' been a while.

Time sure flies, regardless of whether you are having fun, or not. We found this clock and picture hanging together at the Toymakers Cafe, in Falls Village, CT. The combination really caught our attention in a quirky sort of way as I think back to this past summer and try to think of all the fun things we did, but overall, I don't know where time went. Do you?

It seems all spring we made lists and plans as to what we wanted or needed to do during the warm summer months. Some people planned great vacations, and others planned, or perhaps over planned, major home improvement projects. Sometimes our plans are interrupted by events that we didn't see coming. They seem to slow the progress of time, and take forever to end. After months of planning and anticipation, happy occasions fly by and are over before we realize it.

But no matter how we use our time, it is unstoppable and always moves at the same pace. It's our perception of time that changes. I mean, it seems only a week has passed since I last posted a blog. Instead, it has been a while, nearly six weeks, in fact. I guess time really does fly, especially when you're having fun.

The spin stops here, or does it?

Now that both political conventions are over, it's time for the spin to stop. We have been deluged with a barrage of "He said," She said," and "it's the other guy's fault," statements for months. "Their plan does this and takes from that while our plan takes from that and does this."

And you say, "What?"

Give us a break, please. Each campaign has been reduced to a plethora of put-downs rather than a platform of plans.

Stop the spin, look at the facts, show your cards, and let us chose who we want to be our next President.

Whoa, stop!

Have you ever found yourself going so fast in one direction, especially the wrong direction, that you just could not stop? When I was a kid acting on impulse, my engineer father would say, "Hold your horses and think about what you are doing." I never quite understood him until I watched cowboys "bulldog" at a rodeo.

So often we act impulsively and jump headfirst into a project, activity, or decision without thinking about the consequences -- good and bad -- but nevertheless, consequences. We trip over the details to move ahead because we know, "It's the right thing to do," at least in our minds.

I'm not sure why this image and thought come to mind right now. Perhaps, it has something to do with the upcoming political conventions, the presidential election, and all the verbal attacks by, and on, each candidate. Sure, I could join the forray with a barrage of cynical remarks, but why add fuel to the runaway verbal fire. It really is time to say, "Whoa, stop. Hold your horses." Think about the issues, the policies, the details, and the consequences, then make your decision.

Times Square tourist trap

I always wondered what "M&M" stood for. Now I know, "Monster Merchandiser."

We met our daughter and her family in New York City last month for a day of sightseeing and fun. We ended our day at the M&M store on Times Square, truly a monument of "gotcha" merchandising.

They had every toy, shirt, puzzle, car, truck, and hat that ever bore the M&M logo, even boxer shorts. As usual, I set off all the sirens on the toy police cars and fire engines, just like I do in Kmart at Christmas, but my family has learned to ignore me when I do that -- then I spotted the M&M dispenser wall.

The dispenser wall was actually about one hundred or more ten-foot long clear acrylic tubes with a nozzle at the bottom, similar to a coffee bean dispenser at the grocery store. It was a chocoholic's delight, and yes, I was in candy-coated peanut heaven. There were plastic bags conveniently located at the end of the wall just waiting to be loaded. My son-in-law and I both missed the small print $13 per pound sign and just started loading our bags with our favorite colors.

We got to the scale at the end of the wall and figured we probably had about ten dollars worth of M&Ms each. He was several places in line ahead of me so I couldn't see his total, but I did see him put his cash away and whip out a credit card. I chuckled until it was my turn, yikes!

Suffice it to say, we counted out a portion each day, just like vitamin pills, and savored every last one as we let them melt in our mouth, right down to the peanut.

Fiat dot car

As we took a break from our “dot com” world this week, the first thing we spotted as we drove into Falls Village, Connecticut was a “dot car” in front of the local library. It seems we just can’t get away from every kind of “dot.”  A local resident who restores Fiats and Alpha Romeos lent the 1959 Fiat to the David M. Hunt Library for kids to cover with dots during two days in July.

We stopped at the local cafe and community gathering spot for lunch. When we finished, the owner sat down with us to have one of those “you’re new in town aren’t you” talks. I don’t think we have ever been so warmly received so fast, especially in Connecticut, not only by him, but other business owners as well. Although we plan to go back in September for a more in depth Main Street photowalk, we photographed the Fiat “dot car” just in case it wouldn’t be there when we returned. 

By the way, speaking of our dot com world, here is a link to a time lapse video clip of the two-day dot-a-thon. Hope it hits the spot.

Branding

When you think of a product, what do you visualize? Is it a name, a picture, a logo or graphic element? Today we call it "branding." We found this wooden crate for Diamond Ginger Ale outside an old hardware store in Woodbury, CT. It was a product that the Diamond Bottling Company began selling in the 1860s. It's distinctive branding lasted more than a century before the company went out of business, but there is no doubt about the significance of Diamond Ginger Ale as an all purpose family beverage, sort of a carbonated cure-all. It didn't need television or radio; its unique branding was enough.

