tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-40703149065704003702024-03-19T06:36:28.686-04:00wilderimagesPhotographer-artist combo Ken and Lois Wilder, pairs the best of two creatives.
Ken was 20 years in corporate market planning and advertising before developing communications programs privately with photographers and designers.
Lois taught art privately, wrote 40 articles for the decorative arts industry and was a color consultant to Binney and Smith.
Ken’s photography skills along with Lois’s transition from pencils and brushes to digital art articulates a rich imagery that communicates.wilderimageshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14849590446342918941noreply@blogger.comBlogger349125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4070314906570400370.post-38563922111050724802017-04-15T00:53:00.000-04:002017-04-15T00:53:31.281-04:00He's gone home<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Four years ago, the daughter of one of my best friends growing up called because her Dad was in a dark place on a mountain two thousand miles away. He wasn’t answering his cell phone, and she was desperate. Although I had never met her, and I still haven’t, we connected.</div>
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I called Clarke and surprisingly, he answered. It was a very awkward conversation as we just drifted away from each other more than forty years earlier. I listened as he unloaded years of pent-up bitterness about people in his childhood and issues in his life. I was aware of some of the events, but that night I heard it all and why. Some of his bitterness that night was even directed at me, but I listened. It was not a time to impose judgement, defend anyones actions, or come up with a fix. It was a time to just listen.</div>
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He came down from the mountain, and soon moved to join his three children in Missouri. Not long after reconciling with his children, his oldest daughter died leaving Renee and her brother. I spoke with Clarke a couple of times over the course of the past three years. Mostly we talked about our exploits as kids growing up in two super conservative Christian homes. We spent many Sunday afternoons at each other houses. He always seemed to have the cool stuff like the biggest stereo, the latest Stallion cap pistol, a CO2 fired pellet gun and a BB rifle. We even poked our fingers with a Swiss Army Knife and pressed them together to become blood brothers.</div>
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He was a skilled sketch artist and had a real flare for design. After spending three years in the Navy and serving in Vietnam, he joined Beattie Jewelers, an old reputable jewelry design firm in Cleveland. His smooth mannerisms, low mellow voice, and his ability to charm customers were natural assets that complimented his ability to sketch and produce the kind of custom jewelry that made Beattie Jewelers famous. One of my first photography projects was to photograph more than a million dollars worth of jewelry in the design studio above the store. They thought it might be safer to show customers slides of their work rather than carry it around in the trunks of their cars to show some of their more affluent customers. We have never handled so much bling since!</div>
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Renee contacted me last year to ask me to write a letter regarding our memories. He had been selected for a seat on an Honor Flight from Missouri to Washington to visit the war memorials. It was difficult considering the forty year gap in our very divergent lives, and I had no idea how it would be received, but I had an emotional hour and a half conversation shortly after he returned. In that deep resonate voice, he expanded on some of the exploits that I had brought to mind. He told me he had only a few months to live as cancer was eating away inside of him, but best of all, he told me how he had restored his relationship with Jesus Christ, or in his words, “I got right with God again.” </div>
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John Alexander Clarke Beattie passed away this week. He has gone home. <span style="font-size: 13px;"> </span></div>
