Wednesday, April 21, 2010

This is a one of kind structure built in 1908. Legend says that while George Hofmann was traveling in Europe he fell in love with the old castles. He decided to build his own castle when he came home to America and make a present of it to his wife.
The Hofmann Tower is an eight-story structure built entirely of concrete. When erected, and for some years after, it was the tallest building west of the Chicago Loop. Visitors would come to look at the magnificent view of Chicago and the surrounding area from the top of the tower. For years the tower was the focal point of a large recreational area that included boat rides on the Des Plaines River, concerts, dancing, picnicking and a large beer garden.
Lyons, Illinois

The Tower is now owned by the forest Preserve. It is locked up and virtually boned. It is om a small plot of land which is fenced in. The dam still holds. The lake, tower and has no function.

i love that shot!
# posted by scott and vikki : 7:28 AM
Seems to me sometimes we lock up the old stuff and make it irrelevant though we're trying to preserve it.
# posted by SandyCarlson : 3:00 PM Post a Comment

Saturday, April 17, 2010



Do we need a mask?
to shield us from societt!

as societygrows people jeard

hopefull ypr daughter will noy

click on link to under stand to think............SandyCarlson has left a new comment on your post "Mask": Thanks for the link, Lloyd.I think adults wonder what others think, but kids don't spare the neighbors a thought! Good on are forgeting their peers ...eaid lloyd


There is an ill wind

Iceland volcanoes ash
does not show people class
We think we are earth star
nature know who we are


Fly thru ash
plane crash
people mash


vacation runn
airport fun

pain in ash


Monday, April 12, 2010


The long story ...Second story is a reflections of a 3 grader of the same story

Morganvilloe N.J.My Dad at that time was struggling to make a two car garage into a home on very little money. He was working for the Pennsy Railroad as an agent in a little town called Morganville. The farmers in Lake wood received all their chicks via this route. My dad to make extra money used to take the rejected shipment of chicks and bring them home. He was supposed to despose of them. Well these chicks were a motley crew due to the travel wear and cool temperatures. A lot were usually dead but always some servived in our back yard. We lived far from our next neighbor and the chickens roamed. Well my responsibility was to care for them. I would water and feed them The feed coming from broken bags rejected in shipment.Well that was OK and the number of chicken grew and grew. Than instead of a few chickens for dinner or eggs their were 3,999 chickens running all over laying eggs everywhere and getting into everything. I had to water and feed these brutes. They protected there eggs and themselves vcery well. They crapped everywhere,. Get the picture? Now this is just the beginning of the storythe background . We had moved to Morgantown the nearest town was ten miles, the neared store 2 miles. One of those stores that sold everything, even my Mothers chicken eggs. Money and credit was hard to come by, My dad owned an old buick from before the war. In the cold days he would build a small fire to warm the car under the oil block. I always wondered why it never cough fire . So here was my mom Alama trying to feed me and carol my sister. The only resources for food was eggs ,chickens, and the garden. Once in a while we had potroast for a Sunday meal. Also we had Hot bread and milk for breakfast with brown sugar, The Bread ASE made. The bread always smell good! But all the other meals were eggs and chicken, and eggs. Now back to the 3000 chickens roaming the back yard....the Chicken warsNow i was getting up early,befor school to water and feed thes brutish chickens. My dad kept bringing home more creatureasThere were red chicken,white ones and speckle types. Some had one foot. others had strange wings. All ran like hell in every direction when one was to be savrificed for our dinner. My dad taught me how to cut off my pets head, shovel the crap and steal their eggs.One day another creature appeared , befor I knew what was happening about eight chickens lay dead. The weasul was very fast. I needed help Crying out my dad came runing with a pitch fork. we cornered the weasle in a barrel. My dad advance on the rat type creature. Then it happened ! the weasle jumped at my dads face. Acting by instict he spired the creature inches from his face, Another time a pack of dogs appeared it was a war zone chicken and dogs running everwhere. Then as quickly they had come trhey ran away. 35 of my pets lie dead. Word got around to the farmers in Morganville. A dog which tastes chicken blood turns kuller. So they had to be tracked down and disposed of. Than came a nasty bit of war, the chickens turned on them selves. I found out that chickens feed corn in hot weather turned canables. They started to pick each others behind until they drew blood and then the mess began. There is nothing harder then to keep a chicken from prcking behind of there fellows!! I funally found a remedey. with a small brus I would paint their behind with a tar mixture. They really jumped around after the painting!! this tar must have tasted bad for the chickens stoped this habit, But for me it was awakening of my painting talent..............The two years of the chicken comes to an end. My dad came home one day and looked at the chickens. My mother Alma was her name had talked to him. There were now 3000 chickens running around our property. They were everywhere running this way and that. They would mob you when you came out of the house. The cars going by on the highway were complaining that hitting a chicken was dangerous not only to the chicken but downright messy. My day was being teased at his job as having an orphanage for chickens. So with this pressure they had to go. I beg him do not take my Biddy. Now what was he going to do all these chickens were old, fat and very big! Not tender they were egg layers. At this time they breed the chicken for eating or laying eggs. Not like now that the one chicken( the leghorn) is used for both. No reward foe being a Mother. Well at least a reprieve.................----- The fun of the chicken BoyThe school i N Morganville was a long walk oat. The third grade class had seven chidden in it. Upon meeting my teacher I was empresses She was a midget of a wrinkled women. Atbfirst glance one might think of her as a witch. But I knew better because she carried a yard stick in her right hand. Her siter was the principal Both were called Miss CRIME!I was to spend two years with this teacher. In those days each class had one reader book for class. I told her that I coined not see to read. Big mistake! She had me read with my noise in the book and reading it together. After two years I had memorized all eight books in the school. I remember Jan ,Dick and Spot That was the first book. It attracted this way Look at Dick, Look at Jane Look at Spot. See Dick run, see Jane run ,see spot run and so on to this day three still run in my dreams. Then I would walk home to my friends the chickens they needed to be fed. Maybe I ought Instead of Spot I old sailor at chick, see the chick, run Chic Run/...Now it had been two years into the Chicken wars. My Mother was showing some wear. She seems a little ill. My Dad seemed to not task much with mom she seemed unhappy. For Two years, the move had been an avenger to her. Now something seemed wrong, One day I saw my dad put a bottle on the windowsill with the milk. My Grad mother had diced. In addition, her illness and death seemed to make my mom old.Coming home one-day biddy did not greet me. I looked for her. I found her hanging in a tree limb her neck broken. I wonder to this day how that had happened.Then I looked around, the chicken had vanished. My dad when I was in school had sold them to ROTC (A kosher soup company); they went all weenie to the Jewish soup factory. It was quite a lose for me.The next day my dad brought home two piglets. Now this starts a new phase in my life. I call it the pig invasion..
# posted by Lloyd Irving Bradbury @ 4:21 AM 1 comments
Wednesday, April 12,


