Not So Fast

 
   A stuffed moose languished inside a container. Chances were, a janitor put him there. The location was a mall, one day after Christmas. Holiday displays were coming down. The moose had served its purpose.
   Christmas day is behind us. The popular culture gravitates to other fixations.
   Not so fast! Some people don't walk lock step with popular culture. For them, the twelve days of Christmas don't end on December 25th, they begin.

Tinkering With Light

   Lighting has impact. Artists understand this truism. So do photographers.  
   Last week I observed the lighting at my church. A figure of the Baby Jesus lay near the alter. There, the illumination was greater. That extra light on the figure made it stand out during a Christmas pageant.
   When artists draw nativity scenes, extra light illuminates the manger. Jesus appears brighter than the rest of the stable. Some artists take this concept further. They draw a beam of light projecting downward from the star of Bethlehem.
   When Jesus was born, someone must have held a candle or torch nearby. This notion is conjecture but it's plausible. A woman in labor would require lighting. A candle up close would have brightened Jesus more than the surroundings.
   Was it a natural occurrence that someone lit a candle? Or did God or his angels ensure that someone lit a candle? God, like artists of the time, understood the impact of lighting. He wanted those shepherds, and the Magi later on, not just to see Jesus, but to behold him. Good lighting would further that aim.
   Was the star of Bethlehem a supernatural light? Most scholars don't accept that assertion. They've offered scientific theories to explain it. The so called star has been described as a comet, or a supernova, or an alignment of planets. Those theories are explainable using the scientific method. Who knows, maybe God did use a natural phenomenon to lead those Maji to the stable.
   Or maybe he didn't. That light in the sky might have indeed been supernatural. 
   Given the magnitude of Jesus' birth, it is possible that God tinkered with the lighting.

Wishing you a Merry Christmas.

Keeping it Real

Sign nailed to a tree on a home owner's property near my town.

   Someone put up a sign urging a simplification of Christmas. I couldn't agree more.
   No longer do I wander about malls, stressing over the purchase of gifts. My gifts are social outings. For example, my nephews and nieces are returning to this area on college vacation. I'll take them out, one at a time, to restaurants. Menus will be reasonably priced. Nothing fancy. 
   I've been doing this socializing-as-a gift for years. Relatives prefer them over material gifts.
   The sign reminded us that Christmas celebrates Christ's birth. On the eve of that holiday, I'll assemble a creche. It'll occupy a spot in the dining room. Before I go to bed, I'll gaze at the nativity scene and wish Jesus a happy birthday.

Women--No Men--Bearing Gifts

   When the service ended at my church, the parishioners headed for the doors. But not all of them. A few women walked in an opposite direction.
   They carried presents to a Christmas tree. Their gifts were intended for charity.
  I've attended three masses since that tree was erected. After each service, women--never men--lingered behind to contribute gifts.
   Why did women do all the giving? Is it because women are more social than men? Gift giving reinforces social bonds. Therefore women are more inclined to contribute gifts to a charity.
   That explanation is a guess. I don't have a definitive answer. But it can't be coincidental that following three services, women donated all the gifts.

Broken Bond

Site of an Indian encampment from centuries ago. Pond with ice is visible at right.

   Indians once lived here.
   The site was ideal. It adjoined a pond and a spring. Flat land overlooked a southern slope, ensuring more exposure to the sun during winter. They hunted, fished, grew crops, and traded with other bands. Life was good.
   Change came in the mid 1600's. An Englishman built a stockade in this field, right where I stood while taking the photo. Other colonists settled nearby.
   Indians besieged the stockade. They set fire to a hay wagon and rolled it toward the stockade. A rock got in the way. The Indians withdrew. Soon they were driven out for good.
   For me, this patch of countryside has been a Shangri-La. I've canoed on the pond. I've watched osprey's dive into the water and emerge with fish in their talons. With friends, I've lit campfires in the woods. I've walked the fields.
   Most of all, I've found solitude here. It's a refuge from my home elsewhere in town. Where I live, traffic is loud and housing is dense.
   Now my heart aches. Bulldozers are tearing up the earth. A housing development is being constructed. Not at this exact spot but close. Way too close.
   Remoteness has been compromised. The solitude will never be the same.
   In small measure, I feel the anguish those Indians endured as their bond with this land unraveled.

