As my wife and I sat and shared with our small group the other night we both came to a similar moment of inspiration. We giggled like junior-high kids and since then the idea has stayed with me, filtering down through my subconscious and banging into things. Our little private joke played into something I was already pondering.
This is part two of my favorite pictures from 2011. While the first five were world photographs, this group is more personal. I either took them, or was part of their capture.
And like the last time, I’ll comment on why they matter to me.
I didn’t expect to be writing about this topic any time soon, but that’s the thing about shit… it can surprise you.
I love photography and I do believe it can say things that can’t ever be captured in words. So while this is obviously a text heavy blog, I wanted to share the photos which said the most to me this year and a few of the reasons why.
These first five come from sources worldwide. The next five are more personal:
I’m so far behind in updating this blog that no one can claim I deal in “current events”. But, I’ve been thinking about a major news event since it happened. And even though it quickly died out of the news cycle, it seemed to me that the most important questions never got asked. I’m not talking protests, or anyone occupying anywhere, or Bin Laden or the EU. I’m thinking about Gilad Shalit.
In 2006 this 19-year-old Israeli boy-soldier gets abducted by the Palestinian Hamas movement. He’s held in isolation and mystery for more than five years while his parents fight tirelessly for his release. Protests, demonstrations, and mentions of his captivity happened all over the world. Finally, in October of this year he’s released. Parents rejoice. Events are held. The press swarms.
Heartwarming. Yes.
But I can’t help the feeling that the difficulties of his life may be yet to come.
I’m coming to the conclusion that I hate facebook. Its cultural ubiquity requires that I continue to use it indefinitely, mainly because of Everyday Driver, but I will do it grudgingly. In fact, in this world of “social-promotion” I should actually use it far more for our car show, even though it turns my stomach. Twitter should also be a more consistent part of my life, but it hasn’t brought me to rant yet… probably because I’d be limited to 140 characters and that’s more like a rant-let. And Google+ is an also-ran at this point even though I got and accepted the very exciting invitation. G+ positions itself as the anti-facebook, but that requires people to be both: a) completely fed up with Facebook b) concluding that what they really need is a “different” social network site. I’ll take a big scoop of A, and choose to ignore B.
So what’s my problem? Click to continue »
I’ve been thinking a lot about my second Act. And I don’t really mean anything to do with screenplays. I’m talking about the second act of my life. Part 2, if you will, without actually being a sequel. Enough years have ticked by now that I’m in the danger zone for the dreaded “mid-life crisis”. And what it stirs in me is the desire for new adventures.
In the last few years I’ve taken note of a few people who have remade themselves in their late thirties, forties, and so on. And in every case I’ve marveled at how they become ageless in the change.
Recently, my son’s weapons grade bowels struck again and gave me a newfound appreciation for the wonder of diapers. Obviously something has to be done to keep little ones from literally soiling everything everywhere with a dedication rivaling the postal service. But, after nearly two years of diapers, I’ve found myself genuinely appreciating them as a vital tool in a parent’s fight for sanity (Sanitary?).
Diapers are one of those constantly improving products, yet I’ve never heard of anyone who actually works in diaper development. Who are these secret refiners of the disposable shit-catcher? Do they work underground? Is there a bunker somewhere filled with diarrhea plagued toddlers and a haggard group of lab-coated scientists? Seal teams are publicity whores by comparison.
Among the many priority shifts required for parenthood is the sudden awareness of certain places you never even saw before. The most striking is my sudden awareness of playgrounds, slides, and fast-food jungle gyms. I don’t think I ever actually used a fast-food play-palace during my own childhood, and until recently I couldn’t tell you anywhere I’d seen one.
These days I can be flying down the freeway, notice one out of the corner of my eye, and slice across three lanes of traffic to get our little man some slide time. He loves these places, but the adult in me only sees the vile plastic, wobble construction, and mats which were probably washed when Reagan was in office. Yet these places have revealed something much more interesting and unknown; playgrounds of all kinds have their own social order. Adults beware.
As this month has ticked by I’ve been increasingly aware of the date. Not because of any impending event or activity, but because it represents a moment for nostalgia. I’m thinking about May of 1991. Twenty years ago. When I graduated from High School.
As a seventeen year old senior, I remember thinking that I’d be thirty-seven at my twenty year reunion, and that was really old. There were two large errors in that assumption. First off, thirty-seven is far from old. And secondly, there’s no twenty-year high-school reunion on the horizon. Which brings me nicely to my point.
