Bear Clause Publications Blog

We’ve all had the experience… going to an “expert” and having doubts about their expertise.  My experience was a medical event.  

I went to the Emergency Room with my left leg swollen to twice its normal size and the color of a lobster with a sunburn.  On top of that, it hurt like the dickens!  After the normal red tape and delays, I was put in a partitioned room and told the Doctor “will be with you in a  moment…”.   In a place where the meter is running, “moments” seem to take a long time.

A few moments later, (Translation: long enough undress, put on a backless gown and freeze my buns to a refrigerated vinyl table) the Doctor appeared in the doorway.  He observed me sitting there with the gown draped above my knees, looked at his chart and then looked at my legs and casually asked: “So, WHICH leg is bothering you?” 

I wondered if I had gotten a Doctor who had skipped his class in Symptoms Recognition.   Was he paying attention?  I bit my tongue, pointed to the swollen leg and answered his question: “This one.”  He was very quick with the diagnosis…”Your leg is swollen. ”  DUH!  I wondered how much this was going to cost.  I knew the meter was running and I still hadn’t been told anything I didn’t know before I went in.

In hindsight, the diagnosis was correct.  With physical therapy and a compression wrap, I was able to solve the problem.  My leg is back to normal and any swelling I have goes down overnight.  So, what’s my problem?    If the solution to the diagnosis had turned out to be amputation, would I want the Doctor asking, “So, which leg is it?”  A fifty-fifty chance of cutting off the proper leg is not what I’d call good odds….

This is one of my earlier cartoons but still one of my favorites.

When I worked in the Michigan Regional Office for State Farm Insurance in the early 70’s, we were encouraged to join Toastmasters to improve our public speaking skills.  I remember the conversations at the water fountains about the preparation and angst over speaking in front of a room full of co-workers.  It was brutal at times.

I kept hearing voices in the bathroom stalls…practicing their speech for the day.  At least that’s what I assumed was what I was hearing.  Now, you’d assume someone is having a conversation on a cell phone.  Strange how things have changed.  It isn’t any less annoying, however.

I never felt compelled to criticize another speaker, knowing full well my turn was next and my speech might be worse.  There were several times I wondered why someone would pick a topic guaranteed to bore.  The cartoon idea came from one of those speeches.  I don’t remember the topic…it was that bad, but I do remember the sound of someone behind me snoring softly.  I think I know who it was.  He openly admitted the only reason he joined was to be able to take a long lunch.

Looking back, I now realize possibly the greatest lesson learned was how to sit quietly in a corporate meeting with your eyes open, appearing to be listening with rapt attention when in reality, you checked your brain at the door.  Based on that theory, I’m guessing Congress is filled with people like that… they certainly aren’t listening and their brains ARE missing!

As an artist, I notice tools of the trade wherever they are.  I was walking in the house today from the garage and noticed a pencil on the kitchen counter that looked like one of my colored pencils.  I immediately wondered how it got there and picked it up to see which set (I have several) it belonged to. 

It didn’t look like it was from one of the sets of colored pencils I owned and I noticed advertising on it.  Printed in bold letters was “MATERIAL GIRL Quilt Shop, Traverse City, MI.”   Now I knew it wasn’t mine!  However, what caught my eye next generated the cartoon idea.  It looked like a brown, colored pencil with thick lead but on the portion where it normally (on MY pencils) listed the color, it said, on one line: “WASHABLE” and “FABRIC PENCIL” on the next line.  I immediately wondered, with the few working brain cells assigned to cartoon ideas, “Why would they have to wash the pencil?” 

Then, it struck me.  Because of the advertising, there wasn’t enough room on one line for what they meant to say, “WASHABLE FABRIC….PENCIL”.  Imagine the confusion it might cause if there were any quilting cartoonists out there… or, more likely, ROOKIE QUILTERS.

Living with an avid, accomplished quilter, I’ve heard the stories they like to tell about “Rookie” mistakes made before they knew what they were doing.  Or, at least, before they understood the unique and foreign I might add, language of Quilting.  It took me a while to not be insulted when they talked about “Fat Quarters”  in my presence… until I realized it wasn’t my physique they were referring to but pieces of pre-cut material.

I am amazed at what the are able to do with a myriad of patterns, scraps and colors.  Quilters are a special breed.  However, they do have one thing in common with me as a cartoonist… You can NEVER have too much stuff!!!

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Years ago, I drew this drawing of a “Bald” Eagle after going to the U.S. Post Office and seeing posters with the American Bald Eagle promoting Priority Mail. 

That got me thinking about eagles and  why they were called bald… Being “Hair Impaired” myself,  I wondered if male Bald Eagles lost the feathers on the top of their heads when they got old.  Why else would we call them BALD eagles?  Men with white hair aren’t called bald.  We usually refer to them as “distinguished” or something like that.   I know what bald is… it’s when you trade in your hairline for a head-line.

When my Dad was a college professor, he had a colleague who had snow white hair.  My Dad, on the other hand, could part his hair with a towel… if you know what I mean.  They had an ongoing discussion about why some people have baldness and others have a full head of white hair.  As you might expect from people in Academia, it was an intellectual conversation based upon scientific research.  Or, so they claimed.

Each came to a very different conclusion, depending on their own personal and, of course, unbiased research.  My Dad’s friend claimed hair turned white when the roots of the hair went down and hit gray matter so rich it bleached out the color.  My DAD would then counter with his theory.  White hair, in his research, was caused when the roots went into gray matter so weak there were no nutrients present and the hair dried up and turned white.  Dad said baldness was caused by hair roots getting  into gray matter so rich it burned out the roots and made the hair fall out.

From my perspective, it’s pretty obvious my Dad was right.  So I decided to set the record straight.  There is a massive Federal Cover-up going on!  Why do they insist on putting pictures of white-headed eagles and calling them BALD?   It is all about gray matter.  Some white-haired, grey matter-weakened bureaucrat in Washington called a white-feathered eagle bald.  To make matters  worse, he spelled “Male” wrong.  Lets set the record straight!   If the American symbol is the Bald Eagle, show it like it is… BALD!  Correct the spelling!  It’s “Priority MALE”. 

Bald IS beautiful, you know.