Tree

Almost every day I photograph this tree near my office window - always from the same angle, the same zoom, and about the same time of day. I've used a favorite image from last winter and a bit of magic from Adobe Photoshop® for this greeting.

TGB   

Copyright © 2011 Thomas G. Brown

To view a video set to music that contains 135 images taken over 12 months, click here.

For the 2010 collection of images, click here.
For the 2011 collection of images, click here.

{this memory} 32

Not much of a mystery here. Not much distance in time either.

This is from Christmas Eve - five days ago. In Family Of The Bride I described what Christmas Eve is like in the Brown household. What you are seeing in this image is the youngest member of the clan being the first to open a few presents.

My great great nephew is the young fellow in the center. I'm not sure he quite had the hang of tearing into a package; he was pretty careful. Actually, I do have a younger great nephew, but he isn't home from the hospital yet - so he may lose out on the 'being first' honor.

The young man in front of him is his father, my great nephew. His mother is sitting just beyond him. The young lady on the extreme right of the photo is my niece, and the two ladies in the far background are my two daughters.

Another Christmas has come and gone in the Brown household, the 27th in this house, and I can look back on many happy memories. I am truly a fortunate man.

TGB   

Thom's Top Five

I've received a challenge from a writing group to which I belong, and it seemed quite appropriate as we close out the year. The Challenge: "Write and share a post with the group of your top 5 - 10 posts for the year" (two of mine are older).

We were told this could be based on traffic generated, comments received, personal resonance, what you believe was great but didn't seem to get noticed much, and so on. "This will be a great opportunity for us to all revisit each others year, and also for the newer members of the group to perhaps read something they missed out on."

The same holds true for my newer readers, and here a few I really like. I've sorted them into my own categories.

Fiction: Just Another Day

Wordplay/Poetry: Silence Of The Sands

Best Writing: Window On The World

Deserves More Notice: The Boobie Ultimatum

Disability: undifference

On the Lighter Side: I Now Pronounce You Oneshoeshy

Memoir: Hippie Feat

Most Read: Three Faces Of Tut

Politics: Bring Them Home

Life Lesson: Postponement

So there you have it - Thom's Top Five. Yeah, I know it's actually ten, and I had trouble keeping it to that! Which of those are the best five only you can decide. Please enjoy.

TGB   

Sunshine Superman, Part III

A few weeks ago I was given the Sunshine Award by Joy at Catharsis, and I soon began fulfilling each of the requirements of acceptance in Sunshine Superman. There were three of these: to thank the person who gave this award and write a post about it, to answer several questions about yourself, and to pass the award to as many as a dozen inspiring bloggers, link to their blogs, and let them know you gave them the award.

I postponed the completion of Number Three - mostly because all of the blogs I read were already being nominated. Then my good blogging friend Cathy at ~just my thoughts wrote:

"Now for #3. I am going to do things a bit differently here. I have won a few wonderful awards this year from fellow bloggers, and I am going to provide the links to those posts here. Then I am going to ask those of you who are sweet enough to comment, to add a link to YOUR favorite blog. That way we all win, and gain some new blogs to read and perhaps follow. :D"

I thought that was great idea and have done the same below.

        The Blog

        Thanks, Janine

        Thanks, Janine: The Sequel

        I'm Versatile, Part I

        And The Award Goes To

You will find some wonderful blogs listed in those posts, but unfortunately some of them are no longer in business. Nevertheless, I hope you find time to check them out.

I should also note that there have been a few other awards as well, but I never found the time to respond appropriately to them.

Happy reading. And please nominate some of your favorites.

TGB   

{this moment} 32

A Monday ritual. A single image - no words - capturing a moment from the past. A simple moment along my life's Journey - but one over which I wish to linger and savor each treasured aspect of the memories it evokes. If you are moved or intrigued by my {this moment}, please leave a comment. On Thursday in a companion ritual called {this memory}, I'll share the story of this moment.

{this moment}

Copyright © 2011 Thomas G. Brown

{this moment} is a ritual copied and adapted from cath's wonderful blog ~just my thoughts. She, in turn, borrowed it from Pamanner's Blog. Check out their blogs, and if you're inspired to do the same, leave a link to your {this moment} in the comments for each of us to find and see.

TGB   

Tree

Almost every day I photograph a tree near my office window - always from the same angle and about the same time of day. Not this week. In keeping with the season, I offer you a different Tree in my life.

