Ahoy

What is it about lighthouses?  You know, for the most part, they have been practically dysfunctional since 1915 when ship to shore Morse Code came along.   But along coasts all over the world they remain standing, and who knows how many billions of dollars have been spent keeping the lights lit even though nobody is home.

I just love them. So does Peggy. But you stop and think about living inside them? You talk about the weather you'd have to wether to just PERSON them.

Back before digital I had my trusty SLR with me cruising up the West Coast, and about a half hour before sunset? Here is this amazing lighthouse shrouded in fog in it's lower half, with the sun sinking into that fog on the top half.   I should have taken the shot right then , but decided I would wait to shoot it just before the last arc of the sun dipped into the fog.

 

So? Well I ran down to the beach calculating the time and the number of frames I had left. I shot some rocks and birds and drift wood and then headed back up to my spot. I set up the tripod thankful I'd saved five frames for this very moment in time.  I play with the shutter speed and exposure.  I am ready.  The Sun cooperates, the fog cooperates, the light house cooperates. The moment of truth.  CLICK!  No click.  I never was very good at math. Out of frames, out of film I was.

This was an isolated lighthouse, no souvenir shop to pick up a role of Kodak.  It was in the Spring and no other tourists around.  I'm not sure I've ever felt that sense of desperation before or after.  I run in circles looking for anybody that might have some film in their back pockets. I run into a ranger and beg him.  What kind of ranger doesn't walk around with a few rolls of film on him. This kind of ranger unfortunately.

That so killed my spirit. I don't think I took another picture for a week, and I feared I'd never get that opportunity again. Well since that time I have compensated for my loss by snapping off about 900 frames of lighthouses.  I still don't have that shot I wanted, but I've not given up.  And with a digital camera it's going to happen some day. That is if I keep my battery charged and carry a backup memory card.

 

This one, I believe, is the Haceta Lighthouse in central Oregon. There is another one in the same area and sometimes I get them mixed up.  The various versions are just the work of Photo Shop. Anyway, I just thought I'd share.....and suggest to any of you heading towards Photo Journalism careers....Keep track of your frames, and keep your battery charged. If you don't? You will, in time, MISS that TV moment.  

Anyone who shoots for a living I'm sure can match the emotion I felt that day.  It was truly the one that got away...

 

Oh, yeah I just remembered another one. I am traveling West in Eastern California on Highway 50 and run into a dead end?  I get out of the car with my camera hanging around my neck. This time I have a charged battery and plenty of frames of film. 

No more than 10 feet away from me an eagle, a Golden I think, swoops down and grabs an 8 foot long rattlesnake and shoots right back up into the air. 

I can still sense my inaction.  And I'm pretty sure I even had my camera already set to a really fast speed. The picture is still there in my brain, but I'll never be able to share it with you. You'll just have to imagine it yourself..

Oh, here's an irony.  After taking pictures of my lighthouse water color I decided I wasn't totally satisfied with the background.  So I piddled with it for three days and essentially ruined it.  So what you see is all that's left. 

There are so many lessons to learn in life.  And they just keep comin'.

Have a great day.

Well it's kinda like.....

One of my classroom pleas is for students to be prepared to capture TV moments.  Now I have a pretty terse useful definition of what constitutes a TV moment.  But a student  a week ago legitimately asks, "but WHAT IS a TV moment?."

Well I've discovered it is a lot easier to define by example than by phrase.  The piece up above should help.

As Peggy and I were driving through a lush conifer forest in southern Oregon we spy this perfectly maintained and freshly painted ocean fishing boat.  It is no where near any water, let alone any salt walter. 

Well that's a TV moment because that JUST is not right.  I shirked my TV reporter duty.  What I should have done?  I should have parked the car, walked up the drive to the home closest to the boat, tapped on the door, and when a person appears, boldly ask "what's up with the boat?"

I can guarantee you there is a story to be told. THIS is a TV moment.

Jim Weis and I were up in Erie Colorado one year doing a story on a 20th Century town behind the time. Erie was still refusing to pave it's streets.   The story alone is a TV moment, but we almost missed some incredible support TV moment video. 

(Send the kids from the room.)

Turning a corner and heading right into Jim's frame is a rusted old pickup truck that has to be 80 years old.  That alone would help support a story about a town refusing to join the 20th century.  But the REAL TV moment was in the back of the truck.  It was a DEAD HORSE lying on its back with it's leg's and hooves shooting skyward.

Without referring directly to the video?  Imagine how many lines you could come up with to support the story using THAT TV moment.  For taste reasons we only used about three seconds of the shot, but that was all we needed.  And NO, I did not say, "don't beat a dead horse."