Animal tracks cut through snow near construction site.

Machinery digs up the land.

Transcendent Music

Forty speakers surround listeners during a performance in New York City of 'Spem in Alium,' an ancient motet.

    When the music ended, the audience did not applaud. Not because we disapproved. We were in awe.
   The setting was a chapel located at the Cloisters Museum in New York City. Forty speakers surrounded us. So did limestone block walls and medieval artwork. The speakers had played a recording of Spem in Alium. It's a Latin motet from the 1500's.
   The music was haunting. My friend described it as ethereal. There's been accounts of people weeping and embracing.
   The composer was Thomas Tallis. He wrote eight separate parts--or melodies--to the motet. Each part is written for five voice types, those being alto, soprano, tenor, baritone, and bass. That's forty individual voices. The melodies are sung at the same time. They compliment each other rather than compete.
   The version in New York City had something else going for it.
   A few years ago, music artist Janet Cardiff positioned forty microphones in front of individual singers at the Salisbury Cathedral Choir in England. They sang the motet. She recorded them.
   Her recording has been described as a masterpiece. Acoustic separations are so distinct, it's as though the choir is surrounding you in person. Call it audio 3D. The recording has played for several months at The Cloisters in New York.
    Music is subjective. But sometimes the impact of a composition, and how it's presented, transcends differences in tastes. What I heard in that chapel deserves such an accolade.

Rethinking John Lennon

A flower adorns a mosaic memorial for John Lennon. It's located at Central Park in New York City. I visited the spot this week.

   'Imagine' was my favorite song composed by John Lennon.
   Not anymore.
   Some of the lyrics are beautiful and heartfelt. Consider this: Imagine all the people, living life in peace. And this: No Need for Greed or Hunger, a brotherhood of man. 
   It's taken me a few years, but I've come to realize that other lyrics in the song are disagreeable.
   Here's the opening line: Imagine there's no heaven.
   No way I agree with that sentiment. Knowing that Heaven exists provides me with hope for salvation.
   Lennon's lyrics ask us to imagine: Nothing to Kill or die for, and no religion too. The first part is beautiful. It'd be nice if people stopped killing one and other.
   The second part of that line, imagining a world without religion, is another sentiment I disagree with. Religions are rudders, they steer us toward God. My rudder is Roman Catholicism. Other people use different rudders to ply the waters toward salvation. Without religions--our moral compasses--the world would regress into darkness.  
   One of Lennon's other hits songs is 'God.' It begins with this line: God is a concept by which we measure our pain. Later he sings, I don't believe in Jesus… I don't believe in Buddha.
   Lennon wasn't denying Jesus' existence, even if it the lyrics suggest he does. But still, the lyrics disrespect God. And they disrespect Buddhism.
   Thirty-three years ago, John Lennon was gunned down. I was shocked. A friend and I hitchhiked to New York City. We stood in Central Park. Surrounding us were thousands of Lennon fans. We'd gathered for ten minutes of silence.
   During that interlude, a man nearby read The Bible. News helicopters hovered overhead. I faced the Dakota building where Lennon had lived and died. My heart was heavy with sorrow.
   The sadness remains. December 8th marks the anniversary of John Lennon's death.
   I miss him. His music I still enjoy. But I don't support his criticisms of religion and God.

Tourists gather around the mosaic.

Too Much of a Good Thing?

