No D - Day: So Did You Know Philadelphia Is Known As The City of Murals?

Today is No D-Day - A day started by George over at Ninjabetic a few years back.
Basically we can blog about whatever we want - As long as it's not about diabetes.
So yeah, I'm down with that.
To read others No D-Day posts, click HERE.
And to read mine - keep going!
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So I'm sure everyone has knows that Philadelphia is called The CIty of Brotherly Love, but did you also know that it's also known as The City of Murals?? 

Yep, true story. 

It all started back in 1984, when Philly's then Mayor Wilson Goode hired Muralist Jane Golden to work with the Philadelphia Anti Graffiti Network - Hoping she could reach out the to 'graffiti writers' and have them use their talents to help create murals. 

Jane not only reached out to them, she took the time to get to them and to become their friends. 

And Jane saw their tremendous artistic talent of the graffiti writers/artists and (and I'm quoting directly from the Mural Arts website,) 

 'recognized the amazing creative force they represented, and she began to provide opportunities for them to channel their creative talent into mural-making. Mural painting also provided a support structure for these young men and women to refine their artistic skills, empowering them to take an active role in beautifying their own neighborhoods.'

Jane had and has a simple mantra: Art Saves Lives. 

And Jane saw art do just that as her program changed the lives of the artists that created the art, and those living in the many city neighborhoods in which the murals were created and permanently displayed in.

Cut to 1996 when then Mayor Ed Rendell reformatted The Philadelphia Anti Graffiti Network and turned it into the Mural Arts Program - A city wide public arts program that has inspired millions and garnered national attention. 

That same year and through all sorts of serendipity, Jane created the Philadelphia Mural Arts Advocates non profit,  and together both programs changed Philadelphia's canvas for the better. 

The Mural Arts Program annually provides about 1,800 young people throughout the city with free art and education programs. 

Lives are changed forever in Philadelphia neighborhoods through art, education and beautification - Yep, awe inspiring and awesome! 

The murals themselves run the gambit as far as subject matters are concerned. 

Everything including, but not are not limited to: History (Phildelphia, US, World,) the culturally diversity that is the United States, causes (yes, there's a disease that will not be named because of No D-Day, mural in the City of Brotherly Love - 3 blocks from my old Fishtown stomping grounds,) and individuals - Like Philly sons Mario Lanza and Larry Fine. 

Philly's murals will stop you in your tracks and take your breath away - And that's exactly what happened to me when I came across the following mural at 13 & Locust a few weeks ago.

Thank God I had my iPad in my handbag &  was able to get the following shot up close. 

Yep, it took my breath away!

So the next time you're Philly bound, be sure to look around and appreciate the art (and the people who created it) that surrounds you!

Also, if you want to take a walking tour of the murals, click HERE and find out 

No D Day: It Was So Much More Than A Blanket ~

Thanks to Ninjabetic -  I'm not blogging about you know what!

Because today is No D Day, and many in the DOC are blogging about anything and everything but D.

To read what others wrote on No D Day, click HERE.

As far me, every year On No D Day I write about a specific childhood memory, this year it's all about my blanket - And don't call it a blanky, dammit! 

When I was a very little kid, I had a blanket, not a blanky mind you, but a blanket. A beautiful and soft white blanket.
And unlike Linus Van Pelt, I DID NOT carry it with me where ever I went.
But I did like to know that it was in the general vicinity whenever  I was home and before bed, or on long car trips with my family.
The white blanket was a thick, white cotton with a tiny white on white checkerboard pattern and it was incredibly soft. I'd fall asleep with the blanket (along with a bear named Honey and a sock doll named Sockey, who took the place of my beloved but forever lost velvet Piglet) over my head and looking at the checkboard pattern at night.
But by day, the blanket would turn into all sorts of things.
Things like a picnic tablecloth for the make pretend picnics I had on my living room floor, complete with cream cheese and saltines atop pink plastic doll dishes and Bluebird brand grapejuice in mini white cans with a bluebird on the front.
Other times and with a few twists it became a "Genie of the lamp" type turban, a magic carpet that I could indeed ride on, a " Super Kelly Cape", a bride's veil or a sleeping bag for my dolls.
Yes, that white blanket rocked - And for a little girl with a big imagination, the possibilities of what I could turn it into were endless!
But I think the affinity I had for my blanket kind of worried my mom.
Because one Saturday morning I woke up and the white blanket was gone - and so was my mom. And according to my older sister, mom he'd gone to the garden center to buy some bags of dirt and fertilizer and when she came back, I ran out to meet her.
Me: Mom, I can't find my blanket!
Mom: Kelly, you're in kindergarten and you start first grade next year, you're too big to sleep with a blanket.
Me: It's not just a blanket mom - It turns into other stuff.
Mom: Kelly, I have some bad news. Somehow your blanket ended up in the trunk of my car and I didn't realize it until the workers were piling the the bags of dirt and fertilizer into my trunk... and on top of your blanket - And it's ruined.
Me: Can't you just wash it?
Mom: Kelly, do you know what fertilizer is?
And for the record, I did not know what fertilizer was. And then in great detail, she went on to explain exactly what fertilizer was and where it actually came from and that even if she washed my white blanket 20 times, it still wouldn't be clean enough to sleep or play with.
So we had to throw blanket out - And it was a sad day in the Kunik house.
My mom never copped to intentionally destroying the white blanket, though I still have my suspicions to this very day.
And I mourned the loss of my blanket/ toy/prop for days.... Until my parents gave me a ginormous Holly Holly rag doll and my sister showed me the wonders of my mother's cedar chest and all the costume type of stuff that was stored inside.   But I think I'll keep those wonders for another post~

