A teenager lives here

I remember the first time I met Zachary. He was all scrunched and sad-looking after spending the better part of a day trying to get out into the world. His head was a little misshapen from the experience, and the little wrinkles on his face reminded me of his late great-grandfather from whom he inherited his middle name.

His first day was a tough one, as were the few that followed when he ended up in an incubator in NICU. For first-time parents, it was a rough initiation to the club.

Sometimes today when I look at him, I can still feel that moment, when he went from an abstract form on an ultrasound monitor to a squirming, very real, very dependent little being who was suddenly very much ours. I sometimes close my eyes and I feel like I'm right back in the OR, feeling that sense of not knowing whether I should stay by him or by my wife who had just had emergency surgery to get the little munchkin out.

It was our first lesson that parenthood isn't always easy, linear, or logical. And despite the craziness of making and raising little folks, parenthood has turned out to be one of those life decisions that we can't imagine not having taken. We can't fathom what the world was like before he arrived. Nor do we ever want to.

Thirteen years after that very big day in the life of a new, little person and his two very bewildered, very scared parents, I find myself looking at this approaching-adult who's almost as tall as my wife and wondering how we went from that to this so quickly. I wonder if I've done enough along the way to capture moments in his life in ways that he'll be able to hold onto when he's older. I hope I've been teaching him the lessons he needs to learn to become a good person, a responsible adult, enough of a success that he'll have what he needs to build his own family, his own new world, his own future.

Just as I did on the day when I first met him, I look into the future with a curious mixture of fear, hope and excitement. And as I listen to him speak to his younger sister and brother, I relax my shoulders a bit as I realize that he's coming into his own just fine. He's not ours to the same degree he was when he weighed less than the laptop on which I type this blog entry. But he'll inevitably carry little pieces of us forward wherever he ends up.

Happy birthday, Zachary Akiva. May all your milestones be happy ones.

Your turn: Birthdays are always about wishes. What's your wish for him?

Photographic fun on a foggy night

Ghostly trees
London, ON, October 2007
[Click to embiggen]

Note: This is another image from my late-night walkabout through our foggy neighborhood. Please click here for the earlier blog entry.

There's something cathartic about being outside on your own with a camera when virtually everyone else is asleep. You stop thinking about the things on your to do list, the things you forgot to do yesterday, the appointments that await you the next day, the little nagging snippets of life that seem to fill your every waking hour.

Instead, you find yourself not thinking at all; simply reflecting on how quiet it is, how nice it would be if you didn't have to stay up late on a foggy night to experience this kind of solitude.

You're not on a clock, so you slowly walk from one block to the next, looking for just the right scene that will help you remember later on what it felt like to stand there in the still, damp air while the world around you seemed to be taking a much-needed rest.

That's one of the reasons I take as many pictures as I do: I use them to remember what it felt like to be in a certain place at a certain time. Long ago, I laughed at my high school art teacher when he called the camera a time machine. But now I realize he was right. This image brings me right back to that corner as it reminds me why we need to deliberately make the time to seek out moments like this in the first place.

Otherwise, we risk having no such reflective moments at all.

Your turn: What are you seeing when you peer deeply into this scene? Why do we look back at all?

Wordless Wednesday - Barking up the wrong tree

Playing with light

Brilliance
London, ON, October 2007 [Click to enlarge]

It's well after midnight when I quietly lead the dog outside for his before-bedtime stroll through the neighborhood. As soon as my foot touches the porch, I feel it in the air: the characteristic clamminess that signals an impending foggy night. Sure enough, the air is starting to thicken with fog just as we round the first corner and see the telltale softness of the streetlights against the dark, quiet streetscape.

I rush the unsuspecting pooch through his walk so I can get him home and fetch my camera and tripod. He dutifully sits by the front door as I disappear into the growing murk.

The pea soup environment seems to dampen all sounds. The air is incredibly still as I walk slowly, looking for vantage points. I don't really have a plan, but I assume I'll figure it out as I go along. I've never shot fog at night, so I wonder if it's even worth my time to be out here.

Shafts of light shoot out from behind houses and through trees. I wonder if I can capture the ethereal scenes, carefully lining the camera up to capture some of the most interesting-looking slices of light. After around a half-hour of playing in this solitary, quiet, outdoor playground, I decide I've had enough and head for home.

As I walk across our lawn, a burst of light through our maple tree catches my eye. I keep walking. I'm tired and I want to go to sleep. But I stop beside the door, thinking it'll be a while before we get this much fog when it's this dark. So I turn around and shoot the tree. Two quick exposures and I'm back inside.

The keeper of the evening is the last image I shot. Sometimes, you simply need to give into the inner voice that begs you to keep going.

Your turn: What does your inner voice tell you?

One more thing: I'm starting to select images to include in an initial set for online sale. I've received a number of requests in recent months, so I'm finally taking the time to offer high-resolution, framed images for order. If you have any suggestions from photos I've published previously, please feel free to leave a comment. And if you actually want to be the first to put your dibs in for a print, feel free! I'll post details on the blog in the days/weeks to come. Thanks in advance!

Bridge Over the River Thames

What lies beneath
London, ON, October 2007 [Click to embiggen]

I'm still working through an extended monochrome phase. Despite the colors of the season, I seem to be viewing the world around me in relatively cold, stark terms. Not sure why: I suspect life these days isn't the Happy Fun Ball that I wish it would be. Such is life.

I caught this scene on the same walkabout that resulted in this one. The contrasts between reflected, tonal color and cold concrete, gravel beside a depleted, polluted excuse for a river are pretty severe. Both were taken just under three minutes apart, and reflect my contention that photography has little to do with reality, and everything to do with the kind of reality you choose to capture when you decide to scan your world using a viewfinder instead of your eyes.

Your turn: The filters we apply to our view of the world. Please discuss.

Caption This 41

Please come up with a snappy caption for this photo
[Click here for Caption This instructions]
London, ON, October 2007 [Click to embiggen]

This picture reminds me that I need to get out of the car and walk around different neighborhoods more often than I already do. There's always something wickedly abstract to capture my attention.

Your turn: Please share your caption suggestion in the Comments section. I'll post the winner next week.

