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.