TGB   

Copyright © 2011 Thomas G. Brown

Next week our regular Tree will return.

{this memory} 31

This could be any Christmas Eve in the Brown household, but this one looks to be 2008.

Yesterday I wrote about the tradition of our Christmas Eve gathering, but embedded in that evening is the taking of a stairway photograph of this group - two daughters, one niece, two nephews, and assorted cousins (rarely spouses) from two generations. Last year the photo had three generations in it, and it's nigh time to extract all of the photos from their various locations and put them in a proper temporal sequence.

Christmas is the most wonderful time of the year, and I can look back on many happy memories of Christmas Past. I am truly a fortunate man.

TGB

Family Of The Bride

In three days the family will gather.

I'm betting, however, you probably don't quite understand. The FAMILY will gather - as in alla famiglia. You see, almost 33 years ago I married Italian, and with that marriage came a very large extended family. In fact, with the exception of one uncle, until recently I was the only non-Italian. Yet somehow I am the only one who is actually likely to say Buon Natale.

My wife's father was born in Italy and immigrated to the US as a young teenager. My mother-in-law was born here, but both of her parents were Italian immigrants. For most of the 20th century, what is known as East Utica - where my wife was born and raised - was essentially a Little Italy. It's still heavily Italian but now also has lots of Bosnians, Vietnamese, and other ethnic groups. Utica's history has always been a story of immigration - currently mostly refugees.

But back to Italy. My wife's mother had four sisters and a brother. All married and then begat six cousins, one brother, and one sister for my wife. All of those also married. The next generation numbers at 21 plus spouses, and to date they have had 14 children (and a few spouses) with one more soon to be. There are only two so far in the youngest generation, but another is on the way.

Big family. Big traditions. At the time I attended my first Christmas Eve gathering, there would have been about 50 for dinner. It wasn't the Feast of Seven Fishes, but there were a couple of varieties of seafood plus meats and soup and a couple of pastas and salad and red wine and bread and fruit and nuts and sufficient cookies, if laid side by side, to reach all the way back to Italy. And coffee, of course - black (meaning espresso) or the other kind.

After dinner most of the males would get involved in poker or some other activity. At about the same time the gift exchange would begin, a very systematic gift exchange - not in terms of who gave to whom but in terms of the order of opening. The youngest child would open whatever was given first. Then the next youngest would have a turn. Males would be dragged in for their turn. This would continue to unfold until it was the turn of the eldest member of the family, my mother-in-law.

Today things have changed. All of that first generation are gone. In the second generation, three have died, some have moved to Florida, and the feast has migrated to our home. Nevertheless, dinner will unfold for almost 30 on Christmas Eve from four generations. Ora sono anche la mia famiglia.

The meal itself will be similar; only the cooks have changed. Males and females are now fully integrated in terms of cooking, seating, clean-up, gifts, and games - probably a generational thing. Presents will be opened - beginning with the youngest. There will probably be poker and perhaps some television. The torch has been successfully passed, and the traditions live on.

Questa sera la famiglia si riunirà. Tonight the family will gather, and among all of the delicious foods and the many gifts, mostly you will find love.

And on Christmas Eve of 2011, that will be my gift to me - to wish you similar peace and hope and love. Happy Christmas. Buon Natale.

TGB   

The Upside Of Candor

A Guest Post, of sorts ...

"We take pleasure in answering thus prominently the communication below, expressing at the same time our great gratification that its faithful author is numbered among the friends of The Sun:"

Dear Editor—
       I am 8 years old. Some of my little friends say there is no Santa Claus. Papa says, “If you see it in The Sun, it’s so.” Please tell me the truth, is there a Santa Claus?

Virginia O’Hanlon                           

Virginia, your little friends are wrong. They have been affected by the skepticism of a skeptical age. They do not believe except they see. They think that nothing can be which is not comprehensible by their little minds. All minds, Virginia, whether they be men’s or children’s, are little. In this great universe of ours, man is a mere insect, an ant, in his intellect as compared with the boundless world about him, as measured by the intelligence capable of grasping the whole of truth and knowledge.

Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus. He exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound and give to your life its highest beauty and joy. Alas! how dreary would be the world if there were no Santa Claus! It would be as dreary as if there were no Virginias. There would be no childlike faith then, no poetry, no romance to make tolerable this existence. We should have no enjoyment, except in sense and sight. The eternal light with which childhood fills the world would be extinguished.

