Fewer Campfires

Campfire melts snow during winter camping trip in Massachusetts.

     I don’t use matches to start a campfire in the morning. I place tinder over ash from the previous night’s fire. Then I blow on the ash. A campfire flickers to life. This combustive revival is especially nice during winter.
     The best thing about campfires is camaraderie with other people. Staring into flames is relaxing. Inhibitions loosen. There’s a greater degree of candor and conversation.
     Younger generations are missing out on these delights. Fewer of these people go camping. They want access to technology. Smartphones don’t always connect in wild areas. Some of these people are loathe to step away from the endless social media loop.
     An official at the national park service said that younger people are “more separated from the natural world than perhaps any generation before them.” What a sad observation.
     Not all young people are tethered to social media. One of my nephews—he’s early twenties in age—tethers himself to ropes and harnesses. He’s an avid mountaineer. He enjoys many a campfire with his friends.
     Campfires lighten our faces and lighten our moods.

Tuning Out Jesus

     Are composers of Christmas music snubbing Jesus?
     Yesterday at mass, I opened a missalette and sang the Christmas carol, What Child is This? The infant Jesus was featured in the lyrics.
     The congregation sang other carols. All of these songs were composed between 1600 and 1900. Again, the lyrics mentioned the birth of Christ.
     Jesus gets cold shouldered after 1900. Lots of Christmas songs have been composed but hardly any mention the infant in the manger. Hit songs include Frosty the Snowman, Jingle Bell Rock, Sleigh Ride, Let it Snow, to name of few. The most popular song of the modern era remains White Christmas sung by Bing Crosby. I can identify only one song, Little Drummer Boy, that mentions the birth of Jesus.
     I can’t surmise why modern composers have tuned out Jesus. Christmas, after all, celebrates his birth.
     One fact intrigues me. The most popular Christmas song of them all—it blows away the competition even in modern times—is Silent Night. That carol dates back to 1816. It ends with the words, ‘Christ the Savior is Born.

Orange Aid

A pumpkin on my porch is situated near Christmas lights on a bush.

     My Halloween pumpkin looks awful. Pieces of skin have been ripped away. Some of the mushy interior is missing. Until this evening, the pumpkin rested on our porch.
     The damage, I suspect, is attributable to a fisher cat. It lives in a woodlot behind the yard. Last month I caught a glimpse of the cat. It was limping. Perhaps a car had stuck the animal. If so, this creature is having difficulty hunting prey. Desperate for food, the fisher cat—an omnivore—might be  browsing off the pumpkin.
     I feel sorry for the animal. On some nights I toss scraps of meat into the woods. These leftovers sometimes disappear within a couple of hours. But not the last handout. Crows squawked in the morning. They had stolen the meat. 
     Yesterday was the winter solstice, the shortest day of the year. I’ve read that some people feel gloomy on that date. Not me. I transferred the pumpkin to the woods. That way, the fisher cat will have easier access to food. Moving that pumpkin brightened my mood.
     Helping an animal in need—or a person for that matter—adds fulfillment in our lives.

Light From Within

     Pardon the cliche, but the difference is like night and day.
     Every December, a family in my neighborhood erects an eye-catching Christmas display. The scene is okay to look at during the afternoon but it’s not enchanting. There’s too much visual competition. Sunshine illuminates everything.
     At night the spectacle comes alive. The figures stand out because they’re illuminated from within.
     While comparing the two views, a metaphor comes to mind. Physical appearance matters, but what’s more important is revealing a light of humanity glowing within us.

Blitzing the Eyesores

     The caper begins with a precaution. I wear a baseball cap and look downward. My face is hidden from surveillance cameras.
     I enter a supermarket, stroll down an aisle, and kneel beside a floor advertisement. To the casual observer, I am inspecting products on the shelves.
     My actual purpose is subversive.
     Using a magic marker, I scrawl the words Profanity Space on the floor advertisement. Then I walk away. The plan is to fool store management into thinking a real profanity—the F U kind—might eventually appear.
     One week later I strike again. This time a different store within the supermarket chain is targeted.
     Word of this graffiti blitz would reach corporate headquarters. Upper management would freak. They’d fear an outbreak of crude graffiti inside their stores. The floor ads would be yanked.
     The scenarios I’ve described are fantasies. I won’t act on them. Defacing property—even onerous property—is illegal.
     Last month, a supermarket near my town began placing ads on their floors. My reaction was dismay. Is there no place where people can avoid advertisements?
     Actually, there is such a place. I’ll take my business to a competitor in the next town over. That market is respectful of my sensibilities. Their management does not clutter their floors with eyesores.

