Love is a Powerful Word

     Demonstrators and riot police squared off outside the Republican National Convention.
     Standing in lines, the cops revealed no emotion behind their facial shields. Their cool demeanor was almost robotic.
     A woman strolled from one cop to another. She held her fingers in a peace sign. She said to each officer, "Loving you."
     Subtle changes appeared on the faces of some cops. They didn't smile at her, but their expressions softened a tad.
     What other word except 'love' could have evoked those reactions?

Mirror Image

   
     Photojournalism isn't only about taking photos. It's also about conveying information with captions.
     I walked around the floor of the Republican National Convention hall in Tampa, where the
Republicans were gearing up for the arrival of delegates on the next day.
    A workman was wiping a reflective surface near the seats for the Florida delegation. I took
his photo then asked him who he was voting for.
     He identified himself as a supporter of Democratic President Barack Obama, who is seeking
re-election. I asked him to explain his support of Obama.
     The man said, "Because he's a black guy. That's about it."

Peeking Tree

      'As he turned to go on, he spat speculatively. There was a sharp, explosive crackle that startled him. He spat again. And again, in the air, before it could fall to snow, the spittle crackled. He knew that at fifty (degrees) below (zero) spittle crackled on the snow, but this spittle had crackled in the air. Undoubtedly, it was colder than fifty below....'  Jack London - To Build a Fire

     One of the great aspects of a Jack London adventure story is a combination of authenticity and nuance. He didn't only write about the Yukon region of Canada, he experienced it during the dead of winter. 
     I too am penning an adventure novel. It's set in the southern Appalachian Mountains during
contemporary times.
     For the purpose of research, I spent a couple of days visiting settings in this novel. One such location is a cemetery nestled in a remote part of Georgia. In one scene in the novel, a boy hides in the woods adjoining the cemetery.
    A tree with two trunks caught my attention. It stood along a line of brush.
    I imagined the boy peeking through the narrow space between the trunks.
    Seeking authenticity and nuance, I pushed aside some branches and moved behind the tree. When I did so, I came upon a dumping ground. Plastic flower pots and artificial flowers lay strewn about the forest floor. This debris was not visible to anyone strolling among the headstones.
     I stood on tippy toes to see through the trunks. My view was lousy. The crack wasn't wide enough. More height was needed to get my eyes beside the wider part of the crack. In a change of tactics, I positioned a flower pot upside down beside the tree. I stood upon it.
     The pot crackled and shattered. I keeled over and almost fell down.
     Undeterred, I tried again with a sturdier flower pot. It sagged but didn't collapse. I peeked through
a wider part of the crack. At this height the view was better.
      Here's a coincidence: One of the headstones next to the peeking tree belonged to a dead person
whose last name was Peak.
     The boy in my novel will soon find himself tottering on a flower pot while peering through a crack between trunks.
     That kind of authenticity and nuance could not have been possible had I conducted my research with an internet search engine. For a novelist in fact-finding mode, boots on the ground beats the heck out of eyes on a monitor.

Yellow Barricade

     Imagine spending eleven hours in a school bus? Not a moving bus, a parked one.
    Last week I photographed President Obama's campaign rally in New Hampshire.
It happened on a city common. Buses were parked in tight lines along the edge of the area.
     Nobody got transported by these buses. The sole purpose of these buses was security.
They blocked the line of sight between the president and anyone outside the event. They
acted as a deterrent to the unauthorized entry of vehicles. I'm no expert on these matters,
but I'll surmise that these buses would act as a buffer in case of an explosion.
     I walked by the driver (in the photo) during the late afternoon. She was tired and bored.
The  job required her to remain on or near the bus except for trips to the bathroom. She arrived on site at 7:30 AM. She anticipated leaving at 6:30 PM.
     During the president's appearance, she was not allowed to open the windows facing the
common.
   I recall a story about vice president Harry Truman in 1945. He got an urgent message to
go to the White House. He and his driver got in a car and drove there. No security protected
him en route. No motorcade cleared the way. He waited in traffic like anyone else.
     When Truman got to the White House, he was informed that President Roosevelt had
passed away. So it was not vice president Truman who had driven over, it had been
President Truman, even though he hadn't realize it.
     Why has the world become so dangerous that bus barricades must surround our president? Can we ever go back to an age of innocence, when it was safe for a president to hop into a car and drive somewhere on his own?
     I believe it's possible, but not anytime soon.