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wilderimageshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14849590446342918941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4070314906570400370.post-83780326443978891952016-10-09T18:41:00.000-04:002016-10-09T19:12:24.941-04:00Skuttle-Butt<span style="font-family: "helvetica"; font-size: 13px;">So I was out for a walk today and overheard three zebras talking.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirYZNQtbkTM6NO0Pd-DIeNOsZLCOcVhfoZ0EfnGurwN725AYEtrMPZXI5FQp01Pn42t-4eFufEvPAHHn03Af_5D1edDRvnLO-AXPsTiwYcq46YuZASoNk5eISL2TSkHp_XRaWCphCT_joL/s1600/KWilder_060604_150_blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirYZNQtbkTM6NO0Pd-DIeNOsZLCOcVhfoZ0EfnGurwN725AYEtrMPZXI5FQp01Pn42t-4eFufEvPAHHn03Af_5D1edDRvnLO-AXPsTiwYcq46YuZASoNk5eISL2TSkHp_XRaWCphCT_joL/s320/KWilder_060604_150_blog.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Z 1: Hey, I got a phone call asking me to ref team Hillary’s locker room chatter before tonight’s political debate.</div>
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Z 2: They called me to ref team Donald’s locker room chatter.</div>
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Z 3: Yeah, me too. I called P.E.T.A. and told them that was cruel and unusual punishment and filed a complaint against both of them.</div>
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Z 1: Let's just go to the Giants vs. Packers game tonight instead. It's all the same - offsides, unnecessary roughness, delay of game, unsportsmanlike conduct, and a host of calls both sides will disagree with.</div>
wilderimageshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14849590446342918941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4070314906570400370.post-26336585153601034052016-09-15T16:31:00.000-04:002016-09-15T16:31:42.380-04:00Round and round we go, again.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk_Fx_IsS6l3xQdF5g1OGy92gOSftYrnUYnduuMm0g6m4V3APz7tIzj0YteyhtuNnxKxhLvkQTh0FB93V1w6Su76O4VOXDiAPYxE_ud_pdTiUlzdXhnymQEEbv4Nwu0U74B3I56RSAOmBE/s1600/KWilder_110919_432_blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk_Fx_IsS6l3xQdF5g1OGy92gOSftYrnUYnduuMm0g6m4V3APz7tIzj0YteyhtuNnxKxhLvkQTh0FB93V1w6Su76O4VOXDiAPYxE_ud_pdTiUlzdXhnymQEEbv4Nwu0U74B3I56RSAOmBE/s400/KWilder_110919_432_blog.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; text-align: justify;">Four years ago almost to the day, I posted: </span><br />
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<i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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." </i></div>
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<i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And you say, "What?"</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Give us a break, please. Each campaign has been reduced to a plethora of put-downs rather than a platform of plans.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><i>Stop the spin, look at the facts, show your cards, and let us chose who we want to be our next President.</i></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So what has changed?</span></div>
wilderimageshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14849590446342918941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4070314906570400370.post-19619820830336355942013-01-26T16:00:00.000-05:002013-01-26T16:00:15.244-05:00Lady of the House<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzakZr5lbDYnrcQaUlVKZ_Mpu2flmWyJIQRkFVoNtHk2R2HZYBVmPVOq_A-oWxoYuPinG1mVw4Td884kHA3iMTdf81ZpUdyn6dOnfKpvdHskFUdZdBcJlNFUCXN86wXwKwILeM0cRSiibV/s1600/KWilder_130125_001_blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="255" oea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzakZr5lbDYnrcQaUlVKZ_Mpu2flmWyJIQRkFVoNtHk2R2HZYBVmPVOq_A-oWxoYuPinG1mVw4Td884kHA3iMTdf81ZpUdyn6dOnfKpvdHskFUdZdBcJlNFUCXN86wXwKwILeM0cRSiibV/s320/KWilder_130125_001_blog.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Imagination is a wonderful attribute, especially in a child. For centuries dollhouses have been used not only to stimulate creativity in the minds of children. With a dollhouse, children become the "ruler of their own domain," as they develop stories about people and situations around people, in their own lives. