Tablescapes fundraiser supports local art in Terre Haute
TERRE HAUTE, Ind. (WTWO/WAWV) — You can support a local art gallery with a fun and imaginative event later this week.
Arts Illiana will hold its annual Tablescapes fundraiser this Friday and Saturday, May 14 and 15.
The event raises funds to support Arts Illiana's mission of promoting the arts in the community, including their gallery.
At the Tablescapes event, artists, designers, businesses and community members get a theme and design and design a table based on that concept.
'We have all kinds of different things. It could be something from middle-earth out of Tolkien, to a summer sunset. I mean, they will design an entire table around a theme, and it's hilarious, and a lot of fun and beautiful,' said Jon Robeson, Arts Illiana's Executive Director.
The event will be held at the Sycamore Banquet Center at Indiana State University's Hulman Memorial Union.
For more information on the event, and how to get tickets or to learn more about Arts Illiana, you can do so by clicking here.
Copyright 2025 Nexstar Media, Inc. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten, or redistributed.
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CNN
16 hours ago
- CNN
This aircraft mechanic is using social media to make flying – and grieving – a little less scary
Max Comer never set out to become a social media star. But somewhere between fixing landing gear in Oklahoma and raising two young sons on his own, the 33-year-old aircraft mechanic — known as 'Airplane Facts with Max' online — started gaining followers by the thousand. In his quirky, deadpan videos, Comer introduces aircraft components like speed tape, cargo doors and ice detection systems — often relating them to elaborate 'Lord of the Rings' references. In one video about titanium engine fan blades, for instance, he dives into an extended overview of the origins of Andúril, the sword carried by Aragorn, which was reforged from the shards of Narsil by the Elves of Rivendell. But it's not all Tolkien. Sporting metal-band tees and long, wavy strawberry-blond hair, Comer also helps demystify air travel by posting reassuring videos about common in-flight worries, from banging sounds during takeoff to the origins of the 'smoke' coming from overhead vents. A post shared by Max (@airplanefactswithmax) He also clears up misconceptions about things like 'duct tape' on planes (it's actually speed tape) or the 'black' box (which is actually two bright orange boxes). To his surprise, people have embraced his dry humor and mix of aviation facts and Middle-earth lore — a curious combination that's earned him over 1.2 million Instagram followers and nearly half a million more on TikTok. 'One thing I've learned from my page is that aircraft mechanics aren't talked about much — we usually work behind the scenes, so I'm glad to shine a little light on what we do,' he tells CNN. 'There are hundreds of thousands of us out there, working overnight in the dark and the rain, changing tires and brakes, getting covered in hydraulic fluid. It's not glamorous. It's dirty. It can be hard on your body. But someone's got to do it — and we do.' Growing up in Denver, Colorado, Comer had a lot of freedom to pursue hobbies and do his own thing. He recalls spending his youth skateboarding, playing guitar in local bands and helping his dad with repairs on the family ranch. After high school, Comer gave college a try for about a year and a half, but it wasn't a good fit, so he dropped out. It's not glamorous. It's dirty. It can be hard on your body. But someone's got to do it — and we do.' Max Comer, aircraft mechanic In 2013, Comer met his late wife, Jones, and they later welcomed their first son, Finn, a year later. At the time, he was bartending while searching for a more stable career with benefits. A friend's father, an aircraft mechanic, was about to start school for his Airframe and Powerplant (A&P) license and invited Comer to join him. So in 2015, he enrolled in a full-time A&P program while continuing to work nights at the bar. 'It was a grind,' he says. 'We were scrambling to make ends meet. But I knew it was just 18 months — and I could do it.' After graduating, Comer took a job with Horizon Air in Seattle, working on regional jets like the Bombardier Q400 and Embraer 175. 'I was really green,' he says. 'In school, you're working on engines that have been sitting there for 25 years. Then suddenly working on a live aircraft that's about to carry real people.' Thankfully, he was surrounded by veteran mechanics who showed him the ropes during overnight shifts when they would take care of whatever the planes needed, such as tire and oil changes or flight control checks. Sometimes, he worked on planes that carried his own family. He recalls one morning when he was stuck trying to fix a plane's cargo door. 'My wife, Jones, and my kid were actually on that flight,' he says. 'She's texting me from the terminal like, 'Fix the damn plane, Max! We're gonna miss our connection!'' And while it could be high pressure at times, Comer loved the job. 