Lucky 7 for a lucky little man

Always the baby?
London, ON, July 2007 [Click all images to make him grow up]

Before we tucked Noah in last night, he excitedly asked if he would be seven years-old when he woke up the next morning. Yes, we assured him, he would be. So with a big smile and even bigger hugs, he pulled his Buzz Lightyear comforter tightly around his wiggling form and drifted off to sleep.

At 1 a.m., he meandered into our room, expertly tunneled his way between us and the no-longer-sleeping dog, and pulled out his loose tooth. He slept there, quietly, before bounding downstairs at first light, waiting for his big brother and big sister to join him for what promised to be an eventful day.

Such is life for our youngest, a never-ending series of happy moments. Perhaps more than any other child I've ever known, he manages to find a reason to smile no matter where he is or what he's doing. He sings to himself while he plays, and often runs over to us and gives us hugs and kisses, or simply thanks us, just because. Sometimes, I sit off to the side and watch him go through his day, amazed at the goodness that seems to come out of his every pore. Yes, I'm his dad and I'm supposed to be biased. But there's something about him that stands out. I want to be more like him when I grow up.

As far as birthdays go, this one seemed conventional on the surface. We had mommy-made chocolate chip pancakes and birthday cake for breakfast before his grandparents headed back home. We saw a movie. We ate junk food. He told Debbie that this was his best birthday ever. And yet it isn't over: He'll have a party with his friends at a local indoor jungle gym this weekend. In short, all the little things that a little boy does on this important day.

So busy was his big day that he fell asleep on the living room floor, right in the middle of playing with the dog. Debbie carried him upstairs, pausing so that I could kiss his foot, another silly little tradition of ours. With time, he gets heavier and the foot gets bigger and stinkier. But we hold onto this one because we don't know how much longer either one of us will be able to carry him. He may no longer be a baby, but he'll always be our baby, and I'll be one sad dad when I can no longer carry our littlest guy to bed.

May all your milestones be sweet, may all your days be happy, and may everyone around you always be infected by your smile, my little Sunshine Boy.

Your turn: One of the advantages of keeping a blog going for a few years is you get to revisit days like this. If you feel like going back in time, please click on the links for Noah's 4th, 5th and 6th birthday entries. How do you celebrate a birthday?

About today's pictures...
#1 - Taken just before dropoff at day camp earlier this month.
#2 - The last picture ever taken of him as a 6-year-old, at tuck-in last night.
#3 - Tonight, all tuckered out after his big day.

One more thing: My wife wrote about Noah's big day on her blog (click here). She's a lovely read. And a lovely person, too. Otherwise how does one explain a child like him?

Facade at night

Empty balconies
Shanghai, China, May 2007 [Click to enlarge]

It may not do much for energy efficiency, but it sure looks pretty.

Your turn: Warm lights at night. Please discuss why they appeal to us so.

Gothic

Arch detail
London, ON, April 2007 [Click to enlarge]

Now that I work from home in the burbs, I find myself missing my lunchtime walks through the downtown area. With my camera in hand, I always found a perspective that I hadn't previously seen or considered, and I always ended up seeing my city in some new way. On this sunny day in early April, for example, I saw a snippet of a big old church that seemed amazingly geometric.

On the surface, the suburbs don't really offer the same degree of diversity or interest. The sense of history just isn't there when the average structure is between 6 months and 20 years-old.

I could accept that I'll never find the same degree of architectural eye candy out here that I used to find in the middle of town. Or I could try harder, because there are compelling sights everywhere if we look deeply or long enough.

Your turn: Conventional wisdom often dictates that suburbs are soulless expanses of sameness. But I don't subscribe to conventional wisdom: it's just too limiting. So where should I look for the glimpses of brilliance now that my lunchtime walks are much closer to home?

Caption This 29

Please name/caption this photo [See below for details]
Grand Bend, ON, July 2007 [Click to enlarge]

The parking lot that fronts onto the beach of this lakeside resort town is surrounded by a simple, low fence of thick chain strung from post to post. It's the kind of installation that seems to fade into the background. Well, for most people.

I liked the texture of it in the bright late afternoon sun. I liked the message of strength in the scene. But enough of what I like. What matters is the caption that you're going to give it (you are going to play Caption This, aren't you?)

The rules, such as they are, can be found here.

Your turn: Name this picture. Win pseudo-valuable prizes! Become a Caption This legend. Enter as many times as you want. Bonus points if you refer your relatives.

