Well, Dville.com was taken. Dville is my most recent nickname. I served in the
world's finest United States Marine Corps from 96-00. In boot camp, I was called
by my Drill Instructors and fellow recruits many things. Some more colorful than
others: "Sh%t head, F%ckface, Portholes, Alphabet, Davenport, or just
Dambreville". In 1997, I joined my permanent duty station of MCAS Cherry Point
NC and fellow Marines gave me the nickname of Dville.
Why MyDville.com?
My father is an artist. I am the son of
Claude Dambreville. He starts
with a blank canvas. A few hours and brushstrokes later, he is hanging a
masterpiece to dry. Maybe, we can paint this together.
I’m a great fan of boxing. I know I’m a fan because I don’t have a favorite boxer. I’ll
watch any two fighters going at it for a couple of rounds whether it’s a male or female. I’ve never boxed but I enjoy the sport.
There’s something captivating about two people fighting without really being upset at each other and doing so respecting the rules.
I understand that boxing can also be dangerous just like any other sports that involve contact. But just like football, why aren’t
boxers wearing more protection like headgear? Olympic fencing is not done with real swords so why are boxers allowed to hit each others
head and kidneys without any protection? Could it be that if boxers wore helmets and some type of protection for their ribs, there would
be less blood and knock outs? Although I’ve seen boxers in Olympic competitions knocked out. I think most people would stop watching
just because they wouldn’t see as much bruising, black eyes, knocked teeth and blood. So what’s the big deal about dog or cock fights?
We know it is wrong and illegal. So why are two grown men or women allowed to inflict so much pain and damage to each other? It seems
that gloves are only designed to protect the boxer’s knuckles instead of protecting the other boxer receiving the punch. I suggest that
more protection be worn. More padding in the gloves, protective head gear and some type of protection for kidneys wouldn’t take
anything from the sport of boxing.
On august 15th 2008, my grandmother, Mayotte, turned
105 years. She had never been sick a day in her life except in 2006, at the honorable age of
103, with a devastating case of pneumonia. It is a known fact that the latter is a leading
cause of death for the elderly. It is a terrible disease that is most of the time merciless and
fatal, even for much younger people.
My grandmother was rushed to the hospital. She had
to endure a grueling regimen of x-rays, intravenous antibiotics, and injections. She was also
put on an artificial respirator. She was discharged two days later but the doctor’s prognosis
was grim. I guess the doctor and his staff wanted her to die in her own room, in her own
bed. It seemed that she was playing her last hand and death was winning.
Curiously, the old and unpredictable patient won the
bet. Not only is Mayotte still alive, but she doesn't take any medicine. Furthermore, she
seems to be allergic to any drugs and even to simple vitamin supplements. She doesn’t drink
water. She prefers fruit juices. The most astonishing thing is that since her pneumonia, she
only eats baby food and porridge.
As you can imagine, Mayotte is just skin and
bones. Apparently, she is very happy to live and is enjoying her longevity. Recently, on the
occasion of her 105th birthday, my grandmother said with a big smile: "Most people do not reach
the century mark. I can say that, in my case, it is and exceptional achievement".
Mayotte’s unique secret is a never-failing
optimism. She is convinced that things are great and will get better. Her glass is not half
empty or half full. It is full. She is also very disciplined. A box of chocolate, with
30 pieces, will last her 30 days. She never talks about her age. Since I’ve known my
grandmother, there is word that I have never heard her pronounce. It is the word
death. When I visit her, she is always happy to see me and tells me when I
leave: "See you next year!" It’s never "See you next year, if it’s God’s will!" as we say
in Haiti.
My grandmother’s optimism and positive philosophy
have proven to be very advantageous. Her longevity is proof. This optimistic attitude ought
to be contagious. I better get on board.
Childhood obesity in the United States has grown significantly in recent years. Medical
disorders and genetics are definitely factors but it is commonly admitted that weight
gain is mainly due to poor eating habits and lack of exercise. We, as parents, are
responsible. I will start by pointing the finger at myself.
When my brother and I were kids, my dad did
his best to get us to enjoy all kinds of open air activities.
You name it. We rode bikes,
flew kites and jumped for hours on a trampoline. We had skate boards and roller skates.
My father even bought us toys that weren't too common in Haiti in the 80s. We were the
proud and envied owners of a pogo stick and a unicycle. My father, being the kid at
heart that he is, played with us most of the time and we loved every minute of it. He
didn't show any sign of pain or regret when he dislocated his knee playing soccer.