There are just SOME pictures (video in this case) and SOME sound that BELONG on TV.

To get them there you need to be ready to capture T.V. moments.

That's all I've got to say today....

Is That Right?

....And I Say Potatoe..."

But instead of calling the whole thing off? Let's get into it. 

A couple of you via direct e-mail have hinted my Paul's Heimers is kicking in....'cause it wasn't TOO long ago I told this Luis Jimenez story about the Mustang (refer to previous posting).

Well, sorry, this won't be your case in point.  I was obeying two rules of journalism by repeating the tale.  First, I have a duty to 'advance' the story if there is something new to report. The fact the Mustang is in place, and people are reacting to it is the new twist. And you should never insult those who hadn't been hanging on your every word  the first time around by saying, "as you'll remember....blah,blah,blah."

The next rule is "one of thumb."  This maxim presumes public memories are short.  It says given a little time ( a scale that floats) you can repeat your story verbatim and the mass of humanity tuned in won't even remember it's a rerun.

For example? On Valentines Day two years apart I revisited a feature on love at the zoo. In fact, only a few people at the station figured out it was a repeat. It is important to change the pictures and narration, at least a little bit.

Just because I liked to go there, I did about 10 stories on Wildlife at the Rocky Mountain Arsenal with very few questions asked. The trick there is you can do it the Fall when the deer are in rut, then return in the Winter to watch visiting bald eagles hunt, catch big birds stopping on their way back to to Nebraska and Alaska in the Spring, and then show up to profile the culling role the coyote plays in the Summer.

Having to explain all that? Well it forces me to speed up retelling of the sad Luis Jimenez story. Following more than a decade of bickering with lots of legal muscle on both sides, Luis agreed to get the beast in place.

Unfortunately, while he was maneuvering the monster support unit in his studio, it collapsed on the sculptor and killed him.

It was clearly irony, and as I hinted in the last posting, bordering on a classical definition of tragedy.

Despite his tarnished reputation here in Denver, Luis was a renowned artist, known and honored around the World.  His sculptures and paintings are in government sites all over Texas and New Mexico, in places as far away as Australia, and in D.C. at the Smithsonian.

Being an essentially universally honored man would give him the status required to make him a tragic figure.  And he needs a tragic flaw that leads to his downfall. Clearly PRIDE was his Achilles Heel. And that he was universally mourned in the art world pretty much seals the deal for him. 

But let's get back to the EQUINE BEAST. Elena Brown is a good friend and I'd suspect in all of life's issues we'd be on the same train 90 percent of the time.  But this ain't one of them.  I LOVE THE BIG BLUE BEAR,

 

 

 

 

And I adore the DANCING ALIENS...

 

 and I'm sorry folks, I just get tickled when I look up at that MUSTANG.

 

 

Here's a credit to Luis Jimenez' sense of humor. One of his  original thoughts was to be as anatomically accurate as his skill would allow.   

"SO....what am I going to do about that scrotum area.....hmmmm."

I couldn't get very close when I shot it, but I'm pretty sure that area is all lit up in NEON.  Those of you working out there can confirm or deny that observation..

And, Oh Yeah, Elena when you look at the Art at DIA, and pass judgement? Go ahead and DO that, but consider the alternative. If we did not have "percent for art' at public institutions around the country?

I've met and done stories with most of the major artists who contributed to DIA's facade. I DID NOT LIKE ALL OF THEM, AND I DID NOT LIKE ALL THEIR FINISHED PRODUCTS....BUT....

At the same time I was making the rounds, I took a trip to Munich, which at the time boasted the latest REALLY, truly NEW INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT in the World.

I'd met the Munich airport manager in Denver, and so in Munich he arranged a complete tour of the place for me and Peggy.

At every stop his Chief Aid points out the airport's utilitarian efficiency (although he is pretty careful not to let me get too close to their baggage system).  The whole airport gleams of polished metal and glass, BUT NO ART!

And you know what? The place is cold, it's depressing, it makes me feel like I wish I'd flown into Austria instead. I am cold, I am depressed, I am anxious to GET THE HECK OUT OF THERE.  And maybe that's what they were after.

That's when I started appreciating art, even the stupid farm implement sculpture at DIA. It is JUST BETTER than the alternative.   

It didn't help my attitude that in the town of Freissing, nearby? There is a quaint looking little restaurant called the Hoffbrau...mmmm...sounds good, eh?

Well step in "THAT HOFFBRAU" and what do you see? Dingy gray walls decorated with those itty bitty Mexican Sombreros you can get for 50 cents in Tijuana. "THAT HOFFBRAU" serves the worst Mexican food on the planet.  But there is hope...down the road? Inside the bargain hotel? They have a CHINESE Restaurant.