There are a few television commercials that I find so annoying, that I would never consider their products because I associate the annoying sounds and visual images with the product they are promoting. In other words, it has become part of their branding. I guess I'm just not drawn to babies in cribs with adult voices convincing me to buy investment products, full insurance coverage pitched by people in white suits, or a Dennis Kucinich look-a-like sliding down a drainpipe holding a bottle of vegetable juice. And how about an animal with an Australian accent or mischievous, talking bullfrogs?

I worked for a designer many years ago who always reminded me that, "Simplicity is the essence of design." I think it especially applies to the rapid-response culture in which we all operate today as we are constantly exposed to so many messages and so much branding. Keep it simple, keep it unique, on-message, consistent, and timeless. Who knows, maybe it will become a classic like Diamond Ginger Ale.

Easter

Easter, the last and most significant day of Holy Week for Christians all over the world. It began with the triumphal entry of Jesus Christ into Jerusalem for a week of celebration only to end with His crucifixion, burial and finally His resurrection from the dead. To some He was a significant person in history, but to believers, He is the source of salvation, forgiveness of sin, and eternal life.

Many celebrate the week by actually walking the Via Dolorosa in Jerusalem, often stopping at the twelve places that Jesus stopped as He carried the cross to Golgotha. Churches set up similar prayer stations to help people visualize the experience. Occasionally, we will hear about men who will actually let themselves be nailed to a cross in a similar fashion to relive the experience. For some, Easter is the one day out of the year that they actually go to church.

Some people use the occasion to celebrate the dawning of spring and new growth after a long cold winter. We deck ourselves out in new clothes, we have Easter egg hunts, fill baskets with candy and chocolate rabbits. Some cities have parades and other festivities to mark the day, and of course, retailers are quick to jump at the opportunity to commemorate it with a sale.

But no matter how people celebrate or remember, no one has been able to duplicate His death, burial, and resurrection. It only happened once, but that's all that we needed. Unlike these baskets that go on a shelf until next Easter, our relationship with Jesus Christ lives on. It's not something to be celebrated once a year, but something to be lived every day.

What arrow?

One arrow. One man. Both lonely and silent, yet they have so much to say to us. We look at the arrow and the direction, and the message is obvious, "Go this way," yet we look at the man and he's going the other way. People often say, "Go against the flow, step outside the box, or don't be afraid to go off in your own direction." But that doesn't work for everyone, especially when the direction we should be headed is so obvious.

My arrow was a twenty-five year career in corporate communications which eventually led to developing our own photography business. Although it was a broad arrow, the direction I needed to take was obvious. Yes, there have been some blemishes and cracks along the way, but I was glad that I never turned my back and wandered off in the other direction.

So where does that leave you? Is there a bold arrow in your life that you chose to ignore? Did you even see the arrow, or did you miss the point altogether?

Fair weather friends

Warm weather brings out some of the coolest people, many of whom become my "new best friends," at least for ten or fifteen minutes, anyway. We found this musical duo on a bench in Collinsville, Connecticut. We were eating lunch at a sidewalk table in front of the Lasalle Market & Deli, across the street, and these guys were just enjoying the surprisingly warm 80 degree day in March, as they laughed and strummed.

Neither one sang, nor did they play loud enough or long enough to gather a crowd. In fact, I was the only crowd, as Lois went and hid in the car as soon as she saw me take off my glasses and pick up my camera. It seems she knew we weren't leaving soon.

I did my usual preliminary check for visible gang tattoos, chains, brass knuckles, guns or knives before I moved in and started photographing them. I always use a wide angle lens for subjects like this, and then get in as close as I can, well inside their personal space.

I'm not sure why one has such a surprised look on his face. Could it be because I was resting my elbow on his knee? Perhaps, but when his friend pointed his finger at me and said, "Are you going to let him get away with that?", I decided it was time to leave.

P.S. Always carry a camera, and don't be afraid to use it!

The town of Green . . . CT

I'm not sure why so many people don Irish identities to celebrate St. Patrick's Day each year. After all, in the fourth century, when Patrick was a sixteen year old boy growing up in Wales, Irish raiders kidnapped him and took him to Ireland as a slave. Six years later, he returned to England, entered the church, became a bishop and then went back to Ireland as a missionary. He was canonized in the seventh century.

St. Patrick was about as Irish as all the people who claim to be Irish each year about this time, but what better place to celebrate St. Patrick's Day than in the town of Green . . . ,Connecticut. It seems every city has a parade in his honor and every bar serves green beer. Green banners line the streets, shamrocks and leprechauns are everywhere, and even Manhattan's Empire State Building takes on a green glow.