About last week's image: The photo of our son's bright orange cast was a pretty popular one. I'm glad you all shielded your eyes and jumped right in. For the record, he's now sporting a camouflage-pattern cast, and will be so-immobilized for at least another month. The good news is he's been given the go-ahead to begin putting a bit of weight on the leg. So hopefully that little light at the end of the tunnel is beginning to grow just a bit.

Flleenie made me laugh with this one: "My God, look at the size of that carrot!" She also submitted a phallic-themed suggestion that also floored me - which reinforces the need to submit often, even if you think it isn't funny. Chances are, it is.

Honorable mentions go out to these intrepid captioners:

• Shephard: When Jamba the elephant sprained his trunk, the doctors wrapped it in cheery orange bandages, thus improving his mood and speed his recovery.
• Craziequeen: Pristine - the Orange One waits for ink and love
• Jean-Luc Picard: The Invisible Man decides to go for some colour with his bandages.
• Scrappintwinmom: Orange you glad you're getting the cast off soon?
• Lara: That's a wrap!

And to the trio of "orange you glad" themed submissions:

• Miss Meliss: Orange you glad I didn't say banana?
• Ravvy: Orange you glad its soon to star in CastAway
• Joel Reynolds: Orange you glad it's not a body cast?

Thanks, y'all, for participating. Hope you have fun with this week's caption!

Smoked. Stacked.

Towering bricks
London, ON, October 2007
[Click to embiggen]

Hospitals are fascinating places, jumbles of buildings that have been haphazardly built and connected over the years as community needs have evolved. These looming structures seem to tell the story of the city's growth, much like the rings of a tree speak of its life.

At a forgotten edge of the south campus of the London Health Science Centre sits a row of forgettable old brick buildings. Abandoned equipment sits outside dusty windows that never seem to have real people on the other side. The insides are dark, industrial, and probably haven't changed since long before I was born.

Towering over the landscape of cracked pavement and scrubby grass is a smokestack whose brickwork betrays its age. As I stand in its shadow on this cold and windy day, I hope the missing chunks of masonry aren't indicative of a weak structure.

I come to this campus every week to donate blood. We've also been bringing our son to this hospital for his regular ortho appointments and cast replacements. The irony of growth, life and renewal isn't lost on me as I stand among structures whose life seems to have vanished decades ago.

I think I need to spend more time walking around the grounds.

Your turn: The things this structure has seen. Please discuss.

Gateway arch

Standing at the door
London, ON, October 2007 [Click to increase shoe size]

I like doors (see here and here), especially old ones that wear their years with weathered pride. As I walked through East London last week, I came across this door that begged to be remembered.

Problem was, its ultra-reflective window made my shoes (Adidas Gazelle...same as my middle name) kinda mandatory. I tried every possible angle and perspective to get rid of my offending feet. But in the end, I gave up and figured fate was telling me it was time for a self-portrait.

So here are my feet, reflected in an old door in the middle of a run-down street. I'm sure the drug addicts who watched me do the sidewalk two-step were mildly amused.

Your turn: Why do doors hold such appeal to us?

Quick update: Sorry for being so cryptic with the name reference. My middle name is Zvi. It's pronounced tz-VEE, and it's the Hebrew word for gazelle. Given the speed with which I move through life, I've long thought this name is highly appropriate for me. For more background on my crazy name, please click here. Thanks, Shane, for calling it out!

Colors and reflections

Dying in color
London, ON, October 2007 [Click to embiggen]

I went for a walk yesterday, one of those rare occasions when I had an hour to kill while our son was at a bar mitzvah lesson. We were just far enough away from home that it wasn't worth returning to the house in the interim. So I found a nearby park beside the Thames River (don't laugh...it's barely a creek, but it's still pretty these days) and brought my camera along for some quiet introspection.

Every year around this time, I wonder how I'm going to find new ways to capture the color of the season. I hate cliche images and I hate repeating what's been done before. But there are only so many ways to shoot brightly colored leaves. Or not, apparently.

I was on my way back to pick him up when I caught a glimpse of this weird color on the far bank. There was a warm tone to the scene that made me stop and stare. I was thrilled when I got home and threw the picture onto my laptop that the tone seemed to have survived the trip through my camera.

The irony that this rich color is the result of leaves that are in the process of dying isn't lost on me.

Your turn: Quiet time to yourself and why it's so important. Please discuss.

Keystone

Arched
London, ON, October 2007 [Click to embiggen]

Arches are funny things. The keystone - the ornamental block at the top of the arch - gets all the credit for being the anchor, the most important piece, the big kahuna. Yet an arch is incapable of holding itself together unless every single block is precisely shaped and fitted.

The other blocks may all be anonymously similar and they lack fancy titles that set them apart, but each one fulfills a critical role in keeping the entire works from crashing.

Part of me wonders if there's a lesson in there for the rest of us.

Your turn: Unsung heroes. Please discuss.

Red light district

Mirrors and lights
London, ON, October 2007

Cars are all about fashion, it seems. Manufacturers knock themselves out trying to make their vehicles look as new as tomorrow. These days, they seem to be focusing their efforts on lights, turning them into flashy jewel-like accessories that can make an otherwise plain design look a little less so.

If a bit of bling works for people, why not cars, right?

Your turn: Ever looked closely at a light fixture, vehicular or otherwise? What did you see?

One more thing: I'm still exploring my monochrome view of the world, and have many more images from this series to share. But Blogger's having a little photo-uploading hissy fit tonight, so I'm posting this entry directly from drafts. We'll be back to pure b&w and sepia photography just as soon as the geek gremlins are banished.

Porches wear their age

English Street and Queens Avenue
London, ON, October 2007 [Click to embiggen]

I was back in the shadows of downtown London the other day. I was running errands, but thought I might have a minute here or there to grab a picture or two as I scooted between destinations.

Turns out I was right. My very evolved photographic strategy - hold camera in hand as I walk, take pictures of whatever interests me - paid off as I kept seeing textures that practically begged to be remembered.

As I took this image - shot from a corner, looking down a row of porches - I wondered if the owners of these homes ever looked at them through the soft frame of a lens. I hope that they do, because we all deserve to feel a twinge of something when we look back at our respective homes.

Your turn: What do you see as you peer down these empty verandas? What do you really see?

