At 60

It’s time. January 8th I’ll be 60. Which of course means I’ve been here 60 years–it’s that’s time conundrum where you’re not actually One until you’ve been here a year.

Occasionally someone will ask, “What do you want for your 60th Birthday?” “Depends,” I reply. If they’re over 40 they laugh. If they’re under 40 they say, “On what?” Some have asked suggested gifts like a walker or Viagra and other old guy stuff.

My friend Mako Fujimura turned 50 today. He invited his friends who wanted to get him something for his birthday to give instead to Charity Waters, a cause dear to him. Here’s his Twitter post today: Today, I celebrate my 50th Bday…which I am “giving away” for a worthy cause: Please check out, http://www.mycharitywater.org/Mako

I like the spirit of this idea a lot. So, if you’re thinking of buying me a gag gift or one of those high-dollar Over-the-Hill cards, maybe instead you would want to give 60 cents, or 60 dollars, or 6 dollars to a cause that is very important to me: the International Arts Movement. Or we can simply let the day pass as any other day, and I’ll use that old geezer line: “It beats the alternative.”

If you’re so inclined, however, you can go to http://www.internationalartsmovement.org and click on “Donate.”

Overall I’m handling 60 well. I have been kicking the tires on a new Vespa. I mentioned to Arlene that maybe this was my mid-life crisis splurge. She lovingly said I was being pretty presumptuous–that I had probably passed mid-life a while back.

So, if for no other motivation than pity, if you prefer not to make a donation to a great cause, but still want to give the old man a gift, feel free to give to my Vespa fund. I only need $4,859.87 and I’ll be out there with the wind blowing across the top of my bald head.

Happy Birthday to Elvis too, where ever he may be.

 

Solace

Solace: Comfort or consolation in a time of distress or sadness. What a bittersweet word.
I realize I’ve posted this photo before but it came to my mind immediately when I thought of a personification of “solace.”

Our Friend Christy Tennant at the Survivor Tree of the Oklahoma City Bombing site

This post is in response to a photo collaboration. Maybe you would like to join in. Check it all out at:

http://threefromhereandthere.blogspot.com/

 

Breaking the Rules

The rule I’ve broken most often in my life: “Sit down and shut up!” Sometimes you just must stand up and speak up.

But this entry has to do with breaking the rules of photo composition. I’m sure this one breaks more rules than I know, but I like it. My photography muse, Claire (www.claireburge.com), offered a prompt to look at a photo in segments. This is one I took on a recent trip to Austin, Texas.

I’ll admit that at the time I didn’t see the lady coming out of Jo’s. But now when I see the photo it seems to be of her. Maybe it’s because of where she is in the photo, Claire?

 

The Frame as Boundary as Focus

Sometimes we need a frame. Infinity can overwhelm. A frame bounds–in a very good way. It defines, it helps us to focus. A frame says, all you need to see for now is here within the borders. I understand the Psalmist sense of peace when he said, “The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places.” –Psalm 16:6

Claire Burge, author of the beautiful blog at www.claireburge.com, offered this challenge:

Frames fascinate me. They are versatile, flexible items that serve many uses. And unlike the traditional wooden, plastic or steel frames used in homes and offices, all created matter can be used as a potential frame. Plant life, humans, man-made structures and even the elements can serve as a photographer’s frame. For next week’s PhotoPlay post, get your camera, head out and find a subject to frame.

So here is my response–a photo of my favorite “model” and granddaughter.

 

In Boulder, Colorado

Last weekend we spent a few days in Boulder, Colorado. Now I’m shopping for a VW Bus.

Here a few photos of the trip…

The old Boulder hippies still know how to stage a proper demonstration. This was a protest of Arizona’s new immigration policies. Believe it or not, at the time I took this shot they were singing that old protest standard: “My Bonnie Lies Over the Ocean.” I guess they were going for an immigrant type metaphor with Bonnie.

They sang horribly but with great zeal! I guess in times like these, passion for the cause trumps the quality of the art.

 

A Poem from the Eater of Purple People

Once again the poet L.L. Barkat has offered a poetry prompt that is a challenge I can’t pass up.

Okay, so for all of us who never wanted to look at the monsters under the bed, this week’s prompt is a real challenge. Write a poem about (or from the viewpoint of) some kind of monster.

My early imagery of monsters isn’t too vast. The only one that came to mind came not so much from my imagination as from a song called, “The One-eyed, One-horned, Flying, Purple People Eater.” The song, written by Sheb Wooley, reached #1 on the Billboard charts in 1958. If you’re interested, there is a plethora of versions on YouTube.