Oops, almost forgot: Last week's photo of pylons on a running track was a popular one. I received so many good ones that it prompted hours of agonizing and fretting. There may have been a little pacing involved as well. Ultimately, though, there can be only one Caption This winner. Really! I used the Miss Universe competition as my guide, and to the best of my knowledge they've never named two winners in any one year. Well, except when those porn charges came up. But that was an unfortunate anomaly. Oops, I'm rambling. Yes, the winner:

Sara for this lovely play on words: Where did you say the starting blogs should go? Please take a moment to visit her excellent blog, Garnet's Adventures, to congratulate her.

Other notable submissions include:

• As they make the final turn, it's the coneheads in the lead!!! (from BurntOfferings)
• I heard it's lonely at the top... but I don't think we will ever know... (from JC)
• Embarrassed that he missed the starting gun, Mr. Conehead stood still and hoped no one would notice him. (from Danny)
• The garden gnomes were able to move about unnoticed once they removed their caps and stacked them neatly on the track. (from Dara)

You all made me smile and think this week. Thank you so much. I'm sure you'll all somehow manage to raise the bar with this new entry.

Another squirrel

Not a pet
London, ON, July 2007 [Click for an extremely large squirrel head]

When I was a munchkin, I had a weak spot for the animals who lived in the neighborhood. So for a spell, I would leave tupperware bowls of milk on the front landing for the stray cats. It didn't take long for them to set up shop under our front porch, mewling and baying until all hours of the night. Not pretty. Soon after that, my parents nicely asked me to end my feline milkman career.

Later on, I would leave nuts on the back deck for the squirrels. This lasted until the day that I was a little late getting home from school. My mother noticed a particularly aggressive squirrel attaching himself to the outside of the screen door. Apparently, he was hungry. Quite certainly, my mother was not pleased. They may look really sweet, but they're likely the most troublesome critters you'll ever meet. So like the cats before them, the squirrels were cut adrift.

These days, I take pictures of them instead. They're hellish to shoot because they move so damn fast. But once you get used to their rhythm, you stand a pretty good chance of bringing home something more or less in focus. At least that's what I convinced myself as I painstakingly followed this fellow around and tried to avoid freaking him out in the process.

Your turn: What should I name him? Why?

Plated

Stacked
Shanghai, China, May 2007 [Click to enlarge]

My eye is drawn to patterns like a child is drawn to a bowl of fudge-topped ice cream. When I saw these pristine plates in the restaurant of our hotel, I had to take a closer look. What really got me was how they were lit. The countertops were made of a translucent, brightly-backlit surface. I liked the resulting glow from below.

Your turn: Look really closely at these plates. Is all as it seemed when you first saw the image?

Curved clay

Interlaced
Toronto, ON, November 2006 [Click to enlarge]

The bricks on a lovingly cared for building in a gentrified old neighborhood near downtown Toronto seem to take on a life of their own as they reflect the early afternoon sun.

I seem to have acquired this odd habit of looking closely at buildings. The closer I look, the more likely I am to find something that will strike my eye.

Your turn: An architectural detail that recently captured your eye would be...?

Dreaming of an ice cream headache

How many flavors?
London, ON, July 2007

Because the world can be so tumultuous, I find myself turning to pictures of happier scenes. Thank you for indulging my own form of photographic therapy.

Here, a simple trip to the local ice cream shop turns into something somewhat more involved when our two youngest realize there's more to be had than a mere cone. I couldn't resist capturing this moment by the glass when their unseen eyes were larger than their stomachs, and their thoughts were filled with the happy things that occupy children's minds on a hot summer day.

Your turn: What are you dreaming of right now?

Fear factor

Manhunt? Here?
Parkhill, Ontario, July 2007

I've been taking my bike into the country this week. We live right near the edge of town, so after a few turns through the burbs around my house, I head for the main road and leave the city behind. I trace a long, big rectangle through farm country, blasting past fields of corn and pastures with horses and cows.

I kept my bike home today. There's a murderer on the loose. I know, alleged murderer. Whatever. He's a 22-year-old named Jesse Imeson. He's suspected of killing bartender Carlos Rivera in Windsor last week, and an elderly couple, William and Helene Regier, in Mount Carmel near Grand Bend, on Monday. Ontario Provincial Police have launched a manhunt for him in farm country, and they've issued a Canada-wide warrant for his arrest.

I look at this picture, shot just a few weeks ago in a beautiful little town just a short drive from my home, and it doesn't seem right that murder can visit such a beautiful part of the world. Indeed, how often do we all hear that "this sort of thing doesn't happen here" after a particularly grisly crime in a previously-peaceful part of the world? I guess there's no such thing as safe sanctuary any more.