As for me, I see it as an opportunity to clean out the back shelves in my refrigerator in search of anything green, just for the halibut. Oh no, wait, I think that was salmon at one time. Never mind.

March Madness

Question: When does March Madness really begin?

Answer: Probably at about eight years old.

Today marks the beginning of the second round of the college basketball single elimination playoffs to determine who will be this year's national champion. But mind you, it's not just one or two games today and tomorrow, but 16 each day. Is it any wonder why it's called "madness?" It's one of the hottest sporting events of the year, especially when it gets down to the final four teams during the first weekend in April.

Sports mavens and odds makers alike pour over regular season game stats in an attempt to predict the final winner. Wagers are made and millions of dollars change hands throughout the two week rush as ravenous college basketball fans follow each game day and night on their smartphones, tablets, and big screen televisions until their hopeful wins or is eliminated.

As for the ten giants on the basketball floor, they are fulfilling a lifelong dream, playing in the national championships. No they don't have zillion dollar NBA contracts, but maybe next year they will. As for now, their focus is on helping their team through the brackets to the sweet sixteen, the elite eight, the final four and ultimately the national championship.

As for our grandson Eli and his friends, they are definitely March Madness hopefuls - for 2022, that is.

How long is too long?

Today is leap day, an extra day on the calendar that is added to the end of February every four years to adjust for the extra quarter day each year that the earth takes to orbit the sun.

Cartoonist Al Capp, creator of Lil Abner, honored the day by creating Sadie Hawkins Day. It was the one day every four years when a chase was arranged for the otherwise hopeless and uncourted spinsters of Dogpatch to chase all the town's available bachelors. While the guys were given a head start, feminine desperation and stamina seemed to trump masculine speed and agility. Any captured bachelor dragged across the finish line before sunset had to marry the woman who dragged him there.

If leap day didn't exist this year, we could have skipped over today and gone directly to tomorrow. We would have missed another winter storm, I would not have had the opportunity to have an early morning root canal, and the bachelors of Dogpatch would still be free. It's not that the day was too long, we just didn't need it this year.

Pause and reflect.

Calvin and Hobbes cartoonist, Bill Watterson, once said, “Do you ever wonder if the guy in the puddle is real and you are just a reflection?”

Reflections are powerful. They are often a reference point for thinking about our future. You see, when we wonder about our future we often reflect on our past. Families, jobs, vacations, significant events, tragedies and triumphs, we seem to remember them all when we reflect.

Sometimes we like to be alone when we reflect and other times we like to share our reflections with someone. For some people, reflections are therapeutic and for some, not so much.

Reflections make us leave where we are and go to some other place, in some other time. We wonder whatever happened to the people and places in our reflections. We wonder about past decisions we have made regarding our lives, and perhaps, make better choices about our future.

So what do you see when you pause and reflect? Do you see yourself in a different place and a different time, or do you wonder if the person in the window is real and you’re just a reflection?

My Starbucks culture

It's no secret that I am a Starbucks groupie, but I'm really glad I narrowed my choice of favorite brew and blended specialty, or "foo," drinks early. Now, it seems their store menu boards offer more options than a Chinese restaurant, and if that's not enough, you can make up your own.

As for me, I can say, "grande mocha, extra hot, whole milk, whipped cream, double cup, please," faster than a disclaimer voice in a fifteen second pharmaceutical TV spot. In fact, I can even walk into to our local Starbucks in the afternoon and hold up one or two fingers and they know I want either one regular, or a regular and a decaf. I guess you can tell by the picture who doesn't drink decaf.

Yes, Starbucks has become my international "Cheers." You know, the place where everyone knows your name. I even have a gold card that is like a frequent buyer's card, and an iPhone app. The card entitles me to a free specialty drink after earning a certain number of gold stars. For what it's worth, I have probably earned more gold stars than frequent flier miles in the past year. The app figures out where I am, and then tells me where the nearest stores are. There are literally hundreds in New York City catering primarily to the A-type gulp and run crowd. I even found five of the seven Starbucks located in the Hong Kong airport while passing the time during a flight layover once.

Perhaps it's time for some therapy. No, wait, I think I'll get another venti, bold, black coffee - then therapy. It's my culture.

Super Bowl, are you ready?

Okay, so what records will be broken during tonight's Super Bowl. Typically, 111 million or more American viewers will consume 1.25 billion chicken wings, 325 million gallons of beer, 71.4 million pounds of avocados in their Guacamole dip, 13.2 million pounds of pretzels, 45.8 million pounds of potato chips and the top three pizza retailers in the country are expecting to sell 4.5 million pizzas during the game. Who knows how many more will be sold by smaller chains and local family pizza shops. The amount of food consumed on Super Bowl Sunday is second only to Thanksgiving.