   I slammed on my brakes and grabbed my camera. A formation of Canada geese had passed above the car. Rather than lowering the window--it would have taken too long--I took a 'Hail Mary' photo through the glass.
   When I was a child, that V formation was rarely seen here in New England. Or anywhere. Canada geese had become an endangered species. An effort was made to save them. It worked. The geese staged a comeback.
   At first I was thrilled to see geese returning to this region.
   Now they've become pests. They overrun ponds and lakes, fouling the water. They soil the grass in parks.
   People support the protection of wild animals. But they sing a different tune when turds foul their beaches and cling to their shoes.

Corn and Compromise

  
   The scene was tranquil. A woman sipped coffee near the shore of Plymouth Harbor in Massachusetts. Sunshine bathed upon the Mayflower, a replica ship berthed there.
   Three centuries before, the mood on the original Mayflower was anything but tranquil. Tension simmered between two groups of passengers.
   Some were Puritan religion separatists. The rest were secular tradesman, or 'strangers,' as the separatists called them. Everyone was traveling from England to colonial lands near the Hudson River in America. The year was 1620.
   They blew off course to present day Massachusetts. Winter loomed. The decision was made to build a colony from scratch.
   Controversy flared before they chose a site. The separatists wanted the colony administered by their rules. The secularists refused to agree.
   What to do?
   They drew up the Mayflower Compact. It was a compromise agreement. Both sides understood that without unity, their prospects of survival were dim.
   A reconnaissance team set out. It landed near the spot where this photo was taken. Men bearing tools disembarked from the Mayflower. Communal homes were built.
   Harsh weather took a toll. So did scurvy. Almost half of them died. The rest hung on. During spring, Indians taught them how to plant corn. Imagine the joy when shoots of corn appeared in the soil.
   Those religious zealots and secularists, together described as Pilgrims, held a harvest festival. Indians participated.
   Sowing seeds of compromise, then sowing seeds of corn, set the stage for our holiday of Thanksgiving.

Ringing Out the Season

A Salvation Army bell ringer solicits donations last week outside a mall in Massachusetts.

   Some retail chains have banned Salvation Army bell ringers. Their excuse is always the same. They want consistency in their policies of no solicitation. Then, to buffer themselves from criticism, they cite donations they've made to the Salvation Army.
   Their decisions are lamentable.
   Exclusion policies lessen the dollars received by the Salvation Army. The poor get less support.
   These policies suppress happiness. When people give, they feel happier. Because they feel happier, they give again. Researchers describe this process as a 'positive feedback loop.'
   These policies deny people an opportunity to please God. The bible states,  'Do not neglect to do good and share what you have, for such sacrifices are pleasing to God.'
   I wonder if God is angered when the bells stop ringing.

Screens on Screens

   At a nearby Walmart store, televisions ran commercials for televisions. The models of televisions appearing on the screens were the same models as the ones being sold in the store. This duplication was aggravating. It made it hard to determine the quality of a screen's resolution.
   Why couldn't Walmart play real shows on their televisions?
   Another thing rubbed me the wrong way. It happened when those screens played a commercial for smart phones sold by Walmart. An actor suggested buying a phone with an upgrade plan. He smiled and added, "And who doesn't want upgrades?"
   His remark struck me as pretentious. It implied that most people are like robots, programmed to want the latest new things. And if they're not riding that materialistic bandwagon, they should.
   Many people are not materialistic. They understand a sentiment written by the late John Ruskin, an Englishman. He wrote,  "Every increased possession loads us with new weariness."

Put on the Spot

Travelers, some without shoes on, pass through metal detectors at an airport in Florida. Moments before, I had been fast tracked ahead of these people.