Infectious Joy

     I waited for the arrival of a presidential candidate. My eyes scanned the crowd in Ohio. A group of children had gathered by a downtown store. They were enjoying each other's company. Nothing special in that. Kids by nature revel in socializing.
     But this group was special. They exuded a joyfulness that was infectious.
     I wasn’t surprised. They wore uniforms from a private Catholic school.
     Photo assignments have taken me into lots of schools—private and public. I’ve noticed that religious school students, on average, seem happier than public school kids.
     Uniforms might contribute to the happiness of the religious kids. They wear the same outfits according to gender. There’s no pressure to wear trendy and expensive clothes.
     Public school students dress as they wish. With that freedom comes pressure.
     I prefer self expression revealed through personality rather than fashion.

Audio Siege

Landscapers operate leaf blowers at a condo complex adjoining my home.

     My annoyance began last spring.
     During early mornings, twice a month, a landscaping crew wakes me up. They operate leaf blowers. The sound is deafening. These people service a condo complex next door.
      I complained to their boss. For a while the noise began at a reasonable hour. Now the blowers are waking me up again.
     It would be great if my town banned leaf blowers.
     Resistance to such a proposal would be fierce. Landscapers argue that leaf blowers are necessary for their businesses. I don’t buy that argument. Rakes are effective and quiet.
     Some communities in California have banned the blowers. Guess what happened? The landscapers went back to using rakes.
     Lost in this controversy is the matter of courtesy. Those landscapers next door realize they’re waking neighbors up. But they don’t care. Money trumps courtesy.
     They should consider the words of the late John Wanamaker: Courtesy is the one coin you can never have too much of or be stingy with.

The Power of Metaphors

     Mother Nature beheaded Francis of Assisi. The statue of the saint was toppled by a gust of wind. It happened at a garden center in my town.
     The sight reminded me of the quote, “Francis, Francis, go and repair my house which, as you can see, is falling into ruins.”
     Saint Francis claimed that God uttered those words to him. They were spoken while Francis prayed inside a chapel. The building was in dire need of repair. Francis renovated it.
     Later, Francis must have reconsidered God’s meaning of the word house; it referred not only to the chapel but to the Catholic religion.
     God had used a metaphor.
     People enjoy metaphors. When speakers use them, their presentations are strong.
     The same premise is applicable to the craft of writing. I read through online forums where people share opinions. The commentaries with metaphors are the easiest to comprehend.
     Even during ordinary conversations, metaphors have impact.
     Often in this world, communication skills factor into a one’s chances for success. A knack for metaphors can take a person several rungs up the ladder.

The Nuances of Gratitude

At a buffet restaurant in Massachusetts, customers give thanks before obtaining their meals.

    Some people give thanks before eating. Their thankfulness is heartfelt. Other people recite grace in a rote fashion with little attentiveness. God must perceive these nuances.
    Gratitude is a form of humility. Not everyone exhibits it. For some people, personal achievements breed smugness and from smugness comes ingratitude.
     Thankfully—pun intended—many people do express gratitude. They are rewarded for their thankfulness. Studies reveal that showing gratitude improves one’s well being.
     But not all of the time. Sometimes expressions of gratitude becomes routine and expected. The recipients of gratitude sense a lack of sincerity.
     Yesterday was Thanksgiving. I gathered with relatives. Grace was recited before we feasted on a Turkey dinner. I joined the prayer but without sincerity. Now, in retrospect, I regret doing so.

Change Afoot in Bookstores?