No D Day 2011: Painted Lady Prose

Thanks to the amazing Ninjabetic, No D Day is once again in full force. Today many of the Diabetes bloggers are writing about anything but diabetes!
As for yours truly, I'm writing about Painted Ladies - The fantastical butterflies fly to a warmer climate each and every fall and are literally everywhere I look come late September and early October.

These beautiful Painted Ladies make me smile and they make me happy and I LOVE THEM.
I started taking pictures of them last year and I like what I captured in my lens.

And then the butterflies inspired some prose and I decided to share both with you!

Painted Ladies sitting pretty on daisies

Painted Lady Butterflies sitting on daisies,
Painted Lady Butterflies behaving like.... Well, ladies.

They Flitter around and make me smile,

Flittering by my garden - stopping if only for a while.

It's amazing what these Painted Ladies will let you see...If you sit completely stil and let them be.

I snap their picutes, then sigh and say goodbye.
Knowing it will be anther year before I get another chance to say "Hi."
Travel well my lovely ladies - I'll see you next fall.

Goodbye my painted Ladies & love & kisses too you all!

A single Painted Lady

Kelly & The Talking Christmas Tree

Thanks To the keen mind of Ninjabetic- "Today is No D Blog Day." Anything goes re: D Blog Day- as long as you don't actually mention the D word!

When I was a very little girl, I believed in Santa Clause and Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer - both were magic part of my childhood and represent some of the happiest memories I have.

But I also believed in something that most people outside of a 30 mile radius of Southern NJ don't know anything about. I'm talking about the Shore Mall Talking Christmas Tree, which lived on the second story of the Shore Mall, in the old Steinbeck's department store.

The ginormous tree was decorated in gold, silver, & green and when you walked by, it would start talking, and not just mindless gibber jabber, no it would start talking TO YOU.

I remember being about 4 years old (if that) and being amazed that this majestical and fantastical Christmas tree started talking with me. And me being me -I started talking right back.

Talking Christmas Tree: Hey little girl with the checkered coat and hat, what's your name?

Me: Kelly Kunik and I'm four. What's your name?

Talking Christmas Tree: Ummmm, no one's ever asked me that before. It's Chris.

Me: Do you know Santa?

Talking Christmas Tree: Yes I do.

Me: Tell him I'm good, OK?

Talking Christmas Tree: Well... are you?

Me: Yes I am. Are you?

And the conversation would continue on. I'd beg my mother to leave me at the the tree's base, so we could keep talking. It being the 70's and things being more loosey goosey, my mother agreed.

I'd tell the Talking Christmas Tree all about my family, my dog Primo, tap dancing class and the star stickers on my tap shoes that I got for remembering the steps that were taught the week before. We talked about Captain Kangaroo and how I preferred purple over pink, and how I'd lost my stuffed Piglet and cried for a week. I told him that I loved carrots and that if you dipped cherry and lime swirl flavored Sweet and Sour Charms lollypops in a glass of water, the water would taste REALLY Good. You name it, and we chatted about it.