   It happens before overseas flights. Airport security officials take me aside. They pat me down, wand me, and search my possessions. What explains the extra attention? I think it's because I travel with a daypack and nothing else. A traveler with few possessions raises suspicion. 
   Last month in Florida, airport security directed me away from a TSA security line. My reaction was surprise. This flight was a domestic one. Daypacks are commonplace. 
   A second surprise awaited me. Instead of becoming an object of scrutiny, I was whisked through the security choke point. No pat down. No wanding. No removing my belt and shoes. I breezed through a metal detector without waiting in a line. After that I was free to go.
   You'd think I was a visiting head of state.
   I asked an official why they'd fast tracked me. He said they're experimenting with a new approach. They identify travelers whose mannerisms appear low risk. Those people are hustled through security.
   This approach is called  'screening passengers by observational technique,' or SPOT. It's also used to screen potential troublemakers.
   Some people want an end to this kind of screening. They claim it fosters racial profiling.
   I'm against authorities frisking anyone without a reasonable cause. Our Constitution protects us--or should protect us--against unreasonable search and seizure. Can observations of people's mannerisms justify search and seizure? I'm not sure of the answer. Perhaps it's a constitutional grey area.
   One thing isn't grey. I'm happy if some individuals are fast tracked through security and others are not. In Florida I lucked out. In the future I'll wait in line. That's okay. People left behind still make out. Lines shorten. So does waiting.

Ron's Chair

   I no longer sit in that barber chair. Ron retired. He was the barber who owned the chair.
   As his customer, it was great shooting the breeze with him. One day he mentioned that he'd fought with the Marines during the Korean War. I asked him about it.
   Ron described enemy soldiers attacking in waves. The soldiers in the first wave carried weapons. The soldiers in subsequent waves carried no weapons. The Marines mowed down the first wave of soldiers. The soldiers following behind picked up weapons dropped by their dead comrades. They too got decimated.
   Ron was a medic. He must have treated wounded enemy soldiers. Knowing Ron, I'm sure he treated them well. Who knows, maybe there's elderly veterans living in North Korea and China whose lives were saved by Ron.
   November 11th is Veterans Day. We honor living veterans such as Ron.

Ron's Chair

   I no longer sit in that barber chair. Ron retired. He was the barber who owned the chair.
   As his customer, it was great shooting the breeze with him. One day he mentioned that he'd fought with the Marines during the Korean War. I asked him about it.
   Ron described enemy soldiers attacking in waves. The soldiers in the first wave carried weapons. The soldiers in subsequent waves carried no weapons. The Marines mowed down the first wave of soldiers. The soldiers following behind picked up weapons dropped by their dead comrades. They too got decimated.
   Ron was a medic. He must have treated wounded enemy soldiers. Knowing Ron, I'm sure he treated them well. Who knows, maybe there's elderly veterans living in North Korea and China whose lives were saved by Ron.
   November 11th is Veterans Day. We honor living veterans such as Ron.

Mother Nature's Palette

Traffic has dispersed pine needles into the middle of a road. The needles fell early in October.

   Mother Nature is off her game. This fall, the colors of leaves are muted in New England.
   No biggie. Color isn't everything. I composed other images that reveal the change of seasons.
   I have a sense that people are getting suspicious of classic foliage photos. Blame it on technology. Colors often appear too saturated, creating a false perception of beauty. Nature magazines and photography magazines publish these images. Lots of readers must be savvy enough to detect--and resent--these digital alterations.
   Nature photographers here know the colors are muted. How are they reacting? Some will jack up their hues and saturation. Others, myself included, will stay true to Mother Nature's palette.
  

Large oak leaf.

Leaves await raking on the front lawn at my home.

Kid's Night Out

On Halloween night in my neighborhood, a girl in a ballerina costume holds a container of candy at a door. Her mother watches (at left).