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But, dollhouses also give us a glimpse into the historic culture of our nation. <a href="http://www.gunnlibrary.org/museum.html" target="_blank">The Gunn Memorial Library and Museum</a>, in Washington Connecticut, is hosting an exhibit of dollhouses from private collections that spans three hundred years. There are room vignettes built to a miniature aficionado's traditional scale of 1 inch to 1 foot, but then it's easy to find the houses where a child's imagination trumped scale in order to tell a story. There are miniature utensils, appliances, dishes, bathroom fixtures, furniture, carpets, lights, books, wallpaper, food, in fact everything you could imagine in a house but built to 1/12 scale.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Why me? Is it because I have a "Boy named Sue" complex? Not really. You see, in my former life back in Cleveland, Ohio, I was actually president of the <a href="http://clevelandminiaturiasociety.org/www.clevelandminiaturiasociety.org/Welcome.html" target="_blank">Cleveland Miniaturia Society</a>, the second oldest miniaturist organization in the country. I was fascinated with the detail of so many skilled artisans as they created intricate scale replicas of everything imaginable, often from everything imaginable. There were even some who created scale dollhouses for their dollhouses, yes, 1/144 scale. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I still have a room vignette that I spent hundreds of hours creating. Someday, I will clean it up and pass it along to one of my grands so they will have an idea of what life was like back in the roaring 70s. Who knows, maybe I will even put a "Ken" doll in the rocking chair for someone to make up stories about me - - or not.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The "<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It's a Small, Small World: Dollhouses and Miniatures," exhibit</span></span> will be at the <a href="http://www.gunnlibrary.org/museum.html" target="_blank">Gunn Memorial Library and Museum</a> through February 17, 2013. There is no admission fee, and yes, you can take pictures. </span></div>
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wilderimageshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14849590446342918941noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4070314906570400370.post-18996533288156239962013-01-17T17:49:00.001-05:002013-01-17T17:49:43.154-05:00Mom's point of view<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
<span style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNnCVZj5OUpvc9D-4gF9UqAWPe_zlTi-kMpbI_tFLq2rUZhGvoGcs8miXYDxtSN7X3GJ4zRnGTL0W2FhsXYUvTP27Ipjdu7s_vFpwqGQ_kTI1T2-psMQivQkqGLNHxhyphenhyphenJ29mBpjaPQl4vz/s320/photo_130115_Kel%2526baby_blog.jpg" width="320" /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It's one thing to photograph an expectant mom a month before delivery, but it's a very different picture from her point of view. This is the belly of our third daughter from her perspective, as we all await the grand emergence of our sixth grandchild.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">She is a distance runner whose miles have been shortened in the past couple of months, so feet are important. It's just that she hasn't seen them for a while. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This will mean each of our daughters will have two kids, and whether any will go for round three, or not, is up to them. Our part is easy. </span></div>
<br />wilderimageshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14849590446342918941noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4070314906570400370.post-41893862156657386782012-10-19T15:28:00.001-04:002012-10-19T15:28:33.854-04:00' been a while.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5ISz3dD0SYXBdttNdOzLJTlaMmAhYT1q7qIKY0Qy61Cayq677jzN9p5LcXCnEHKZDMsd4fLt15uQh2ykjVvsJDXANOUxUAXDLBx0sRSjQtKfSmbRyYLJwlvsWv_Am4x_aK8wZctfElYfT/s1600/LWilder_120914_013_blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" nea="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5ISz3dD0SYXBdttNdOzLJTlaMmAhYT1q7qIKY0Qy61Cayq677jzN9p5LcXCnEHKZDMsd4fLt15uQh2ykjVvsJDXANOUxUAXDLBx0sRSjQtKfSmbRyYLJwlvsWv_Am4x_aK8wZctfElYfT/s320/LWilder_120914_013_blog.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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?</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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.</span></div>