Is it any wonder that more than seven million people call into work sick on the morning after?

Enjoy the game and Go Pats!

Trash or treasure?

Has anyone ever said to you, "Honey, please take out the trash?" And so you did, but then what?

On average, American consumers "take out" about 250 million tons of trash each year. Some goes to landfills, some to incinerators and waste-burning manufacturing plants, and some to recycling centers, only to delay the inevitable when it will one day become trash again. Sure, I pick up a few choice treasures at our local recycling center occasionally, but I have to admit, I take a lot of it back a few weeks later after I have learned why someone "trashed" it the first time.

As I continue to focus on some of the environmental tragedies of inner-city culture, I was stunned to see a man with a leaf blower actually blowing the trash off the sidewalk in front of his store and out from underneath his overused BMW. Just like fall leaves, he was blowing discarded papers, cups, newspapers, and plastic bottles back into the street, or onto his neighbor's property. I guess it was his perspective on recycling.

We recycle and process trash as the environmentally prudent thing to do, while people in many third world nations recycle and process trash for survival. For some, municipal dumps are a source of food, building materials, cooking fuel, and even clothing. I just wonder how many treasures someone from the third world could find in these carefully packed bags of "All American Waste."

Up close and personal

Whether on Fifth Avenue in New York, in an urban ghetto, or in a third world village, people are people. Author and photographer, Steve Simon, in The Passionate Photographer, expressed the importance of developing intimacy with subjects in street photography. I don't mean physical intimacy, but personal intimacy where you are essentially given permission to move in close and communicate with them on a deeper level. Some say it's an art, others a skill, and some are more anatomically descriptive, but nevertheless, it is a skill set that requires nerves of steel, especially when we do not share a common language.

Take this pit bull for example. I was photographing in one of the most rundown neighborhoods in Bridgeport, CT. When I turned around, I was staring into the face of a pit bull and Hector, its owner. It was not a time to turn and run, but instead, make friends -- fast! I don't remember what I said, but as you can see, it worked. His personal space became my personal space, if only for a few moments, but then that's all I needed.

Just BOOM!

Last week I was photographing deep inside one of the buildings of the Remington Arms manufacturing complex that had been totally abandoned in 1988, when I found this window graffiti that really said it all. Before Remington moved from Bridgeport, CT, to Arkansas, they employed 17,000 workers at this 73-acre manufacturing complex of buildings.

Most of the windows have been  broken out and floors littered with broken quarter inch safety glass that crunches under your feet as you walk through. The fuse boxes are hanging open and gutted. Graffiti covers most of the interior walls as street gangs claimed their respective territories. There was even a fresh dead rooster outside an open door that had obviously not fared well in a cock fight inside the night before. A couple of the four story buildings have been leveled, but the three foot deep debris field of broken brick, glass, and steel remains. It's a classic picture of urban blight and abandonment.

Today was one of those days when, like the last of the Remington employees 25 years ago, everything seemed to go "BOOM." No need to go into details because we have all had them. You know, a sequence of events that seems to knock the wind out of you as soon as you try and pick yourself up from the previous event. We cry, "Woe is me, woe is me," and then we find someone who was hit harder.

Suddenly, the BOOM becomes a bang, and the sun comes out and shows us something new. Something we never thought of before. It puts new wind in our sails and fresh ideas in our minds. We leave the shattered rubble of the day behind and move in a new direction.

Walking down Main Street

It seems every small town has a "main street," and most Connecticut towns actually name it, "Main Street." Each one is a treasure house of idyllic structures with their unique architectural elements custom designed, sometimes hundreds of years ago.

Some "main streets" are a blast from the past reminding us of our childhood. Gone are the dime stores and soda fountains, but often you can see traces of bygone memories like the F.W. Woolworth name in the stained stone above the windows of some stores. And what about the chrome rimmed Formica tables, red naugahyde booth upholstery, and jukeboxes with all those "flipper cards."

Main Street, Woodbury, is a haven of well kept homes and churches, some as much as three hundred years old. While most have been turned into art galleries or antique shops, many are still private residences that have been in the family for generations. I challenge you to spend a couple of hours like we did, and walk your Main Street, with your camera of course, and watch the beauty take shape. It's there, in the details.

This image is one of six 16x20 black and white prints from our Main Street, Woodbury, Connecticut, collection that we hung at Ayla's Deli in Woodbury, yesterday. Ayla's is located in Barclay Square, 20 Sherman Hill Rd. Stop in, enjoy a sandwich, and give us a call - not necessarily in that order, though.