'There's a lot of stress in aviation for everybody in the industry. There's a low margin of error, so things have to be precise,' he says. 'The plane can't pull over. There's no side of the cloud where you can stop and check something. It makes me feel like what I'm doing on a day-to-day basis is important, because it is.' For the next few years, life was good for Comer — he had a fulfilling career, was deeply in love, and welcomed a second son. But then his world collapsed. In September 2022, Jones passed away unexpectedly. 'It was by far the hardest time in my life,' he says. 'She was the love of my life. A one-of-a-kind person who brought so much joy to our lives. I felt like my life was over. I couldn't sleep. I was spiraling.' As he struggled to stay afloat under the crushing weight of grief, Comer searched for distractions and comfort in literature. He turned to the world of 'The Lord of the Rings,' losing himself in Elvish languages, gruesome battles and the lore of Tolkien's magical realms. 'Tolkien has always been a comfort story for me,' he says. 'Oddly enough, my wife didn't like 'Lord of the Rings' — she thought it was boring. So, it was one thing that didn't remind me of her. It felt like a safe space away from everything.' Around the same time, Comer began posting short, monotone videos about aircraft parts on his private Instagram. His friends thought they were funny and urged him to try TikTok. So, in November 2022, he gave it a shot. 'I posted on TikTok, then accidentally fell asleep on my lunch break,' he says. 'I wasn't sleeping much back then and just dozed off.' He never imagined that first 'airplane fact' would take off. 'When I woke up, it already had 20,000 views. My phone had exploded,' he recalls. 'It was wild.' About three months later, he posted his first Tolkien-themed airplane fact, just to see if he could connect two wildly different interests. 'I didn't think I could do it again,' he says. 'But then I came up with another one, and then another. And I realized — I could just keep going.' If it were up to him, he says he'd talk about 'Lord of the Rings' all day. 'But I realized most people don't know as much about airplanes as I do,' he says. 'So I figured, why not do both? It's a win-win.' For a long time, Comer didn't mention Jones on his page. But when he finally did, the outpouring of support caught him off guard. 'It was overwhelmingly positive,' he says. 'People shared their own stories of grief, and it made me feel less alone.' Looking back, he says, Airplane Facts with Max gave him something vital. 'During that time, I had a hard time wanting to just keep going day to day. It gave me something to look forward to — a creative outlet I really needed.' And what would Jones think about it all? 'She loved social media. I think it would blow her mind. Especially because it's about two things — 'Lord of the Rings' and airplanes — that she thought were so boring,'' he laughs. 'She'd probably be like, 'My dumb husband? This guy?' But I think she'd probably be a mix of proud and jealous.' While Comer occasionally shares more personal posts, the vast majority of his content is lighthearted — created just for the fun of it. He says he truly enjoys finding unlikely links between cargo bays or landing gear and obscure Tolkien plotlines. 'I don't script the videos,' he says. 'I tried once, but it looked like I was reading. Now I just visualize it and go.' A post shared by Max (@airplanefactswithmax) He's especially proud when his content helps viewers overcome a fear of flying or inspires a new career path. 'I've had people message me saying they're starting A&P school because of my channel,' he says. 'That's wild to me. I hope that the industry treats them as well as it's treated me.' Comer currently works in heavy maintenance on Boeing 737s, 777s and 787s, performing comprehensive 'C-Checks' that commercial aircraft undergo every couple of years. 'We take the airplane apart and put it back together. When it leaves, it's basically a brand-new aircraft,' he explains. 'That's why a plane from 1996 can still fly.' Beyond aviation and Tolkien content, Comer has also started sharing his original music — mostly heartfelt acoustic tracks written about his late wife. 'For me, it just kind of flows out, and it feels good to be able to take that emotion and create something,' he adds. Whether through his poignant music or humorous aviation facts, Comer hopes his content resonates on multiple levels. He aims to shine a light on aircraft mechanics, ease anxieties around flying, delight fellow Tolkien fans — and perhaps offer solace to those navigating grief. 'This all started when I was at the lowest point in my life,' says Comer. 'It helped me find myself again and made me feel like I had something of value to give. 'If I've brought anyone a little laughter or comfort over the past few years, that makes me feel really good about what I've been doing.'
