Wondering what ducks think about

One thoughtful bird
London, ON
November 2016

The day dawned bright and warm yesterday, the kind of day that makes you double-check the calendar before leaving the house because certainly we shouldn't be wearing shorts in November.

Our daughter, who now studies photography in college and has become a master of light in her own right, had been wanting to take one last autumn-color-themed photowalk with me for a few weeks now. After some unexpected road-tripping derailed our plans, we thought we had missed the best of the season by the time we found some common open time yesterday.

We were wrong.

I originally posted this picture to Facebook (here) and Instagram (here), but somewhere along the way the technical gremlins stripped it down to a pixellated mess that looked more Kodak Brownie than Nikon. I'm thinking it has something to do with the fact that I shared it out of Flickr (here's the original), so I probably have some technical tweaking to do before I try a direct-upload again.

Software/web service gremlins aside, it was an amazing day to be out on the trail. We explored London's Sifton Bog and Springbank Park, shooting as much as we could before the sun dipped below the treeline. While I spent most of the time watching her do her optical thing, I managed to capture a few pixels along the way.

At one point, we met this rather large duck - at least we THOUGHT it was a duck - and he (she? I'm no duck expert, aside from making a really good duck call when those "Windows Department" scammers call, but I digress) seemed to be posing for us.

I'm thrilled with the pics we brought home (I've shared the full album here), but I'm even more thankful that I got to spend some quiet time together with our daughter. It's a simple thing, really, but when you think of it, the simple things matter more than anything else.

Our next photowalk likely won't be filled with autumn colors, but that's never the point, anyway. It almost doesn't matter what we shoot, as long as we take the time to get out there. I hope you get the chance to do the same.

Your turn: Tell us about a time you took the time to smell the proverbial roses.

Chasing the sun home

See you tomorrow
London, ON
November 2016

We're in the waning days of biking season, where blankets of wet leaves coat the bike paths and sing a not-so-subtle song under your tires that you'd better slow down and enjoy the view.

At the same time, earlier sunsets mean less time to get home before darkness settles in and accident rates skyrocket. No more carefree extended rides after work: These days, on days that aren't grey with torrential autumn rains and high winds, we simply point the bike home and ride with even greater care and focus.

So I didn't really have a lot of time to play with the other night as I rolled home. I was already pushing the timeline, as I had left the office a bit late (what else is new?) and I had rather stupidly decided to take the longer way home. I figured I'm running out of days to enjoy this particular stretch of riverside bike path, so why not?

I'm like that. Occasionally impetuous. Because I don't want to miss one last chance to drink in a moment. Even if it means fighting a darkening sky later on.

As I approached the lovely pedestrian bridge that marks the path's midway point, I noticed a bunch of people just hanging around with their phones and cameras. Time be damned, I stopped to be among them. Because how many sunsets do we get in a lifetime, anyway?

I lingered for a bit. I took this picture, as well as a few others. I tried to remember what it felt like to stand on this welcoming structure, in this welcoming place. By the time I rolled into my neighborhood a half-hour later, the street lights were on. I thought about the silliness of being late because a sunset beckoned, then dismissed the thought as I wondered about days spent never looking at the sun at all.

I'll be back on my bike today, and already I hope the sky puts on a similar show on the way home. I can't imagine what it must feel like to miss out on moments like these.

Your turn: Do you ever throw your schedule off in the pursuit of an otherwise trivial moment? Why is it worth it to you?

Do you celebrate a birthday after someone dies?

Today's my dad's birthday. Or it would have been, as he passed away just over 7 years ago. Whenever November 2nd rolls around, I often wonder what an appropriate response to the day might be. Do I mark the occasion in some way? Or do I simply let it slip past without a mention?

Lots of questions, and I honestly have no answers. I don't know what's considered right or not right, and I've learned since we first got that awful call that there's no right or not right in the entire grieving process. Everyone navigates it differently, and we all do whatever we feel we need to do to get through it.

Mind you, you're never really through it, either. It pops back into your head at the most unexpected of times. It irrevocably changes the direction of our lives - sometimes subtly, sometimes more obviously. This isn't in and of itself a negative thing. It just is. Another wave in the ocean of life, if you will, and it's up to us to just ride the thing and see where it takes us.

Maybe after 7 years I should stop fretting over whether I'm doing the "right" thing and just be glad that I'm still here, and still have the capacity, to wonder about these things at all. Maybe "celebrate" needs a new definition, one that extends beyond the narrow-band view of birthday cake and candles, to something a little more reflective of a life well lived. If the day brings me a good memory or two - and it has - then perhaps I should simply close my eyes for a bit and enjoy it for what it is. Everything else is a distraction.

Thematic Photographic 387 - Where I Shop

Our old stomping grounds
Dollard-des-Ormeaux, QC
October 2016

This is Yagel Bagel. It's the bakery at the edge of the neighbourhood where we used to live. Our son was two years-old when we sold the house and pointed the car west, so it hasn't been a part of our reality in a very long time. But memory is a funny thing in its ability to pull you back no matter how many years have slipped into history.

I remember walking the munchkin here in his stroller for bagels on Sunday morning. Heck, it's where I picked up a danish - a chocolate babka - on little man's first drive home from the hospital. Our house was just a few blocks thataway, and I have no words to describe what it felt like to open the door on a cold winter's morning. Indeed, on this morning as my wife and I prepared for the long drive back to London, returning here for some last-minute fixins that Ontarians will never fully appreciate seemed like the right thing to do. And it still felt like home.

Your turn: Pick or take a photo that reflects this week's theme, Where I Shop, and post it to your blog (or website, or Facebook page or Twitter or wherever else you like to hang out.) Leave a comment here letting folks know where to find it, then pop over to other participants to share in the fun. Repeat as often as you wish, as this theme will be live for the next week. For more background on how Thematic works, please click here. And if at all possible, don't get yourself kicked out of the store :)

On knowing the limits of technology

"You cannot get into space by building a faster airplane."
Dr. John Sviokla

Where I get screwed but good

Losing. Air. Quickly.
London, ON
September 2016
Thematic. Disposable. Here.

I ride my bike to work for a whole lot of reasons, primarily because I believe it's healthier for me and, for the most part, more fun than taking the car. It also helps me bypass the guilt I tend to feel when I decide to drive. Sure, if it's raining, snowing or the all-dominant daily schedule otherwise obviates my taking the bike, I feel perfectly justified in grabbing the keys. But if weather and schedule are both clear, I feel like I'm ripping the planet off if I don't pedal in.