Caption This 40

Please name this photo [See below for details]
London, ON, October 2007

When our son had his green cast (click here and here for earlier photos/entries) replaced with an orange one, I thought we should remember the moment. The new cast is much lighter than the old one and can serve double duty as a runway marker at the airport. Unlike the casts of my youth, which were icky, heavy and (at least initially) white plaster, Zach's is made of a svelte, colorful fiberglass wrap. Of course, no one aspires to actually have a cast. But if you've got to have one, technology makes it a little less onerous these days.

But can you come up with a caption for this photo? Hope so...

Your turn: Click on the Comments link below and share a caption or seven. Zach's agreed to help me sift through the suggestions this week, and we'll jointly post the winner next week. So vote now, vote often, and have fun with it. New to Caption This? Click here for instructions.

About last week's image: A simple picture of a blue balloon prompted some incredibly funny suggestions. BreadBox took it with this winner: "Is it an innie? Or an outie? You be the judge!" I smiled for a while after reading it.

And since I'm really bad at picking just one, I wanted to share some other worthy mentions:

• Gyrobo: "The Reproductive Cycle of the Common Balloon -- Part IV"
• David: "Clara the face painting clown exhaled deeply into the large blue balloon, and then tied the knot, with herself inside! Quite a trick."
• Susan Helene Gottfried: "Bellybuttons are people, too!"
• Melissa: "Well, how long can you hold your breath?"
• Shane: "Tijuana Breast Implant Surgery, 25 bucks. Cost of Implants, 50 cents. The expression of her soon-to-be-deflated ego, priceless."
• Jessica Foster: "As he continued to travel over the tree tops, Winnie the Poo said, "Oh bother, perhaps this wasn't the best idea...."
• Snaggle Tooth: "Any one got a pin?"
• Sister AE: "A smurf belly-button, unretouched."

Have a good time with this week's Caption This. And thanks again for playing along!

One more thing: 60 years ago today, Chuck Yeager climbed into the X-1 and became the first person to break the sound barrier. Supersonic flight is one of those technological milestones that, like the invention of the integrated circuit, radio transmission and the internal combustion engine, is easy for us to overlook. But I can't help but think that moments like this, and the people with the brains and the guts to make them happen, change our world. And, by extension, us. Thanks, Mr. Yeager.

Fall flowers

Ready to bloom
London, ON, October 2007 [Click to enlarge]

It's been a while since I took a closer look at flowers. The first macro images I ever shot were floral, and it's a theme that I've come back to time and again over the years.

Now that my macro lens has been fixed, I find myself squinting at closeup objects a lot more often than I used to. It's good to be thinking small again.

Your turn: What do we see when we take the time to lean in?

Al Gore, Nobel Laureate

Like many folks, I wake up to the transistorized sound of a local radio station. We set the alarm about 20 minutes before we really need to get up, then hit the snooze button a couple of times until consciousness takes hold.

As I lay in my sleepy stupor this morning, I heard the newscaster's words float through the air: Al; Gore; Nobel; Peace; Prize.

I snapped to attention just as the guy made a nasty he-invented-the-Internet joke about him. If I had been more awake at the time, I might have thought about the newscaster's total lack of journalistic objectivity. But this is a has-been, small-market FM station, so it's not as if the quality bar was very high to begin with.

But enough about stupid old white guy radio people. Back to Mr. Gore. We can disagree with his politics, laugh at his near-comatose image and relegate his name to the biggest loser of all time bin for his 2000 election loss to Dubya. But there's more to this man than history seems to have assumed.

He has succeeded in bringing the issue of the environment, its future and our future to a mainstream audience. Where granola-chomping tree-huggers have repeatedly tried and failed to get the rest of us to pay attention, Mr. Gore has used his film, An Inconvenient Truth, as a platform for informed discussion. Astute poltico that he is, he long ago realized that zealotry wasn't the vehicle of choice for this kind of thing.

In some ways, he has already succeeded in changing the world by forcing us to view it in a different light. He's reframed the discussion, removing it from the grip of partisan politics and giving us hope that the planet isn't doomed to a cynically apocalyptic fate a la Futurama, that we have the ability to make things better before they become irreversibly worse.

He defines the concept of Tikkun Olam, the Jewish ideal of repairing our world. Pretty inspiring stuff from where I sit, and pretty worthy of a Nobel Peace Prize. Mazel tov, Mr. Gore.

Your turn: What are you doing to repair our world?

Bleak? Maybe not

Look up, waaay up
London, ON, August 2007

Things in our house have been somewhat off the chaotic scale in recent weeks (for more background, please read my wife's blog entry.) All sorts of stuff is swirling around us, and we seem to have little ability to control the progression or the outcome. It's a little unsettling, but I've got to believe that things will work themselves out soon enough.

In the meantime, I find myself looking for comfort wherever I can find it: walks with the kids and the dog, expeditions to the grocery store, quiet moments spent with a pen, a pad of paper and an idea. This is the kind of picture that reminds me that refuge from chaos can sometimes be found where we least expect it.

Wherever you are and whatever you're facing, I hope you look up and find something peaceful and/or otherwise memorable as well.

Your turn: What's your oasis?

One more thing: Yes, I'm in a monochrome mood these days (see this earlier entry. And this one. Oh yes, and this one, too.)

Wordless Wednesday - Cracked

Yorkville and Avenue Road

Light from beyond
Toronto, ON, October 2007 [Click to enlarge]

The scene: Thursday, October 4, 6:01 p.m. I'm sitting in bumper-to-bumper traffic in downtown Toronto, on my way to a television interview. I'm quizzing myself on the talking points that I've researched, making sure that I'm as fully prepared as possible before the red light goes on. I keep one eye on the traffic that moves like molasses beyond my windshield and the other on the clock on the dashboard, calculating how much time I need to get there, park, and get inside. The GPS estimates of my ETA tell me I've got plenty of time to spare, but the retentive me still feels a little on edge because of the gridlock.

After the traffic light ahead goes through its third cycle, I realize I'm not going anywhere for a bit. I realize I'm as fluid on the topic as I'm going to be, and fretting any more isn't going to do me any good. So I look over at the empty passenger seat and see my camera sitting inside my backpack. I bring it along on day trips because you never know when you'll run into something neat.