CNN
17 hours ago
- CNN
This aircraft mechanic is using social media to make flying – and grieving – a little less scary
Max Comer never set out to become a social media star. But somewhere between fixing landing gear in Oklahoma and raising two young sons on his own, the 33-year-old aircraft mechanic — known as 'Airplane Facts with Max' online — started gaining followers by the thousand. In his quirky, deadpan videos, Comer introduces aircraft components like speed tape, cargo doors and ice detection systems — often relating them to elaborate 'Lord of the Rings' references. In one video about titanium engine fan blades, for instance, he dives into an extended overview of the origins of Andúril, the sword carried by Aragorn, which was reforged from the shards of Narsil by the Elves of Rivendell. But it's not all Tolkien. Sporting metal-band tees and long, wavy strawberry-blond hair, Comer also helps demystify air travel by posting reassuring videos about common in-flight worries, from banging sounds during takeoff to the origins of the 'smoke' coming from overhead vents. A post shared by Max (@airplanefactswithmax) He also clears up misconceptions about things like 'duct tape' on planes (it's actually speed tape) or the 'black' box (which is actually two bright orange boxes). To his surprise, people have embraced his dry humor and mix of aviation facts and Middle-earth lore — a curious combination that's earned him over 1.2 million Instagram followers and nearly half a million more on TikTok. 'One thing I've learned from my page is that aircraft mechanics aren't talked about much — we usually work behind the scenes, so I'm glad to shine a little light on what we do,' he tells CNN. 'There are hundreds of thousands of us out there, working overnight in the dark and the rain, changing tires and brakes, getting covered in hydraulic fluid. It's not glamorous. It's dirty. It can be hard on your body. But someone's got to do it — and we do.' Growing up in Denver, Colorado, Comer had a lot of freedom to pursue hobbies and do his own thing. He recalls spending his youth skateboarding, playing guitar in local bands and helping his dad with repairs on the family ranch. After high school, Comer gave college a try for about a year and a half, but it wasn't a good fit, so he dropped out. It's not glamorous. It's dirty. It can be hard on your body. But someone's got to do it — and we do.' Max Comer, aircraft mechanic In 2013, Comer met his late wife, Jones, and they later welcomed their first son, Finn, a year later. At the time, he was bartending while searching for a more stable career with benefits. A friend's father, an aircraft mechanic, was about to start school for his Airframe and Powerplant (A&P) license and invited Comer to join him. So in 2015, he enrolled in a full-time A&P program while continuing to work nights at the bar. 'It was a grind,' he says. 'We were scrambling to make ends meet. But I knew it was just 18 months — and I could do it.' After graduating, Comer took a job with Horizon Air in Seattle, working on regional jets like the Bombardier Q400 and Embraer 175. 'I was really green,' he says. 'In school, you're working on engines that have been sitting there for 25 years. Then suddenly working on a live aircraft that's about to carry real people.' Thankfully, he was surrounded by veteran mechanics who showed him the ropes during overnight shifts when they would take care of whatever the planes needed, such as tire and oil changes or flight control checks. Sometimes, he worked on planes that carried his own family. He recalls one morning when he was stuck trying to fix a plane's cargo door. 'My wife, Jones, and my kid were actually on that flight,' he says. 'She's texting me from the terminal like, 'Fix the damn plane, Max! We're gonna miss our connection!'' And while it could be high pressure at times, Comer loved the job. 'There's a lot of stress in aviation for everybody in the industry. There's a low margin of error, so things have to be precise,' he says. 'The plane can't pull over. There's no side of the cloud where you can stop and check something. It makes me feel like what I'm doing on a day-to-day basis is important, because it is.' For the next few years, life was good for Comer — he had a fulfilling career, was deeply in love, and welcomed a second son. But then his world collapsed. In September 2022, Jones passed away unexpectedly. 