I'd love to keep this going.  Let me have it. Maybe we can all get on the next big ART selection committee.

Who?

I'll bet you thought this BLOG was about you, about you....."

Well, Luis Jimenez, somewhere up there in the ether, this time you hit the NOGGIN on THE STEEL SPIKE.

In just the right light, were I to glimpse this monster FINALLY erected at Denver International Airport?

 

 

 Heard in a foxhole....? 

"Move over! I need some prayin' room here. Is that fire coming out the beast's mouth?"

Luis Jimenez was commissioned to fashion this giant MUSTANG as the signature piece of art at DIA. When? Way back in the early 90's. In my personal priority chart it was, and is, the most poignant visual reminder of how difficult it is to complete a public works project.

A committee selected Luiz, and he was paid a ton of money to create and erect the MUSTANG. The committee was so in awe of his work and reputation? They gave him at least half the money up front. That's reasonable I think, don't you?

So of course the next clause would read, "to be completed by "BLAH, blah, blah, BLAH blah, blah", right?

"Why tie him to a date? He is reputable and a whole bunch of people say his work is fantastic."

There were many airport employees outside the committee that remain unimpressed. They saw the renderings that came with the proposal. They were and are shocked  Luiz was inspired by a vision of a skinny BLUE mustang with bright red NEON eyes ready to pry into your soul."

I currently have at least four students ( Komal Sulehria, Michele Kreps, Kiki Rhea and Gabrielle Bryant) working at the airport. One of them says the Mustang's eyes are clearly the "EYES OF THE DEVIL."

Well let'sgive the DEVIL his due. In the general coverage of the controversial work,  and it's delays in being erected, Luiz Jimenez was being protrayed as some person akin to THE DEVIL.

Truth? Some of the issues that arose? Luiz went blind in one eye while working on the MUSTANG. He kept working, but not as fast. Another committee decided the sculpture should go inside the terminal instead of sitting on a hill along side a road approaching the terminal. The FAA complained the EYEs would interfere with air traffic control.

 

(Can you imagine all the wet pants and diapers when babies and toddlers got up close and personal with this beast?)

To hear of the delay in isolation many felt Jimenz was just sittin' down in his Hondo, New Mexico studio "doggin' it." I know that was my first thought. So photographer Jim Weis and I decided to go to Hondo and confront the man.

What we found was a man hard at work on many commissioned projects. But?

We walked into an environment ( an old elementary school he purchased and turned into a combination home and studio) devoted to the study of a MUSTANG.  Inside the home? A real live air snortin' Mustang tied to a rail in what used to be the cafeteria. On the walls around the live model, hundreds of pictures of Mustangs, and right in front of our eyes, a nearly completed  12 foot high steel and clay representation of the final project.

We drove up the road a bit to see the steel frame structure ready to go for the MUSTANG we now see at DIA. That was still in the mid 90's.

Still, the airport paid good money for a piece of art work it hadn't received. Now see if you can guess the next development.

DID LAWYERS GET INVOLVED? 

I often decry the over use of the word Tragedy. How can the "DEATH OF GHANDI" and the "loss of a cat" be analogous?

But I think the end of this story matches classical and modern definitions of tragedy. And sorry, but Peggy says if this posting is any longer, you won't read it.  So come back tomorrow and I promise to WRAP IT UP.

Bladder Matter

DEER ME!

Well I saw the total eclipse of the Earth's Moon tonight. (Peggy is retraining me to be more specific. Had I said, "I saw the eclipse of the moon"? Peggy would likely retort, "whose moon?"

Anyway when you say, " I saw the total eclipse of the moon?" If it really were TOTAL? Wouldn't you just see NOTHING? Just asking.

Since AOL brought back their mood list, ocassionally I use it. And, as you can see, it is a night for MISCHIEF. This site this evening is meant for relief of stress.  And that brings me to the point of my title choice.

You see Peggy and I ventured downtown to attend a book signing by Adam Schrager.

Adam is an outstanding reporter, anchor, blogger, podcaster, newspaper online reporter, magazine contributor, teacher and now historical biographer.  His book "The Principled Politician, The Ralph Carr Story" is going to raise some eyebrows. 

There are some pretty high fallutin' folks already touting Adam's work on the book jacket.  And let me tell you anybody that writes a Political History book that Bob Costa's likes, is okay by me (Remember my anatomy? You know, where my tongue is always trapped in my cheek).

Well let's get serious for just a second.  I really do have great admiration for Adam's skills and integrity.  Okay, that second is up.

I know of no man who is perfect, no matter how hard I try.  And I must tell you with great sorrow that reality also applies to Adam Schrager.