The road ends at the intersection just ahead of me. Immediately beyond the corner stands a massive old building with an arched tunnel that leads to an inner courtyard. It looks like a genteel oasis in the middle of the crazy-busy city, something that I don't see every day. I grab my camera, rapidly scan the controls to ensure I'm sorta capable of exposing the scene correctly, and shoot as fast as I possibly can through the windshield and the knots of pedestrians who are wandering between me and the ethereally backlit scene just ahead.

Total elapsed time isn't more than 15 seconds. I replace the camera in the bag and scan around the car, looking for police officers who may be looking for scofflaws like me. The light's still red. I don't even know if the pictures are workable, but I figure my little surreptitious shoot was just enough to take the edge off of the moment and settle me into the right frame of mind. It's another one of those in-between moments that makes me glad that I view the world through my everpresent camera lens.

The light turns green, traffic miraculously starts to move and I quickly cover the remaining couple of kms before arriving at the studio with plenty of time to spare. The interview goes exceptionally well.

Your turn: The view out your car window. Please discuss.

Dog gives comfort

I hope you feel better soon
London, ON, October 2007 [Click to enlarge]

Animals can be remarkably perceptive beings, and ours seems to be no exception. Frasier's been particularly affected by Zach's injury: Whenever he isn't bounding around the house, he hovers close to the wounded warrior, almost as if he's guarding him from further harm.

Although Zach's been worried about the dog bumping his leg, that concern has slowly eased as Frasier seems to have learned to give the bright orange cast a wide berth.

The other day, Frasier wandered into the living room and without warning bounced into the crook of Zach's arm as he lay on the couch. Zach had been having a particularly bad stretch: cramps, pain and a generally cruddy mood. The dog seemed to know that he needed a little TLC as he buried his head - a la Finnigan, for old Mr. Dressup fans - into him and nuzzled him until he nuzzled him back.

It was a quick, poignant moment in the life of a dog and one of his favorite people. It was a quick, poignant lesson in how a pet can weasel his way into our lives in ways we could never have projected when we first brought him home.

As we approach the four-week mark since this happened, the father in me continues to feel frustrated that I can't simply fix this. We're busy with preparations for his upcoming bar mitzvah while the phone continues to bring challenging news of sick parents and in-laws from back home. Our 12-year-old son consequently finds himself with a lot of weight on his shoulders, yet a 20-pound dog found a way to divert his attention, even if just for a moment.

It was enough to make me believe that his silver lining is just around the corner. Perhaps.

Your turn: An animal's sixth sense. Please discuss.

Caption This 39

Please caption this image [See below for details]
London, ON, September 2007 [Click to embiggen]

My macro lens has found its way back home after spending a couple of months having its electronic innards replaced under warranty by the loving technicians at Nikon Canada. I didn't realize how much I missed getting up close and personal with the ordinary things that cross my everyday path until I clicked the lens back into its rightful place and went back to work. It felt good.

So expect the proportion of abstract photos to increase in the days and weeks to come. I'll apologize in advance: life's kinds stressful, and camera time is proving to be a welcome catharsis.

Your turn: Come up with a witty caption for this image. Share it in a comment. Share as many as you can come up with. I'll announce the winner next week. I'll be thankful for significantly longer. Instruction, such as they are, are here.

About last week's image This is window in my in-laws' living room as reflected by the neo-modern mirror that hangs on the wall. I liked the geometry and light, and hope you do, too.

Carli penned this week's winner: "Venetian Blinded By the Light." Little did she know that Manfred Mann's eponymous tune was an anthem of my childhood. Little did you know that today's her birthday. Please visit her and congratulate her.

Honorable mentions go to a bunch of very creative folks:

• Heidi: "He Blinded Me With Science!" (I'm also a huge Thomas Dolby fan.)
• Nikki-Ann: "How a window blind looks when you're blind drunk!"
• Linda: "This what life looks like when you've lived with blinders on"
• Judy: "Benjamin knew immediately that his Lasik eye surgery had not been successful!
• BreadBox: "Venetian blind spots"

Thanks again for playing along. Have fun...and no wagering.

Stepping out of the surf

Reflective gull
Grand Bend, Ontario, September 2007 [Click to embiggen]

My bird obsession returns. As the cold weather approaches, I suspect I'll have fewer opportunities to shoot pictures of things that fly. So as I walked off the beach for the last time on Labor Day weekend, I turned back and saw this reflective shot.

Your turn: The things we miss over the winter. Please discuss.

Friday Night Lights

Ready to turn night into day
London, Ontario, June 2007
[Click to embiggen]

I don't watch a lot of television. Although I appreciate great programming as much as the next person, I don't believe in rearranging my life so that I can be in front of the TV at a given time. It just isn't that important to me.

I know I could always tape or DVR/PVR my favorite shows. But that demands investment that's rarely justified by the shows I'd be saving. I'd rather keep the squawking box off and enjoy peace and quiet in the house. The voices of our kids, after all, won't be echoing off these walls forever.

But once in a very long while, I find myself thinking about a show. The rare production that piques my curiosity is incredibly well written, beautifully acted, poignantly directed and artfully photographed. When you put all the pieces together, it is a production that burrows its way into my subconscious and stays there long after I've finished watching. The characters are real to me, with stories that seem to matter, that I want to follow. I can count on one hand the number of times this has happened in my lifetime.

That number went up by one last year with the premiere of Friday Night Lights. I had no intention of watching it. I'm not a big football fan (click here for background). I thought it would be about football. I happened to be home the night it first aired, and I happened to be flipping channels on my way to the local weather forecast when I caught the opening scene. I stopped in my tracks and barely breathed for much of the next hour. Television that takes your breath away: who would have thought?

Typical of a critically acclaimed show that demands a level of involvement and commitment from its viewers that's slightly deeper than that required of, say, Survivor or Deal or No Deal, ratings were weak. The show teetered on the edge of survival before NBC gave it the green light for its second season. That season starts tonight, and I'll be watching. I hope others with an interest in maintaining the state of the television art will consider doing the same.

Your turn: Television that really matters. Please discuss.

About this image: Taken at London's TD Waterhouse Stadium. It was a cold, windy, gray day when I was there for our daughter's track meet. The lights weren't needed in the middle of the afternoon, but the towers still imposed their presence on the place.