'It was by far the hardest time in my life,' he says. 'She was the love of my life. A one-of-a-kind person who brought so much joy to our lives. I felt like my life was over. I couldn't sleep. I was spiraling.' As he struggled to stay afloat under the crushing weight of grief, Comer searched for distractions and comfort in literature. He turned to the world of 'The Lord of the Rings,' losing himself in Elvish languages, gruesome battles and the lore of Tolkien's magical realms. 'Tolkien has always been a comfort story for me,' he says. 'Oddly enough, my wife didn't like 'Lord of the Rings' — she thought it was boring. So, it was one thing that didn't remind me of her. It felt like a safe space away from everything.' Around the same time, Comer began posting short, monotone videos about aircraft parts on his private Instagram. His friends thought they were funny and urged him to try TikTok. So, in November 2022, he gave it a shot. 'I posted on TikTok, then accidentally fell asleep on my lunch break,' he says. 'I wasn't sleeping much back then and just dozed off.' He never imagined that first 'airplane fact' would take off. 'When I woke up, it already had 20,000 views. My phone had exploded,' he recalls. 'It was wild.' About three months later, he posted his first Tolkien-themed airplane fact, just to see if he could connect two wildly different interests. 'I didn't think I could do it again,' he says. 'But then I came up with another one, and then another. And I realized — I could just keep going.' If it were up to him, he says he'd talk about 'Lord of the Rings' all day. 'But I realized most people don't know as much about airplanes as I do,' he says. 'So I figured, why not do both? It's a win-win.' For a long time, Comer didn't mention Jones on his page. But when he finally did, the outpouring of support caught him off guard. 'It was overwhelmingly positive,' he says. 'People shared their own stories of grief, and it made me feel less alone.' Looking back, he says, Airplane Facts with Max gave him something vital. 'During that time, I had a hard time wanting to just keep going day to day. It gave me something to look forward to — a creative outlet I really needed.' And what would Jones think about it all? 'She loved social media. I think it would blow her mind. Especially because it's about two things — 'Lord of the Rings' and airplanes — that she thought were so boring,'' he laughs. 'She'd probably be like, 'My dumb husband? This guy?' But I think she'd probably be a mix of proud and jealous.' While Comer occasionally shares more personal posts, the vast majority of his content is lighthearted — created just for the fun of it. He says he truly enjoys finding unlikely links between cargo bays or landing gear and obscure Tolkien plotlines. 'I don't script the videos,' he says. 'I tried once, but it looked like I was reading. Now I just visualize it and go.' A post shared by Max (@airplanefactswithmax) He's especially proud when his content helps viewers overcome a fear of flying or inspires a new career path. 'I've had people message me saying they're starting A&P school because of my channel,' he says. 'That's wild to me. I hope that the industry treats them as well as it's treated me.' Comer currently works in heavy maintenance on Boeing 737s, 777s and 787s, performing comprehensive 'C-Checks' that commercial aircraft undergo every couple of years. 'We take the airplane apart and put it back together. When it leaves, it's basically a brand-new aircraft,' he explains. 'That's why a plane from 1996 can still fly.' Beyond aviation and Tolkien content, Comer has also started sharing his original music — mostly heartfelt acoustic tracks written about his late wife. 'For me, it just kind of flows out, and it feels good to be able to take that emotion and create something,' he adds. Whether through his poignant music or humorous aviation facts, Comer hopes his content resonates on multiple levels. He aims to shine a light on aircraft mechanics, ease anxieties around flying, delight fellow Tolkien fans — and perhaps offer solace to those navigating grief. 'This all started when I was at the lowest point in my life,' says Comer. 'It helped me find myself again and made me feel like I had something of value to give. 'If I've brought anyone a little laughter or comfort over the past few years, that makes me feel really good about what I've been doing.'