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wilderimageshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14849590446342918941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4070314906570400370.post-38573844329079364482012-09-08T18:03:00.000-04:002012-09-08T18:03:05.961-04:00The spin stops here, or does it?<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: justify;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDomazyy29POQY2x0BRMSS96Dun5Z31kLlVdobhxpDmiIOe73zAKTiaSsWU4UCX0xTrs2mTbba7UIE5eKBkA_Z6WvMH3NW-s-WiDjFWto4K40R4xqni6lYB1U4Pf0sY3i6UyjYE31RWtyn/s1600/KWilder_110919_432_blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" hea="true" height="255" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDomazyy29POQY2x0BRMSS96Dun5Z31kLlVdobhxpDmiIOe73zAKTiaSsWU4UCX0xTrs2mTbba7UIE5eKBkA_Z6WvMH3NW-s-WiDjFWto4K40R4xqni6lYB1U4Pf0sY3i6UyjYE31RWtyn/s320/KWilder_110919_432_blog.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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." </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And you say, "What?" </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Give us a break, please. Each campaign has been reduced to a plethora of put-downs rather than a platform of plans.</span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Stop the spin, look at the facts, show your cards, and let us chose who we want to be our next President. </span></div><br />
wilderimageshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14849590446342918941noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4070314906570400370.post-7866683625435764472012-08-25T11:38:00.000-04:002012-08-25T11:38:41.921-04:00Whoa, stop!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8DI-C-Dw0v7SF6kc02wNq1gTHdbzR2WtbrUgyA19Zfq0K3-I7W3Vm91bfb9Ba7KlPH4x4rzSZJWdO6ptaX0XKNGYNFEOOnPsG0rWpvjwh7Lgm7PUI1iRE38A422TwJwe92qEeqO5KHQRo/s1600/KWilder_120616_087_blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8DI-C-Dw0v7SF6kc02wNq1gTHdbzR2WtbrUgyA19Zfq0K3-I7W3Vm91bfb9Ba7KlPH4x4rzSZJWdO6ptaX0XKNGYNFEOOnPsG0rWpvjwh7Lgm7PUI1iRE38A422TwJwe92qEeqO5KHQRo/s320/KWilder_120616_087_blog.jpg" width="320" yda="true" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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. </span></div><br />
wilderimageshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14849590446342918941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4070314906570400370.post-10582541580412112602012-08-14T15:12:00.000-04:002012-08-14T15:12:00.235-04:00Times Square tourist trap<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT17bzcA98LQd_OuzIcz0M3WyCtokRK-oMk3iJHY2iZpWUzI73WOJhgKROctqbm16Eh1cWw4XZXwqJH8k3Wado5thQ6RrfSeJWiSoWt-GdYWynfFvvNbJ57Q4SID-Bpi8z8IeJ2cP1iYhj/s1600/KWilder_120702_069_blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" mda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT17bzcA98LQd_OuzIcz0M3WyCtokRK-oMk3iJHY2iZpWUzI73WOJhgKROctqbm16Eh1cWw4XZXwqJH8k3Wado5thQ6RrfSeJWiSoWt-GdYWynfFvvNbJ57Q4SID-Bpi8z8IeJ2cP1iYhj/s320/KWilder_120702_069_blog.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I always wondered what "M&M" stood for. Now I know, "Monster Merchandiser."</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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! </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
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wilderimageshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14849590446342918941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4070314906570400370.post-47157476367934426352012-08-05T15:35:00.000-04:002012-08-05T15:35:58.136-04:00Fiat dot car<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy1raMtbwHP50q_aRwds3XnMSt2xsXZA1JGaDYgvSQV50zrovofc_GYGdvAN6_Cte6ud9GxWdktgSVJupzP8_YsKSHI46efcBRaYvmlKDoqL76mNQC3OmKIFhV9Avq1DZ8LtZ9fOCImaq_/s1600/KWilder_120803_004_blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy1raMtbwHP50q_aRwds3XnMSt2xsXZA1JGaDYgvSQV50zrovofc_GYGdvAN6_Cte6ud9GxWdktgSVJupzP8_YsKSHI46efcBRaYvmlKDoqL76mNQC3OmKIFhV9Avq1DZ8LtZ9fOCImaq_/s1600/KWilder_120803_004_blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="256" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhy1raMtbwHP50q_aRwds3XnMSt2xsXZA1JGaDYgvSQV50zrovofc_GYGdvAN6_Cte6ud9GxWdktgSVJupzP8_YsKSHI46efcBRaYvmlKDoqL76mNQC3OmKIFhV9Avq1DZ8LtZ9fOCImaq_/s320/KWilder_120803_004_blog.