My route into farm country takes me close enough to the manhunt zone that I worry. Am I being paranoid? Quite possibly. Can you ever be too careful in this freakishly unfair world? No. So tomorrow I'll hit the road again, only I'll go in a different direction, and I'll keep an eye out for the pickup he supposedly stole from that poor couple. I'll head back to my regular route only after this moron is caught. Or shot by a really good cop. Whatever.

This is why I never became a police officer: I'd find it difficult to resist the urge to pull the trigger if I cornered the cretin. I guess that compromises my ability to get into heaven. Again, whatever.

Your turn: Thoughts? Mine involve praying for the victims, and hoping there are no more before this is all over. What do you think?

Update - August 1, 2007: They caught him. He managed to drive clear across the province - 600 km from here - before ditching the pickup he stole from the Regiers in a woodlot in eastern Ontario. The search shifted dramatically when the pickup was found, and last night, he was finally captured after breaking into a cottage in Portage-Du-Fort, Quebec, just across the border. Good. There is no justice in cases like this, of course, but it's nice to know he's off the streets and can do no more harm.

Don't shoot the funny lady

The serious business of survival
Shanghai, China, May 2007 [Click to enlarge]

She clearly does not want her picture taken. As I approach her on the crowded sidewalk, she removes the plastic nose/moustache contraption from her face. She's one of countless street merchants selling cheap tchatchkes to whoever has the patience to negotiate for them. Despite the funny toys she's selling, her demeanor is anything but happy.

I back away and melt back into the crowd. She goes back to wearing the funny face, but she does not smile beneath it. Ever.

She's got a sharp eye. Every time I raise my camera to shoot her, she quickly pulls it off and ducks behind a post. I'm upsetting her, so I keep walking. After I count off a set number of paces, I preset the camera - focus, exposure, focal length - and turn around and capture this image before she realizes I'm still there.

I feel guilty for playing this photographic cat-and-mouse game with her. But at the same time, I wanted some way to illustrate the sadness of these people's lives. As soon as I saw her, I knew she was the one.

Your turn: Are some photos worth a little more tenacity? How so?

One more thing: She's not the only one who doesn't want her picture taken. Click here for an older, similarly-themed entry.

Green, wet pole

Droplets
London, ON, July 2007 [Click to zoom in]

I believe we are a species that thrives on touch. Handshakes, pats on the back and hugs can turn our mood around in a blink.

The irony of photography is that it is anti-touch, Consider that the photographic print can be damaged by sticky, oily little fingers. Consider that we've long kept our prints stored in plastic sleeves within thick albums. No kids allowed.

Yet as I look at pictures like this, I think that touch can be a part of photography after all. When I see textures like this, I imagine what they would feel like. This pole, which sits in the middle of the new splash pad at Gibbons Park here in London, would probably be delightfully cool on a hot summer's day. I think the water on my fingertips would make me smile.

Right now, it's only a picture. But imagining the reality suggests that pictures can touch us in all sorts of ways. So I guess I'll just have to take more.

Your turn: Am I being silly here or does this touchy-feely photographic thinking have merit?

Caption This 28

Please come up with a creative caption for this photo [Read on for instructions]
London, ON, June 2007

I captured this image at my daughter's track meet last month. I've always been captivated by running tracks because they represent places of intense competition, where long periods of training come down to a few seconds of truth, where relatively few people reach the top and pretty much everyone else goes home empty-handed.

I thought the pylons' placement was saying something, but I couldn't quite figure out what that "something" was. Can you?

Your turn: Click on the Comments link and leave as many witty, funny and brilliant captions for this image as you wish. Is your long-lost cousin also hankering for some Sunday enjoyment? Bonus points if you bring him/her along as well.

One more thing: Please click here for details on how Caption This is played. Last week's top-down image of Santa garnered a sleigh-full of superb responses. The ever-brilliant Craziequeen coined this lovely phrase: "While Santa is on his break, the public are NOT to cross the candy cane" and in doing so takes the prize. Well, there is no prize, per se, beyond my deepest thanks for making this such a joyous highlight of the week.

Other gems were submitted by b13 ("You expect ME to pick that up? I can't even see my shoes!!!"), Ms. Pretend ("It's times like these I wish I had listened to Mrs Claus and taken my glucosamine tablets..."), Bob-kat ("Wait until I catch the elf that keeps shrinking my walking stick!"), Joy ("When no one's looking. That candy cane is mine.") and Heidi ("I'd pick up that candy cane, but... be kind. I am still carrying a little holiday weight.") It was a great week in Caption This-land. Thank you all for participating, and good luck with #28!