Not believe in Santa Claus! You might as well not believe in fairies. You might get your papa to hire men to watch in all the chimneys on Christmas eve to catch Santa Claus, but even if you did not see Santa Claus coming down, what would that prove? Nobody sees Santa Claus, but that is no sign that there is no Santa Claus. The most real things in the world are those that neither children nor men can see. Did you ever see fairies dancing on the lawn? Of course not, but that’s no proof that they are not there. Nobody can conceive or imagine all the wonders there are unseen and unseeable in the world.

You tear apart the baby’s rattle and see what makes the noise inside, but there is a veil covering the unseen world which not the strongest man, nor even the united strength of all the strongest men that ever lived could tear apart. Only faith, poetry, love, romance, can push aside that curtain and view and picture the supernal beauty and glory beyond. Is it all real? Ah, Virginia, in all this world there is nothing else real and abiding.

No Santa Claus! Thank God! he lives and lives forever. A thousand years from now, Virginia, nay 10 times 10,000 years from now, he will continue to make glad the heart of childhood.

Francis P. Church  
1897  
The New York Sun   

{this moment} 31

A Monday ritual. A single image - no words - capturing a moment from the past. A simple moment along my life's Journey - but one over which I wish to linger and savor each treasured aspect of the memories it evokes. If you are moved or intrigued by my {this moment}, please leave a comment. On Thursday in a companion ritual called {this memory}, I'll share the story of this moment.

{this moment}

Copyright © 2011 Thomas G. Brown

{this moment} is a ritual copied and adapted from cath's wonderful blog ~just my thoughts. She, in turn, borrowed it from Pamanner's Blog. Check out their blogs, and if you're inspired to do the same, leave a link to your {this moment} in the comments for each of us to find and see.

TGB   

Pearly Gates

Three good old boys died on Christmas Eve and were met by Saint Peter at the Pearly Gates.

"In honor of this Holy Season," Saint Peter said, "you must each possess something that symbolizes Christmas to get into Heaven."

The cowboy from Texas fumbled through his pockets and pulled out a lighter. He flicked it on and said, "This represents a candle."

"You may pass through the Pearly Gates," said Saint Peter.

The logger from Minnesota reached into his pocket and pulled out a set of keys. He shook them and said, "They're bells."

Saint Peter said, "You too may pass through these Pearly Gates."

The old Iowa farmer started searching desperately through his pockets and finally pulled out a pair of women's panties.

St. Peter looked at the man with a raised eyebrow and asked, "And just what do those symbolize?"

"I thought it was obvious," the Husker replied. "These are Carols."

Author Unknown   

And The Christmas Season Continues ...

Tree

Almost every day I photograph this tree near my office window - always from the same angle, the same zoom, and about the same time of day. I've used a favorite image from last winter for my Christmas wish.

TGB   

Copyright © 2011 Thomas G. Brown

To view a video set to music that contains 135 images taken over 12 months, click here.

For the 2010 collection of images, click here.
For the 2011 collection of images, click here.

{this memory} 30

It's Christmas, and I have a thing for all those lighted porcelain structures sold by Dept. 56. - which is why the Browns own a lot of real estate.

It all began with a few Snow Village houses as gifts to my wife - one a year for a few years. Today nine of them circle the tree just inside the train track. Then I became enchanted by the more realistic Christmas in the City items. They soon filled a bay window sill. Then I crafted a 16 square foot terrain for them which soon grew to 30 until it reached its maximum at nearly 50 square feet. Buildings, roads, street lights, people. It looked just like a city and had everything but a zip code - so real you wondered if it came alive while you slept.

Alas, it just got to be too much, but not before everyone became a collector - one daughter with Dickens' Village, another with North Pole Village. We even have a few Bethlehem pieces and a couple for Halloween, but those are rarely used.

Today we set up a few smaller cities around the house. What you see in the images is one I did of New York City a few years ago. Left to right in the bottom image you'll find an opera house, Times Square with the dropping ball (yes, it does and lights up), Radio City Music Hall, a toy store, the Empire State Building (with King Kong, my addition), Ebbets Field, a Hard Rock Café, and a fire station (for my brother-in-law). Statues, people, street lamps, street vendors, Rockettes, police car, limousine, small park - it's all in there.

I love Christmas, and I can look back on many happy ones with many more to come. I am truly a fortunate man.