Through the study of history and
archeological findings comes a lot of very useful information about past civilizations,
our ancestors, whose knowledge and actions have greatly influenced and shaped the world
we live in today. Whether they were Lemurians or from Atlantis, as presented by certain
theories, or Egyptians, Mayas, Romans etc... They have all known their glorious days,
their days of absolute power.
Slaves to their ambitions and their inflated
egos, these civilizations of great fame allowed themselves to enter, at one point,
periods of foolishness, of outrageous extravagances. This ultimately led to their
decadence, their fall and even, in some cases, to self-destruction.
"All our dreams can come true - if we have
the courage to pursue them." Walt Disney. A friend of mine did just that. His name is
Clifford Jean-Felix. Clifford and I went to school together in Port-au-Prince, Haiti.
After graduation, we lost touch for a while but eventually our paths crossed
again. Clifford is an artist living in Canada. This is what Gallerie Agora, New York,
had to say about him:
"For Haitian born artist, Clifford Jean-Felix,
painting is a spiritual journey, a revelatory path of sunset colors and candlelit
dreamscapes. A relative of the famous Neo-Expressionist Jean-Michel Basquiat, Jean-Felix
effortlessly transcends everyday reality, stating that art is "the materialization of a
dreamed world, where human beings become light." Emphasizing vivid overall effects rather
than details, Jean-Felix arbitrarily layers complimentary colors to create dramatic
backdrops of incredible texture and variation. Giving texture primacy over line, rough
surfaces suggest transient light effects, which serve to enhance the luminous character
of Jean-Felix's work. At the heart of these paintings is a reverence for human
authenticity, a desire to reunite the viewer with his or her truest Self. Entirely devoid
of gender specific features, ethnic distinctions, or other identifying physical
attributes, Jean-Felix represents the human form purged of all artifice, ornament,
individuality and persona. Distilling the basic polarities and idiosyncratic
manifestations of human experience into that which is more general and universal,
Jean-Felix's stylized figures are totemic embodiments of eternal love and timeless
wisdom."
I am the son of an artist. What does that mean to me? It means that I never knew
what a boss was until I started working for one. And I have to admit that having
to work exactly everyday at the same time was a bit confusing at first. I mean,
I knew there was a schedule for school but I never saw my father use one to
paint. I have seen my old man waste a perfectly good Monday morning doing nothing
and paint like there was no tomorrow on a Saturday night. Having to work a full
two weeks before getting paid was a foreign concept to me as well. Unlike most of
you, I know the difference between Thalo Green and Hookers Green. Burnt Sienna is
something that I heard everyday. Grumbacher and Liquitex are no strangers to me
and I am partial to acrylic paint. I have known since the tender age of two that
a 20X24 canvas will not fit in a 16X20 frame. I know that the human ear lines up
with the bottom of the eye brow and the bottom of the nose. I know that there is
not a painting that can't be sold; sooner or later it will find its owner. I
haven't seen anything uglier than bare walls. Where you see fruits and vegetables
I see a still life. I could go on and on with what being the son of an artist
means to me. The most important thing is that it thought me to appreciate the
world around me. Sometimes, we're so caught up in our daily activities that we
have no idea that we are living in a painting.
You know how you always think that
bad things only happen to others but not to you? I was arrogant enough to
believe that I was somehow exempt from all the unfortunate mishaps that plague
other people’s lives. Well, in the early morning hours of Saturday August 9th
2008 it happened to me. At about 6:30 AM I was involved in a car accident that could have been fatal. It
happened on SR-874, south of Bird Road. I would like to explain to you in
details how it happened but the truth is that I don't remember much. The night
before, I was at a bar having a couple of drinks with a friend I hadn’t seen in
a while. I knew that I had to work the next morning so I kept the drinking
light or so I thought. We left at a decent hour. As a matter of
fact, it was early enough that we had mutually decided to look for a different
spot to hang out at. Since we were unsuccessful at finding another bar and
that it was getting late, we parted and I drove home. The next thing I
remember was the paramedics asking me for my name and if I knew where I was
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On august 15th 2008, my grandmother, Mayotte, turned
105 years. She had never been sick a day in her life except in 2006, at the honorable age of
103, with a devastating case of pneumonia. It is a known fact that the latter is a leading
cause of death for the elderly. It is a terrible disease that is most of the time merciless and
fatal, even for much younger people.