So on a brilliantly sunny morning not all that long ago (okay, it was September, and I'm ridiculously behind in getting my drafts posted online), I found myself cruising down the first hill barely two blocks from my house as I settled into an easy spin into the office. As I've done countless times this season, I coasted the bike through the traffic light-controlled four-lane intersection at the bottom of the hill, popped onto the bike path that parallels the sidewalk and spun my legs up to speed.

A few hundred metres further on, something didn't feel right. The rear end of the bike felt a little soft, and I could feel a clicking sound coming from the back wheel. Uh oh. I pulled over and looked down to this sight: A large screw stuck right into the tire. Thankfully the tire itself was still holding some air. Figuring I had a few minutes of grace left before the thing completely deflated, I turned the pink wondermachine around and headed for home.

A flat tire isn't a big deal in the pantheon of life. Unless you're descending a mountain at 70+ km/h and suffer a blowout, you'll likely live to tell the tale. At low speed and close to home, this one turned out to be a relatively low-consequence event, and one that was easily resolved.

So I tossed the bike into the back of my car and headed for the office. Later in the day, I popped into the bike shop near work and had a delightful conversation with another customer who recognized my bike by the year I bought it. While the mechanic fixed my boo-boo, the three of us discussed the challenges of commuting, and the why we still do it despite the risks. Before long, we said our goodbyes as they both helped me wheel my bike back through the creaky wooden door at the front of the shop.

As I tucked the bike back into the garage that evening, I realized how lucky I am - that a chance encounter with a sharp object gave me the opportunity to appreciate just how passionate London's cycling community is, and how lucky I am to be a part of it. Something to keep in mind tomorrow morning as I load up the bike again and set off on my morning ride.

Maybe I was meant to ride over that screw after all.

On getting stuck in the past

"I think all of us are looking at the future with yesterday's eyes."
Dan Burrus

When there's nothing left to save

Rotting on the forest floor
London, ON
October 2016
For more autumn-themed Thematic, head here

Autumn might be all about big, bright colors and tones, but that's only one small part of its story. Because once the spectacular leaves turn withering shades of yellow, brown and even grey and then fall unceremoniously to the ground, there's still more than enough there to compel a second look. Or even a third.

Because not all beauty is spectacular. It's always there: We just need to work a little harder to appreciate it.

Reflections from a windswept parking lot

The glamor of radio
Laval, QC
October 2016
Thematic. Autumn. Here.

Note: Sometimes I like to stop what I'm doing so I can jot stuff down on my phone. I can't explain why. Probably because I'm a writer, and that's what writers are supposed to do. We feel stuff, sometimes deeply, and when life throws us curves - or even perfectly normal straight lines - sometimes the only way to make sense of it all is to pick up an admittedly virtual pen and capture the moment. So as I sat in my wife's car parked behind my father-in-law's condo and gathered my things after a thoughtful, engaging and fun radio interview, I did just that. Here's what I came up with, along with the photo you see above:

The glamor of early-morning live radio, where you sit in a car in a leaf-strewn, deserted and miserably damp parking lot and hope the winds whipping off the river don't overwhelm your still-sleepy-sounding voice when you go to air. And you get to stare at a similarly wind-whipped Chevy Aveo malaise-mobile because nothing says vehicular sadness more profoundly than a Chevy Aveo.

I must have missed this particular class in j-school, yet I wouldn't trade it for anything. There's something soul-refreshing about speaking live with really smart people, painting a picture with little more than the thoughts in your head.

Theater of the mind? It's even better than I ever imagined it would be when I was that kid sitting on the receiving end of this magical process, listening to long-vanished broadcast heroes spin similarly magical stories for me.

I like to think that there are still kids out there, also listening, also dreaming. And that's why even the most barren, wind-whipped parking lot on a damp, monochrome Sunday morning is as exciting a place and a time as I can possibly imagine. Because it's up to us to seek out these moments, wherever and whenever we can find them.

2.2 decades. 1 charmed life.

Broadcast News
London, ON
May 2016

In my mind's eye, he was just born - and in some ways, I'll always feel that way. Yet reality has a different way of looking at a child's life. Always rushing forward, always straining to reach adulthood, always moving at light-speed away from the little munchkin we drove home from the hospital, so nervous I had the hazard lights on the whole way.

Zach turns 22 today, and as much as he'll always be our son, our child, he isn't a child anymore. A subtle difference, perhaps, but an important one. And I couldn't be more proud of the adult he's becoming, the person that he is, and the roadmap that he's simultaneously building and travelling.

Ten years ago, I took this picture of him and wondered about the next year, the last non-teen year of his life. I called him smart, sensitive and caring then, and those words easily apply today, and then some. Everyone who knows him loves him. He's got a wonderful sense of humor, and is genuinely fun to hang around with. He's become a trusted big brother to Dahlia and Noah, always looking out for them. Okay, almost always. And when school and work beckon, he'll excitedly dissect his next project for you, then be the collaborative force on his team who actually pulls the disparate pieces together.

I can't predict his future now any better than I could a decade ago. But no one can - not for our kids nor for ourselves. Still, I do know he's doing a wonderful job figuring out his own path, using the gifts, traits and learnings that have already endeared him to so many.

Happy birthday, no-longer-little man. We love you very much. Only good things, today and every day.

Thematic Photographic 386 - Autumn

Colorful screen grab
Laval, QC
October 2016

Aside from confirming that my camera  needs a good detailing job (don't worry, the business-end glass is pristine...I believe cameras should proudly wear the scars of everyday use) this photo betrays the realities of shooting when you have no time to do so.

We were in Montreal this weekend for the kind of trip no one ever wants to take. Social gatherings weren't on the agenda, but simply being together with the people who matter most very much was. And in between being here and there, I remembered I had stuffed my camera into my backpack in the hurried moments back home when we were getting ready to load the car for the overnight drive.

The steel-grey sky was fast fading in the late afternoon as a cold drizzle turned the streets slick. I really couldn't spare the time to go for a walkabout, but in the midst of unspeakable sadness, I felt the need to disconnect and do nothing more than look for beauty in a place that didn't seem to want to offer any up.

I was outside for no more than 10 minutes, and shot fast in a futile attempt to keep the lens dry - and myself from getting sick again. I fast-composed in my head, then fast-shot and held my breath that anything would come out in these ridiculously lousy conditions.

I haven't yet had a chance to offload the results and process them on my laptop, but I thought an initial peek at my screen would provide us all a little inspiration for some autumn-themed shooting this week. Who's in?

Your turn:  Take a picture that reflects this week's theme, Autumn. If it's colorful, or not, or leafy/nature-ish, or not - or whatever, because Thematic is about how YOU interpret a theme - shoot it and share it on your blog, website or social media page. Leave a comment here letting folks know where to find it. Visit other participants and feel free to repeat the process through the week. Bring a friend along, too, if you're so inclined. And if you're new to the Thematic thing, just click here. You'll have fun. Really.