     The man was a picture of contentment. Surrounding him were a mix of eclectic books, several which piqued his curiosity. He browsed inside an independent bookstore in Cambridge, Massachusetts.
     He ignored a machine situated at the end of an isle. Maybe he should have paid it attention. That machine could someday affect his browsing habit.
     The printer was an Espresso Book Machine (seen in the bottom photo). It prints out paperback books on demand. If a customer requests a book unavailable in the store, the manager can print a copy as the customer waits. Quality is top notch. Only a few minutes are required to fulfill an order.
     The convenience is wonderful but there are ramifications to consider.
     If the bookstore can satisfy a customer’s request with a machine, what incentive will it have to stock a wide range of books? Printing on demand lessens the store’s financial risk. Rather than stocking an obscure title, why not wait until a customer orders it? The book would then be printed on the spot.
     That scenario would kill browsing.
     Exploring shelves of obscure books is the attraction of browsing. Eclectic titles are what sets apart independent bookstores from chain stores.
     Or maybe the Espresso Machine will enhance browsing. The bookstore will stock more eclectic books, knowing that customers could still order—on demand—mainstream books from popular authors.
     Less than fifty of these Espresso Machines operate at bookstores in the United States. Soon they’ll be hundreds of stores using these machines. These printers could become a transformative force in the book industry.
     I’m hoping that indie bookstores do the right thing. They’ll keep on stocking eclectic books. Searching and discovery makes a bookstore special.

Espresso Book Machine prints books on demand.

Ball Stand

     A homeowner sells used golf balls. His property borders a country club. The balls land in his yard.
     Nobody in person collects the money. Customers drop cash into a jar. An honor system prevails like at a farm stand. I doubt anyone steals the money or the balls. By and large, people are honest in this suburban area. They can be trusted.
     Would this honor method succeed in a city? Probably not. Even though plenty of city dwellers are honest, it takes only one thief to empty a jar of money. And thieves are more apt to live in cities.
    Sometimes you must trust people before you can trust them.

Empty Seat Syndrome

Citizens recite 'The Pledge of Allegiance' at the start of a town hall meeting in my town last week.

     Why do people avoid front row seats?
     I attended a Town Hall meeting. The moderator announced, “There’s always empty seats up front.” He directed his remark to citizens standing in the back. A few individuals moved up but most of them remained in place.
     People anticipate boredom from lectures and civic meetings. If monotony kicks in, they want to close their eyes. But they can’t nod off from row one. That location is conspicuous.
     Front row sleepyheads risk embarrassment. Other row sleepyheads risk nothing.
     Attitudes are different at entertainment venues. Close up seats are coveted. There’s no boredom.
     The litmus test of a speaker’s reputation is whether or not front row seats are occupied.

Opposite Reactions

     A helicopter flew overhead while I strolled through a park. I assumed an emergency had happened. Lights flashed on official vehicles parked nearby. The aircraft, which descended behind a building, was probably a med flight.
     A pair of teenage boys jogged by. They were high school athletes on a practice.
     “What’s up with the helicopter?” I said.
     “A motorcyclist crashed,” said one of the boys. “Splattered himself all over Forest Street.”
     The word splattered was spoken with emphasis and jocularity. This boy, I sensed, cared not a whit for the cyclist.
     My reaction to the news was different. Even though the motorcyclist was unknown, I felt a felt a twinge of concern for him.
     I didn’t fault the athlete for being callous. I might have reacted the same way when I was his age. Boys and young men often lack sensitivity. Indifference to strangers is burnished in their hard wiring. When that boy grows into middle age, compassion might bubble to his surface.
     Compassion reveals maturity.

Uniform Inattention

        When musicians wear plain uniforms, they minimize distractions. Audiences better focus on music.
     A trumpeter (in the top photo) wore black and white while playing Taps. Behind her, members of a community chorus were dressed in a similar outfit. They preformed during a Memorial Day ceremony in my town.
     At Jordan Hall in Boston, a conductor (in the bottom photo) wore black. So did the musicians of the youth ensemble that he was leading.
     Smartphones are making it harder for audiences to focus on music. While attending a classical concert at Harvard University, I noticed several audience members staring into their phones. One of those people browsed a shopping website. Some of them sat together; their phones created a line of bluish incandescence. It marred the view of people seated behind them. Worse, it made it hard to follow the progression of the music.
     All of these people were twenty something years old.
     I resisted an urge to photograph those phone users, or should I say, those rude SOB’s. Management had requested that no cameras be used.
     Music has the capacity to unify us. When mobile technology intrudes upon a concert, that unity is forgone.

