Your wish is my command

The key to it all
London, ON, May 2011

I'd like to close out this week's "it's in the details" Thematic theme* with this close-up view of something I spend a lot of time with. Wherever I am or whatever I'm up to, I'm never far from a keyboard. And if the stars are aligned, it's an Apple-branded keyboard. I don't mean to sound like a fanboy, but they've always made the best 'boards, and the flat-topped, Chiclet-like ones are about as good as it gets.

It's a little detail of everyday life that sticks with me, because it lets me share words without getting gummed up in the process. And it lets me write at night without disturbing my wife (backlit keys. Yay.) And it makes me smile. Because on closer inspection, little things aren't as little as they first seem to be.

Your turn: A little thing that makes a big difference to you is...?

--
* Our new Thematic theme, "Welcome autumn", launches tonight at precisely 7:00 Eastern. I wasn't sure when it made the most sense to go all seasonal, but I've been seeing enough mentions both online and in the real world, so I figure now is as good a time as any.

Roadster at rest

Black car
Grand Bend, July 2011

As we continue our week-long look at details (click here for more), I realize I've been leaning rather heavily toward the automotive end of the spectrum. At first I wasn't sure why, but after churning it for a bit, I think I get it. Looking back at my photo shoebox - you have one, too, don't ya? - I realize my car-themed pictures are rarely wide-angle compositions of the entire vehicle. Instead, I tend to isolate a relatively small chunk of the car, a feature that catches my eye.

Again, no reason for this. There doesn't need to be, after all. Shoot what you like and let the rest kinda figure itself out. But for this week's "it's in the details" theme, it aligns nicely.

Which brings me to this rather imperfect example of a BMW Z3 roadster. The paint's seen better days, and the owner needs a lesson in waxing. But that's just me being green, as I'd jump into this car in a heartbeat if given the chance. Top down, lovely day...I'd even forgive the unforgivable sin of having an automatic transmission.

Of course, had I actually jumped in, I'd have been arrested. So I did the next best thing: I backed up waaaaaay across the street and stole this shot instead. Between the tire tread, alloy wheels and cowl vents, I knew it was a smile-inducing detail to remember.

Your turn: How do you decide what to shoot? What pushes you to the point of picking up the camera, composing and shooting?

Jumbled

Making connections
London, ON, August 2011

Ever wonder who decides what qualifies as extraordinary and what qualifies as merely ordinary? If such a person could be identified, would we know the process by which he or she achieved this lofty role?

Which is my way of saying there can never be such a person, and the whole concept of extraordinary should never be left to others. Rather, it should be left up to us.

Case in point, these paper clips I found hanging around my wife's desk. They're ordinary, forgettable appendages of the modern pre-paperless office, not typically worth a discussion let alone a photo and a blog entry. Yet for some reason, at this particular moment in my otherwise ordinary existence, I felt the need to optically record them. It's one of those little details of typical life that seem to give it that much more texture.

I still can't explain precisely why I did so. I'm just glad we live in a world that allows this kind of self determination and expression.

Your turn: Why does ordinary matter to you?

Warning signs are everywhere

Reflective pattern
London, ON
September 2011

About this photo: If it's in the details, we're hoping you've got a picture of it. Or at least an idea you'd like to share. Head here to get started on this week's Thematic theme.

I hate driving unnecessarily. I bought a car because the life we currently lead - kids, work, school, suburbia, the whole modern-family enchilada - almost requires it. I'm not happy about it, and would much rather ride my bike to get where I need to go.

But bikes don't work so well in the middle of a Canadian winter. Or on a sultry evening when you've got to show up at the studio looking minty fresh. Nor are they ideal for carting kids everywhere. Even if I tried, my wife would, ah, be very unhappy with me.

So I drive. Still, whenever we go somewhere, I give the route and the schedule some thought so I can avoid as much back-and-forth as possible. This sometimes means taking a laptop with me and spending an hour or two working in the parked car while I wait. Or, when I'm feeling a little less studious, I grab the camera and go for a walk.

This Sunday morning was a camera day. Munchkin had choir, so I grabbed the Nikon and went for a stroll on a nearby bike trail. The colors were just, just starting to turn, but I figured a bit of early-season exploration would get my head in the right space. I figured right, and ended up with some lovely autumnal pics. I'll share those in the days to come, and if you're looking for a hint for our next Thematic theme, you've just seen it. But I digress.

This shot is of something we whip by in our cars countless times per day, yet never even wonder what it might look like if we slowed down and walked right up to it for some quality one-on-one time. As I stared at the usually-invisible pattern, I resolved to spend more time slowing down and enjoying sights like these.

Your turn: How are you planning on slowing things down in the days, weeks and months to come?