Everything is temporary

Before the fall
London, ON
October 2016

The other day, I decided to take a quick detour on the way home from work. Right across the street from us, there's this perfectly pristine conservation area with a bunch of giant ponds in the middle of it, and it occurred to me that despite the fact that I can peer out my office window across four lanes of high-speed traffic and see the entrance, I've never taken the time to walk through its trails.

If we're being brutally frank, I wasn't feeling my best. With my backpack slung over my shoulder and my DSLR in my hand, I felt more than a little feverish as I trundled deeper into the woods and allowed my eyes to adjust to the kaleidoscope of colors that now surrounded me.

I didn't stay long - just enough to peer across the water, steal a few very lame photos and say hello to a few passing dogs before I turned around and started walking back toward the sounds of traffic in the distance - but I'm glad I carved out those few, fleeting minutes before I had to rejoin the rest of the world. Because as I made my way up the path, I came across this single leaf hanging defiantly from an otherwise bare branch.

I stopped and stared at it for a minute, not because it was spectacularly colored, but because it wasn't, because it seemed to be one of those plain leaves we'd otherwise miss as we moved ourselves from here to there. I wondered how long it had been before it had turned from green to yellow, and how much longer it might be before it fell quietly to the path below and dried up into a brown husk, never to be looked at again. I wondered if anyone else had ever looked at this particular leaf in this particular way, and decided no, I was probably the only one.

It's just a leaf, one among billions in this forest alone that otherwise live their entire lives in shadowy anonymity. And I probably shouldn't have been devoting this much mind-energy to a stupid leaf. Yet as I snapped the quick photo you see here on my smartphone and started back toward the parking lot, I realized why this silly little leaf seemed to stick with me. Because it wasn't about the leaf at all. Rather, it was - and is - about all those other things in life, like moments, people, whatever, that we pass by on our way from here to there, and never bother to think about.

What was I missing along the way? I guess we'll never really know, but I do know I'll be walking a little more slowly, on this path and others, from now on.

Your turn: What small thing will you try to notice in your own life today? What's worth taking the time?

Thematic Photographic 385 - Screens

Show me the way home
London, ON
October 2016

I shot this furtive scene last night as I prepared to leave the parking lot of the TV station. I had just finished my weekly Clicked In segment, and as I powered the GPS on and pointed it home, I thought about how much time I - and by extension we all - spend staring into or at some sort of screen. Compared to my childhood, where the TV was virtually the only screen in the house, we've evolved into a world where everything has one, and hardly a moment goes by that one isn't in view.

So for the next week, that's where Thematic is going to go. And I hope your lens goes there, too, because following your lens to new places is why we use our lenses in the first place.

Your turn: Grab a photo that evokes this week's theme - screens - and post it to your blog or website. Leave a comment here letting everyone know where to find it. Visit other participants and feel free to share more snippets through the week. For more info on how Thematic works, click here. If you tweet, feel free to use the #ThematicPhotographic hashtag. And have fun with it, because photography should be fun, and that's what Thematic is all about, too.

Pretty boys wear red

One happy boy
London, ON
October 2016

Thank you all for your kind comments and email messages in recent days. As you can tell, it's been somewhat quiet on the blog here in recent weeks. As much as I love writing here on a regular basis, a rare convergence of lots of work at work, lots of work at home and a nasty cold that flattened me for a good long while forced me to take a break from the keyboard for a bit. I simply needed to get better, and something had to give in the interim.

I appreciate your good wishes, and realize how lucky I am to be surrounded by so many people who care. Which is why I thought this photo would be especially appropriate. I took it yesterday afternoon, after Frasier had been lovingly groomed by the only groomer he's ever had, Jean. I had just gotten him back in the car, and we were headed home. It's become something of a tradition for me to take a post-grooming pic and send it home.

Today was the first day I was feeling well enough to get out and do much of anything. And considering I had delayed his original appointment because I wasn't well enough last week to get out of the house, I felt this picture would serve nicely as a return-to-normal-life milestone. Doesn't he look sweet?

Thematic will return at 7 p.m. Eastern - tonight! - what a new theme. Thanks, everyone, for your patience and support.

7 years on...

I'm generally not one to dwell on the past, but today I'll make a bit of an exception, as it's been seven years since we lost my dad. I couldn't fall asleep last night, as I couldn't stop thinking about 2:23 a.m., which was when the phone rang and everything changed. Funny how our minds work.

Anniversaries, of course, don't change anything. They don't fill the yawning gap or take you back to those "before" days, when we simply didn't know any better and didn't - or wouldn't allow ourselves to - think about what lay ahead. They don't change the varied directions our lives have taken since.

Nor should they. If I've learned anything in the ensuing 7 years - and after my wife lost her mom - is that we have virtually no control over life-wrenching events. We can't stop them from happening in the first place, and we can't spend every day thereafter pining for what we did or did not do beforehand, during, afterward, or for what might have been. Regret means precious little, as does the concept of closure. For there is none.

Life can be ugly at times. It tests us, it drains us, it leaves us wondering what might have been. But it's also insanely beautiful if we allow it to be. It connects us, gives us moments of indescribable joy and accomplishment, and gives us the opportunity to spread all that goodness to those around us, to take what we've learned and make it live beyond ourselves.

It is, in a sense, the only thing we've got. We get one chance at it, with no returns, no give-backs, no sense of what else there might be. We take what we can, absorb as much as possible from the experience, and cherish the fact that we had that experience in the first place. We have no right to ask for anything more.

So rather than simply marking another sad milestone in a series of sad milestones, I thought I'd try to find some new way to grow from an experience none of us ever wants but all of us must experience in some way. I can't change what's happened because that's how life is supposed to work. You don't get people back.

What you do get is a responsibility to somehow apply those lessons forward. If I somehow carry what I learned in that house on Canterbury Street through today, tomorrow and every day in my own home, my own family, my own life, then perhaps that yawning gap of a life ended won't feel quite as yawning after all.

It isn't much, but it'll have to do.

On taking Christopher Walken's advice

"None of us are getting out of here alive, so please stop treating yourself like an after thought. Eat the delicious food. Walk in the sunshine. Jump in the ocean. Say the truth that you're carrying in your heart like hidden treasure. Be silly. Be kind. Be weird. There's no time for anything else."
Christopher Walken

I've long admired Mr. Walken for a whole lot of reasons, none of which have anything to do with the fact that he's a famous and freakishly gifted actor. I don't worship at the altar of celebrity, and he's always struck me as the quintessential anti-celebrity, the kind of guy who gets it and wants everyone around him to get it, too.

