A helping hand

Helpings hands are everywhere. All one has to do is ask. Maybe it seems old fashioned, but there are situations where it’s just a nice thing to do. Sure, this lady has been crossing streets all her life, but this day she just needed the confidence of a strong helping hand to get her across.

So, who needs your help today? It’s nice to have a friend and even nicer to make a new one.

Fall

As of 11:05 p.m. today, it will be fall. Summer will officially be over and the earth's axis will begin to tilt in the opposite direction. As we look ahead, we know that our leaves will turn various shades of yellow and red depending on the weather, before falling to the ground. It has happened every year since there were trees on this earth. Yes, it's consistent, it's reliable and we can count on it year after year.

But what about everything else? Summer whizzed by so fast that we missed July and most of August. I mean, it is September 22, already. Time is moving so fast, we don't have time to think about what's ahead. Maybe it's time to stop and give some thought as to what is down the road. The leaves are falling, the path is getting less and less clear. Where does that road lead? What's in the woods ahead? Is it safe to move on, to take that walk? Who's going with me, or am I on this road all alone?

Perhaps I should sit tight and wait for spring to arrive with new growth and a fresh outlook. After all, seasons are reliable. They come every year, whether we are ready for them or not.

Help wanted

Wow! When was the last time you saw a help wanted sign in a business window? With unemployment running so high for so long, even "help wanted" signs are as hard to find as jobs and have to be hand drawn. In fact, the turnover of preprinted help wanted signs typically found in my local office supply superstore has been so slow that I don't think it even carries them anymore.

Politicians follow party lines when it comes to voting on economic issues while trying to appease dissatisfied constituents when they are home. So, what's the answer? What will it take to get more help wanted signs in our windows and our office superstores? And, most importantly, when?

Impish grin

An impish grin is the same in any language, any culture, and any economic climate. I think it is a special treat to photograph kids in a third world environment who otherwise have nothing except an unpretentious inner sense of mischief that shows in their face. They have a certain unmasked innocence that just makes their whole face light up. Of course, the closer I get, the bigger the grin.

September 11, 2001

There is nothing to say that hasn't been said before . . . just remember.

Peer pressure.

Three teenage boys and all those girls waiting, listening, wondering who will go first. The barker makes his pitch and singles out one boy and challenges him to take a chance. “Two wins and any stuffed animal is your’s,” he says.

The boy knows if he wins, he’s a hero and if he doesn’t, he’s a zero. Is it worth the risk? “Maybe John or Bob will do it, first,” he thinks. “Why is he pointing at me? I can feel everyone looking at me and waiting.”

How about you? Did you respond to a “barker” this week? Did you let peer pressure wear you down and make you cross that line? Were you a hero? Did you win the stuffed animal? Did you ever think that there might be a better prize if you really thought about the consequences and didn’t take the bait?

Rush hour traffic

Rush hour is one of those terms that comedian George Carlin struggled with. “What’s so rush about rush hour, a person can’t move?" he would ask.  Interstate highways in our more populated urban areas become a log-jam of commuters going to or from work all within an hour of each other, regardless of how many lanes there are.

Trust me, no matter where one goes in the world, it seems there is a rush hour of some sort. We drove up and down this road several times one day in Hounduras, but as we were going back to our hotel in the afternoon rush hour, we found ourselves staring up the notrils of a herd of cattle. It seems that no one explained basic highway etiquette to them or the importance of rest stops.

So, next time you are sitting in a rush hour parking lot, take out your camera or iphone and start shooting. Some of our favorite images were taken out of our sunroof when we were stuck in traffic.

Security

We often say, “There is safety in numbers,” and in this case it’s about 250 pounds of muscle stuffed into a white tank top. I didn’t get close enough to ask him to show me the tattoo on his back or what he was carrying in his bag.

Despite his size, I couldn’t help but notice his gentle touch as the little girl wrapped her whole hand around his little finger. I imagine that’s the real story of their relationship. I think any dad with a daughter will attest to that.

A boy’s real best friend

Boys are boys no matter where they live in the world. This little Honduran boy kept getting pushed aside by other kids who wanted to be photographed with their friends. After a few pictures of the group, I said, “Gracias,” and put the camera down. They all left except him. After all, it was his donkey, not theirs.

I think his little grin was one of satisfaction. He knew if he put up with the bullying long enough, everyone would eventually leave, and they did. Finally, he was on stage all alone. We communicated with each other in a nonverbal sort of way. He had just heard me speak all the Spanish I knew, yet there was still a connection. I’m not sure what it was, but based on his quirky little “gotcha” grin, he had outsmarted the big kids once again.

Tattoos

When I was in the Navy, a lot of my crewmembers would get tattoos that said, “I love Lucy,” or whatever their girlfriend’s name was when they left port. A permanent inscription was a commitment that he would remain true to her while on a seven month cruise to the Mediterranean. Unfortunately, upon returning, his or her commitment had waned and he would have to find another “true love” with the same first name or have one name removed and another name etched into his arm.

Over the years, I have watched tattoos change from messages of love and commitment to messages, fine art, and personal expression. I found this lady taking a break from a long day of riding her Harley with a bunch of friends in upstate New York. Because she was probably tougher than me, I first complemented her on her tattoos and then I asked if I could photograph her. She was eager to oblige, and I was just as eager to do it, quickly. I’m sure she had plenty more that I couldn’t see, but I wasn’t about to find out where.

Someone’s Grandma

Dignity and pride do not necessarily mean a person is successful and wealthy. This elderly Honduran woman just caught my attention. Yes, her face is worn from many years of hard work and hot sun but I couldn’t help but be drawn in by her demeanor. She was a symbol of dignity and elegance, a picture of hope in a third world community that seems to have so little hope. Her glasses accentuated her look. Her dress was impeccably clean without any wrinkles or stains. She never smiled or broke character.

She just turned her head and looked at me as if we had met many times before. It was like meeting my grandmother whom I never really knew.

Dad's wheels.

It is so hard for me to relate to these kids economically. They have nothing. But the look on their faces is priceless. We can identify with the look but not with the location. The bike is their “Corvette” or their “Audi.” We live in a culture of planes, trains and automobiles. They live in a culture of donkeys, bikes and Mopeds. The skies are as silent as our skies the week after 9/11. There are no trains and they stare at cars like we stare at a Rolls Royce.

We wonder how they can be so happy when they are so poor. We compare their culture with our own and wonder how they can even exist. They have no running water, maybe a light bulb, and no indoor plumbing. The world has developed around them and no one let them in on the plan, yet they survive and move on. They dream of a better life, a day when they will be grown up and have a bike just like dad’s, a bike with thirty speeds so they can zip around town and not have to walk barefoot in the streets like everyone else.

In our culture, it seems that we never have enough because there is so much to have, so many “Joneses” to keep up with. For me, the culture shock is not the third world nation that I’m visiting. Instead, it’s coming home and realizing how blessed we are to live in this nation, regardless of what the Joneses think.