So here’s my poem written on behalf of the infamous monster. I hope it brings some closure for him.

I AM NOT PURPLE, BUT SO MISUNDERSTOOD

So I only have one eye
and a single horn;
I am not purple
I am hurt by scorn.

I acknowledge my appetites
to purple-people run,
I’ve no taste for you daughters,
nor crave your sons.

It’s like I told Sheb back in ‘58
I came to earth with a single plan:
To get me a job
In a Rock n Roll band.

 

Fifteen Years Ago

As I read comments on my post “Lessons Learned,” it struck me how many people have yet to see the Memorial of the Bombing in Oklahoma City on April 19, 1990, 9:02 AM.

So, I thought I would share two more of my recent photos taken at the Memorial in hopes of giving others a sense of the emotion that stirs at that place. My purpose is not “shock and awe,” but simply a part of my own remembrance of that moment and the days that have followed.

This photograph was taken during a visit of our good friend Christy Tennant from New York City. She is standing at The Survivor Tree which is a symbol of human resilience. Today, as a tribute to renewal and rebirth, the inscription around promontory where the tree stands reads,

The spirit of this city and this nation will not be defeated; our deeply rooted faith sustains us.

The tree somehow managed to survive the blast while all around it was destroyed. Each year seeds from the tree are planted and seedlings of the tree are planted all over Oklahoma and the Nation. You can buy a seedling of The Survivor Tree for your own yard. All the information is at

http://www.oklahomacitynationalmemorial.org

Behind Christy stands one of the Gates of Time. A block-long Reflecting Pool is flanked on the east and west by these soaring bronze gates, which symbolically frame the moment of the explosion at 9:02 a.m.. One, marked 9:01, represents the peace that prevailed seconds before the bomb exploded. The second, marked 9:03, symbolizes the bomb’s aftermath, when, as the Memorial mission statement notes, those affected by the bomb were “changed forever.”

Across the street from the Memorial is a statue of Christ. The inscription at the foot of the statue says, “And Jesus wept.”

And Jesus wept.

 

Warmth–If you have the time.

Fred “Hugh” Cox is not just my brother-in-law, he’s one of my best friends. Fred is a veteran of three Middle East tours of duty. To me he is the personification of Luke 17:10: “We are servants who have simply done our duty.”

Fred with his younger brother & sister.

Fred sent me a poem he’s written. He explained it to me:

“I remembered sometimes on a cold day in Iraq that all I had to do to warm up was move out of the wind behind a building or barrier and face the sun and warm up. At work the other day I let my cadets move out of the wind behind our laundry to warm up. And it came to me that prayer and meditation are not so mystical after all.”

step round the corner and let the sun shine on your face,
step round the corner and feel GOD’s warm embrace.
it won’t take long to feel it, might last all day.
He’s always there ,just gotta step round the corner,
if you have the time.          –Fred Cox.

 

PhotoPlay: Life Lessons

Photographer Claire Burge ( www.claireburge.com ) is inviting people to share photos and life lessons.

At the age of 19 I started a Life Lesson book. It travels almost everywhere I go and captures when I fall and when I excel, when I’m humbled and when I’m stretched, when I’m loved and when I’m disciplined. All of these and more warrant new entries. The lessons now stretch into the hundreds.
It’s been well-proven that when learning is coupled with a picture, it takes on greater relevance to the learner. For next week’s PhotoPlay, share a photograph that reflects a life lesson you’ve learned. Tell us about it, or just let the photo speak for itself. — Claire Burge

My first thought was a photograph I took a few months ago at the Oklahoma City Bombing Memorial. The life lessons in this are abundant, but at this moment the lesson is–always remember. Remember that there is a dark, ugly stain that runs through our world; but remember too, as the Memorial beautifully demonstrates, there is hope and redemption and that is beautiful.

 

Lesson from the Subway Guy

Once again, I’m taking the challenge of the “Poetry Prompt” from my friend, L.L.

L.L. here with a prompt for Random Acts of Poetry. Just write a sentence with a picture in it. Just choose a few words from another poem to include in your sentence. Break your sentence into lines.

My picture is based on a guy I sat across from on the subway on a recent trip to NYC. I borrowed four words from the poem, “After Prayers, Lie Cold,” by C.S. Lewis. The four words are raggedness, dirtiness, striven and forgiven.

Subway Guy

I judged
marked raggedness, was
repulsed by the dirtiness;
gave no thought for what
he might have striven–

Apparently I’ve missed just how
I am forgiven.