He posted this to his Facebook page last week, and it immediately struck me as something we'd all do well to follow. Not because he's a known quantity. But because he's a good soul.

On Trump - and the media's responsibility

"We should be guard dogs, not lap dogs, and when the public sees Trump as more honest than Clinton, something has gone wrong. For my part, I’ve never met a national politician as ill informed, as deceptive, as evasive and as vacuous as Trump. He’s not normal. And somehow that is what our barks need to convey."
Nicholas Kristof

I don't often comment on politics, as it's a minefield with limited upside and limitless downside. But as the presidential campaign circus to Canada's south becomes more circus-like by the day, and as Donald Trump continues to paint the media - my profession, my landscape - as sharp-toothed villains solely responsible for his tarnished brand, I feel the need to raise my own volume a bit. If only to reflect my own responsibility to not remain silent in the face of conscious efforts to twist the public truth.

That this has gone as far as it has is a reflection of an entire country's gullibility to the kind of hucksterism I once thought was limited to old episodes of The Simpsons (monorail!) That there are enough idiots in the American electorate to turn this into a remotely close race makes me fear not for what happens the day after the election, but every day thereafter for a country whose collective intelligence isn't what we thought it was.

For the agenda of the country that brought us moon missions and science-fiction medical advancements to be hijacked by rubes and baskets of deplorables who vote with all the insight of a drunk armadillo is beyond tragic. Long after Donald Trump either wins or loses, America will still be filled with a lot more toxic, ill-informed thinking and barely-capable thinkers than I ever thought possible.

If ever there was a time for the media to consolidate its strengths for the very future of the society it covers - and for us to defend its integrity in the face of the rising political-moronic wave that threatens to erode its legitimacy - now is it.

Seen and heard

It's been a while since I posted an updated list of the regularly scheduled stuff that I do on-air. Here's a list of what I've got going on through the week in case you ever have the stomach to go beyond simply reading my words. Links point to either the homepage or, where available, the live player:

• CTV News Channel - Clicked In with Scott Laurie - Sundays at 8:20 p.m.
• CFRA Ottawa - Tech Tuesdays with Rob Snow - Tuesdays at 12:18 p.m.
• CTV News Channel - Tech with Todd (van der Heyden) - Tuesdays at 3:40 p.m.
• CJBK London - Tech Tips with Carmi with Andy Oudman - Tuesdays at 5:00 p.m. (Show page)
• CJAD Montreal - This Week in Tech with Barry Morgan - Wednesdays at 2:00 p.m.
• CJBK London - Threefer Thursday with Al Coombs - Thursdays at 2:00 p.m.
• AM1150 Kelowna - This Week in Tech with Phil Johnson - Fridays at 9:20 a.m.
• Virgin 97.5 London - Carmi the Techie Guy with Jeff and Rachel - Ad Hoc
• Newstalk 1010 Toronto - Ad hoc segments with John Moore (mornings), Jerry Agar (mid-mornings), Ryan Doyle (afternoons), Barb Digiulio (evenings), Ted Woloshyn (weekends) and the Motts (weekends)

Hooray for technology! And for the media magic that turns it into a grand adventure. Because this radio, TV and online thing is truly an adventure.

Thematic Photographic 384 - Dirty

Don't tread on me
London, ON
August 2016

Quick note: Apologies for the late posting this week. Thematic typically goes live Monday at 7 p.m. Eastern, but it's been an action-packed week in Pitkinville, so I've been slow off the digital mark. Thanks for your patience! And happy shooting! Now, on with the show...

We live in a dirty world, and no matter what we do, there's no avoiding getting some of it on us. It isn't necessarily a negative thing: In fact, there's something cathartic about wearing it for a bit. Squeaky-cleanliness is overrated, anyway.

Your turn: Shoot a picture evoking, suggesting or reflecting this week's theme - dirty - and share it on your blog, website or social media presence. Leave a comment here letting folks know where to find it. Visit other participants to share the photographic love, and feel free to pop by through the week if you've got anything new to add - we encourage serial photography around here. For more info on how Thematic works, click here. Enjoy!

I get another year with her, too

Where I get the girl
London, ON
August 2016

Anyone who knows us knows that this is kind of a special week in our family. Come to think of it, this is a special week every year in our family. That's because today, which is Debbie's birthday, comes the day after our daughter's birthday (I wrote about her day here.) Or, conversely, our daughter was born a day before my wife's (ahem)th birthday. However you look at it, there's a lot of happiness floating around our house this week. And, no, I'm not divulging numbers. As if that ever mattered.

Anyone who knows us also knows how much I treasure her, us, this, everything we both have and, more importantly, are. Days like this serve as a handy reminder of that, of course, but it'll be just as important to remember that which makes us lucky when the day dawns tomorrow. And the other 363 days of the year. And every other day, month and year we've been gifted by the universe.

I'm lucky I met her. I'm lucky she put up with me on that first together-birthday, every birthday since and every day in between. I'm just lucky.

If you're in a happiness-sharing mood, feel free to drop by her Facebook page and share a wish for the coming year. I know she'll appreciate it.

Happiest of orbital milestones, my love. It's quite the journey we're on, isn't it?

19 going on...

All focus
Grand Bend, ON
September 2016

She is as tough as they come, a perfect mirror of her mom, the kind of daughter anyone would be proud to have. And 19 years ago today she came into the world.

As much as it seems like yesterday, and as much as her life seems to have gone from then to now in a figurative blink, I realize the reason it seems to have moved so quickly is because it's been a pretty charmed journey. She's gone from a bald-headed tiny person to a wild-curly-haired toddler to a very self-assured, whip-smart and incalculably kind young woman, and she's done so as the centre point of a growing orbit of friends and fans, all of whom adore her. Because with Dahlia, once you get to know her, adoration is pretty much all you'll feel.

As the middle child in between two brothers, I've always seen her as having a backbone of titanium. I worry about all of my kids, of course, but I don't worry about her. Whatever comes her way or crosses her path, she gets it. She figures it out. She makes it hers. She's always managed to touch those around her in ways that ensure they a) are better for the experience and b) they never forget the experience - or her, for that matter.

I know I'm biased because I'm her dad, but looking at how much she's figured out in her short 19 years on this planet, it's clear I'm not the only one who's proud of the person she's become.

I shot this a couple of weeks ago on our traditional last-day-of-summer trip to the beach. The two of us took a photo walk, and as I've done so many times when we throw our cameras over our shoulders and head out, I quietly drank in the experience of talking through the photographic process with a creative wizard who's already seeing and capturing the world in ways I never remotely approached. All parents want their children to find their footing, to pick a direction, and to soar wherever their dreams may take them. We're privileged to have a daughter who's done just that, and more.