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Calibri;">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.” <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A local resident who restores Fiats and Alpha Romeos lent the 1959 Fiat to the <a href="http://www.huntlibrary.org/" target="_blank">David M. Hunt Library</a> for kids to cover with dots during two days in July. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">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. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">By the way, speaking of our dot com world, here is a link to a time lapse <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wIH09FDs5O0" target="_blank">video clip</a> of the two-day dot-a-thon. Hope it hits the spot.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>wilderimageshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14849590446342918941noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4070314906570400370.post-25559476058111641192012-04-09T14:45:00.000-04:002012-04-09T14:45:46.997-04:00Branding<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS6bsZOc9CovxHOYL59jayPmXUfR9INGr0L3b_7Uh9utSjXQNJm44M4ZiMKb3TQMJ_FV7LI_97ABpRQJJTht2RG4RJCa5rJsN3foAABApRurgxFNFT310JG7g8kUFy-4iJFkZFD4CJ1kwc/s1600/LWilder_120402_200_blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="256px" nda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS6bsZOc9CovxHOYL59jayPmXUfR9INGr0L3b_7Uh9utSjXQNJm44M4ZiMKb3TQMJ_FV7LI_97ABpRQJJTht2RG4RJCa5rJsN3foAABApRurgxFNFT310JG7g8kUFy-4iJFkZFD4CJ1kwc/s320/LWilder_120402_200_blog.jpg" width="320px" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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? </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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. </span></div>wilderimageshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14849590446342918941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4070314906570400370.post-26708070723237587392012-04-07T16:09:00.000-04:002012-04-07T16:09:26.552-04:00Easter<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2b6qawf7yJUZz06YWN6Bo4B-p9aa85xXQt2WeERxs4BV8lQCjTGLBw0vYR9sMBC4JD2PkdHxgYJVMfqZ_pZkg1VdkTXdslD8Pay3MwxqDu7XnvqB7Q0-m-NQJoDemXXSWgbLHhEtfgtZC/s1600/KWilder_120402_051_blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="256px" nda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2b6qawf7yJUZz06YWN6Bo4B-p9aa85xXQt2WeERxs4BV8lQCjTGLBw0vYR9sMBC4JD2PkdHxgYJVMfqZ_pZkg1VdkTXdslD8Pay3MwxqDu7XnvqB7Q0-m-NQJoDemXXSWgbLHhEtfgtZC/s320/KWilder_120402_051_blog.jpg" width="320px" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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. </span></div>wilderimageshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14849590446342918941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4070314906570400370.post-17770738339718217742012-03-27T12:34:00.000-04:002012-03-27T12:34:00.112-04:00What arrow?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht-Fvms6bwDBtmD2Y_aCrAsZWP10s-OOPyL4soTluerGOkdyHaOEbX8-Yphx5KRKEp8icggEprU0DL9AymCNyzQ9lK1q_boobnLQk8h2-H5mhQjpNiYwvQVu_gaI63uYIem72co7YtdiXE/s1600/LWilder_110422_063_blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" dea="true" height="256px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht-Fvms6bwDBtmD2Y_aCrAsZWP10s-OOPyL4soTluerGOkdyHaOEbX8-Yphx5KRKEp8icggEprU0DL9AymCNyzQ9lK1q_boobnLQk8h2-H5mhQjpNiYwvQVu_gaI63uYIem72co7YtdiXE/s320/LWilder_110422_063_blog.jpg" width="320px" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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. </span></div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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? </span></div>wilderimageshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14849590446342918941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4070314906570400370.post-25904204871266176042012-03-24T16:05:00.000-04:002012-03-24T16:05:42.360-04:00Fair weather friends<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDywc-6WWRrITYVhyphenhyphen_yIvJ94uoOx9OG9R5jiAqEMltSnPgdeX89dZrpCoaf4nH8ci6WWQgBA18eubNHx9rEP57nUCIBNlKS4RvJORl4YT96z6CChytSZ3dnUjpYktwOXfm87CMXba9EqEl/s1600/KWilder_120322_010_blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img