Adam gave an outstanding presentation to a room full of media, and political figures. But early on in his introduction he made an egregious judgement.  I believe Adam was quoting Ralph Carr, a one term governor in Colorado and the subject of Adam's text. I can only paraphrase that quote because I was already a little distracted.

You see, Adam found somewhere in his research that the witty Ralph Carr once told an audience, " I will not speak past the length of your bladder control." And then.......? Adam made the same promise to this crowd.

I truly enjoyed Adam's presentation. It was full of lively anecdotes, and some very nice figurative language.  The speech flowed nicely.  The messages were clear, the transitions were clean , and the substance was there. He came up off the page and really communicated with his audience.  But, "ah, here's the rub."

<FONTsize=4>I don't know Adam's age?  I know his maturity clearly exceeds any digital count? Based on his life experience on record? I'm going to guess oh, I'd say, 40?</FONTsize=4>

Listen I don't want to embarrass Adam so I'm just going to speak to him one on one.  Don't the rest of you read beyond here.

DEER ADAM,

 

 

 

"Adam, you may have noticed me and a few others walking out on your speech about half way through? Believe me it had nothing to do with the substance or the skill with which you presented it?  Had you been fully observant of this "walkout", you would have noted they were men with a lot less hair on their tete's than yourself."

"Okay I know you are a busy man, so let me get to the point. You see Adam there is the 40 year old bladder? It can likely hold steady through a 30 minute speech. But let's face it, many of your friends and colleagues, me included no longer have 40 year old bladders.  There are 50 year old bladders, 60 year old bladders, and as I looked around the room, I'm pretty sure you were talking to some bladders that were well over 70."

"Now I wouldn't want to be the one to edit your speech down to make allowances for us "Old" F....s, rather bladders. But I do have a humble suggestion if you run into this demographic out on promotional tours. SCHEDULE A POTTY BREAK right in the middle of it, and/or PIPE your brilliance into the WC." 

Okay the rest of you can come back now. Wouldn't it be interesting if Ralph Carr actually had some research commissioned on the average holding time of a bladder at any particular age? If he didn't somebody ought to.  I think that would really be useful information.

"Pelican Briefs"

You see I had to go with multiple pelicans because other wise I might have been sued by John Grisham had I gone with the singular.

Speaking of writers and books? Adam Schrager, a reporter/anchor whose work I admire is having a book signing at the Tattered Cover in Lo Do Tuesday night. Get a load of this catchy title in the middle of a presidential race, "The Principled Politician." While it may seem a clear definition of an OXYMORON? There have been a few, and Adam found one.

Once Colorado Governor Ralph Carr stuck to his principles defending the rights of Japanese Americans after Pearl Harbor. That pretty much killed a bid his supporters had of having him run for President. Hmmm! Maybe you can have principles ONCE if you are a politician.

Anyway I'm anxious to read Adam's work.  And you should be more than a little curious.

Adam paraphrases a news source as commenting, " I didn't think TV reporters could even read books, let alone write them.."

For those of you in town? Tattered cover in Lo Do....7:30 PM.

Hey, for you MetNetters we could count it as a "Random Get Together"

 

Why Not?

.....up high in banana tree...."

Sometimes you just have to stick your NECK out and go for it. You are looking at my first big time, stick my neck out, go for it, watercolor BIRD.

In case you don't recognize him? He or she is a Sand Hill crane caught flying through Southern Colorado. He and she do this twice a year, and he does this really hot mating dance in the Spring. Whilst not doing arabesques, he and she are helping a lot of  farmers harvest their crops.

But I've done watercolor birds before? Why is this one special? Well 'cause I went to the art store and grabbed some big old honkin' WATERCOLOR surface.  It's Watercolor Paper I'm told that only the BIG GUYS can afford to use. Cleverly I limited myself to one sheet.

You know how you see the photography winners in magazines. And you know how they are required to tell you what film or digital setting they used? You know how they tell you the make of the camera and the lens size? And they you have to tell them the  speed you shot it at.?

Well I don't know if that's required of BIG TIME Water Colorists. But I clearly want to make the most out of my investment. So here goes:

I painted this on a slice of Lanaquarelle paper, and if my French is any good it's hot pressed and satin grain (seems a little rough to me to be satin.).

For further status they inform me its made by the same formula they used in 1590.  (It's kind of scary to think this might be around that long).Wow!

Oh, the size? Translating from the metric it appears to be 22 inches by 30 inches in dimension.

Now here's a conundrum.  It says this right here on a sticky label..."140"....that's ONE HUNDRED FORTY...lbs....POUNDS. I am pleased to announce that I can lift 140 POUNDS between my thumb and my index finger on either hand.

