Egos in Check

   
All I could see was her face.
     My niece, a high school junior, played saxophone during the performance of a youth orchestra last
Friday night in Boston. She sat near the back of the stage.
     She knew, during three weeks of practice, that few people in the audience would see her. She
understood, as did her fellow musicians, that none of them would showcase individual talents.
     Nowadays there's so much emphasis on self expression. It's refreshing to watch talented kids
check their egos at a stage door, wear the same black and white outfits, and perform as a team.

Americana

    For a small city, the visit of a president is a big deal.
    This month I covered President Obama's campaign bus tour across Ohio. During his visit to Sandusky, I declined to cover his speaking engagement. Instead I roomed the streets where his motorcade would pass. People waited in near one hundred degree temperatures for his arrival.
     Most Americans, regardless of their political beliefs, welcome a president into their communities. Sure, there are some protestors about, but most people wave and smile when a president drives by. People in Sandusky behaved in the same fashion.
     Among the crowd was a husband and wife visiting from Ukraine. They were witnessing a slice of 'Americana' even if they'd never heard of that word. I'm glad those visitors got to see America at its patriotic best. 

Generation Bland

     Is face to face conversation become marginalized?    
     Last winter I walked through a student union at a college in Georgia. The setting was quiet like a morgue. Students hunched over smart phones or laptops. Nobody talked to each other. Above them on a wall, a mural depicted a turn-of-the century scene. The image depicted kids playing together in a park while adults chatted. The juxtaposition of joy on the mural and blandness in the room startled me.
     I recently flew to and from Utah. Only one fellow passenger engaged me with conversation. Everybody else immersed themselves in electronic distractions.
     Or have people rather than gadgets become distractions?
     Yesterday, while I walked on a quiet road, a woman approached from the opposite direction. Earplugs and wires connected to her head. I said hello. She walked by in silence.
    Later an older woman walked by. We smiled at each other and offered greetings. Older folks are quicker to engage in conversations. Maybe it's because they're not addicted to the narcotic called technology.     
     Today I photographed a shuttered video rental store. The parent company had gone bankrupt. Video rentals stores required us to interact with a clerk behind a register. Sometimes we'd chat with acquaintances in the aisles. Most of those stores are gone. Nowadays people download movies without human interaction.
     I wonder if people were happier and more engaging before technology became pervasive.

Cracks

    
     Strangers ahead. 
     This evening during a stroll, I noticed two women walking toward me from the direction I was going. They were in their early twenties and chatting up a storm. We both occupied the same lane of an empty road.  
    We crossed paths. I nodded and said hello. They did not reply. Nor did they even look at me.
    Whenever possible I greet people that I pass on sidewalks or quiet streets. Often they don't respond in kind. It's embarrassing.
    Twenty minutes after I'd been snubbed, those women again headed my way. That's because we'd looped in circle.
     I had a choice: Play it safe and stare down at the cracks in the pavement, or risk further embarrassment and say hello.
     I nodded at them and mouthed a hello. One of the women cracked me a smile.
   
   

They'll Notice

     Curiosity led me into a room where I wasn't supposed to be.
     It happened two weeks ago while visiting Salt Lake City. I was touring Temple Square, the headquarters of the Church of Latter Day Saints, also known as the Mormon faith. (My religion is Roman Catholic).
     I pushed open a double door, sensing that I was straying off the tourist path. The entrance led me into a lecture hall. Mormon families with teenagers occupied the seats. Two teen girls--sister missionaries as they're called--were speaking up front.
     One of them said, "They'll notice." She went on to explain that when young people live out their faith, secular peers will notice them even if it's not obvious.
     'They'll notice.' That phrase isn't just for teenagers. It reminds me if anyone performs good deeds, however minor in the scheme of things, they will indeed have an impact.
     I recall driving on a back road in Minnesota. The landscape was monotonous. A mailbox came into view. Someone had placed a happy face beside it. That person's creativity brought me happiness.
     Just the other day we put flowers on the front porch. My street is busy with traffic. Most drivers won't notice the touch of beauty.
     But some will.

Popsicle Kid

     President Obama was sweating bullets.
     So was I. A pillow case--my sweat rag--hung like a tail from a back pocket of my jeans.
     Last Friday I photograped Obama's campaign swing in Ohio. The temperatures hovered near one hundred degrees.
     I stood among a crowd in Sandusky waiting for the motorcade to arrive. A voice caught my attention.
     "Hey mister. Have you got a dollar?"
     A black youngster around seven years old looked up at me.
     I said to him, "Why should I give you a dollar?"
     "I want to buy a Popsicle."
     "Doesn't your dad have any money?"
     "He forgot his wallet."
     I assumed his father was somewhere in the crowd. Surrounding us were women.
     Why was the boy asking me and nobody else for money? Was it because I was white and stood out in a crowd that was mostly black? Was it because my camera made me conspicuous?
     The kid wasn't hustling me for cash. All he wanted was a Popsicle. An ice cream truck was parked nearby. Other kids were getting refreshments.
     I told the boy we'd go and get a Popsicle if his dad permitted it.
     At that moment, the women standing beside us admonished the child.
     "Don't you be asking strangers for money!"
     Were they regarding me, an outsider to their community, with suspicion?
     Disappointed, the boy and I wandered away in opposite directions.

Stoning Ground

     They're stoning him long after his death.
     Last week I visited the grave of author Henry David Thoreau. Stones placed by admirers covered the top of his headstone. Laying about were flowers, coins, pine cones, and handwritten notes.
     I work as photographer. Making a difference with photos is hard in a world awash with digital clutter. But a writer can still cut through the noise. The longevity of Thoreau's influence testifies to the strength of the written word.
     This first time blogger wants to make a difference. I'll combine my photos with prose. Like Thoreau, I want to help people make sense of it all.
     Thoreau wrote, 'Every man casts a shadow…. Did you never see it?' This blog enables me to cast a shadow into nooks and crannies of the world.
     Someone is bound to notice it.