Pride & Dismay

High school band performs near bandstand (seen in background). A youth band, next to perform, sets up inside it.

   A celebration was appropriate. So was dismay.
   Citizens in my town raised money and volunteered their time to repair a bandstand. It had fallen into disrepair after 83 years. Now it's back in shape.
   To mark the structure's revival, musical acts performed there on Saturday. Friends and neighbors hung out. I felt a pride for my town.
   I also felt disappointment.
   The town will install a security camera at the bandstand. The camera is intended to prevent vandalism.
   I deplore surveillance cameras, especially those operated by governments. I mentioned this concern to some people at the celebration. None of them agreed with me. They supported the installation of the camera.
    These cameras are popping up all over the country. I understand their importance at airports and other transit hubs. But in small town America, even in cities, governments should not be filming the movements of citizens. I worry that my opinion is no longer shared by a majority of Americans.
   Every time a surveillance camera is installed, it chips away at our freedom.

Volunteers paint the inside of the bandstand.

Stained Glass Personalities

Two sides of a window located at a Catholic chapel in Massachusetts. Inside view (at left) and outside view (at right).

   A stained glass window can appear radiant or bland. It depends upon the direction and intensity of light passing through it. 
   People are like stained glass. Some folks convey friendliness and compassion. There's a loveliness to their personalities. Other people convey little of anything. Their personalities are dull.
  When my father got admitted to a hospital, the first employee he encountered, an orderly, offered him no greeting. That orderly had the capacity to cheer up a sick man but chose not to. That orderly was like a stain glass window with little illumination passing through.
   By contrast, another patient at the hospital was friendly to everyone. His personality glowed like stained glass back lit from sunshine.
   Some people reveal brightness and colors. Others mask themselves in murk and gray.

Bottles, Not Buffalo

   The descendants of Crazy Horse are hurting. I realized this during a visit to Pine Ridge Indian Reservation in South Dakota, home of the Oglala (Sioux) tribe.
   Most adults there suffer from alcoholism. The housing is the worst I've seen during my travels around the United States.
   During the 1800's, the Oglala's must have hunted buffalo on the grassland depicted in the photo. Now they kick back liquor and trash the prairie with bottles.
   Not everyone there has succumbed to demon rum. Some activists are trying to make things better. 
   Perhaps the solution for the woes of Pine Ridge can be found in the words of Crazy Horse: "A very great vision is needed, and the man who has it must follow it as the eagle seeks the deepest blue of the sky."

A Crazy World?

   Shouting. Missing limbs. Strangers reaching out to strangers. That's what I heard and saw yesterday at the Boston Marathon. It began with students shouting encouragement and offering kisses to runners passing by Wellesley College.

   Wheelchair racers with no legs but plenty of grit defied exhaustion and cranked their push rims.

   Spectators reached their hands toward runners, offering high fives of encouragement.

   An elite runner shared a cup of water with a competitor.
   All those things happened at the half way point of the race.
   Later I heard about bombings near the finish line. There, an eight year old boy perished. I wondered how people can be so heartless. And so evil.
   An acquaintance contacted me, hoping I wasn't in Boston. I reassured her then added, "A crazy world we're living in."
   She replied, "It really is a crazy world!"
   Upon reflection, I realized that my reaction to her was wrong. What I witnessed yesterday was an outpouring of goodness by hundreds of spectators. The strength of character exhibited by the athletes was inspiring.
   Sure, there's crazies out there. But the world is not a crazy place. Watching a marathon, even one marred by tragedy, reminds me that most people are goodhearted and sane.

Keeping Frustrations in Check

Photo created during assignment to illustrate a magazine story about frustration.

   Photographers are prone to frustration. Sometimes it happens because they set their bars too high.
   I've spent inordinate amounts of time on locations during portrait sessions. My intentions were to achieve perfection. Instead of attaining that goal, I tested the patience of subjects who posed for me.
   Nowadays I work faster. Everybody is happier. 
   Years ago I'd become incensed when editors would crop, or better stated, 'butcher' my photos. I'm still irked when it happens. But I no longer let those episodes get under my skin.
   Too many photographers get jaded by frustrations. They loose their creative edges.
   Other photographers keep alive their zeal. They recognize that perfection is rarely attainable but excellence is.

Ramshackle Art

   By definition, is art always a form of creative expression?
   Check out this fence, or gate, or fence that used to be a gate. I came across it in Galicia, a damp and murky region of Spain. Lots of cows roam there. Chances are, this hodgepodge of planks and barbed wire keeps livestock from wandering off.
   The sight of that gate engaged my aesthetic sensibilities. It led me to ponder and admire the tenacity of the human spirit. For centuries, farmers in Galicia have pounded nails into gates. They've performed this labor while contending with the decaying effects of a wet climate.
   Did the farmer who cobbled together this gate realize he had created something eye-catching?
   Art isn't always about creative expression. Objects constructed for practical use can also become objects of art.

Caws and Pecking

   Crows cawed outside my house.
   A sparrow pecked the gutter above my bedroom. The bird was building a nest.
   For several days in a row, this ruckus of caws and pecking awoke me after dawn. I was loosing sleep. Something needed to be done.
   I purchased a scarecrow owl, climbed a ladder, and placed the owl in a tree near the gutter. The wind blew. The owl's head bobbed and rotated.
   Excellent! The movements of the owl would scare the bejeebers out of birds.
   The next morning I was awoken again--darn it all!--by that sparrow. It wasn't fooled. Or perhaps it was too stupid to recognize the owl.  But the crows bought into the charade. They haven't returned.
   Desperate for sleep, I raised the ladder a few more rungs until it neared the gutter. I would destroy that sparrow's nest.
   But what if eggs were laying inside the nest? Was it right to condemn unborn chicks in order to catch Z's? I decided that it would be cold hearted to harm innocent life. If I detected eggs, I'd leave the nest alone until later in the spring. Better to wait until the family of birds flew away once and for all.
   As it turned out, the nest was empty. I cleared the spot. The sparrow hasn't returned. 
   No more rude awakenings!
   Later, I wondered how I'd react if I came across a different species of varmint, like mice or rats, breeding in a nook and cranny of the house. Would I cut the same slack to baby rats as I would to baby birds?
   Is it okay or wrong to discriminate with our compassion?