One more thing: I wrote a followup to this entry, dated January 29, 2008. Please click here to read it.

Sign of the times

Time sensitive
Toronto, ON, September 2007

So much of modern life is governed by time. From the micro - tomorrow morning, we'll wake up, go to work/school, return home, have dinner and tuck in on a predictable schedule - to the macro - tomorrow marks 50 years since Sputnik's launch, for example - we're almost constantly measuring something against some sort of time-based metric.

It enough to make me a little tired as I try to absorb it all. Most days, I wish I could just take the watch off and walk away from time, if only for a little while.

Your turn: Are we too addicted to time? Why/why not?

Wordless Wednesday - Let the chips fall where they may

A quick September media roundup

My name's been popping up in some interesting places lately. Here's a rundown of some of the notable results of interviews I've given over the past month or so:

• Business News Network. Television interview with Michael Hainsworth, discussing the latest Apple iPods
• eChannelLine: Microsoft launches Online brand, Office Live Workspace. Byline Patricia Pickett
• BetaNews. Microsoft and the EU's Experiment in Socialism. Byline Scott Fulton (This was a fascinating, far-reaching interview, as are all my discussions with Mr. Fulton)
• InformationWeek. RIM Intros Wi-Fi BlackBerry For Enterprise. Byline Richard Martin
• InformationWeek. Google unplugged: gPhone or not, Google's going mobile. Byline Richard Martin
• Toronto Star. Apple hits iPhone sale goal ahead of schedule. Byline Chris Sorensen
• Toronto Star. Canadians okay to sue over cell access fee. Byline Chris Sorensen and Tyler Hamilton (This led to my doing six consecutive interviews for our national broadcaster, CBC Radio...an amazingly cool experience)
• Agence France-Presse (via La Presse). Apple sous pression pour vendre l'iPhone. Byline Laurence Benhamou
• German Press Agency (via EarthTimes). WiMAX bids to cover world with broadband. Byline Andy Goldberg
• ITBusiness.ca. Go-go Vista gadgets. Byline Nestor Arellano
• ITBusiness.ca. Cracking the health care market. Byline Jeff Jedras
• ITBusiness.ca. Certification is sizzling hot. Byline Lynn Greiner

Your turn: Now that I see all of this activity in one spot, I realize it's been a busy month. Do you think Apple should send me an iPhone?

Resting by the water's edge

Reflective
Laval, Quebec, August 2007 [Click to embiggen]

You know how it is when you visit extended family: spend enough time under the same roof and eventually even the Dalai Lama himself would blow his top. I love them all dearly, but even I need to get away, alone, every once in a while.

So I took a walk beside the water and tried to find scenes that brought me peace. I hope this brings you peace, too.

Your turn: Does it? Why?

One more thing: Happy new month!

Caption This 38

Please suggest a caption for this photo [See below for details]
Laval, Quebec, August 2007 [Click to enlarge]

I'll hold off on saying what this is and why I took it. The photo is abstract enough that I think you'll use plenty of creativity to come up with neat sayings/captions/titles for it.

I'll share background details on it after I announce the winner next Sunday.

Your turn: Caption this image. Do so more than once. Call your mother-in-law and ask her to do the same. Want to know how this crazy Caption This thing works? Click here.

About last week's image of a forlorn piece of driftwood: I loved this photo from the moment I first captured it on the beach in Grand Bend. It was our last visit of the season, the day before the kids went back to school, and I was feeling somewhat morose as I took it. I'm not good with endings, you see.

Thankfully, you all came through with wonderfully diverse suggestions. The brilliantly artistic Shane tapped into an icon of 1970s television with this caption:

This week on Mutual of Omaha's South Beach Kingdom. Marlin Perkins carefully sneaks up on the rare and dreaded driftwood crocodile, who has craftily submerged himself in hopes of obtaining a low-carb meal.

(Disclosure: I was always a huge Wild Kingdom fan!)

And because I suck at picking just one, honorable mentions go to these gems:

• Morah Mommy (yes, she's my lovely wife): Creature from the black lagoon emerges from the deep, dark sea!
• Deni: Lift the anchor and feel the wind
• Jeremiah: A centurian of the past comes to protect his beach....
• Marisa: I wish I wood knot get drifted from beech to beech
• Bread Box: Driftwood, basking
• Colleen: Stick in the mud
• Linda: Nessy's been spotted

Have fun with this week's caption, and thanks again for making Caption This a highlight of my bloggish week.

Study in red

Shelved
London, Ontario, July 2007

Remember when you were a kid and you'd lie on your tummy on the walkway in front of your house and stare close-up at the ants for what seemed like hours at a stretch? Remember how you saw so much that your parents couldn't because they didn't want to get their clothes dirty or ripped by joining you down there?

You do remember when you took the time to zoom in, don't you?

Your turn: What did you see when you took the time? What did you miss when you didn't? Why does this seemingly innocuous image taken during a rare quiet moment at our son's birthday party evoke these kinds of thoughts? Why ask why?

One more thing: I've posted a new entry to the Words@Work blog. Click here to drop by and share a thought or two (yes, it's my week to whore for visits...I'm still begging for Facebook requests, too. Click here for that insanity.)

I guess that was two more things. Sorry.

Facebook friends

I'll come right out and admit it: I'm a bit of a Facebook freak. A few months back, a now-former colleague at my now-former company expressed mock shock when I admitted I hadn't yet signed onto Facebook. Using logic akin to "all the cool kids are doing it," she essentially shamed me into getting on the bandwagon.

I recognize that this shining example of the potential of social networking can turn into a monumental vortex that voraciously consumes free time and brain cells. I appreciate the seeming shallowness of building really big lists of so-called friends for no other reason than, well, building really big lists of so-called friends.

But there's more. It's reconnected me to folks I hadn't seen since elementary school. I've used it to initiate and strengthen business connections - which, as a writer, are my newfound lifeblood. I've used it to reach out from the hospital when our son had his accident. In short, I've learned that there's more to emerging resources like Facebook than initially meets the eye.

Not such a time suck, after all.

(And, no, it doesn't replace Written Inc. - or my Words@Work work blog. It complements them in ways I'm still figuring out. If you're also figuring all this out, I'd love to hear from you.)