Muted Enthusiasm

     Where were the Halloween displays? Last year they adorned lots of front yards. Walking through neighborhoods was like patronizing a museum of ghoulishness.
     This year was different around here. Fewer homeowners put out displays.
     Why the change?
     Nature might explain the discrepancy. The colors of the Autumn leaves were muted this season. Better said, the colors were terrible.
     Blasé colors might have resulted in blasé enthusiasm for holiday.

Transitions

     Three weeks ago, I tossed a handful of dirt into my friend’s grave. His casket had just been lowered into the hole. The gesture was my final goodbye. Our friendship had lasted since boyhood.
     Since that burial, I’ve attended a wake and a funeral for two other people. Tomorrow morning I’ll attend yet another burial.
     Contemplating so much death in such a brief span of time is depressing. A pall of gloom hangs over my head.
     Earlier in the year, before this wave of deaths, I walked by a cemetery. A cluster of balloons floated through it. The sight was unusual. Balloons announce celebrations. Those harbingers of joy share nothing in common with a location that stands for death.
     Or so I thought.
     I noticed words on one of the balloons and moved close to read them. The words congratulated a graduate. Chances were, a family had thrown a backyard party for a high school senior. The balloons had flown from the party into the cemetery.
     The balloon photo offers me perspective in my mourning. The key word here is transition. The balloons were transitioning across a neighborhood, the graduate was transitioning from high school to college, and my late friend was undergoing the most mind blowing transition of them all.
     When someone undergoes a transition—a new job, a new home, death, marriage, divorce, and so forth—the effect is profound on the individual.
     But it’s not only the individual that is affected. A transition affects more than the person undergoing the change. When someone transitions, a ripple effect is felt by people close to him.
     Transitions are potent.

Puritan Legacy

     Puritan colonists once labored in my area of the continent. They busted their humps. Their gusto for work coined the term, ‘Puritan Work ethic.’
      That ethos is still practiced. People in New England have a reputation as diligent workers.
      So do folks in the northern Midwestern states. Laboriousness is ingrained in their heritage. Many of the immigrants who settled there were Germans, a people with a reputation for industriousness.
     Hard work pays off. An economic study claims that New England and the Upper Midwest offer the best quality of life in the United States.
     Children in my town attended a Halloween party. It happened outside the Town Hall. A fireman invited kids to blast water from a hose. A girl wearing a Puritan costume (seen in photo) took up his offer.
     Few people wear Puritan styled clothes anymore, but people in this part of America still work hard.

True to Vision

These benches are where Mother Teresa prayed when visiting her convent in New York City.

       Their standards of austerity haven’t changed.
       I visited of convent of the Missionaries of Charity. It’s located in New York City. A nun showed me around. She requested that no photos be taken of them.
      I sought one exception. Would she permit me to photograph a nun’s feet next to a bucket? Each sister possesses one for washing clothes. No washing machines are used.
     She acquiesced to my request.
     Their religious order is flourishing. Convents are located worldwide.
     All to often, success breeds complacency. Standards drop. Creeping lethargy takes root. Organizations fall into decline.
     Not this one. These nuns live simple lives of poverty as exemplified by their founder, Mother Teresa.
     She once said, “If luxury creeps in, we lose the spirit of the order. To be able to love the poor and know the poor we must be poor ourselves.”

High as an Elephant's Eye

     Stalks of corn edged a front lawn in Massachusetts. An elderly passerby said, “The corn is as high as an elephant’s eye.”
     I had never heard that expression, so I looked it up. The sentence is a lyric from the song, 'Oh, What a Beautiful Morning' composed by Rogers and Hammerstein. It became famous in 1943.
      For several decades after World War II, music bound together Americans in one generation after another. Everybody listened to the radio. Everybody recognized hit songs. 
     Nowadays, music is no longer a unifying social force. Audiences have fragmented. Listening to the music on the radio—a shared experience—has been  supplanted by listening to custom playlists—a private experience.
     The expression, soundtracks of our lives no longer applies to all generations.