1Second part of chicken soap

Page 2CHICKEN SOUPI was quite good at taking care of these chickens. I feed,watered and doctored them. So good
a job it brought more boxes of them. In a short time there were many chickens everewhere.My day began with with running for food an water Then after school I was molded any these 299 chickens. They would run at me flopping at me in there chicken voice. I was chicken attacked.As they grew, They became my friends. I looked forward to seeing each day.I came from school one day. The chickens were nowhere to be found. Where are my chickens!Nye DAD explained “ the chickens went to the soup company”.So mow you know why I do not like chicken soup from a can!
Lloyd, thank you so much for the chicken soup story at the open mic. It was great and the audience was enraptured!

I'll catch up with you at church,

docmoreau has left a new comment on your post "The Ugly Fish": Right now I'm listening to "Prairie Home Companion" and I think you're probably listening too. Perhaps your new connection with Art will be in print. I listened to your stories often at the café. It's time to use them as a pallet for stories to tell us. Posted by docmoreau to Lloyd's Art Info at 3:15 PM

Sunday, April 11, 2010


Chicken Wars Part one

Last night I told a story. It was an open mike talent show. The show was hosted by the Riverside Pres. Church. It was sponsered by teens for there trip.
. To the audance..,
Do you like chicken soup!!?
Well I will tell why I do not!!!!
So the story is told...................
We moved from Jersey city. My Dad had gotten a new job. Our new home was in Morganville, N. J.
The home was om a farm land.
Ebb Tide has left a new comment on your post "Chicken Wars Part one": Hi Lloyd! Thanks for dropping by my blog. I just got back from a long Southeast Asian trip. Still busy unpacking. Will work on my art blog soon. I am glad you're blogging again. I like chicken soup. Good for the soul. I hope I don't lost my appetite after reading your story.
I was a 3 drader who had not seen any farn animals.
On day my dad came up to me with a box.
I looked into the box. Some hairy things looked back at me!
My Dad stated “These are damaged chickens
You must take care of them! So I becane a chicken doctor.



am always doing things I can't do, that's how I get to do them.” -- Picasso.

am always doing things I can't do, that's how I get to do them.” -- Picasso.


Friday, April 09, 2010


Re born

I ahave returned! LLOYD

SandyCarlson has left a new comment on your post "Re born":
Your heart is beautiful! ,,,,,,,,,I love you and your photos ... from LLOYD......

......Another sweat heart which I look forward to her paintings....
scott and vikki has left a new comment on your post "Re born": its nice to have you back the heart. im restarting painting this week its good be back also :)

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