aea="true" border="0" height="256px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDywc-6WWRrITYVhyphenhyphen_yIvJ94uoOx9OG9R5jiAqEMltSnPgdeX89dZrpCoaf4nH8ci6WWQgBA18eubNHx9rEP57nUCIBNlKS4RvJORl4YT96z6CChytSZ3dnUjpYktwOXfm87CMXba9EqEl/s320/KWilder_120322_010_blog.jpg" width="320px" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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 <a href="http://www.lasallemarket.com/" target="_blank">Lasalle Market & Deli,</a> across the street, and these guys were just enjoying the surprisingly warm 80 degree day in March, as they laughed and strummed. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">P.S. Always carry a camera, and don't be afraid to use it!</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>wilderimageshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14849590446342918941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4070314906570400370.post-23395732043939476772012-03-16T15:52:00.000-04:002012-03-16T15:52:48.138-04:00The town of Green . . . CT<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipHgCLxKeNuQAXOZ2t-hh21wL8wi3qfBYLi9C9nnuXa3CvNFOF5QpL183c4jpAnX4yCYwx89-rYVizQomLRpudDi8XB9pvLtnNwsWUsYzrdFWP9qH7eeTiuNnUyHZoGqYXz0OxGMDzSf0Q/s1600/LWilder_091124_092_blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img aea="true" border="0" height="256px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipHgCLxKeNuQAXOZ2t-hh21wL8wi3qfBYLi9C9nnuXa3CvNFOF5QpL183c4jpAnX4yCYwx89-rYVizQomLRpudDi8XB9pvLtnNwsWUsYzrdFWP9qH7eeTiuNnUyHZoGqYXz0OxGMDzSf0Q/s320/LWilder_091124_092_blog.jpg" width="320px" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>wilderimageshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14849590446342918941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4070314906570400370.post-42665200177051408652012-03-15T14:32:00.000-04:002012-03-15T14:32:25.675-04:00March Madness<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqKBor2x9bu7ozH2vXz5jTqHD9d_AvLlGdc5oYfpD86K20bMrY1zkF7AH9f7jlhLj5lGrVYU9WIgYCuaqnDa3VM7cS_6-IM9Z8yMF13MpgopKbpNpbtYBTFXwBrJlDo4lZDYRfyqCARM8q/s1600/LWilder_120303_157_blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img aea="true" border="0" height="256px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqKBor2x9bu7ozH2vXz5jTqHD9d_AvLlGdc5oYfpD86K20bMrY1zkF7AH9f7jlhLj5lGrVYU9WIgYCuaqnDa3VM7cS_6-IM9Z8yMF13MpgopKbpNpbtYBTFXwBrJlDo4lZDYRfyqCARM8q/s320/LWilder_120303_157_blog.jpg" width="320px" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Question: When does March Madness really begin?</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Answer: Probably at about eight years old. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As for our grandson Eli and his friends, they are definitely March Madness hopefuls - for 2022, that is. </span></div>wilderimageshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14849590446342918941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4070314906570400370.post-2374059318122897692012-02-29T17:28:00.000-05:002012-02-29T17:28:46.308-05:00How long is too long?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd8EnaZtKfKdwf9mnoOtnNNRDzJXPOjzQHixixyBrit1PIQL1wl96tYK8bBLD4OXScjV0LdY0k4xy34E3nPmRvY6tN4pgxX0ccDbk8ktXnPbAiUUlezxlcgW1Qeb-EkuSc1qdqmRM3kI6v/s1600/KWilder_110919_077_blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd8EnaZtKfKdwf9mnoOtnNNRDzJXPOjzQHixixyBrit1PIQL1wl96tYK8bBLD4OXScjV0LdY0k4xy34E3nPmRvY6tN4pgxX0ccDbk8ktXnPbAiUUlezxlcgW1Qeb-EkuSc1qdqmRM3kI6v/s320/KWilder_110919_077_blog.jpg" uda="true" width="256px" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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.</span></div>wilderimageshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14849590446342918941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4070314906570400370.post-38418270381019579392012-02-26T18:02:00.000-05:002012-02-26T18:02:15.553-05:00Pause and reflect.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrZb24Sw3bqy62Xv3_R6gPYJI8xqln4wgE9zfbpnmsItHXOk8cwg70K-ypNp-8-MtNuy4ktuLBzK-u0HeK-n17EW2D9pfSjhyYX8NYix8JTaVrK3H3uyWhaWcmKRABvAS7eb6P3YGLmnNi/s1600/LWilder_070318_066_blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="256" lda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrZb24Sw3bqy62Xv3_R6gPYJI8xqln4wgE9zfbpnmsItHXOk8cwg70K-ypNp-8-MtNuy4ktuLBzK-u0HeK-n17EW2D9pfSjhyYX8NYix8JTaVrK3H3uyWhaWcmKRABvAS7eb6P3YGLmnNi/s320/LWilder_070318_066_blog.