Oh, time of exposure? I think I used up 4 hours. Now that's only if you don't count the 7 hours driving to and from Monte Vista to photograph (sometimes you need to be careful when you used the word shoot) the big graceful avian beasts.  And let's not forget the two hours of waiting for just the right light to snap the shutter.

I don't know if these things are important to know if you are looking for an award? But if I ever sell it I'm going to want to recoup my expenses, right?  Isn't that how you price artwork?  

Clearly I have a lot to learn.

 

This is the only frame untouched. I have to share the credit for the rest of them with Adobe Photo Shop. Gee...what's next?

Kansas Girl

The wonderful Wizard of Oz....

I know it's neither wise or politically correct to talk about your art. But, and you'd have to check with Peggy, I don't think there are very many social conventions I haven't already violated.  So what's one more.

I shot this picture last July 4th.  And in my mind it really was one of those rare TV moments. It's just something you don't see every day.

What you cannot see? This is a 4th of July celebration venue in the middle of a field of wheat stubble. Facing the other direction there are 4,000 people facing a stage where there is entertainment.

This girl (Kansas Girl) felt her time could better be spent catching some ultra violet, while absoring the prose of her favorite author.

Why "Kansas Girl?"

Well my mother was a Kansas girl.  All my aunts on my mother's side (there was a ton of them) were all Kansas Girls. About 10 of my current and former students are Kansas Girls. 

Now if you should ever catched me stereotyping like this again have me arrested. The must be a law against it.

Now the truth is this girl could have been from Jersey.  But here is a known factor for me.  All those "Kansas Girls" I just mentioned?

They would ALL be comfortable dropping down in a field of wheat stubble to catch up on their reading.

(Of course it helps to HAVE a field of wheat stubble!)

Okay, true confessions...and I hope some of you will consider me BRAVE for sharing this? One of the real reasons I took the picture, and then re-created the moment with "oil pastels" (my first attempt)?

STANDBY WITH THE MEDAL OF MATRIMONIAL BRAVERY...

 

 

 

 

Well, the real reason she caught my eye is because the subject is  built just like Peggy was built when she was 17.

Oh, am I in trouble....\

See ya.....Maybe!!

<FONTSIZE=4>

Make Mine Sasparilla!

Caption: "Cause Baby Look at You Now!"

When I stop learning? I think I've said this before. Put me out on an ice floe.

So I was in this restaurant bar two nights ago, and I think as you can see I pretty much take a pencil with me everywhere. So I see these two kids at the bar, just sitting there with angelic behavior. It makes me curious, and those of you who know me pretty well...know I'm pretty driven to get answers when I'm curious.

Well, as you can see I sketched them in their environment and then took the sketch to my journalism class today and passed it around. What did they see in the sketch. Was there a story there?

I'll offer you entry into the same game. "What's it all about Alfie?"

While you're pondering the picture I'll get in a postscript on yesterday's posting. Then I was crying, today I'm laughing. It's odd that when you've got your tongue in your cheek, it's almost impossible to get it out.  No one will let you. 

Here I was trying to deal with what I believed to be a monstrous social ill.  Well, five of you wrote back. Four of the five of you said, in essence, and in my friend Paula Vargas' case, verbatim, '"PAUL, YOU ARE SO FUNNY!" 

So I guess that's what I'll stick to.  So anyway, back to the sketch.

"Who are these kids? Who do they belong to?"

For me that is not a Social Services question. It is clear this pair in some sense belong here. They are sipping Pepsis, quietly playing some hand held electronic games, and chatting with the Bar Tendress.

"Hmmm? Her kids maybe? No it seems more like she is babysitting them. They are probably the offspring of a single parent cook who can't afford day care."

 We could make a movie out of that one. Well using my POLITE journalistic bent I stage whisper to the bar personage, "these kid in here often.?"

"Well yeah, quite a bit. They are waiting for their mother to come pick them up."

"Kids of the cook?," I ask.

"No, the General Manager," she replies.

This could be a movie with a sequel. But then it dawns on me...THIS isn't a movie it's a news story. Times have gotten so hard that the HIGH FLYIN' GENERAL MANAGER, and HIS PROFESSIONAL WIFE ...between them, CAN'T afford day care? Mortgages be damned.  What is the world coming to when the G.M'S can't afford day care.

So I think I've got it all figured out and tell the class so. WELL....in case you're not up to speed on this? Tending bar is one of the more popular ways to finance one's education at a commuter school. So I typically have five or six in each class every semester.  So as I'm spitting out my speculative profundity one seasoned bar tendress blurts out, "I've tended bar all over town, and guess what?"