Your turn: If you're a Facebooker, please click here to visit my home page and add me onto your list. Yes, I'm whoring for Facebook friends. Such is life in the digital age...

Life in a northern town

Telegraph road
Lancaster, Ontario, August 2007 [Click to embiggen]

The scene: Highway 401, just after we've crossed into Ontario on our way home from Montreal. I'm tooling along in the left lane, listening to tunes and calculating how much longer it'll take for us to get home. Suddenly, I notice something funny on the dashboard: a blinking light. And not just any blinking light: a blinking engine light. Uh oh.

I calmly ask Debbie to look it up in the owner's manual, because a blinking engine light is something I've never experienced in my kajillion years of accident-and-ticket-free driving. She quickly fetches the book from the glove compartment while thoughts of warranty claims, rental cars and hydraulic lifts fill my mind. It's the emissions control system, she reports. The car is drivable, according to the manual, but they recommend you get it serviced. Well, duh!

The ominous rumbling coming up through the steering wheel suggests the manual may have gotten it wrong. I pull into a rest stop, hoping it's a spurious code. When we get going again, it's still blinking. The wondervan accelerates like an early-'80s Lada and I know we've got a problem.

We limp to the next exit and happen upon a small garage beside the rail crossing in a small town known as Lancaster. It's approaching closing time on a Friday, but the owner and his mechanic do whatever it takes to diagnose the problem, get the part ordered (a cylinder coil pack), argue with the warranty company and ultimately get us back on the road. While they're at it, they entertain our kids and even allow the dog to roam free in the checkerboard-tiled waiting room. The owner even invites us to stay with his family if they can't get it fixed. It's the kind of attention we simply wouldn't have gotten had this happened in a larger city, and we're pleasantly blown away by the generosity of spirit here.

In the end, the van is fixed as the shadows begin to creep across the main street of this welcoming town. We stop off at the Dairy Queen down the road before we get back on the highway. It's a lesson in life that we won't soon forget, and I think this quiet place of gentle souls will become a regular stop on future trips back to our hometown.

Your turn: Why small towns matter. Please discuss.

About this picture: These are the telephone/power poles that line the railroad tracks beside the garage. We watched countless freight and passenger trains speed through town while we were there. It was a big deal to our kids, and they watched with wide eyes and blocked ears as the ground shook with their passage. Town residents, on the other hand, found it all routine. Just before we headed back out on the road, I took my camera to the tracks and captured this early evening scene. I wish I lived closer to this place so I could spend more time soaking it in.

Stranger wants a home

The look
London, Ontario, September 2007 [Click to enlarge]

No one knows where this little cat came from. He (or she? I can never tell. I'll use the male gender as a default) started appearing on our front step earlier this week. He seemed friendly enough, but without a collar, there was no way to know if he had a family somewhere. He didn't have the bedraggled look of a stray.

He wouldn't go away. He hung around our house for days, bouncing between our bushes, our car and the big rock under the leafy maple tree on our lawn. Our dog, who wants to play with everyone, would strain at his leash on every walk, hoping we'd let him get to meet the newcomer. Um, no.

He'd follow us around as if we were the modern incarnation of the Pied Piper, almost coming into the house on more than one occasion, driving the poor dog crazy as he sat outside the front door and softly meowed.

And that's the rub. As sweet as this little one's face is, and as friendly as he seems on the surface, you just never know. So you stand back and resist the urge to pick him up and hold him. You warn the kids to stay away in case the clawed interloper suddenly turns on them. You keep the dog well back, just in case the cat has a nasty streak or a nasty bug.

And you hope that this little being has a real human family somewhere. And that they're looking for him. Because the bush underneath the kitchen window isn't the kind of place for a young kitten to call home.

Your turn: Rescuing strays. Please discuss.

P.S. We haven't seen him in a couple of days. The kids ask about him every time we go outside. Frasier still strains at his leash, forlornly looking under the car every time we take him out for a walk. We're hopeful that he found his way back home. Wherever he is, I hope he's fine, and wish I could have done more than simply write about the experience.

Update, Friday: I've pasted in a comment that my next-door neighbor e-mailed me, so feel free to click on the Comments link to see the latest in this sweet little critter's life. Long story short, it's a girl, her daughter's boyfriend temporarily took her home, and we're hopeful someone will come forward to adopt her.

Update, Saturday: Good news! Looks like the furry little girl has found a home. Our neighbor, Nicky's, colleague will be adopting her. Thank goodness for amazing neighbors. Thank you all for being so generous with your thoughts and suggestions. I love a happy ending, don't you?

Wordless Wednesday - A reflective drink

Blue waters run deep

Water color
Laval, Quebec, August 2007

This is what happens when you deliberately ignore the light meter on the camera and instead massively underexpose the shot. You get away with stuff like this with digital because mistakes don't really cost anything and sometimes, the experimental, fingers-crossed pictures that really shouldn't work still manage to surprise you.

I've really got to screw up more often.

Your turn: Mistakes that turned out to be anything but. Please discuss.

One more thing: We're taking the young 'un back to the hospital later this morning to have his injury reassessed and the cast replaced. We can't guarantee the new cast will still be bright green, though: he's been asking about orange for the past couple of days. Beyond color, we're hoping the docs have good news on his recovery, and can give us some answers about the pain that's been keeping him up nights for the past week. The adventure continues...

Update, 6:42 p.m.: Things went well at the hospital. Ortho surgeon-doc was happy with his progress, said there's good evidence of initial bone growth. The giant full-leg bright green cast has been cut down a bit, and now ends below the knee. Much more manageable for him, and for us. It's still bright green, though, and he kept the piece that they cut off from his upper leg. Souvenir, I guess. Zach wanted to thank everyone for being so nice. It's touching to receive so much support from folks around the planet. More soon, as our next appointment at the hospital's already been scheduled for next week.

Caption This 37

Please caption this image for me [See below for details]
Grand Bend, Ontario, September 2007 [Click to enlarge]

Isn't it amazing what you find washed up on the beach?

Your turn: Click on the Comment link below and suggest a caption for this photo. The winner will be announced next week. You won't get rich in the process, but you'll earn my everlasting happiness and friendship. Have fun with it...and thanks for playing! If you're a Caption This newbie, click here for the rules.