   What is meant by the phrase, 'trick or treat? On Halloween, it's spoken by costumed kids after knocking on doors.
   The phrase offers homeowners two options. They can become the recipient of a trick, or prank. Or they can give a child a treat, usually candy.
   Nowadays, Halloween night is all about candy, decorations, and costumes.
   Pranks rarely happen anymore. That's a good and bad thing. I'm glad pumpkins no longer get smashed. I'm glad homes are not getting egged or wrapped in toilet paper.
   But I miss pranks that kids used to pull on each other.
   My friend and I would fill stockings with flour. We'd whack them against other boys. Explosions of whiteness filled the air. Flour covered the costumes of our victims.
   Egg battles were fought between boys from different age groups. During one such engagement, older boys pinned me down. I was terrified. They turned my hair into a soufflé. Later I was glad. By taking part in the battle, I fit in.
   I hope pranking between older boys makes a comeback on Halloween. Teaming up on pranks exposes boys to camaraderie. It builds friendships. 

A girl in costume eyes a homeowner with candy.

Creativity Over Schlock

A Halloween skeleton sits on a front lawn. A simple and entertaining display.

   Less ghoul is better than more.
   I drove around my area, viewing Halloween displays.
   Some homeowners went all out. Lots of inflatable monsters covered their lawns. I wasn't impressed. Too much clutter. Little creativity.
   These inflatable monsters first showed up a few years ago. They're easy to set up. They're trendy--lots of people display them. Because they're trendy, they're boring.
   Other homeowners kept it simple. Just one monster. Maybe a few. Nothing inflatable. Creativity over schlock.
   Simple impresses me. Grandiose turns me off.

Too may inflatables monsters adorn a lawn. Clutter results.

Half buried human shapes are simple and effective.

Standard of Decorum

Men in rural Iowa, many of them farmers, listen to presidential candidate Ron Paul deliver remarks inside a restaurant.

    Is it bad etiquette for men to wear hats indoors?
   When I was growing up, men removed their hats when entering a building. Not anymore. Some men have crossed that line of etiquette. The only places you won't see hats on men are in churches and formal restaurants.
   Women wearing hats indoors has always been acceptable. That's because they've worn 'statement hats' that highlight fashion over functionality.
   Lots of men wear caps. They used to be worn to shield the eyes from sunshine. That's pure functionality. But nowadays, with corporate logos and other graphics etched on caps, they've become statements of fashion. Does that make it okay to wear them indoors?
   Fedoras are statement hats. Back in the day, millions of men wore them. They took them off indoors.
   My sense is that a majority of men, myself included, still don't wear hats while indoors. To do so is poor etiquette. Lots of people might reject that notion.
   Widespread ignorance of etiquette is no excuse to lower one's standards of decorum.

Men eat lunch at a restaurant near my home.

Prayer Intentions

Notebook containing prayer intentions lays near statue of Virgin Mary.

   What do people ask the Virgin Mary for?

   I visited some Catholic churches near my home. Statures of the Virgin Mary stood in each one. Below them were notebooks. They contained prayer requests. I read them with fascination.
   Turns out, most people don't pray on behalf of themselves. They pray for other people. This observation surprised me. I assumed that petitioners would ask Mary for assistance with their own struggles and illnesses.
   A few did. Most requested help with mental health. Can Mary ease depression?
   Suffering is part of God's plan for us. Suffering teaches us humility and compassion. For that reason, I suspect lots of prayers don't get answered the way people want.
   But some do.
   Prayer is an act of humility. By exercising humility, we become happier.

Instead of words, someone penned in hearts.

Grainy on Purpose

Girl twirls on a ride called a yoyo. Each summer, a carnival visits my town.

  Sometimes grainy photos aren't a bad thing.
  To capture the motion of that girl, the image was underexposed. Graininess replaced smooth tones. Dark areas, including the clothes, lost their details. 
   A flash could have revealed those details and eliminated the grain. But at what cost? The red glow on her face would have disappeared. So would the natural ambience.
   Photography is a compromise.

Darkness and Light

   On a sunny day I encountered darkness. It happened while strolling behind an abandoned factory. Graffiti covered the walls. 
  Vile graffiti.
   An 'F' word blasphemed God. A reversed pentagram, the kind with two points facing upwards, heralded evil.
   Chances are, a teenager did the deed. He wanted to shock. Most people won't view his expression of depravity. Branches obscured it.
   Three towns away, my day brightened. Flowers hung along a wall. Not just any wall. This one stretched as long as three football fields. Behind the brick facade stood another closed factory.
   Thanks to a person who cared, a touch of beauty offset drabness.
   Some people spread darkness. Some people create light. Others do neither.