"What?"

"All general managers bring their kids to work."

"Why?"

"Well you had it right already.  They can't afford day care."

"So it's true. It's an economic bellwether. If the GM can't afford daycare we're all headed for the poor farm. Looks like depression is just around the corner.."

"Don't be a drama king. Who told you GM's are highly paid. Let's see, they are the first ones in, in the morning, last ones to leave at night.  They get no overtime, no tips, no breaks."

Well here's what I learned. GM's are poor, but looks like the ECONOMY might be okay.

BUT WAIT! I'M IN ANOTHER RESTAURANT BAR THIS AFTERNOON, AND A YOUNG LADY (estimated age, 8) LEAPS UP ON TO A BAR STOOL SHE'S CLEARLY MADE HER OWN.

The waiter seems to know her well enough.

"Yours?," I querie?

"Nope. I'm just keeping an eye on her!"

"So don't tell me she belongs to the poor General Manager."

"Nope 

"Well who then?"

"She belongs to THE OWNER."

I wonder if he gets tips.

PLEASE!!!!!!!

Caption: That's right. Another day older and deeper in debt.

I'm going to let you wonder what that BLUR up there IS for a few sentences. I will tell you this. I'll bet you a hug you've got one at your house,  just like I've got one at mine.

So I'm sorting through the mail today to get ready to take out the trash in the morning?

"My, did I forget to pay some bills or something? This pile is huge!"

I may have to come up with a RANDOM garage sale this weekend just to stay solvent.

Well, it turns out most of what was there came up just short of being bonafide billage. (Spell Check didn't correct that. Is billage really a word?)  I'm going to guess that many of you think I'm about to gripe about all the political #$%@!

No, not this time.

Before I go any further let me set the tone and issue some disclaimers for what will follow.

One, I've tried very hard to keep this BLOG from becoming a spewing of angst. You can get that elsewhere.  Hopefully some of you came here for a respite from teeth grinding.  But on this ocassion? All bets are off.

Secondly I doubt I'll get through this without offending some of my dear friends. All I can say is please forgive me in time. I NEED TO VENT. Do not go forward thinking, "oh,  he's going to dump in one of those last minute twists to diffuse it all."

Not gonna happen. 

Finally in this prelude to my passionate tirade, let it be known FAR AND WIDE.  I AM NOT EFFECTIVELY MOTIVATED BY GUILT IN THE BEST OF TIMES.

Okay, lets get on common footing here. I think we can all agree these are NOT the best of times.  If they were,  the war in Iraq would not have slipped into second place on the political agenda. Now don't get me wrong, no one is threatening to foreclose on my mortgage.  But like all of you, once I've put gas in the car, paid the bills, bought a few groceries, and paid the homeowners fee? I'm broke until next month.  This is not "woe is me."  You're all in the same boat.

Okay, back to the mail.  What you see up there on top is the largest pile ever accumulated in my life time of appeals for my generosity. What you see up there are 18, that's eighteen, packages of UNSOLICITED address stamps with myname on them. (Peggy doesn't know it yet, but she's got a pile of her own.) 

They are BLURRED because I don't want anybody else to get my address without working for it.  God knows there's a data base out there to give one a hand if one wants to labor a bit to snag me.

Even with current medical advancements in fighting aging, I could not live long enough to use all these stickers, especially on Snail Mail. But you know I'm not going to say anything about that. If they want to use up all the lumber and dead horses on the Planet to send those things out?  Saves me 20 bucks having to order them on line.

But there are no free address stamps are there. With each little pile of stamp comes an urgent appeal for me cough up 20, 50, 100, a 1,000 bucks to save the planet. One of them adds to the guilt appeal by sending me (and you) a nickel, hoping to inspire our good will. "Bah Humbug" to your nickel.

I had almost decided to give something to the Alzheimer's Association because they hadn't included any address stickers in their appeal?  But then I REMEMBERED (closest we'll get to humor today) there was a second letter from that organization? Uh, huh! That's where they put the address stickers.

I know these charities are facing hard economic times just like the rest of us.  I know most of us have someone in our lives who've been helped in some fashion by at least one of these charities. (despite some fund administrators kickin' down a million or so a year) But I'm no good to anybody, you're no good to anybody, if we're all broke.  And no matter what they say in these appeals?  We did not get them into their binds. We cannot, and should not unburden ourselves of our livelihoods to keep THEM afloat.

And I'm sorry...but MY ALMA MATER,  THE ARCHEOLOGICAL SOCIETY( if they've got myname and address there is no hope), THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC SOCIETY?  You guys take a break.