Social Exclusivity

Student actors at a school in my town pose for a selfie with a bust of Glinda, after performing in a play.

     I don’t upload my selfie photos to social media. Facebook isn’t my thing. Even this blog—my only foray into social media—shares nothing about my family, relations, and friends.
    Self documentation turns me off. It puts people on guard during conversations. It takes away the exclusivity of face to face interactions.
     I hiked for a day with my niece in the Berkshire Mountains; they straddle the border of New York and Massachusetts. While on summits we didn’t compose selfies for uploading. Messages about our adventure were not posted on social media.
     It was our day together and nobody else's. The things we did, the conversations we shared, and the memories we created, were exclusive to us. That exclusivity strengthened our bond.
     Social media is hot. Self documentation is booming. But I’m not riding that bandwagon. What I practice—and cherish—is exclusivity in face to face interactions with relations and friends. I’m convinced they appreciate my circumspection.

High Hoopster

     What sort of person erects a basketball hoop on a third story balcony? It overlooks an alley in one of the most expensive neighborhoods of Boston.
     Maybe the owner shoots baskets with a little kid. Or perhaps the man is a Celtics fan with a flair for the dramatic. Or maybe he’s an eccentric.
     A grill for cooking—not visible in the photo—is also located on the balcony.
     The man is probably an extrovert who’s fun to hang out with, and shoot hoops with.

Talent Before Judgement

     A man prayed alone inside a Roman Catholic church in Boston. Before him stood a display of artwork. It depicted a statue of Saint Anthony facing a painting of Jesus. Dramatic lighting illuminated the scene.
   During the Council of Trent, The Church considered the purpose of religious art. it determined that religious art should inspire people to become ‘excited to adore and love God, and to cultivate piety.’
     Those aims are laudable. The artwork inside the church performed that role.
     I believe it pleases God when artists—and non artists—use their talents on his behalf. All of us have God given skills that can be utilized for good works.
     Soon we’ll die. Everyone of us will learn the extent of God’s satisfaction, or disappointment, or even wrath, for how we conducted our lives.
     Imagine if God asks us, “What did you do with the talent I gave you?”

Flag Watching

     Some uses of the American flag seem appropriate. Others rub me the wrong way.
     While photographing the last couple of presidential campaigns, I noticed gigantic flags at rallies. They struck me as fitting to those occasions. But I think they’re overdone.
     Barack Obama started out his first campaign wearing no flags on his lapel. He received criticism for the omission. Afterwards he always sported a tiny flag. I’m not offended if a candidate sometimes does not wear a flag.
     Last month I noticed a gigantic American flag fluttering across the lane of a highway near Boston. An auto dealership was located there. Their commercialization of patriotism turned me off.
     Lots of Americans, I suspect, pay attention to how their fellow citizens present the flag. They understand that the stars and stripes are a symbol—a powerful one—that promotes social cohesion.

Libraries As a Litmus Test

     You can judge a town’s quality of life by visiting its library.
     During the afternoon, an author spoke to a woman’s book club gathered at the library in my town. Two attendees sported party hats. They celebrated the one year birthday of our new library building.
     Later that evening, a chamber music quartet performed in the same room.
     Statistics offer a quality of life clue. Since the opening of the new library building, thousands more books have been checked out.
     Another quality of life indicator was evident outside. Children’s bicycles were parked in a bike rack. The bicycles were not locked.
     A new library building, cultural events, and increased reading by the public, suggest that my town is a good place to live.

Poise and Respect

     They called it a horse show but it wasn’t about horses.
     Teenage girls in Massachusetts competed in what’s called a hunt seat equitation. Judges evaluated the riders instead of the animals. Poise factored into the grading.
     Poise is a dignified, self confident manner.
     Some people in the world exude poise. Other individuals come across as unrefined. During stressful circumstances, ever notice how some people remain poised while others loose their cools?
     Poise earns more than ribbons at a horse show. Poise earns respect.