Conscience verses Rationalization

  
   The woman squatted at a corner, soliciting handouts of money. I walked by. For a fleeting moment our eyes met. I mumbled to her something about returning later.
   It was a Sunday. I'd just flown into Salt Lake City. Killing time, I walked the streets and visited an outdoor art display.
   My ambling led me back to the corner. There was that woman, still squatting and eyeing passersby.
   We struck up a conversation. I asked her to share an anecdote about herself.
   She pointed to a spot farther up the street. A man had driven by in a car, stopped at that spot, and driven back. Then he did something extraordinary. He held out a one hundred dollar bill.
   The woman accepted the donation. She thanked him. He said God told him to do it.
   I too gave the woman a little something. It was a pittance in comparison. 
   Why didn't the driver hand over the money right away? Why didn't I initiate the conversation earlier? The answer is lag time, an interlude when when people consider whether to perform an act of charity.
     During lag time, a tug of war plays out in our minds. On one side of the tug rope is rationalization. It warns us not to give money to a stranger. It could be a scam. The stranger might be a wino seeking money to get drunk.
   The other side is conscience. It exhorts us to help someone in need.
   Turns out, the woman was not a wino. She was seeking cash to pay her weekly rent. She lived with her husband in a flea bag motel. At least that's what she claimed. Maybe she fooled me. Maybe she laughed all the way to the liquor store.
   Is conscience or rationalization a better guidepost to follow? I think conscience is the way to go.
   But even when our conscience greens light a decision, we sometimes don't follow through.

Art of Persuasion

Impromptu portrait of man harvesting grapes in Spain.

    While on vacations, I carry a point and shoot camera.
   That might seem an odd choice for a professional photographer. The image quality of a point and shoot doesn't match the quality of my professional cameras.
   Point and shoots offer different advantages. They identify me as a tourist rather than as a photographer. Strangers are more apt to pose for tourists rather than photographers.
   Point and shoot cameras  are ubiquitous. They don't impress. Nor do they intimidate. As a result, strangers pose with greater ease.
   Portraiture isn't just about lighting and composition. Portraiture is an art of persuasion.

My point and shoot camera.

The Old Fashioned Way

   Classical music isn't my thing. So why did I attend the performance of a stringed duet?
   It happened last week inside our town's library. I took along my elderly mother. Showing her a good time wasn't my only motivation.
   I did it to socialize with townsfolk. The evening was fun. I chatted with new people during the intermission and afterwards.
   During my childhood, a grange hall stood down the street. Adults hung out there. As more adults hooked up to television, fewer of them visited the grange. It closed. A parking lot replaced it.
   How sad.
   Decades passed. Now we've got a new library. It includes a community room. Cultural events are scheduled. Last Friday's concert was the debut. Twenty-five people showed up. Not a lot but a start.
  Nowadays, social media is all the rage. I haven't hopped on that bandwagon.
  This might sound laughable, but I predict that people will eventually tire of social media. They'll venture forth from their electronic cocoons. They'll seek out new acquaintances and friends the old fashioned way, face to face. They'll be startled by how fulfilling this approach can be.
   Who know, perhaps that concert last week represents the tip of a social movement that's ebbing under the radar.