I think I've vented enough to slow down here. I do care about my fellow persons.  Today I chased a girl down on campus who, unbeknownst to her, had 50 dollars in mixed bills fly out of her pocket.  While I was chasing her down, another man gathered up the bills in the wind. 

In my mind that's the kind of charity that is going to make a difference right now.  There are people all around us who need assistance that has nothing to do with guilt or cash.

Let's face it, for whatever reason, it's going to be economically tough for everybody right now. We need to take care of our families and neighbors and friends. But none of us right now should feel guilty for not writing a bunch of checks because somebody sent us some address stamps we didn't ask for.  I'd send the nickel back but that would cost me close to 7 nickels.

Can I get back to politics for just a second? I'm going to be mad at any one of you who goes out and spends that HUGE economic boon the government is going to give us...so that we can patriotically yet artificially stimulate the economy. Please don't do that and then vote Republican. Don't get nervous now.

Please don't go out and vote Democratic because the Democrats promise solutions in 2009. Ain't gonna happen.

Vote for SOMEBODY, but vote for them for some other reason than the economy or Iraq. Those are turning into hot smoke screen issues. On those broad points? They are either lying to themselves or to us.

Okay, I think I'm mostly vented. And I just read this to Peggy over the phone and she said succinctly, "You better quit and go to bed!"

And so I will.  How big is your pile of address stamps?

What You See?

CAPTION: "Just had one....dad...honest!"

Remember how Jonathon Livingston Seagull wanted to be his own bird, to fly where no gull had ever flown before? So imagine Jonathon's disdain when he finds his OWN offspring, little Johnny Junior,  ignoring the  FUTURE Jonathon had mapped out for him.

"Oh Dear Bird in Heaven, what has become of my son?"

There he is, little Johnny Seagull, sipping a Margarita with Sea Salt. What will become of him?.

Well see if you can follow this bizarre object lesson.

I quite often (as late as yesterday actually) preach to my TV journalism students to be prepared for TV Moments. 

While my friend Jim Weis hanging on to his camera to get video of a semi sliding out of control on ice, just inches away from him, and then staying with the shot as the semi totally wipes out his news van? That is being prepared for and capturing a TV moment.

But you know what? A seagull sipping out of a straw is also a TV moment, a picture of something entirely out of character. 

Now lest you think what a clever imagination I must have.  This IS what I saw, and the sketch didn't fall too far from the tree, if you know what I mean. But I'm sneaking the next lesson in here.

While it was what I saw, what I saw wasn't really what it was? I'll explain that in a second after succinctly cautioning, CHECK IT OUT FIRST before sharing that TV moment.

So here is what Peggy and I really saw sitting in  restaurant along California's Central Coast.  We saw Jonathon Livingston Seagull and his kid sitting on a post...with the kid hoping to score some food from Dad. (Jonathon was probably MOM and not JONATHAN at all).  Anyway, as I'm shooting the birds of a feather through the restaurant glass, a light reflection takes the Margarita off OUR table and transports it visually right out to that under aged delinquent, "Little Johnny Livingston."

 

So the little message is, no matter how great that TV moment may seem in your eye piece? Check it out before you pass it on.

 

Mostly I just enjoyed sketching the birds and wanted to share...boy I had no idea how complex their feet are?

aoljpictureUpload, aoljpictureUpload_1

"Mmmmm, GOOD!"

CAPTION: "Hey sugar you gonna eat that WHOLE cream puff all by yourself?"

 

I know EATING fish is supposed to be good for you? But I think in the real world that's only if you go out and catch it yourself. Up close this old harbor seal looks more like an ELEPHANT seal.

And I hate to tell you this...but my observation is he didn't get this BIG chasing down sharks.  You see this guy is at least my age in SEAL years...or heck...I don't know...maybe humanoid years.

No, he's become this floating monster by hanging around  outside a fish RESTAURANT in Morro Bay, California.

Now unlike me, his MONSTROUS girth is an asset. Hear tell all that extra tissue keeps him warm? And let me tell you from his  BARK? That WAISTLINE  in fact supports some impressive RESPIRATION and VOICE PROJECTION. That really comes in handy for begging.

Can you tell I'm HARBORing a little resentment. So here's what I'm thinking?

If I just sat out behind this FRENCH PASTRY shop? And if I just bob up and down BARKing (aka BEGGing) for scraps? Wouldn't it be AEROBIC and good for me?

I'm sorry. It's true. I'm gettin' a little jealous of the BIG GUY. Oh, and look at that classic GRAY beard. How do you get whiskers to do that. I can dye mine to get that HUE, but I think I'd have to digest a lot of croissants to get hair that THICK.   

