This I Believe

Outside of death and taxes, the only other thing that scares most people is 'change". I believe in change. Change can come in two ways: sought out and happenstance. Like most people, I've experienced both, but it's the latter that is sometimes the hardest to adjust to.

For twenty-some-odd years I was a successful children's book author and illustrator, mostly doing funny, cartoon-style books. Fourteen years ago when my wife and I moved to northern New England, I decided to join our town's volunteer fire department. Working from home, I had the flexibility to respond anytime, particularly during the daylight hours which is a rare thing in rural areas when most people have jobs that either take them out of town or limit their ability to respond. A few years into my avocation I chose to write and illustrate a serious book depicting the realistic challenges firefighters face. Two more "fire" books led to using "water" as the theme. In 2001 I started working with the U.S. Coast Guard Air Station Cape Cod to research a book about search and rescue at sea. Several flights and multiple photographs later, the book began to take form.

While I was in the midst of this project, I found out about the Coast Guard art program. I had loved working with the Air Station and wanted to continue exploring this military branch. After being accepted, I immediately began painting everything from search and rescue missions to the mundane duties of preparing meals in the ships' galleys. This stylistic change from cartoon to realism was tapping into something deep within me. It was also a return to a style I'd done as a kid: drawing pictures of my heroes.

Meanwhile, change in the publishing front, threw me a curve. My adventure books were not meeting the publisher's expectations and with the completion of a book on the Hurricane Hunters, I was out. As this reality hit and lack of work followed, I struggled with this change thrust upon me. And then last year, one cold February day, I was invited by the Coast Guard Public Affairs office to spend two weeks aboard patrol boats in the Persian Gulf documenting their work guarding the oil platforms off the coast of Iraq. Manna from heaven. I was thrilled.

Throughout the year, I worked on several paintings depicting the action in the Gulf, recently receiving a public service award from the Commandant. But I didn't do the paintings for that reason. The door that opened many years ago as a volunteer firefighter, began a new chapter in my life that was totally unexpected. I'm not a thrill junkie. What makes me happy is getting to glimpse the lives of the people I chronicle: people willing to put themselves in harm's way in order to save others. Change, in this sense, turned out to be a good thing.

CHaD

In September 2008, after my exhibit of art documenting the crew of DHART (Dartmouth-Hitchcock Advance Response Team),  arts coordinator/DHMC Elisabeth Gordon put out an invitation for me to document other areas in the hospital.  "Within fifteen minutes," she told me. "I heard from Jessica Laperle, Child Life coordinator at CHaD (Children's Hospital at Dartmouth).   Thus began my new adventure.

Little did I realize the impact this new arena would have on me.  Spending time with DHART was fantastic, for the people I covered, the events and of course as I like to say, 'who wouldn't like to fly in a helicopter?"  Of course that answer is 'not many', but for me it was fantastic.  Now, however, I was going to be doing work, both feet on the ground.  How could I get excited about this day after day.  And there in lay the awakening.

For several months I've visited the unit meeting with patients, their families and of course getting familiar with many of the staff.  As an artist used to walking into arenas unused to someone like myself, I know the skepticism. I read it on faces.  But as is my way, I let my art talk.  The first patient I chose was an infant being tended to by one of the RNs.  As I'd worked in watercolor for the DHART pieces, I continued in this vein.  I did two more like this before doing a young boy in pencil.  When I shared this with Jessica, her reaction was to stick with this.  It was perfect for me because I love the intimacy of pencil which contradicts our modern full-color society.  Somehow though, it worked.  Thirty-plus portraits completed, the response to the pencil portraits has been fantastic.  RN Michael Douglas called me his "hero".  I had to laugh, but I got his point.  The work I'm doing is another form of medicine.  And what's come back to me is the joy I'm feeling, meeting the patients and their families, knowing that something (besides the obvious medical attention) positive is adding to their day, putting smiles on their faces.

Accounts of interactions to come.