We're so proud not only of who she's become and where she's headed, but of how she's done so, and how profoundly she's influenced the lives of everyone around her.

Happy birthday, Peanut Girl. We love you to the moon and back.

Dad

A tree meets its end

I love having a dog for too many reasons to count. One of the major happies of being Frasier's family revolves around the leash that hangs just inside our front door, and the role it plays in the daily ritual of walking our pup.

While some folks see walking the dog as a chore, I've always loved that very focused moment when he knows we're about to head off on a low-speed adventure, and he bounces madly around the vestibule while I fetch the leash, get my shoes on and get ready to head out. Having a dog means a built-in connection to the neighbourhood, an ongoing excuse to get up close and personal with the streetscape in ways we just can't when we're driving off to work or cycling home from somewhere far away.

Last week, I noticed something odd on our late-evening stroll: The maple tree that once shielded the streetlight just down the street from our house had been cut down to the bare stump you see here. Its lovely canopy was gone, replaced with yawning, open space. Frasier didn't seem to notice as he sniffed the sawdust in the grass and wrapped himself around the now-decapitated trunk. But I noticed, and while I'm sure there was a logical reason for the tree's removal, it still saddened me.

I felt the need to take a low-light, badly focused, grainy and colour-imbalanced picture. Not because it was great photography. But because I simply wanted something to anchor how I felt as I stood there and remembered something that was no longer there. 

Lousy as this shot is, I'm glad I took it, because by last night the rest of the trunk was gone, too. London is known as the Forest City, yet we never seem to plant enough new trees to fill those holes in the sky left by the ones we lose.

I know it's just one tree, and compared to the very real losses incurred by very real people every day around us, it is deservedly trivial. But it still bugs me, and it'll continue to bug me every time I walk past it with my otherwise occupied dog. Something tells me he'll miss that tree, too.

On appreciating circumstance

"In the right light, at the right time, everything is extraordinary."
Aaron Rose

Someone didn't read the sign

Ignorance
Grand Bend, ON
September 2016
For more disposable-themed Thematic, head here.

The public beach at Grand Bend is a impressively planned and cared for piece of real estate. A few years back, the regional government partnered with local community groups on a construction project that turned an otherwise ordinary stretch of sand into a showpiece. The boardwalk meanders alongside pristine beach, broken up by fenced off areas where native grasses are allowed to grow - just the thing to remind visitors that the environment matters far more than their ability to get their boogie board from the car to the water in the fewest number of steps.

And yet, as I stood on the rooftop observation deck and peered down, it became pretty apparent pretty quickly that not everyone got the memo, and we're as surrounded by boorish behavior here as we are anywhere else. Some people never learn. I hope the boogie boarding made their littering ways worth it.

Your turn: What kind of people do this? What can we do to change litterers' ways? And why do I sound like the old guy yelling at the kids on his lawn?

Thematic Photographic 383 - Disposable

They call it "pop" here
Cheryl Ann's, Grand Bend, ON
September 2016

So I'm sitting in the bustling courtyard of a walk-up greasy spoon in a lakeside resort town. It's Labour Day, and we've come to this place to mark the end of the summer. It's something of a family tradition, and as I watch our 16-year-old eat lunch, I find myself staring at his drink and wondering about how quickly these moments both arrive within and then disappear from our lives.

In other words, they're disposable. If we let them be disposable, that is.

So I didn't. Because life's too short to miss any moment, disposable or not. Which explains why I shot the drink you see here, and came up with a challenge for the rest of you. Let's get this pixel party started...

Your turn: Take a picture of something disposable. Or something that suggests disposable. That's this week's Thematic theme (disposable, because I love redundancy! And bold-red text.) What's Thematic? It's our weekly photo-sharing activity - exercise, extravaganza, whatever you want it to be - that's designed to stretch our photographic boundaries in a fun, collaborative way (more background on it is available here.) All you need to do is shoot a pic that evokes the theme, then share it on your blog or website. Don't have one? Social media or anything else online will work, too. Leave a comment here letting everyone else know where to find it, then drop by other participants to share the joy. Repeat sharing is also encouraged, because photography should always be limitless. Enjoy, and thanks!

But wait, there's more: I uploaded a photo set from the day to Flickr. Here's the link. Happy viewing!

On teeth-kicking

"You may not realize it when it happens, but a kick in the teeth may be the best thing in the world for you."
Walt Disney

Are you carrying a bomb in your pocket?

Just over 10 years ago, I went on my first media adventure when, as an analyst, I found myself in the middle of Dell's exploding laptop debacle. Although by then I had been getting quoted in trade publications for a couple of years, this was the first story that leaped out of the tech press and landed smack in the middle of mainstream media. CBS News picked the story up, and my name ended up in all sorts of crazy places.

Fast-forward to today and it's time for another media frenzy involving exploding and flaming hardware. Except this time it isn't Dell. It's Samsung. The company is recalling all of its Galaxy Note 7 smartphones because a small number of them could potentially ignite under certain circumstances. The company has received reports of 35 fires related to a flaw in the unit's lithium-ion battery. Because it can't track down precisely which devices are affected, it's issued a global recall notice.

It's an unprecedented move that couldn't have come at a worse time for Samsung. The company had just begun to turn things around this year after a few years of challenged revenue and profitability. The Galaxy Note 7 is its new flagship model. It was introduced only two weeks ago, and there's a lot riding on its success. Although Samsung is the world's largest smartphone maker, Apple continues to squeeze far more profit out of each iPhone sold. The smaller Galaxy S7 and S7 Edge, released earlier this year, had begun to turn the tide and the company's profits and revenues had improved last quarter. This recall could put an end to the turnaround. And as Apple prepares to launch its next-generation iPhones next Wednesday, Samsung's stumble puts it at a distinct disadvantage.

As you can imagine, media interest in this has been intense. Here's a rundown of who I've spoken to so far today:

Newstalk 1010 Toronto - John Moore
Newstalk 1290 London - Lisa Brandt & Ken Eastwood
AM1150 Kelowna - Phil Johnson
CTV News Channel - Marcia MacMillan
CTV News Channel - Beverly Thomson
Newstalk 1290 London - Al Coombs

CTV News also posted this piece: 'Almost like little bombs': Why do lithium-ion batteries explode?, byline Daniel Otis

So what do you do if you have a Samsung Galaxy Note 7? Get in touch with the folks you bought it from - visit the store or go online - to find out if your unit is one of the units with a defective battery. Samsung is preparing replacement units for customers, and says it will take approximately two weeks to get everything in place.