About last week's image: The picture of our wounded son, Zach, resting with his rather large green cast, prompted a lot of very thoughtful responses. I usually pull a few out as honorable mentions, but I won't do that this time out: they're all honorable.

I've been sharing your thoughts with him by plopping down next to him with my laptop. He so very much appreciates the kindness of folks from around the world who have never met him, yet who feel a connection through my writing. Please know that every comment you leave makes a very big difference to a young man who's going through a rough patch. I wish I could thank you all in person for being so generous with your words of encouragement.

And since there has to be one winner, it goes to the one person who's upended her life to make sure Zach's recovery is as free from hiccups as possible: his mom. My wife, Morah Mommy, penned this: "Sleepy green-legged alien invades levyland!"

I know I risk being accused of nepotism, but she's been incredible since the moment this happened. It's no wonder our kids love her so much.

If you haven't read her blog, I hope you'll pay her a visit (click here) when you have a moment. She's a pretty lovely person.

It's not easy being green

Fleeting color
London, Ontario, August 2007 [Click to enlarge]

The lush green canopy that paints our world will soon be gone, temporarily replaced by brilliant yellows, oranges and reds before the whole thing gives way to the unending gray of a cold winter. I took this picture because I wanted to freeze the moment before it disappears for good.

I know that next spring, it'll all be back just as it was, and I'll be able to walk outside my front door and take an almost identical shot. But that's no reason to not mark the transition beforehand. We don't know what the future will bring, after all, so we should enjoy it now and not wait for its return to appreciate it. You simply never know...

Your turn: What's going through your mind as green turns to red, brown, and then nothing? Why do transitions matter so much to us?

Clouds gather before nightfall

Clouds and sun from a hospital parking lot
London, Ontario, September 2007

The scene: September 10, 6:48 p.m. London Health Sciences Centre parking lot.

It's already been a long day. It's been a shade under 5 hours since our phone rang with news that our son had been hurt. After dropping the two younger munchkins and the dog off at our friends' house, I've returned to the hospital with a backpack full of snacks and other stuff for what promises to be a long night in the ER.

Inexplicably, I have my camera bag with me. I'm not sure why: it's not as if I can shoot pictures inside the hospital. But the battered blue bag is an adult's version of a security blanket. It feels normal, comforting to have it slung over my shoulder.

So as I get out of the car and start walking toward the hospital, I pause and stare at the thick clouds obscuring the setting sun. It's just a quick moment, but I decide that later on, I'll want to remember what it felt like to stand there at that precise point in time. So I take the camera out and snap off the only picture I dare take that day.

Your turn: Do you try to remember quiet moments in the midst of chaos? Why?

His master's foot

Someone to watch over me
London, Ontario, September 2007 [Click to embiggen]

One thing I remember well from my own childhood adventures with casts is how the experience affects everyone else in the family. In so many subtle ways, everyone in our house has stepped up to the plate over the last week and changed his/her routine to ensure we continue to lead a somewhat normal family life.

Well, normal is a relative term.

Noah and Dahlia have been helping by fetching his crutches, adjusting his pillow, and being there whenever he needs something and Debbie and I aren't nearby. They've even largely set aside the sibling rivalry thing for now, recognizing that he's not in much of a mood to zing them back. We don't have to ask: they just do. It's heartening to watch.

The dog obviously doesn't know what happened to him, but he knows something's changed. He hangs around Zach like a magnet. He's such an exuberant dog that we've had to prevent him from jumping up on the couch for fear he'll bump Zach's leg. But that doesn't stop this sweet dog from regularly walking up to him, bringing him a toy, nudging him with his nose, making sure he knows that he's there.

Frasier has become Zach's protector. And in all his 20-pound, untrained-puppy glory, he'll stick by his oldest human sibling until he's sure he's all better. So when he curls up beside the cast and closes his eyes for a little nap, we're comfortable leaving him there because it makes both of them feel just a little more normal.

Your turn: Pet therapy. Please discuss.

Reflected

Glassy nautical view
Laval, Quebec, August 2007

I don't tend to look at the same things as most other people. That likely explains why I'm always bumping into things. It also likely explains why I take pictures that don't seem to make much sense.

I grabbed this one while walking by myself near my parents' and in-laws' building (did I tell you that they all now live in the same building? Such fun! At least we save on driving back and forth when we visit. But I digress.) I was rather enjoying being temporarily alone, and looked for scenes that would tell the story of what it felt like to be surrounded by quiet.

I thought this reflective perspective taken from the riverside dock might do the trick.

Your turn: How do you find quiet? Why does this matter to you?

Color, light and mood

That green liquid glow
Thornhill, Ontario, August 2007 [Click to embiggen]

We've seeing a lot of green for the past week thanks to our son's big green cast and the general feeling of green that's descended over me and my wife as we try to keep things balanced around here.

We're getting ready for his return to school tomorrow. We've met with his principal and homeroom teacher, and detailed plans are in place for his first day back. It'll be a dicey few days as we try to transition him back to a somewhat more normal routine. We'll manage.

I thought a somewhat brighter view from a warm summer day with beloved family would help offset the mood a little.

Your turn: Color's impact on mood. Please discuss.

One more thing: Two news items crossing my screen tonight are making me think. First, a plane crashes in Thailand, killing 88 people. Then comes news that OJ Simpson has been arrested for robbery and assault. Google News lists over 3,700 links to the OJ story, and barely 1,700 for the plane crash one. Then I flip on the nightly news and, sure enough, they lead with OJ and follow with the plane crash. Why do I get the feeling that the news media's sense of priorities is horribly inverted?

Caption This 36

Please caption this image [See below for details]
London, Ontario, September 2007 [Click to enlarge]

Someday, he'll look at the pictures we take of him in his cast and smile. For now, he's just working his way through the next couple of months, trying to figure out - just as we are - how to re-establish a routine that lets him lead as normal a life as possible despite suddenly being very different than everyone around him.

There's no manual for this, of course, so it'll be trial-and-error for the most part. And he'll manage, because he's a tough soul who's already learning that he has deeper reserves of strength than he previously knew. Tough break. Tough kid.

Your turn: Please come up with a caption for this image. Suggest as many as you wish. Refer to the virtual-cast-signing entry comments (click here) for additional inspiration. As before, I'll share every submission with him - gotta love laptops - and he'll help me pick a winner before next week. For the Caption This rules, please click here.