TGB

It's A Wonderful Bike

I BELIEVE IN SANTA CLAUS. Yes, I do.
Sure, I know lots of adults don't, and if the truth be told, lots of children don't either. Nevertheless, I do - always have and always will. Please don't try to make something of it.

And it's not that people haven't tried to dissuade me from believing - even my parents, by the way.

Consider Christmas of 1960. We had moved into our new home in Virginia Beach in October of 1958, and this was our third Christmas in that home. I was 12 and was asking Santa for a new bicycle. Full size for this soon to be teen. Blue. Schwinn. Black Panther model.

My nearest neighbor - a year or two younger than I – had that bike, and I wanted one too. My friend's father, however, was a local TV celebrity - which is to say they had more money than we did and could easily afford to spend a little more. Santa brought a Schwinn Jaguar III model, the next “class” down.

I don’t really recall if I had been told to expect that model or not. I don't remember any discussion of the Black Panther vs. Jaguar III issue at all, but since I wasn't disappointed with the Jaguar III, I’m assuming I already knew. That can mean only that I had previously agreed with my parents on what I should ask Santa for.

Anyway, I was already in bed on Christmas Eve, but around 11:00 my parents called me to come downstairs. It seems they had begun to a uncrate the bike Santa had brought so that my father could assemble it. Unfortunately it was not blue, but red - not the kind of mistake Santa typically makes. They didn’t want me to be disappointed in the morning, and at the same time, showing me now might encourage me to begin to accept there was no Santa.

This had never really been discussed in our home, and although I knew my parents were skeptical, I never pushed it. So at the age of 12, I received my first suggestion of what most my age already believed, but I wasn't buying it. For me, Santa existed then and still does.

That bike is in my garage right now; I just went out and looked at it. It will be 51 years old in a few weeks and has a little rust, but I saw one just like it (without rust) for sale online at $2900. It doesn't matter; I'm keeping mine. It has come to symbolize far too much. For example, knowing that Santa sometimes makes mistakes has made it a lot easier to forgive myself when I do. That's a useful skill I recommend regardless of how you come by it.

And those Christmas bells. They "still ring for me, as they do for all who truly believe." I feel sad for you if you don't know that reference, but it's not too late. Go watch or, better yet, read The Polar Express. It might just turn you back into a believer, and how wonderful it would be to hear those bells again. BELIEVE. And just as important - tell a child you believe. It won't hurt you a bit, and in fact, watching that child's reaction might just begin to convince you it is so. Happy Christmas.

TGB   

Shall We Dance?

Ah - Deborah Kerr and Yul Brynner in the 1956 version of The King and I. Sheer enjoyment. I'm sorry to disappoint you, but that's not what today's post is about, not directly anyway. Then again, maybe it is. Actually I'm not sure what this post is about. You tell me.

If you watch and listen to that scene here, by the way, later you can decide.

I was thinking about another scene in a different story depicting an encounter that, on second thought, is perhaps not all that different. The female lead said, "Do you enjoy dancing?" To which the male lead responded, "I thought that was what we were doing."

At this point in the story, they were relatively new to each other, and she was looking for information as she tried to get to know him. His comment, of course, wasn't really about moving rhythmically to music, as hers was, but about the metaphor. In his mind the new couple was engaged in "The Dance" - thinking and talking (or not) as they tried to learn how the other felt and what they liked and thought. Let's call it a ginger exploration - what you do as you test the waters or assess the limits. Oh my word, how any metaphors can I mix?! Although it's not defined well, I suspect you know what I mean. How would you define dance in this metaphor?

But back to Anna. She sings:

       We've just been introduced. I do not know you well,
       but when the music started, something drew me to your side.
       So many men and girls are in each others arms.
       It made me think we might be similarly occupied.

       Shall we dance? On a bright cloud of music shall we fly?
       Shall we dance? Shall we then say "Goodnight and mean "Goodbye"?
       Or perchance, when the last little star has left the sky,
       shall we still be together with are arms around each other

       Shall we dance? Shall we dance? Shall we Dance?

Rhythmic moving or metaphor? Did you watch? If you did, you know it's obviously both in this case. Lots of movement and lots being said, much without words.

Or ... maybe The Dance is just a hugely successful album by Fleetwood Mac or perhaps lyrics for The Eagles. Some dance to remember, some dance to forget.