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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?”</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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? </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>wilderimageshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14849590446342918941noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4070314906570400370.post-84720140329455467872012-02-18T15:24:00.000-05:002012-02-18T15:24:02.802-05:00My Starbucks culture<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW9-ca-uQfivkXfwnGaSbcsEyfSqfvgk1QAyRucDxGJCmZVQBEUja_tX-HYv5mzGq54NydOWT4LA2PXYatEE3aKhPmQ90jxLpr1SUyNLYPZT2xxO0495aMdgpgVY8X9naxChFD5zD0U7q4/s1600/LWilder_111017_317_blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320px" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgW9-ca-uQfivkXfwnGaSbcsEyfSqfvgk1QAyRucDxGJCmZVQBEUja_tX-HYv5mzGq54NydOWT4LA2PXYatEE3aKhPmQ90jxLpr1SUyNLYPZT2xxO0495aMdgpgVY8X9naxChFD5zD0U7q4/s400/LWilder_111017_317_blog.jpg" width="400px" yda="true" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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.</span></div>wilderimageshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14849590446342918941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4070314906570400370.post-12893339627567803452012-02-05T16:13:00.000-05:002012-02-05T16:13:53.730-05:00Super Bowl, are you ready?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH7XxYfp3GR7ud8k-3ik85X7pd3JXp1PrCg7uR8YhjLD3o0eOGNdoRR8mv1B4gwl_q2JRB35CrlbHqFIRuUgdfqTmtQ6-o5OtWifIYZGgmT6RJ41a5ZC4khT_vxwaC8wRZ7T-MOmPEC-z2/s1600/KWilder_111230_106_blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266px" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH7XxYfp3GR7ud8k-3ik85X7pd3JXp1PrCg7uR8YhjLD3o0eOGNdoRR8mv1B4gwl_q2JRB35CrlbHqFIRuUgdfqTmtQ6-o5OtWifIYZGgmT6RJ41a5ZC4khT_vxwaC8wRZ7T-MOmPEC-z2/s400/KWilder_111230_106_blog.jpg" width="400px" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Is it any wonder that more than seven million people call into work sick on the morning after? </span></div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Enjoy the game and Go Pats!</span></div>wilderimageshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14849590446342918941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4070314906570400370.post-77235636880237697802012-02-01T21:14:00.000-05:002012-02-01T21:14:05.816-05:00Trash or treasure?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMTXUXf_v7gF1vEuoIVZGoC4ifykxBrNEfS0zwIpWxTsKPrpJ41OETGk8qMnifwrqDLhZnX5yI2WagHLAhovXHm2YfUSSAuaNcuGRlKKHywXlivNCR5cWCl1ERnReAjiDs1eaMM29Ob8GJ/s1600/KWilder_120110_104_blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400px" sda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMTXUXf_v7gF1vEuoIVZGoC4ifykxBrNEfS0zwIpWxTsKPrpJ41OETGk8qMnifwrqDLhZnX5yI2WagHLAhovXHm2YfUSSAuaNcuGRlKKHywXlivNCR5cWCl1ERnReAjiDs1eaMM29Ob8GJ/s400/KWilder_120110_104_blog.jpg" width="320px" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Has anyone ever said to you, "Honey, please take out the trash?" And so you did, but then what? </span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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."</span></div>wilderimageshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14849590446342918941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4070314906570400370.post-64401052723791333142012-01-30T20:39:00.000-05:002012-01-30T20:39:23.513-05:00Up close and personal<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaN59DgICvsLdVSYGOspkBv8gRltgWyXol9Fd-drX9lozfBgA9rzaKD0dJIb0Mdc9ye2EX6Rwso3mmeHoeXLcsT7K2FYa7VpvIqadldiFzLloev7Ldy3CZbXUOGc_bTfAcXlXWJpmeBnvl/s1600/KWilder_120110_044_blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" gda="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaN59DgICvsLdVSYGOspkBv8gRltgWyXol9Fd-drX9lozfBgA9rzaKD0dJIb0Mdc9ye2EX6Rwso3mmeHoeXLcsT7K2FYa7VpvIqadldiFzLloev7Ldy3CZbXUOGc_bTfAcXlXWJpmeBnvl/s1600/KWilder_120110_044_blog.jpg" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Whether on Fifth Avenue in New York, in an urban ghetto, or in a third world village, people are people. Author and photographer, <a href="http://www.stevesimonphoto.com/" target="_blank">Steve Simon,</a> in <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Passionate-Photographer-Toward-Becoming-Voices/dp/0321719891/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1327973671&sr=1-1" target="_blank">The Passionate Photographer,</a> 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.