About last week's image of Noah sleeping with our dog, Frasier: Jaded Prima Donna touched a soft spot with her excellent quote: : So tired they could only play frisbee in their dreams...

Honorable menschens (sorry, I'm descending into Yiddishisms today) go to:

• Miss Meliss: Sometimes the best thing in life is a long nap with a good friend.
• Sara: finally home
• John: "It sure was a great day, huh pal?"
• Joy: Serenity Now
• Heidi: It just doesn't get any better than this.

Thanks, everyone, for making Caption This a highlight of my blogweek. Keep watching this space...

Surrounded

When we moved to this city, we knew nobody here. The first winter that we spent here with a 2-year-old son was a lonely one. We were as cut off from our support network as we had ever been.

That was 10 years ago. Our toddler is now 12, and he's been joined by two London-made siblings. We've made friends, and in doing so have turned the original loneliness of this place into something warmer and homier.

But we still have no family here. Indeed, the closest family worthy of mention is an eight-hour drive from here. So when Zach, the aforementioned no-longer-toddler, broke his leg and ended up in the hospital on Monday, we wondered what we were going to do with the other two kids and our dog. Leaving them in front of the supermarket apparently wasn't an option.

We needn't have worried. Our close friends opened their doors to our little folks and shooed us on our way, telling us not to worry about a thing. Our voicemail filled with messages from families offering any help they could share. E-mail and instant messages kept my BlackBerry humming all day and all night. My blog and Facebook pages were similarly overtaken by words of support and comfort. Laura's daughter called her at work and asked her to send a YouTube link to a Muppets video to him. Readers from around the world have virtually signed his cast.

It's hard to put into words how it feels to be on the receiving end of such an outpouring. We've always gone about our life in a fairly quiet manner, trying to avoid attracting too much attention to ourselves. Having everyone come up to me in the pickup line after school represented a bit of a change from my usual routine, and I'm still not sure I quite know how to respond without seeming overwhelmed by it all.

But as humbled as I feel at all the attention, I am immensely comforted that we're surrounded by so many kind-hearted folks who would think nothing of dropping everything to be there for us. It reminds me once again that the world has far more good than bad, and that life challenges like this are often thinly veiled opportunities to appreciate the best in humanity in ways that wouldn't be apparent on a more routine day.

Sometimes, it takes a bit of a shock to the system to realize just how lucky we are to be surrounded by such goodness.

Your turn: What does your network look like? Why do informal community support networks matter as much as they do?

One more thing: Please accept my heartfelt thanks for your write-on-Zach's-cast suggestions in an earlier blog entry. If you haven't yet submitted your virtual cast signing, please click here and share a thought. I've been reading them to Zach, and your words have helped bring smiles to his face.

Peekaboo building

The view from 217 York
London, Ontario, August 2007 [Click to enlarge]

Quick life update: The man with the large green cast is resting comfortably on the couch. We're slowly becoming more comfortable with the somewhat clumsy routine that will define Zach's life - and ours - for at least the next couple of months. People from near and far have been calling us to see how he's doing, to hear him share the experience in his own words, and to make sure we all haven't gone stark, raving mad in the process. It's harder than the usual routine of life in our home, but it's temporary, not fatal, and nowhere near as challenging as some of the other patients we saw in the hospital earlier this week.

Don't have a clue what I'm talking about? Click here to catch up.

I'm brewing lots of words and more than a few pictures, and will post those in upcoming blog entries. For now, though, I'll set aside the dominant story of our week for something a little more quiet and static...

I captured this image while running an errand with my wife a few weeks ago. She was headed to a government office to update some government-issued card. You know, the usual fill-in-a-form, wait-for-your-number, admire-the-nondescript-waiting-room-furniture, avoid-eye-contact-with-strangers kind of place. It was a quiet, early morning, so I tagged along with her. I wasn't really adding any value. But I'm not one to turn down a hour of alone time with her. So off we went.

After she finished up and we were walking out, I looked out the window and noticed how we were almost at the same level as the building across the street. I rather liked how the skyline beyond was playing peekaboo with me. I wondered if any of the other zillions of people who had visited this place ever bothered to look out the window and wonder the same thing. I decided it didn't matter anyway. They're not me. And they didn't have an understanding wife who ruefully nodded her head when I started making noises about shooting the scene.

Your turn: Scenes from a government office. Please discuss.

Another birthday in the Levy household

Shh...don't tell anyone, but it's my wife's birthday today. She always says our daughter, who celebrated her birthday yesterday (see here for more) was the best day-early birthday present she ever had.

Am I going to out her true age as she outed mine last May? Nah. I'm not a age-by-numbers person. But I am selfish: I want many more milestones to share with her. She's the kind of wife and mother who makes you wish we were all immortal.

Your turn: Please drop by her blog (click here) and share a birthday wish with her. After the wild week we've had, I'm sure she'll be tickled.

She hits double digits

When our daughter, Dahlia, wandered downstairs this morning, she was greeted by balloons, streamers and posters that my wife had painstakingly put up late last night. My wife does this every time one our munchkins celebrates a birthday because she believes that these days are special, and deserve to be acknowledged as such.

I watched her look up at the streamers that criss-crossed the living room. She came a lot closer to them this year than last. Indeed, she seemed less a little girl and more a young lady. Part of it was her height: she's shot up noticeably this year. But mostly it was the way she carried herself, the way she spoke and moved and laughed when I made a joke.

She is her mother's daughter. Every time I see her, I'm reminded of my wife and why I think it's so cool that we made such neat kids. She's got a personality that would melt the heart of a complete stranger, and I find myself looking for any excuse to hang out with her so we can banter. She's an easy kid to like, and I'm proud of the person she's becoming: smart, empathetic, funny and intense.

I still can't quite internalize that this is the same person who came into the world weighing less than my laptop, who I've called Peanut Girl forever because her ultrasound looked just like that, and who I always saw in my rose-colored dad's eye as a tiny little girl. As she finishes up her first decade on this planet, it dawning on me that she is doing a pretty good job becoming the person she is destined to be.

Your turn: What do you hope for a newly-minted 10-year-old's future?