Welcome to–‘The Hole’…


As an “old school” creative artist, I find that I have to surround myself with pads of paper and scads of pens/pencils/markers. Mainly because creativity is unpredictable–it may hit you anywhere, anytime! Many times I’ll come home from a day of networking (or just working) with all kinds of napkins, notes, scribbles and scratches–all creative tidbits to be acted out, acted upon or optioned for action in the future.
My longsuffering and lovely wife, Cora (watching as I empty my pockets of all this ‘creativity’)immediately ushers me and my stuff into the one place in our home where my creative crap is not only welcome, but necessary. The sanctum sanctorum known as ‘The Hole’!

‘The Hole’ (better known by its nickname-‘The Hole’)is the place of peace…the cove of creativity…the oasis of artistry. It’s a place where lunacy and alliteration collide with very interesting effects. Birthplace of Big Mike, Tuff Guy Percy and a host of other unusual characters, it is less man-cave in it’s usefullness but more like an intimate sound stage. Indeed, sound takes center stage as we work with voices, music and sound effects to come up with something that will inform, entertain and amuse.
Here are some of the house rules of ‘The Hole’:
1. All are welcome (especially kids…they always hang around outside listening to all the mayhem going on inside.)
2. It’s a place of solace–not only do I show up to work, but I also show up to meditate and pray.
3. No cussin’ spittin’ or fightin’ (although some yellin’, screamin’ and singin’ is allowed!)
I’m sure that everyone should have a special place to pray, create, work and laugh. It may not all happen in the same room, but be sure to carve yourself out some precious space: to be who you are, to sharpen your craft, exercise your gift and entertain the world! 

God Bless–and Happy Voicing!

Happy Mother’s Day To Those Who Didn’t Give Birth (but they didn’t let that stop them)

I don’t have any pictures of her, but 59 years ago Ruby Blevins (later she married Leroy Smith) took on a herculean task–trying to turn me into a useful, productive member of society. My stepmom (through arrangement with my REAL mom–it’s a long, crazy story) loved me, shaped me, sharpened me and turned me loose on an unsuspecting world. 

She was a fanatic for education, so she surrounded me with books of all kinds–everything from Bishop Fulton J. Sheen to Alex Haley to Mickey Spillane to Iceberg Slim. She was a believer and a disciplinarian and (although she never went) she made certain I was in attendance in Parochial school (which was like church everyday). I was blessed with a mother who was a bit older so I was exposed to history and discussion other kids my age had no knowledge of.



I remember scratching her head for her while she yelled at the television when watching ‘Wrestling at the Chase’. I remember her sneaking shots from a glass hidden behind the toaster. After a few ‘cocktails’, she would go to the piano and play ‘What A Friend We Have In Jesus’. She would play–and I would sing. I remember she had the loudest, goofiest laugh I’d ever heard on a woman. Her laugh (which always ended with a loud ‘OOOoooo, LORD’) was laugh-inducing.

I remember her always for her work in my life–her patience, her discipline, her sacrifice. I wasn’t her kid–but you’d better not try to say that to her…

HAPPY MOTHERS DAY TO THOSE WHO DIDN’T GIVE BIRTH (but they didn’t let that stop them)…