Chopper

Sikorsky S-76, C-FSBH, pre-flight
London, ON, July 2007 [Click all images to enlarge]

The birds of Ontario's air ambulance service, known as Ornge, are a familiar sight in our skies. Whenever I see one flying overhead, I often think sadly to myself that it's likely heading out to an accident scene, and I'll be reading about it in the paper tomorrow.

The major hospitals here are equipped with helipads to facilitate emergency airlifts and patient transfers. As I passed by the hospital's campus on a bright summer's morning, I noticed the helicopter sitting there and thought I'd stop for a closer look.

While the flight crew walked around the aircraft and checked everything before taking off, the flight nurses arrived with a gurney. The relaxed pace of the work suggested this wasn't an emergency run. I felt relieved.

Soon enough, they buttoned everything up and returned to the sky as I moved around the parking lot and captured whatever I could. I said a quick thank you that I had my camera with me, and that it had plenty of battery and tons of room on the memory card. While it may indeed be a shlep to carry this thing around with me, sometimes it pays off.

Your turn: Please discuss a picture that you took because you happened to have your camera with you. Or one that you missed because you didn't.

Chatting on the telly

When I decided to leave my old job (see here and here) one of my key goals for the next phase of my career was to maintain the ability to be a trusted resource for journalists looking for expert tech commentary.

(If you're just joining us, I used to be a senior analyst for a tech research firm. I'm also a journalist. So when the opportunity to be quoted by tech writers came along, I jumped at the chance. Eventually, I got into some really neat places, including the CBS Evening News, the New York Times, and CTV's Canada AM. Once I became a media darling, I decided I enjoyed the process, and didn't want to stop being one after I left the research company. I'm childish that way.)

So part of my transition to my new role included a media component. I've been reaching out to the journos with whom I've worked, letting them know that I still do this. The good news is that the phone's ringing fairly regularly, and I continue to have some great discussions with some great media folks. I wish everyone loved his/her work as much as I love mine.

Sorry, rambling here. Long story short, I was on television again today, discussing the current and projected state of the cell phone/handset market now that all the major vendors have announced their quarterly earnings. Between Nokia, Motorola, Sony-Ericsson and Samsung, it's like the business equivalent of the circus, and I get to have a front-row seat.

I spoke with Marty Cej of the business news network, and if you're ever wanted to see what I look and sound like on live television, click here for a look.

Other recent coverage includes two pieces by Richard Martin in InformationWeek, a major U.S. tech publication:

• Big Computer-Makers Catch iPhone Fever
• RIM's China Move Could Catalyze Mainland 3G Rollout

Interestingly, I did the interview for the China story from the beach alongside Lake Huron in Grand Bend. I used my Motorola Q to do some additional research on the web and file a detailed response back to the writer via e-mail. It was a textbook example of how technology changes the way we work. It was very cool, and I did a little happy dance when I was done. Then I put my Q away and stopped playing with it because I didn't want to tick off my wife.

Jeff Jedras of ITbusiness.ca also interviewed me for his piece on Canadian software vendor, Corel:

• Corel wants to help partners harness the digital media opportunity.

Your turn: What cell phone do you have? What do use it for? Does it do the job for you or is it deficient in some way?

My Chinese Kodak moment

Filmed
Shanghai, China, May 2007

Back home, it's becoming increasingly difficult to find good old conventional photographic film. So when I ran into this department store display, I thought I should take a picture - albeit a digital one - for the sake of posterity.

I think the salespeople liked my camera, and wanted to sell me another lens. I politely declined after concluding that warranty support would be decidedly difficult in this part of the world. Some things are best bought closer to home.

Your turn: When's the last time you shot a roll of film? Do you still go back to the old silvery faithful on occasion? Why/why not? Does it sadden you that film is disappearing from the photographic landscape?

Leading edge

Home at last
London, Ontario, May 2007 [Click to enlarge]

The final leg of my trip home from China was a short hop from Toronto to London. The regularly-scheduled Dash-8 turboprop/puddlejumper had been pulled out of service after it arrived in Toronto. I'm not sure why, and I'm not sure I really want to know. But after a bit of a delay while the airline searched through the bottom of its proverbial knapsack for a replacement plane, we boarded one of my favorite aircraft, a Bombardier CRJ (Canadair Regional Jet).

It's manufactured in Dorval, Quebec, right near my old home. The old Canadair plant in the nearby suburb of St. Laurent - where I went to high school and used to watch them test-fly the then-new aircraft when I really should have been studying algebra - still builds major assemblies for this plane, as well as the Challenger business jet on which it is based.