In the meantime, carefully watch where you charge it - on a hard surface, with no other materials anywhere near the unit - and monitor the phone as it charges to ensure it doesn't overheat. Do not leave them unattended, and pull the plug if the device, the cable or the charger become too warm.

Even if you use another brand of phone, follow these guidelines to ensure you don't become a fiery statistic. Don't assume that Samsung is the only company whose phones may have issues with hot and/or exploding batteries. It's an industry-wide issue (even Apple's Macs once had, um, issues.) The lithium-ion batteries at the core of virtually every mobile device sold today are, in effect, little packages of highly combustible chemicals. Defects in manufacturing, software or damage to the units themselves can quickly result in something known as a runaway thermal event - aka fire, explosion or both.

It's another example of just how unpredictable the tech world can be, and how careful consumers need to be about what they buy, and how they care for it once they're using it every day. Batteries are not to be trifled with, and now we have another, highly visible example.

On Gene Wilder, and time

"Time is a precious thing. Never waste it."
Gene Wilder

Thematic Photographic 382 - Street Signs

Nowhere to go
London, ON
May 2016

This week's Thematic is going to be a simple one because a) I like simple, and b) I'm guessing you do, too.

So without further ado...

Your turn: Please take a picture that evokes this week's theme, street signs. Share it on your blog or website, then leave a comment here letting folks know where to find it. Visit other participants to spread the photographic joy. Also feel free to repeat the process through the week. Pulling in friends is also highly encouraged. We're like that here. If you're new to Thematic Photographic, please click here for more background. And please have fun, as that's the entire point of all of this.

Whatever you do, be kind

I came across this not-so-little scene at an OnRoute service stop on the drive home from Toronto last week and couldn't resist taking a picture of it. In the overall scheme of things, this causes barely a ripple. After all, no one was hurt, and other drivers could have easily parked elsewhere. So, no, I won't be ripping my clothes in uncontained anger over this.

But still, it bugs me. Because someone who would park like this is just as likely to ignore the needs of others in so many other aspects of life. If you can't be bothered to check that you aren't taking enough parking spots to moor the Exxon Valdez, then where else are you simply not bothering?

So as the new work week begins, I hope we'll all take an extra moment, in whatever we're doing or wherever we're going, to look behind and around us and ponder, if only briefly, how our actions - and words, and tones, and whatever else we may be emitting - affect others. And maybe, maybe, change our direction just a little so that others may be given some sense of advantage or inspiration.

It's not that difficult, and it might make the world an ever so slightly better place.

I'll give it a try. Will you?

That's one fast-moving seat

Temporarily at rest
North of London, ON
August 2016
This photo supports this week's Thematic theme, please be seated. Head here to share yours.

Years ago, biking to me was a means of getting as quickly as possible to a given destination using nothing more than your own horsepower to get there. I never bothered to take the time to enjoy the scenery along the way. As long as the data streaming off of my cycling computer looked good, I was happy.

These days, my priorities are a little different. I still ride with a cycling computer - now GPS-based - but I try to not be so beholden to the numbers. I look around a lot more while I'm riding, and if I like what I see, I won't hesitate to pull over and take it in a little more profoundly.

My numbers may not be as impressive as they once were, and I may get home a few minutes later than would otherwise be the case. But it's a tradeoff I'm only too happy to make. Because an average speed data point isn't nearly as resonant to the soul as the sight of a giant tree hanging over the side of the road. Or the smell of fresh cut grass in front of that Rockwell-esque farmhouse with the horses out back.

Not everything is a race. And places and moments like this deserve to be savored.

Your turn: What makes you stop and smell the proverbial roses?

On following your own path

"You laugh at me because I am different; I laugh because you are all the same."
Daniel Knode

Thematic Photographic 381 - Please Be Seated

Take a seat
London, ON
August 2016

I've written previously about studios (here, here and here), and how they can be places of quiet reverence in between the moments when they're being used to produce and/or broadcast television or radio.

When I found this simple scene of a single stool on a white paper floor/background, I knew I had this week's theme, Please Be Seated. A simple stool along the wall of a studio that was so quiet I could practically hear myself think. I walked slowly around the simple scene wondering what it was that made it so compelling. I'm guessing it's the fact that anything can happen when you sit down. And that sense of wide-open possibility seems to be at the core of every scene like this.

Your turn: Take a picture that supports this week's theme (Please Be Seated) and post it to your blog - or find one you've already posted online - and leave a comment here letting everyone know where to find it. Drop by other participants to share the photographic joy. Repeat throughout the week, and don't hesitate to pull your friends in, too. For more info on Thematic Photographic, our weekly theme-based celebration of photographic goodness, please click here.

On not waiting for tomorrow

"One day you will wake up and there won’t be any more time to do the things you’ve always wanted. Do it now."
Paulo Coelho

On remembering The Tragically Hip

"It’s human nature to start taking things for granted again when danger isn’t banging loudly on the door."
David Hackworth

For a while last night, it seemed that most of Canada came to a halt as The Tragically Hip held its final concert in the band's hometown of Kingston, Ontario.

Disclosure: I've never been a huge Hip fan. I've enjoyed their music on the radio, and enjoyed discussing the band's influence whenever the topic would come up among friends. But I didn't run out to buy their music or fill my playlists with them before a major trip. Still, I've always respected them as true musicians, dedicated to their craft, who wrote real songs about real people leading real lives within one of the greatest countries on the planet. In an age of prefab, autotuned, disposable "music", The Hip have always stood out as so much more, so much richer, so much more central to our culture. As such, they've always been something of a musical conscience in this country, and even non-fans have revered them as the unofficial poet-laureates they ultimately became.

After the band announced in May that lead singer Gord Downie had been diagnosed with terminal brain, they announced one final cross-country tour. They could have just as easily called it a career and allowed Mr. Downie the time and opportunity to spend all his time with his family. But the decision to tour seemed to light a spark under the country. Almost overnight, The Hip went from longtime musical fave to their dedicated fans to a national phenomenon the likes of which we've never seen north of the border. Scalpers weighed in and tried to ruin the experience for legions of fans, but in the end nothing could cool the wave of warmth that enveloped the country as the band hopscotched from city to city to say one final goodbye.

Social media lit up last night with tributes to the band as the millions of Canadians who couldn't get tickets to the show gathered around TVs to watch the live broadcast. Parks from coast to coast to coast were packed with fans, and any other conversations, at least for the night, were put on hold as The Hip's final concert took over the national stage. No matter what you thought of the band, it was a perfect affirmation of everything that makes this country so special.