Waterfowl or Waterfoul?

 
     A pair of swans occupy a marsh near my home. My affection for them grew when their babies hatched during the spring. (Above, an adult sits on a nest containing newborns.)
     When I mentioned these swans to my sister-in-law, a bird expert, she wasn't happy. She told me these birds are aggressive toward native waterfowl. Ducks and other such birds have been forced away from this marsh. In short, these Mute swans are damaging the environment.
     Mute swans were introduced to the United States during late 1800's. The owners of mansions along the Hudson River brought them in as lawn decorations.
     Until recently, the environmental threat from these swans was acute in Chesapeake Bay, far away from my state. Chesapeake Journal reported that 'Mute swans rip the (aquatic) grasses out by the roots, day in and day out, in increasing numbers...  These grasses are critical to support other life in the Bay and its tributaries.'
     How sad that something beautiful is harmful.
     What's to be done?
     Maryland began managing these birds, a euphemism for shooting them. Problem solved. They spared a few of the birds and prevented further degradation of the habitat.
     From a rational standpoint, it's easy to agree with such a policy. But how would I react if the swan in that photo was targeted by a shooter?
     Jonathan McKnight is a natural resource official in Maryland. He told the Journal: "But on some level, you have to wonder about human beings – the most invasive species of all – naming other species as invasive, and managing them. I’d feel better about it if we do a better job of managing ourselves."
     At first I reacted with agreement to his statement. But upon reflection,  I wondered if invasiveness--foreign species muscling out local species--is consistent to the ways of nature.
     When God created the world, did he envision it changing through evolution? Are invasive events a part of evolution? And when God created mankind, did he anticipate us impacting--and being invasive--to the geography of the world? One could argue that our invasiveness isn't really invasive, rather, it's a natural condition.
     Is cutting down trees to create a cornfield an invasive behavior? No, because if the field goes fallow, the forest will grow back. Does introducing European Mute swans to the United States represent invasiveness? Yes, if the result forever alters the makeup of nature.
    Even though God allows us to shape our environment, and do invasive things, does it mean we should do as we please to our environment?  
    By introducing a species of animal to an unfamiliar environment, we might be messing around with God's blueprint. If so, is taking measures to restore the blueprint justifiable?
     
  

Key to Happiness?

Are people who practice a religion happier?

I met some devout Mormons during a trip to Utah last June. They seemed more grounded than most people. While strolling around Salt Lake City and a suburb, I saw a greater percentage of nuclear families hanging out together than in other parts of the country. These families exuded happiness.

A newspaper in Salt Lake City reported that 'Utahns continue to be less likely than the average American to smoke, abuse drugs, die of cancer or give birth as a teenager.' In Utah, Mormons are a majority. And lots of Mormons are devoted to their faith.            

Later in Massachusetts I photographed devout Catholics honoring Our Lady of Fatima (see photo). At the conclusion of the event, attendees donated one dollar to obtain a flower carried with the statue. These folks, members of a parish of Portuguese ethnicity, also seemed more grounded than most. 

Modern culture, with the distractions of television and the internet, offers us less fellowship.
When was the last time you sat on a jet and engaged in a long conversation with a stranger?
Chances were, that fellow human being--and you--paid more attention to an electronic device.

Religious people are happier because churches, synagogues, and mosques provide real fellowship, the face to face kind. For too many people, that kind of socialization rarely or doesn't happen.