So I've got a longstanding like affair with this particular aircraft family, and I relish any opportunity to get on board and head into the skies. I know, more detail about my aviation addiction than you really want to know.

As I deplaned in London, I turned back and admired the leading edge of the wing. Like the plane that just a week earlier had safely started me on my journey, this one ensured I was able to return to my family, now waiting just inside the terminal.

Your turn: I find air crashes to be unimaginably tragic. The TAM Airlines disaster in Brazil this week got me thinking about those souls unlucky enough to not make it back to their families after being away. Life is full of razor-thin differences between routine completion and horrifically immediate endings, and I strangely relate to the immense sense of loss when something like this happens. What do you think when you witness news like this?

Purely beautiful

Perfection, to me
Grand Bend, Ontario, July 2007

I'd like you to meet my wife. I took this picture earlier this month, on our anniversary (July 5th, if you're advance-scheduling the FedEx delivery for next year.) I've been looking at it a lot lately because she's been away tending to her mother, doing the things that adult children of aging parents do when they get sick.

The kids and I have missed her immensely. Although we've fared pretty well - I've managed to cook meals that did not poison them, I have kept up with the laundry, I didn't destroy the kitchen and the house is pretty darn tidy - I'll be the first to admit it's not easy without her here. It extends beyond the day-to-day challenges of running a busy family's life, to the fact that I don't get to stare at her while she sleeps, or hear her voice as I slowly open my eyes in the morning. It's not as much fun when your partner and best friend isn't there.

So I've been staring at pictures like this one to help me feel like she's not so far away. Just one of the little reasons why taking pictures of the people who matter to me is an activity far more involved than simply snapping away with a camera.

Your turn: We pick her up from the airport in the morning. Do you think she'll kill me for posting this?

Swing

Holding on
London, ON, July 2007 [Click to embiggen]

A trip to the park is never dull when you get to watch a boisterous six-year-old chase his older sister around the playground. He's a non-stop picture of happiness as he races from place to place, trying out everything and fearing nothing. There's a look on his face, an energy in the way he moves that I remember having when I was his age. Part of me thinks wistfully how nice it was to be so carefree.

Your turn: The carefree adult. Please discuss.

Water, stopped

A fleeting moment in time
London, ON, July 2007 [Click to create a torrent]

Freezing water with a camera has become an occasionally recurring photographic theme for me (see here, here, here, here and here for previous examples.) On the surface, the results can be quite spectacular. But beyond the fast-shutter-speed gymnastics, there's the underlying feeling that I'm capturing the otherwise invisible, the imperceptibly real, and a moment that's gone long before I remove the camera from my eye.

When I take pictures like this, two things come to mind:

1. I hope I don't get the camera wet
2. I wonder how many other moments like this I've missed because I didn't take the time to record them

I used to kick myself for not being more prolific, for keeping the camera at home or in its bag when opportunity presented itself, for missing every spectacular, hidden moment around me. But that got old, and it started to take the fun out of the photographic game. These days, I'm more apt to choose my moments, to focus on those that I can capture and capture well, and not lament the ones that got away.

Once again, I find myself learning that these little lessons I learn as I peer through the lens seem to have a broader impact than just a picture. Who would have thought a mere camera could present such great opportunities to learn.

Your turn: What can a lens capture that the eye cannot?

About this image: Forgive my geekiness for a moment: I shot this at 1/4000 sec, f/8, 200mm focal length, ISO 800. Time of day was 6:11 p.m. and I was challenged by a sun that was moving between clear blue sky and clouds. I had taken our two youngest to the Gibbons Park splashpad and we were drying off and heading home. In the 90 minutes that we were there, I shot some 320 images - of them, of ducks, of water, of whatever. I used the long lens to meander around the edge of whatever it was they were doing and quietly record them. I'll post more images from our Sunday afternoon adventure in the days to come.

A lamp and a lesson

Light from above
Montreal, QC, December 2006 [Click to embiggen]

The next time you're in a hotel, condominium lobby or any other public or semi-public space, I hope you'll take a moment to scan the fixtures in the room. The lamps, tables, couches are usually fairly benign, designed to fade into the background and not offend anyone in the process.

Yet sometimes a closer look reveals something else. The light on this lamp base seemed so soft and transitional that I couldn't not take a picture of it.

Hmm, maybe this little self-lesson wasn't just limited to lamps.

Your turn: Are you ever pleasantly surprised when you look at an otherwise ordinary scene or, gasp, even a person? Do tell...