And I wasn't the only kid chatting at the base of The Talking Christmas Tree. Hoards of kids would be talking and playing - it was a regular yule log romper room. Store employees handed out kandy kanes & gifts, and we'd stand around The Talking Christmas Tree singing Christmas Songs while simultaniously shouting questions for the Talking Christmas Tree.

Every time we went to the mall during the holidays, I HAD to say hello to the Talking Christmas Tree - I loved him almost as much as I loved Santa.

I remember the day I found out that much like the Wizard of Oz, there was a man behind the curtain doing all the talking. I must have been about 7 at the time and I was with my older sister Cathy. Turns out she knew the Steinbeck's employee who was Chris. I saw him peak out from behind the black curtains to get some facetime with her and say hi. I blinked my eyes to hold the tears back and I felt my face turning six shades of red. If The Talking Christmas Tree was fake, then what about Santa?

I held onto Santa for as long as I could though, because deep inside I knew that once I stopped believing in Santa, I would be well on my way to growing up. And at 7, I wasn't quite ready for that.

I LOVE LUCY

Today is NO DDay. What's that? George will explain it HERE. And you can find it on Twitter by looking up the Hashtag #nodday.

As for me, I'm writing about LUCY.

I decided to write about one of my oldest friends, Lucy. 

WHY? BECAUSE I LOVE LUCY.

There isn’t a time when I don’t remember having Lucy in my life.

She's is one of the constants - No matter how much my hometown changes or where my life's journey takes me, Lucy remains the same. Actually, she gets better with age.

Whenever I see her and no matter how long it's been - she welcomes me with a wink and a smile.

Lucy is learned and wise. The years have given her wisdom and her eyes have seen more than most of us forget.

Lucy.....is an Elephant. YES, you heard me right, AN ELEPHANT.

Otherwise known as: Lucy THE Elephant!

And not just any elephant mind you. Lucy is larger than life, standing 6 stories (65 ft) tall, 60 feet long, and 18 feet wide. She weights close to 90 tons- and is a proud pachyderm!

Lucy was built in 1881 as gimmick to promote real estate in “South Atlantic City,” which is now called Margate - my hometown.

Lucy has had many incarnations. First as Real Estate promotion, then a mini hotel, a private beach cottage and a tavern – Imagine the visions of Pink elephants she inspired!

In the 1950’s she started to fall apart and by the late 60’s she was ready for the wrecking ball.

In 1969 The Save Lucy Committee was formed and in 1970 Lucy was moved 2 city blocks to he r present location.

In 1971 she applied to be on the National register of Historic Places and is granted that status in 1976.

Over the years hundreds of thousands of dollars have been spent to restore her interior and exterior  - and she is beautiful!

Lucy has ALWAYS been there for me.

When I was little, she provided me with wonderful memories of both my father and brother.

My first real memories of her are seeing her from the beach-back when I was a little girl.

My father and I would take walks on the beach and after a while we’d see her. I’d start waving to her and calling her name. “HI LUCY!!!- I LOVE YOU!!!” She’d stand there with her comforting smile, and I knew all would be well.

Another early memory is seeing her from the ocean -  when I was maybe four.

 My brother John was a Life Guard and his “job” in the family was to make sure I learned to swim. We went out in the Surf Boat with another guard and they rowed out deep. 

Then John dove in the ocean and me being me, jumped in after him  - and we started to doggie paddle, and that’s how I learned to swim. Together we paddled back to shore- and my brother kept saying: Swim towards Lucy! Swim towards Lucy!” And with his help (and hers,) I did.

In Grade School I remember singing & dancing (both as audience member and as a performer) at her summer out door concerts.

In Middle School- Lucy was my friend when others were not.

In High School, my first boyfriend kissed me under the stars and beside her trunk.

In college, the night of my sister’s funeral- my friends decided to take me out. 

It was night filled with beer, tears and lots of wonderful stories. 

My friend Matt and I broke from the group and took a walk in Lucy's direction. 

We sat by the bulkhead- with Lucy directly over our shoulders, shielding us from unseen things in the night.

Matt told me to look up at the stars,to the ocean in the sky-and remember that was where my loved one’s would always be. Those words brought me great comfort and still do today. Whenever I think of my father or sister, I know they are walking along the the ocean in the sky, healthy and happy along it's shore.

My “serious” boyfriends have all been introduced to Lucy ;)

Most recently, I took my niece Livy on a tour of Lucy. We sat atop her howdah and we laughed and laughed and shared all sorts of secrets with Lucy- and much to her credit, Miss Lucy has kept every one.

The End ~