Since the news broke of Mr. Downie's illness, I haven't stopped thinking about the fragility of life, and how most of us forget to consider said fragility within the context of the day-to-day. Before May, it's safe to assume that no one much thought about life without their favourite band. It's similarly safe to assume that only the most ardent fans gave much thought to the band on any given day. They were just...there. In the background.

The realization of Mr. Downie's illness, of course, changed everything in an instant. Now there was an end date. And the band's brand awareness soared. The bandwagon - and let's be honest with ourselves and admit that there is a bandwagon - grew by orders of magnitude. We all felt this man, this band, this voice of a generation, slipping away. And we wanted to hold on just a little bit longer.

All understandable. All poignant. All so right on so many levels.

As the final notes sounded last night and the concert faded to black, I couldn't help but wonder about the broader lessons of this one musical act, and its courageous frontman who decided one final tour mattered more than anything else. And all I could come up with was this: Don't wait for the diagnosis to hit before you galvanize yourself into action. By then, for so many of us, it's already too late.

Your turn: Thoughts?

Looking for a hidden sunset

When the sky puts on a show
London, ON
August 2016
Thematic. Hidden. Here.

I've learned over the past few years that life isn't as much about the big moments as it is about the small ones, the otherwise-routine moments that come and go, day after day, that get lost in the ether of history if we don't grab them as they whip past.

So when the living room started to glow a fascinating shade of yellow the other night, our daughter and I grabbed our DSLRs and headed for the back deck.

In the end, her pics are way better than mine - here's her Instagram feed - but it isn't so much the pictures that I'll remember. Rather, it's the moment where we stood on the deck and chatted with each other as we tried to figure out how to shoot through the tree canopy and bring home something that told the story.

I hope the experience imprinted on her as profoundly as it did on me.

Your turn: How do you capture or otherwise remember those everyday moments?

Thematic Photographic 380 - Hidden

Peekaboo!
Deerfield Beach, FL
December 2014

I'm not sure what this guy was thinking as I swung my lens in his direction and squeezed off this shot. I had been eyeing him for a few minutes, and thought it was somewhat sweet that he was lingering below pool level, resplendent in his dark shades. Or maybe it was creepy - I can't remember. Whatever his intentions, something about the half-a-head view from where I sat spoke to me and compelled me to remember the moment in pixels.

As is often the case when I pursue the weird, I'm glad I did.

Your turn: This week's theme is hidden, which leaves a LOT of room for interpretation. If you come across a pic of something hidden - or partially so, or whatever - then please share it in your blog or website (social media posts work, too!) and leave a comment here letting folks know where to find it. Thematic is all about exploring the theme for the entire week, participating as often as you wish, and hopefully introducing this insanity to someone new. Because photography wants - nay, needs - to be shared. And this is the best way I know to accomplish just that. Are you game? (If this is all new to you, click here and all will be explained.)

Disco is (finally) dead

Faded glory
Delray Beach, FL
July 2016
For more reflective-themed Thematic, head here.

I found this leftover artifact from a bygone area hanging in a family-run pizza joint not far from the beach. In the half-hour or so that we were there, a constant stream of local folks wandered in and out, all bantering with the owners and the staff, all as if they had known them forever. I'm sure they did, and it was comforting to watch.

Everything here seemed to be from another era. From the formica counters and tables with the chipped edges to the wood veneer finishes, faded floor tiles and the water-stained ceiling tiles, it wore the decades very clearly for all to see. Which, on reflection, is what made this place so special.

It wasn't perfectly renovated. It wasn't staffed by newbies whose only concern was how long till quitting time. And it wasn't exactly the same as every other restaurant near and far. It was unique. And a month after I shot this achingly evocative photo, it sticks in my mind as a reminder that the scars of time deserve to be worn with pride, and the places that wear them are so much more worthy of our attention than the places that don't.

Your turn: Tell us about a place that you remember fondly. What makes it worth remembering?

On the true meaning of family

"The bond that links your true family is not one of blood, but of respect and joy in each other's life."
Richard Bach

An old bulb lights the way

I found this rather retro incandescent bulb, one of many, hanging from the ceiling of a delightful burger joint by the sea. On a sultry summer evening in South Florida, all of its floor-to-ceiling doors and windows were flung open, allowing the teeming crowd of teens and families to easily flow in and out in search of seats, eats and the occasional breeze.

Alas, there were no breezes to be had, but that didn't seem to impact the mood of this place. We could have stayed here all night, enjoying the spirit of a place that seemed to be firmly rooted in a time long since replaced by chain restaurants and watered-down experiences. But not here. And yet again I was reminded that a life well lived is filled with moments where you're surrounded by warmth and kindness, where you take the time to somehow capture what those moments felt like.

Some day this old-style incandescent bulb might be replaced by something more efficient. I'm guessing it won't be anywhere near as lovely as this.

Your turn: A place worth remembering. And...go...

Thematic Photographic 379 - Reflective

Ever been to sea, Billy?
Port Stanley, ON
August 2015

I've been staring into reflective surfaces rather frequently of late. Mirrors, pools, and as you can see here, bodies of water. There's something intriguing about light when it gets bounced all over the place. It's like chocolate sprinkles on top of an already-delicious pile of ice cream. The optical version, anyway.

So if you're into it, that's what I'd like us to shoot and share for the next week. Sound like fun?

Your turn: Please post a reflective-themed photo to your blog - or find something you may have already posted - and leave a comment here letting folks know where to find it. Repeat as often as you wish, and feel free to pull in unsuspecting friends, too. Visit other participants to spread the photographic joy. And click here if you want more background on how Thematic, our weekly photo-sharing extravaganza, works. Have fun!

On creativity and the theory of plenty

"You can’t use up creativity. The more you use, the more you have."
Maya Angelou

I guess I have to go do something creative, then. I hope you'll join me.

You say tomato...

Grocery store workers are the unsung heroes of the urban food gathering experience. I came to this conclusion as I stared at this rather large display of Unico-brand diced tomato cans, and realized that somewhere, possibly still in the building, was the person who painstakingly stacked these all up in near-perfect alignment and ensured that the labels were all pointing forward Just So.

It wasn't Andy Warhol's Campbell's Soup Cans, but somewhere in the universe I imagined the famous pop artist high-fiving the cashier at the express aisle checkout.

And, no, he didn't ask for plastic bags, either. Even in the afterlife, Warhol brings his own recycled plastic carrying bins. Bless him.

--

* This photo celebrates this week's Thematic theme, trademarks. Feel free to share your own here.

3 bonus years

Three years ago today, I had a stroke*. The good news is I'm still here. There is no bad news. All of this makes today my third birthday, of sorts.