Yahoo
18 hours ago
- Yahoo
13 Behaviors Of 80s Parents That Really Embarrassed Their Kids
The 80s were a wild time—big hair, loud prints, and parents who seemed to have no idea how much they were crushing their kids' social lives. While we thought we were just trying to survive middle school, they were out there living their best lives—often at our expense. Looking back, their antics are equal parts hilarious and mortifying. Here are 13 cringey behaviors 80s parents were so good at, the ones that made their kids want to disappear into the nearest Trapper Keeper. And if you're a kid of the 80s, you know these cuts deep. You'd pick up the phone—tethered to the wall, of course—and hear your mom mid-conversation, telling Aunt Linda all about your latest crush, your grades, and that weird rash you had last week. There was no such thing as a private life when your mom had a captive audience and a corded phone. The worst part? You could hear everyone listening on the party line. It was like they had no concept of boundaries. And you'd have to face your friends at school the next day like you weren't the main character in her soap opera. As noted by Verywell Mind, parental oversharing has long been a source of embarrassment for kids, especially before the digital age. There you were, trying to blend into the beige carpet during math class, when bam—your mom shows up at the door with your lunch, or worse, to 'check in' on you. No pass, no call ahead, just bold 80s energy, striding in like she owned the place. You wanted to melt into the floor as your classmates stared. That mix of helicopter parenting and total lack of self-awareness was peak 80s. And you never knew when the next ambush was coming. As noted by Indiana State University, parental involvement in school settings has evolved dramatically since the 80s, with boundaries now much more respected. Think matching Christmas sweaters… at the mall… in July. Or forcing you to stand in front of a theme park sign while your dad adjusted the disposable camera for five agonizing minutes. Every time you protested, they'd say, 'You'll thank me later!' Spoiler: You didn't. And those photos? They haunt you to this day. Your dad's love for Steely Dan or your mom's obsession with Fleetwood Mac wasn't a vibe—it was a lifestyle. The stereo system was their personal concert venue, and they had no shame about cranking it up, even when your friends were over. You'd sit there, mortified, as your house vibrated to 'Reelin' In The Years.' Trying to talk over the music was a losing game. And asking them to turn it down? Forget it—they were 'educating' you. Rolling Stone even notes that 80s music culture was all about big sound and bigger personalities—no wonder they turned it up to 11. You'd casually mention you were going to Emily's house, and before you knew it, your mom was on the phone, asking Emily's mom about their political views, their snacks, and whether they 'kept a clean house.' It was like a full background check before you were allowed to leave the driveway. And no, you couldn't stop her. The embarrassment wasn't just the call—it was facing Emily afterward. You felt like you needed a witness protection program. They dressed you like you were prepping for a blizzard in July: turtlenecks, windbreakers, and clunky shoes that screamed 'responsible parenting' but tanked your social life. Fashion was not a priority—survival was. And your pleas for a pair of acid-wash jeans fell on deaf ears. You learned to dread school picture day because it was just another chance for them to ruin your chances at looking remotely cool. And to this day, you can still feel the scratch of those synthetic fabrics. As highlighted by Vogue, 80s kids' fashion was often dictated by practicality and parental preferences, not style. 'Oh, come give Uncle Bob a hug!'—even though you'd never seen Uncle Bob in your life and he smelled like cigars and mothballs. Personal space? Not a thing. You were expected to be a tiny social ambassador, no matter how awkward or uncomfortable it felt. That forced affection left you cringing in the corner, counting the minutes until you could escape. And it planted seeds of people-pleasing you're still untangling. At a party, at the grocery store, even at your teacher conference—they'd gleefully recount the time you peed your pants in kindergarten or the phase when you wouldn't stop licking your elbow. They acted like your life was a sitcom for public consumption. And you couldn't do a thing about it. You'd sit there, cheeks burning, as they laughed louder with each retelling. Privacy was not a right—it was a joke. You'd sit in the kitchen chair, a towel around your neck, and they'd just go for it—with no mirror, no warning, and definitely no styling skills. The bowl cut? The mullet? The uneven bangs that haunted your school yearbook? Those weren't choices—they were happenings. And you learned that the phrase 'Just a trim' was a trap. 'Oh, she'd love to sing the solo at the school assembly!' or 'He's great at math—he can tutor the neighbor's kid!' You'd find out you were volunteered for something when it was too late to back out. And you'd stand there, frozen, wondering how you got roped into this. It wasn't about your skills—it was about them wanting to show off their parenting. And you felt like a pawn in their performance. Your dad needed to grab the newspaper? Boom—door open. Your mom had a question about dinner? Yep, there she was, mid-shampoo. Privacy in 80s households was a luxury you didn't know you were missing. And the worst part? They acted like you were the problem for caring. Skin your knee? It was an emergency room visit. Cough in class? They were calling the doctor. The 80s parent response to minor injuries was either full-blown panic or dismissive toughness—but when they did freak out, they made it everyone's business. You'd be mortified as they grilled the school nurse, the coach, even the janitor. And you learned that being hurt also meant being humiliated. Feeling sad, anxious, or overwhelmed? Their response was a shrug and a 'You'll be fine—life's tough.' There was no emotional space for your feelings—only a rough, bootstrapped version of resilience. You learned to shove your emotions down, smile through it, and not make a big deal. But that silent suffering? It lingers.
