willing to work magic with his Dodge Ram?

I was done packing. It was dark now. I was the only person left in the park, beside the food vendor. Dana Path was empty. The Corolla, now parked safely on the grass was ready to travel again. But how far? I walked over to the food vendor guy and asked the favor. Not looking up to see who I was and while attempting to figure out how to disassemble some complicated metal poles, he verbally decided to let me completely have it telling me: "Go away! Can't you see we're busy? We've had a long day and we just want to get out of here. We don't have any time for you. Go way!" His words went into me like a knife? I could see he thought I was one of the homeless men who were beginning to ask for money as they offered to help take down peoples' booths. I too had experienced these requests from a young black boy earlier. But I was in no mood to be mistaken for a drunk. I needed help and I was going to make it clear I would not take his verbal abuse. And so I spoke up and told him I too had just had a difficult day and that I, like him, was a participant in the festival. "Could you possibly give me a jump when you are ready to leave?" It quickly became obvious he had mistaken me for one of them. "Sure, he said. Just give us a bit more time." It was not until he drove over to my area that his apology was made clearer. He felt terribly for the attack. We attached my cables to the terminals and the car started. Then, just as I was beginning to see the light of night -- and as he began to remove the cables, -- the engine quit. Power was terminated as soon as the cables were released.

By this time I was resigned again to the fact I would not be able to leave. Yet I was not able to put two and two together as to why the car would not keep running this time. It was not until the following day that I was enlightened to the fact that my battery reinstallation was not done completely. One of the terminal connections had been loose!

On my way to the Ramada Inn (I stayed only this one night following the show), I flagged down a police officer who was completely understanding of my situation despite my illegal parking. He said: "No problem, I will write a fake ticket and put it on your windshield. You just tear it up tomorrow after you get settled with the tow. No one will know it isn't a real ticket."

I walked a long 1 1/2 miles to the hotel, got the needed rest and then, the following morning, began what would be another full day of struggles with the car.

The Mobil station fit me into their schedule. I set up a towing for the morning and walked back to the park to just sit on a park bench and enjoy the bright warm sun with a cup of hot coffee. Life was good again. I was packed. The appointment had been made. I had all day. And I could people watch.

The tow guy arrived around 11:00 AM. To my surprise, his attempt to jump my battery with his cables yielded a positive response when he removed HIS cables. What was the deal? How could this be? It would not run last night. He told me he had tightened my connections and that the alternator still needed to be checked for amps output. He had some pretty fancy equipment and did the alternator test. It was 75% dead but WOULD, if I was willing, get me all the way home to Harvard if I did not turn off the engine, or use any devices like the lights, the radio, or the heater. The other option was to get it replaced. I could sense he was busy and would rather have had me attempt the daytime trip home. But I was feeling pretty tired of being in the bind, so I asked if he would try to fit me in for a new alternator. "OK," he said. "I'll see what we can do."

At about 5:00 PM, and after several trips back to the park to sit on my park bench, I was told the car was done. $310.50 were the charges. I was floored. How could it be this much? A sign on the wall displayed their hourly rate. It read: "$58 LABOR RATE." I was amazed and beginning to feel like I was being taken for a ride leading nowhere fast.

I handed my credit card over, at which point it was declined. The $1 over draft and the Ramada fee must have been the factors leading up to its not so welcome status. "We don't take checks," the kid behind the counter said. At this point I knew I would have to give them an IMAGINE DESIGNS check since that was all I had to save me. I did not want to be in Albany anymore. I just wanted to go home to see my (now hungry) cat "Lu." "I will need to speak to the manager about this," the kid said. A few minutes later, the mechanic who did the job walked into the office and explained that my check would be acceptable. "Go ahead -- accept it. We'll take it this time."