As this singular event fades further into my past, I don't dwell on it as much as I once did. I don't flinch when the Heart and Stroke Foundation's this-is-what-a-stroke-looks-and-sounds-like ads play on TV, or when I hear about someone else having gone through something similar. I don't dream about getting stuck deep in the MRI machine, or what it felt like to be locked inside my head with no ability to speak, or how heavy and useless I felt when I couldn't move my right side. For the record, it feels like a beached whale.

Changes

I'm one of the lucky ones. Thanks to a wife who immediately recognized what was happening, a friend who just happens to be one of the best neurologists anywhere, and friends who kept our family supported and moving forward throughout my hospitalization and recovery, I managed to make it back to the life I had previously. My brain is as crazy as it was before that day, and I long ago returned to raising hell at the keyboard and in the studio.

At the same time, I'd be lying if I said this experience hasn't redefined who I am and how I live. I still live in fear of it happening again, where something as mundane as a bit of fatigue after an especially brutal ride on the bike makes me stop and wonder if I'm falling down the rabbit hole again. It doesn't dominate my life, but it's always there, lurking in the background like the sound of the wind through the trees. But I can live with that, because that I can more or less control. It's the other stuff that bugs me, how it's affected everyone around me. I still see how it's changed how they - especially members of my family - perceive me.

I'm always being asked if I'm ok. Stares often linger a little longer on me, because a headache is no longer just a headache, and fatigue is no longer a routine artifact of a long day. Even if I answer that I'm feeling fine, I can tell when folks don't believe me. My everyday behaviours seem to weigh more in the minds of everyone around me, and that makes me a little sad. Because I never want to bring worry to others. It colors you permanently. You become the guy who had a stroke. Sick. Fragile. Or potentially so.

But I can't change what happened, only what I choose to do about it. So I ride the bike even when I'm not feeling up to it. I eat what my wife tells me to eat and I try to get more sleep. Because despite the fact that it was a freak accident in the middle of a bike ride that started all of this, every study of post-stroke recovery correlates an active, healthy lifestyle with reduced risk of recurrence. So that's what I do.

Time

I've radically changed how I both perceive and use time. In short, I appreciate, to the depths of my soul, how precious it is. So I'm pretty picky about how I spend it, and who I spend it with. I no longer suffer fools lightly: I might simply walk away in the middle of a conversation if I think it's wasting my time. I avoid contact with people who suck the oxygen out of a room, because even returning a call takes time away from something or someone more worthy. It isn't arrogance. It's simply time management, and I'm making the best use of what I've been given.

I loved my family before, of course. But I love them more now. Because I can still close my eyes and literally feel what it felt like to think of them in the past-tense. Seemingly simple things like sitting on the deck with a tall glass of iced tea, the dog at my feet and a good conversation bouncing between me, my wife and kids become anything but simple. These moments, which once upon a time I would have allowed to pass into history with barely a second thought, are now worth so much more.

I can't slow down time any more now than I could earlier in my life. But I can sure do a better job turning those moments over and over in my mind, both as they occur and after they're done. And I can also do a better job making sure there's always another glass of iced tea to be made, and conversation to be had. No guarantees, of course, that I'll actually get all that iced tea, dog-patting and conversation, because the universe doesn't work that way. But as long as I keep getting lucky enough to be gifted with more moments, I promise to work harder than I did before to appreciate them.

Not all bad

All of which is a twisted way of saying that having a stroke at a ridiculously young age because of a similarly ridiculous chain of events wasn't the worst thing that ever happened to me. Do I wish it had never happened? Of course. But you can't rewrite history - with wishes or with anything else. Life is going to happen to us, and it's likely going to have more than its fair share of nasty stuff along the way. We all get slimed along the way, and we'll all end up with varying degrees of scars. My scars don't hold a candle to those suffered by others. My choice - and it can be yours, too - is to learn from it and try to apply those lessons forward. No complaining: Just make stuff happen.

I've had three years of learning, and along the way I'd like to think I've become something of a better person. I sweat the small stuff better. I enjoy people (the right ones, anyway) more, and I try to make more moments happen with them. And if this entire experience has taught me how to lead a better life and hopefully help those around me lead better lives, as well, then maybe this radical tangential turn wasn't such a bad thing, after all.

Your turn: What's the one thing you'll do, today, to improve the world for yourself and/or for others?

* If you're just joining us, here's what happened:

1. First, I had a stroke
2. Then, everyone kind of freaked out
3. Then, talked about it on the radio
4. And I talked about it on national TV (video here)
5. Oh, and I learned more stuff along the way

On never surrendering

"Death is not the greatest loss in life. The greatest loss is what dies inside while still alive. Never surrender."
Tupac Shakur

Thematic Photographic 378 - Trademark

Pharmaceutical pinch
Deerfield Beach, FL
December 2014

I spend a lot of time in my professional and personal lives worrying about trademarks. If I misuse or otherwise misappropriate a sign or a brand or related artifact, I run a significant risk of receiving a nasty lawyer's letter. I'm guessing this wouldn't play well on a performance review, so I take great pains to educate both myself and my colleagues on what we may and may not do when we're sharing stuff online.

But that doesn't mean we can't have a little photographic fun with trademarks for the next week or so. If you've come across a trademark - a sign, a brand, a whatever - that strikes you as particularly picture-worthy, we want to see it. I'll kick things off with my slightly cheeky moment in front of a Florida Walgreens. Who else is with me?

Your turn: Thematic Photographic is our weekly photo sharing-participation-learning activity. All you need to do is share a photo on your own blog or website that suggests, evokes, supports or otherwise aligns with this week's theme, trademark. When you're done posting (or if you've already got something up there) leave a comment here letting everyone know where to find it. Visit other participants to spread the joy, and feel free to pop back in through the week to see what everyone else is up to. Repetition is highly encouraged, as is a general sense of fun. If you're new to the Thematic thing, click here. Otherwise, have fun with this one...I know I will!

These ships have sailed

Seeking the wind
Port Stanley, ON
August 2015

There's a working harbor just to the east of the main beach in Port Stanley*, a popular beach/tourist town about a 45-minute drive away from London. It's a gritty counterpoint to the kitschy beach vibe, and a reminder that this rather isolated town can't survive on tourist dollars alone.

Years ago, some enterprising souls decided to paint murals on the giant oil tanks that dominate the skyline. Time hasn't done the artwork any favors, but that doesn't mean they should be painted over. If anything, their years of exposure only add to their charm.

Come sail away, indeed.

Your turn: Got any urban artwork near you?

* We've been here before. Here, here, and here. And if you're into the Thematic thing, this photo supports last week's softness theme because, well, the sails are kinda soft. That's my story I'm sticking to it. You're always welcome to share your own here. New theme goes live at 7 Eastern tonight.