Well, I'm clearly suffering from SUGAR deprivation or I wouldn't be rambling on like this. But let me point one thing out to you? The old guy can eat all the BARRICUDA he wants? Let's SEAL the deal on this one.

He can't SKETCH a clam with those flippers.

I took his picture about ten years ago, but I'm sure he's still hanging around the wharf in Morro Bay if you are looking for an ICON that says, "BIG IS BEAUTIFUL."

(what if I swam around the local pool while you tossed me some tarts? Arf! Arf!)

Have a great day. Wanna SEAL it with a KISS?

Good for the Gander

CAPTION: "HONK IF YOU LOVE PHOTO SHOP!"

I guess we know what AOL's Blog Target Market is if they offer "chillin'" as a mood option. It reminds me of the mistake I make every semester teaching  the course, " Introduction to Radio and TV and Digital Etal and Such" every semester.

"Now class (something I've never said before by the way) you will likely be surprised that Thomas Edison invented the Phonograph way back in 1878."

It typically takes about 20 minutes of me looking at blank expressions before it dawns on me.

"You people have NO idea what a phonograph is, do you?"

"No sir, we don't."

"Well it's kind of like your Ipod or your MP3 player? I think?"

"Oh!"

Every once in a while I get a dandy reminder that I'm no longer a "chillin' 20 or 30 something, or "Gen X,Y or Z." Technically I'm even two years beyond "Baby Boomer."

When I'm around people my age...one of the topics that frequently pops up is moving to a "Ranch Style Home."  Of course they have much fancier "branding" names than Ranch Style these days. You know, "Isn't it time you and your loved one considered a "Patio Home." But no matter what you call it,  the motivation for the conversation is the same.

At some point we are all supposed to say, "I'm gettng mighty tired of climbing those stairs. I'm going to get me one of them ranch style, or "patio" homes where everything is on one floor."

Until recently I don't think that's a quote you could attribute to me. But circumstances often redirect us, don't they. Explain myself?

Well about three weeks ago I am performing a daily chore applauded by Peggy.  Every morning I rise and descend the stairs, walk to the kitchen, pull out a coffee filter, grind up about 4 table spoons of Colombian (coffee), and run a quart of water through the Braun Coffee maker. 

While I'm waiting I typically pop some bread in the toaster, slather it with butter and a little jam as the final drip of water drops into the pot.

So (and it's usually dark) I carefully pour two full cups of java, balance the toast on the rims of said java, and carefully ascend the stairs. So I hope I've misled you.  No, I didn't drop the toast. I didn't spill a drop of Colombian.  I don't think I even woke Peggy up when I set her share down on her night stand.  No, up to this point, I'm still pleased as punch I live in a house that forces me to at least walk a flight of stairs twice a day.

So why am I starting to think, "hmmmm...maybe....on one of those ranch styles......?"

Well one cup of coffee doesn't always get my heart a pumpin'. So I drain cup number one, pick up Peggy's cooled off portion...and head back to the kitchen where I'll get me a new cup, and warm her's up.

Well, I didn't make it.

On the very first step there was no friction between my foot and the smooth carpet below it. I flew up into the air like Wily Coyote on a bad day. And what followed is what I often tell my students WE CALL IN THE BUSINESS...a TV MOMENT. I bounced step by step all the way to the bottom.  FORTUNATELY, on MY BOTTOM (which has been enhanced lately through the ingestion of a whole bunch of french pastry.)

Pure journalist I am, all I can think of all the way down is, "WHOA I wish I had a camera."

You know, I didn't break anything physiologically, but what followed broke my youthful spirit a bit.

I could see and feel the swelling, but it was bearable. I wasn't thinking ranch style at that point.

Now it was several days before the swelling went down, still some soreness but I'm walkin', I'm still movin' up and down those stairs. But just when I think I'm close to being healed?

The whole inside of the arm I used for balance on my way down? It turns to Lavender Blue, Lavender Green...and it hurts like @&^&%$.

Three weeks later this body has decided to react to what may have been a life threatening tumble. If it takes that long to figure out it's hurt, how long is it going to take to heal. Maybe long enough for me to start thinkin' about "movin' into one of them "Patio" homes.

So I took a picture of the bruises to show you I wasn't "joshin'", but even I had the good sense to say, "oooo...gross."

So.....instead I've included a sketch of a goose I just finished. It's my first 18 by 24.  My sister Brenda, an artistic purist, keeps saying   "send me something you haven't Photo Shopped."

Well there it is Brenda!  For the rest of you? Take a gander at these. Here's what you can do with Photo Shop when Brenda isn't looking.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Man this hurts. Seen the price of those Patio Homes? Good (*%^&$#!