In the story I was recalling, by the way, they continued to "dance" and became great friends but never a couple. I can just see Bogie and Bacall sharing that dialogue. It wasn't, but it sure would have been perfect casting. I have to wonder, however, if Bogie would have changed the script so they ultimately became a couple.

So ... you know how to whistle, don't you, Steve?

TGB   

{this moment} 30

A Monday ritual. A single image (or two) - no words - capturing a moment from the past. A simple moment along my life's Journey - but one over which I wish to linger and savor each treasured aspect of the memories it evokes. If you are moved or intrigued by my {this moment}, please leave a comment. On Thursday in a companion ritual called {this memory}, I'll share the story of this moment.

{this moment}

Copyright © 2011 Thomas G. Brown

{this moment} is a ritual copied and adapted from cath's wonderful blog ~just my thoughts. She, in turn, borrowed it from Pamanner's Blog. Check out their blogs, and if you're inspired to do the same, leave a link to your {this moment} in the comments for each of us to find and see.

TGB   

A Bridge To Hawaii

A man walking on the beach was deep in prayer. Suddenly the sky clouded above his head and, in a booming voice, the Lord said, “Because you have tried to be faithful to me in all ways, I will grant you one wish.”

The man said he wanted a bridge to Hawaii so he could drive there. The Lord said, “Your request is materialistic. Think of the enormous challenges for that kind of undertaking; the supports required reaching the bottom of the Pacific and the concrete and steel it would take! It will nearly exhaust several natural resources. I can do it, but it is hard for me to justify your desire. Take a little more time and think of something that could possibly help mankind.”

The man said he wished that he could understand his wife and then thought for a time. Finally, he said, “Lord, I wish that all men - including me - could understand women. I want to know how she feels inside, what she’s thinking when she gives me the silent treatment, why she cries, what she means when she says nothings wrong, and how I can make a woman truly happy.”

The Lord thought for a moment. Then He replied, "Do you want two lanes or four lanes on that bridge?"

Author Unknown   

Tree

Almost every day I photograph this tree near my office window - always from the same angle, the same zoom, and about the same time of day. This is my favorite image from the past week.

TGB   

Copyright © 2011 Thomas G. Brown

To view a video set to music that contains 135 images taken over 12 months, click here.

For the 2010 collection of images, click here.
For the 2011 collection of images, click here.

Sense Of A Woman

Gentle Readers. I am taking a day off from writing but not to go shopping - even though Black Friday has come and gone without me. The season is upon us whether we shop or not, but I have some family matters to which I must attend.

I give you instead a guest post of sorts. I offer the following opinion piece by Ms. Anonymous - in the spirit, so to speak, of Christmas Future.

TGB  

I think Santa Claus is a woman. I hate to be the one to defy sacred myth, but I believe he's a she. Think about it. Christmas is a big, organized, warm, fuzzy, nurturing social deal, and I have a tough time believing a guy could possibly pull it all off. Santa has to be a woman because a man couldn't meet the demands of the job.

For starters, the vast majority of men don't even think about selecting gifts until Christmas Eve. It's as if they are all frozen in some kind of Ebenezerian Time Warp until 3 p.m. on December 24th when they - with amazing calm - call other errant men and plan for a last-minute shopping spree.

Once at the mall, they always seem surprised to find only Ronco products, socket wrench sets, and mood rings left on the shelves. You might think this would send them into a fit of panic and guilt, but my husband tells me it's an enormous relief because it lessens the 11th hour decision-making burden.

On this count alone, I'm convinced Santa is a woman. Surely if he were a man, everyone in the universe would wake up Christmas morning to find a rotating musical Chia Pet under the tree, still in the bag.

Another problem for a he-Santa would be getting there. First of all, there would be no reindeer because they would all be dead, gutted, and strapped on to the rear bumper of the sleigh amid wide-eyed, desperate claims that buck season had been extended. Blitzen's rack would already be on the way to the taxidermist.

Even if the male Santa DID have reindeer, he'd still have transportation problems because he would inevitably get lost up there in the snow and clouds and then refuse to stop and ask for directions.

Add to this the fact that there would be unavoidable delays in the chimney where the Mike "Make It Right" Holmes-like Santa would stop to inspect and repoint bricks in the flue. He would also need to check for carbon monoxide fumes in every gas fireplace and get under every Christmas tree that is crooked to straighten it to a perfectly upright 90-degree angle.