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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.</span></div>wilderimageshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14849590446342918941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4070314906570400370.post-76919768147395816382012-01-20T18:12:00.000-05:002012-01-20T18:12:32.585-05:00Just BOOM!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213px" nfa="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgruaZfHGKygcDCWgenwS6qkmFm6Scx_nxTFYJLPCMuxsHvhLpUsp02Hw0_gbMqn2ZLqw5RHEpli0bKj9s4EgHalUtOcuTN4gY8fPjxfwd-oMfarWTEgB3tywEw94fUTuU_f2fR_lT1XLd/s320/KWilder_120110_197_blog.jpg" width="320px" /></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div>wilderimageshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14849590446342918941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4070314906570400370.post-2197425482446672332012-01-17T20:41:00.000-05:002012-01-17T20:41:27.133-05:00Walking down Main Street<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_i7xXWeN-Jx7sm3e4h0gCzUbfXr1QmyLLzWKUqDAflKKLhTutTxQ75YxnOKfoUSkEAQxVKAO5fq33nCVhq2bCQkHRJLIwM_77kdV_IZ6wZJD0qbzlfeGrX5u-HaWV3lnOR2KQ7k8mCjDX/s1600/KWilder_100319_030_blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="256px" kba="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_i7xXWeN-Jx7sm3e4h0gCzUbfXr1QmyLLzWKUqDAflKKLhTutTxQ75YxnOKfoUSkEAQxVKAO5fq33nCVhq2bCQkHRJLIwM_77kdV_IZ6wZJD0qbzlfeGrX5u-HaWV3lnOR2KQ7k8mCjDX/s320/KWilder_100319_030_blog.jpg" width="320px" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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."</span></div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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. </span></div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div></span><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">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.</span></div>wilderimageshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14849590446342918941noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4070314906570400370.post-69268379289230932622011-12-31T18:55:00.002-05:002011-12-31T18:56:17.705-05:00What is your New Year's resolution?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ebTvyxshcIs/Tv-gYVygVeI/AAAAAAAAAqI/OrU31Ucu_2E/s1600/KWilder_110919_195_blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="256px" rea="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ebTvyxshcIs/Tv-gYVygVeI/AAAAAAAAAqI/OrU31Ucu_2E/s320/KWilder_110919_195_blog.jpg" width="320px" /></a></div><div style="text-align: justify;">I'm not sure who started the New Year's resolution tradition, as they never seem to last very long. At the top of the list of favorites is spend more time with family and friends, followed by improved fitness, and losing a ton of weight, even though in past years we seem to weigh in at the same amount at the end as we did at the beginning, despite our well-intended efforts. Other people commit to learning a new word every day, quit drinking or smoking, pay off all debts, read a certain number of books, or read through the Bible in a year, take up a new hobby, drive within the speed limit, and on and on. You get the idea.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
Now don't get me wrong, I like commitments and goals as much as anyone, but I know the importance of being realistic and honest with ourselves, too. So, if you make a resolution, make it meaningful, measurable, and memorable, not only for yourself, but others around you as well.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">Happy New Year, and may it be your most memorable.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div>wilderimageshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14849590446342918941noreply@blogger.com0