Stepping Up by Reaching Down

     While strolling in a conservation area, I noticed a soda can laying in the woods. It contained a residual amount of ginger ale. Ants crawled inside it, attracted to sugar.
     I contemplated carrying the can through the woods to my car, and from my car to a trash bin. What gave me pause were all those ants. They were miniscule. Some of them might get loose in my car, even if I crushed the can.

     This hiking area was brand new. Two Boy Scouts had blazed trails into it. They had pledged to maintain the pathways.
     Other people had visited the setting ahead of me. Some of them had left behind trash. I came across an empty pack of cigarettes, a coffee cup, and that can of soda.
     I gathered the debris, including the can, and brought it to my car. What motivated my action was the efforts of those Boy Scouts. They had taken an initiative, and without compensation done something for the betterment of my town.
     People step up when they know others are stepping up.

Eyeing a Trend

      Do the eyes catch your eye?
     I visited the young adult section of a bookstore. The covers of several books, all of them new releases, featured closeups of eyes.
     This preponderance of eyes can't be a coincidence. It must be a trend. Publishers are pumping out YA book covers featuring tight compositions of body parts, notably eyes, lips, and hand holding. 
     All to often, young adult literature follows trends. First came the novel Twilight. Afterwards, publishers regurgitated paranormal novels into bookstores. The same thing happened following the publication of The Hunger Games. Dystopian books filled the shelves.
     The authors of Twilight and The Hunger Games did not follow trends. They did their own things.  I wish authors and illustrators would spurn trends and follow their own instincts. When creators follow trends, they’re not being all that creative.

Somebody to Recognize

     I stuck up a conversation with a stranger. He was begging on the streets of Boston. One of his feet was missing from cancer.
     He told me he’s a veteran. I asked him about his experiences in the Army. He shared a story about his deployment to Panama. The man was well spoken. We enjoyed the conversation.
     Years ago, I would have handed a donation to this man and kept moving. Nowadays I also chat with homeless people. My approach changed after reading books about the late Mother Teresa. She pointed out that it’s not only a lack of money, but a lack of love, that causes the destitute to suffer.
     Here is one such quotation from her: “People (those who are homeless) have forgotten what the human touch is, what it is to smile, for somebody to smile at them, somebody to recognize them, somebody to wish them well. The terrible thing is to be unwanted.”

Editing Lapse

     Something is wrong with this portrait. The problem isn’t obvious but it’s evident with careful observation.
     An executive stood beside a shipping desk. He posed for an article about bar code technology. The story was published in a trade journal. 
     After the photo shoot, I edited the images and sent them along to an art director. He was happy with them.
     Long after the story was published, I again looked over the images. That’s when I detected the problem. The man’s finger—his middle finger—protrudes alone.
     Oops!
     The awkward positioning of the finger went undetected during the portrait session. But I should have noticed it during the edit. Perhaps I was up against a deadline and didn’t pay enough attention. Perhaps my eyes were bleary from inspecting one photo after another.
     Whatever the reason, I was careless.
     Professionalism has nothing to do with talent or skill. It’s all about conduct, appearance, and a work ethic that includes attention to details.

Snubbing The Rule of Scarcity

Lobsters are steamed during a clambake at a sportsman's club in Massachusetts.

     Lobsters are expensive. I won’t buy them. The prices are bolstered by the rule of scarcity: When a product is scarce, demand for it increases along with costs.
     Marketers take this rule one step further. They create a perception of scarcity even if products are abundant. It’s done with limited time offers, or warnings that products might sell out. Every Christmas, some parents scramble—and pay higher prices—for ‘must have’ toys.
     Too many people are suckers to the rule of scarcity. Self awareness would help them.
      I visited a Toyota showroom with my father. We negotiated with a salesman over the price of a car. During the conversation, another employee sauntered over. He whispered something into the salesman’s ear. The salesman grimaced. He informed us of a possible mix up. The car we were negotiating over might not be available. He told us to sit tight. Someone in charge would get to the bottom of the situation.
     I sensed a ploy. The salesman and his colleague were creating a perception of scarcity. Their tactic rubbed me the wrong way. My father and I responded to this perception of scarcity with a demonstration of scarcity. We said goodbye, walked out the door, and never came back.