Other reasons why Santa can't possibly be a man:
- Men can't pack a bag.
- Men would rather be dead than caught wearing red velvet.
- Men would feel their masculinity is threatened by being seen with all 
        those elves.
- Men don't answer their mail.
- Men would refuse to allow their physique to be described - even in 
        jest - as anything remotely resembling a "bowlful of jelly."
- Men aren't interested in stockings unless somebody's wearing them.
- Having to do the "Ho Ho Ho" thing would seriously inhibit their 
        ability to pick up women.
- Finally, being responsible for Christmas would require a commitment.

I can buy the fact that other mythical holiday characters are men. Father Time shows up once a year unshaven and looking ominous. Definite guy. Cupid flies around carrying weapons. Uncle Sam is a politician who likes to point fingers. Any one of these individuals could pass the testosterone screening test.

But not St. Nick. Not a chance. As long as we have each other, good will, peace on earth, faith, and Nat King Cole's version of The Christmas Song, it probably makes little difference what gender Santa is.

I just wish she'd quit dressing like a guy.

Anon.   

{this memory} 29

The year was 1986, and my younger daughter was celebrating her third birthday.

She was a cutie pie, and I loved watching her gingerly open her presents - always in the presence of her large extended Italian family. I smile when I recall one great uncle to whom, for some reason, she just wouldn't talk - although to be fair there were lots of folks to whom she wouldn't speak. Aunt Bea and Uncle Bill were quite close to us though and together with my mother-in-law were usually our babysitters. She knew him quite well even if he didn't always stay for the evening, so I guess it will forever remain a mystery. She outgrew that phase, of course.

Today she is a beautiful, talented, and well-educated young woman, and I am immensely proud of her. I don't know where that quarter century went; the years just seemed to speed by. I'm lucky though because I can look back on many happy memories. I am truly a fortunate man.

TGB

Ann Marie

Our family lost another brave soul yesterday, my wife's older sister. She spent much of her last two decades in a nursing home as she coped with the assaults that multiple sclerosis continually made on her brain and spinal cord, but she was a kind and gentle woman. Although I have not seen her much in recent years, I shall miss her. She was 72 and a good person.

With surprising synchronicity, my {this moment} post yesterday had a picture of my younger daughter opening a birthday present. Behind her in the photo is her Aunt Ann Marie (although headless). It was her first appearance in my blog, and the timing of it has to make you wonder.

A blogging friend from Australia has shared this prayer which comes from the Apachean tribes who are centered primarily in New Mexico and Arizona. I find comfort in it.

TGB   

     
      May the sun bring you new energy every day, bringing light into 
          the darkness of your soul
      May the moon softly restore you by night bathing you in the glow 
          of restful sleep and peaceful dreams
      May the rain wash away your worries, and cleanse the hurt that 
          sits in your heart
      May the breeze blow new strength into your being, and may you 
          believe in the courage of yourself
      May you walk gently through the world, keeping your loved one 
          with you always
      Knowing that you are never parted in the beating of your heart.

{this moment} 29

A Monday ritual. A single image - no words - capturing a moment from the past. A simple moment along my life's Journey - but one over which I wish to linger and savor each treasured aspect of the memories it evokes. If you are moved or intrigued by my {this moment}, please leave a comment. On Thursday in a companion ritual called {this memory}, I'll share the story of this moment.

{this moment}

Copyright © 2011 Thomas G. Brown

{this moment} is a ritual copied and adapted from cath's wonderful blog ~just my thoughts. She, in turn, borrowed it from Pamanner's Blog. Check out their blogs, and if you're inspired to do the same, leave a link to your {this moment} in the comments for each of us to find and see.

TGB   

Five From Emo

Today a depart a bit from my usual humorous story and offer a few tidbits from Emo Philips. Enjoy.

TGB

· When I was a kid, I used to pray every night for a new bike. Then I realized, the Lord doesn't work that way. So I just stole one and asked Him to forgive me ... and I got it!

· So I'm at the wailing wall, standing there like a moron, with my harpoon."

· A Mormon told me that they don't drink coffee. I said, "A cup of coffee every day gives you wonderful benefits." He said, "Like what?" I said, "Well, it keeps you from being Mormon ..."

· I'm not Catholic, but I gave up picking my belly button for lint.

· When I was a kid, my dad would say, "Emo, do you believe in the Lord?" I'd say, "Yes!" He'd say, "Then stand up and shout Hallelujah!" So I would ... and I'd fall out of the roller coaster.