Stranger with a Story

   Should I initiate a conversation?
   The thought crossed my mind when I noticed an elderly man. Like me, he was strolling along a walkway. I'd seen him before. He was a Catholic priest. This place was a shrine.
   I decided to go for it. Greetings were exchanged. A conversation broke out.
   He identified himself as a retired missionary. I asked about his work overseas.
  He'd served in Indonesia. That's a mostly Islamic country. He said the people there welcomed the presence of Catholic churches. That's because the churches served the poor. His account surprised me. I assumed that kind of acceptance rarely happened in Muslim countries.
   The priest also served in Sierra Leone. A civil war raged back then. He ministered to the victims of rebel atrocities. Their arms, legs, ears, or noses had been chopped off.
   Here's a man who devoted his life to ministering to the poor. He did so under the radar, without seeking acclaim. Now he assists in the upkeep of the shrine.
   Meeting him inspired me. By speaking to a stranger, my life was enriched. 

River of Happiness

I photographed this man siting on the bank of a river near my home.

   When I need a dose of tranquility, I visit a river. It's so small that most people don't know it exists.
   What makes this river appealing is a floodplain surrounding it. I can observe details of nature up close, far back, and in between. 
   My preference for this river could be more than subjective. It might be ingrained. Here's what research suggests:
   Humans prefer open landscapes. But not wide open. They want things physical things interspersed, like trees, nooks and crannies, and whatever. A diversity of terrain lends mystery and character to a setting. Mixed savannah is considered the ideal.
   I believe that viewing open scenery--but not too open--recharges one's sense of well being. It contributes to happiness.

When Cool Isn't Cool

Empty seats in young adult room of library.

    Behavior is hard to predict.
   A new library opened here. It includes a young adult room. The furniture in the room is shaped to look cool. The chairs and table are bolted to the floor.
  So far, not many teens are sitting in those chairs. They're sitting in the adult section. Those chairs look conventional. They're free standing.
  I doubt the teen's preferences are based on comfort. It's about perception. Teens don't want adults choosing what's cool for them. That means they won't sit in weird looking chairs installed by adults.
   Hat's off to the library staff for trying. But most of the time, trying to be cool ends up being uncool.

Teens hang out in adult section of library.

Celebrating Literature

Author (at left) takes questions during book launch party in a friend's kitchen.

   A friend of mine got her first book published. To celebrate the occasion, someone hosted a book launching party. It happened over the weekend inside an apartment near Boston.
   During the party, I chatted with a literary agent. She claimed that Boston and San Francisco are the most supportive cities in the nation for writers. The agent lives in New York. She said NYC has a busy literary scene, but the hugeness of the population makes it harder to foster community among writers.
   Her compliment isn't surprising. Around fifty author readings happen weekly in and around Boston. Writing workshops are commonplace. A book festival takes place each year.
   What makes Boston such a literary beehive? There's reasons too numerous to cite, so here's a simple answer: In a culturally dynamic city, literature is appreciated.

A Cat Named Diesel

Diesel the Cat is photographed during a customer appreciation picnic.

  
   Diesel hugged children. People ate hot dogs. The occasion was a customer appreciation picnic hosted by an oil heating company.
    Let's examine an underlying reason for this picnic. My brother switched from oil heating to natural gas. So did my church. So did lots of people around here. They're saving a bundle.

A family eats ice cream at the picnic.

   
   Heating oil companies are losing customers. Heating oil companies are getting nervous. Heating oil companies are treating their customers with greater regard.
   Some customers won't break their allegiance with this oil company. They'll pay more for oil than natural gas. Why? Because a costumed cat named Diesel embraced their kids.
   Sometimes emotion trumps logic.

Gas line just installed at my church.

Not on My Feet

   My visit to the mall should have been simple--buy white socks. I wear them while playing basketball. A complication developed. At almost every store, the socks displayed corporate labels. 
   I avoid clothing that advertises for corporations. This stance makes shopping difficult. Still, I was shocked by the proliferation of socks for sale with corporate logos on them. On previous visits to stores, finding plain while socks had been easy.
   I left the mall empty handed. 

   Lots of people wear brand names on their clothing. They believe that flashing a corporate label enhances their status. Other people buy whatever is convenient, even if it means displaying a label.
    Being a walking billboard is anything but cool. It's boring and conformist.