Tree

Almost every day I photograph this tree near my office window - always from the same angle, the same zoom, and about the same time of day. This is my favorite image from the past week.

TGB   

Copyright © 2011 Thomas G. Brown

To view a video set to music that contains 135 images taken over 12 months, click here.

For the 2010 collection of images, click here.
For the 2011 collection of images, click here.

One Flew Over The Parking Lot

Well, okay ... it wasn't just one. It was a flock of about 20, and they were ALL flying over the parking lot.

As I left the building where my afternoon meeting had just adjourned on a somber note, I walked into a windstorm. Literally. The wind was coming out of the west at about 30 miles per hour. With gusts to 40, it was breezy - to say the least. It even blew off the reading glasses hanging from my sweater.

As I grabbed for my glasses, I happened to look up, and there was a flock of crows - probably looking for a tree on which to cling - riding the wind and heading east, the easy direction. All but one anyway.

One was heading west into the teeth of the wind, but I have to admit he wasn't making much progress. He was just sort of hanging there in spite of his furious flapping. Holy black bird! In that wind even I had trouble going west, and that's with feet firmly on the ground. This intrepid fellow had no chance at all.

He would end up somewhere safe, of course, and probably with the others, but I wondered where was he going and why it was so important that he was willing to work that hard against such long odds. Was there something he knew that the others didn't? Was there something that I didn't know? Was this wind due to some massive alien craft to the east sucking up everything within miles? If so, his instincts were outstanding. Head west, fellow traveler.

But that's unlikely, and I'm unlikely to know what he was up to. He was gone by the time I made it into my car, but I continued to ponder his persistence and found parallels with my own behavior and probably yours too. Surely you have "fought the good fight" at some point.

I have been known to resist the prevailing currents and confront the powers that be, but I am usually careful about determining which struggles are worth the effort. After all, I have no interest in tilting at windmills and am more than content to leave that to the Ingenious Hidalgo Don Quixote. I do recall, however, the time a dear friend, who had been my executive secretary for over a decade, whispered in my ear, "Thom, this one's not worth it." She was right; it wasn't. It was a minor irritation and an argument I clearly would not win. She, more effective than Sancho Panza, had dissuaded me from charging those spinning vanes.

Nevertheless, it troubles me to see injustice sustained or incompetence rewarded. If I can make a difference, I try. Sometimes I have to be content with the knowledge that things are unlikely to change, but if nothing else, by making my concerns public I have preserved my right to say "I told you so."

Then there are those times I stand up just because others need me to be the lightening rod. I'm happy to be that. I've been at this institution for 37 years, and the one thing that is a constant is that no matter how bad (or how good, unfortunately) things are, they will change. If my efforts can hasten that in some small way, then that's great. If not, I can be content with knowing I tried.

So what's the lesson? Well ... like our westbound feathered friend - we should never be afraid to try, regardless of the forces arrayed against us. You can't always win, but you will always feel better about yourself.

TGB   

{this memory} 28

That's a lot of bear for such a little girl.

I'm thinking this was about 1982. My daughter looks to be about one, and if my memory isn't too feeble I bought this bear for her on her first birthday.

In 1980 a new mall - Sangertown Square - opened in my area, although after a very contentious construction since it was built on former wetlands. One of the anchor stores was a Hess's department store - where they have "the best of everything." In addition, one of the things they prided themselves on was that everything was for sale, even items that were essentially fixtures.

That's where the bear comes into play. I had noticed it in the store where it was used to draw attention to the children's section. It was certainly the largest stuffed animal I had ever seen, and I had to have it for my daughter. I asked for a price, and after a while, they managed to come up with one. It was acceptable, so I bought the bear. Simple.

That's when the real fun began. First, I had to carry that humongous bear out of the store and to my car. I did get a few odd stares, but who cares, really? Second, I had to wedge it into the passenger seat of the Datsun 280Z I was driving at that time. It was not an easy fit to say the least, and I somehow managed the 25 mile drive home without having to look out of the passenger window. He didn't say a word the whole way.

My daughter loved it. You can see that in her face, and although she is gone most of the year, the bear still lives upstairs in this home.

I can look back on many happy memories. I am truly a fortunate man.

TGB

PS: Hess's closed in 1994 and was replaced by a Kaufmann's. Today it is a Macy's.