One more thing: Where are my manners? Happy new month! I know it sounds a little odd, but since New Year's Day comes only once per year, I believe that marking the months can increase our celebratory fun by a factor of 12. Who's with me?

Are you a pirate?

What do I know about Canadian copyright law and its impact on consumer technology? Apparently, enough to chat about it on-air.

I was privileged to speak with CTV's Don Martin this week after Heritage Minister James Moore introduced legislation that would update Canada's copyright laws - which date way back to 1938. He interviewed me on his show, Power Play, which originates from Parliament Hill in Ottawa, right after he spoke to the minister. Here's the video.

Cool fact: I did the hit from the anchor desk at the CTV London studio. I usually use a side studio for interviews like this, but this time they ushered me into the middle of the newsroom when I got there. Somewhat surreal. And neat. Even cooler, the network picked up a clip and included it in Roger Smith's report on the CTV National News. Video is here.

Man, what a journey this is turning out to be.

Wearing the cone of shame

I'm not happy
London, ON, September 2011

The charmed life of our dog added another chapter this week. Nothing major - well, nothing beyond the usual - but when you're a dog, there's no easy way to tell the difference. Furry man must have gotten a bug bite on his paw, as he's been licking the same spot for days. You can probably tell where this ended up: the spot became irritated, and the vet recommended a cone of shame to prevent him from further irritating himself. He'll keep it on until it heals.

As you might imagine, Frasier is not a happy camper. He stares at us with a sad look in his already sad-looking eyes. He's moping around the house. He can barely get his now-outsized head into his food and water bowls. He bumps into things. He gets stuck. He cries.

By my estimate, he's been in this contraption for about three hours. It's going to be a long stretch for us all.

Your turn: Any ideas on how we can cheer him up?

Clifford Olson Dies.

One of Canada's most notorious serial killers has died of cancer, 30 years after being arrested and admitting he killed 11 children.

Although the damage he caused in his misspent lifetime can never be undone, at least he'll never have the chance to cause any more.

Sorry for the lack of forgiveness. I just don't have it in me.

Tractor beam

Workhorse
Komoka, ON, September 2011

About this photo: We're exploring "it's in the details" this week, and you can, too. Just go here and it'll all make sense. Kinda.

The scene: I'm cruising through the countryside just outside London on my bike, trying to get back in touch with my green side before winter arrives and forces me off the road for a few months. I come across an old tractor sitting in front of a dilapidated farmhouse. I doubt the rust- and dirt-covered tools scattered around the tractor still work, but the hand scrawled "for sale" sign suggests at least one person on the planet still believes this pile of metal retains some kind of value.

That's the cynic in me talking. I roll on past the forlorn site. Then something makes me stop. A second thought, I think, perhaps even a pang of first-impression remorse. Maybe it isn't as worthless as it first seems to be. Maybe it deserves a second look.

I turn the bike around, park on the gravel shoulder and carefully cross the ditch to get a closer look. The battered, sun-baked metal wears years of hard work with a grace I hadn't noticed as I was riding. Even if it never tills another clump of soil, there's something here that I had totally missed when I first rode past.

I head back to my bike, fetch the camera from the bag and get to work. After all, there's a story to be told here.

I suspect I learned a valuable lesson on this day: You learn a lot more about stuff - and life - when you stop to take a closer look.

Your turn: What do you learn when you stop to take a second look?

Spell much?

It's Carmi with an i, thank you

About this photo: It's in the details. Thematic. Here.

I'm not especially high-strung, and I don't play the diva card. Much. But if you've known me for heaven knows how long, yet you misspell my name, I'm going to be slightly ticked. In this case, let's call it half my life, give or take.

I sit on a board of directors with a guy who finds new ways to misspell my name every time out. I often miss receiving e-mail because he manually types my e-mail address - wrongly - and then doesn't re-send the message after the fact. Polite requests to have it corrected are met with a shrug and a laugh. I find silliness like this unacceptable.

Yes, I'm ornery. But it's disrespectful. I was raised and trained to take the extra moment to double-check that you got it right. In the Internet Age, it's not that difficult. Making sure is the least I can do to treat those around me as I'd like to be treated in return. That is all.

On death. And life.

"Remembering you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose. You are already naked. There is no reason not to follow your heart."
Steve Jobs.


I've been saving this one for a while, and today for various reasons seems like the right day to share it.

Mr. Jobs has, for reasons obvious and less so, always been a huge influence on me. As the new year dawns for my own tribe, I find myself reflecting on how so many of us fail to squeeze the most out of the time we've been given. Whatever your background and whatever you're celebrating, may the year to come - and more importantly each individual day - bring us not only happiness and health, but the ability and willingness of us all to recognize just what a gift this time is.

Your turn: How do you intend to, as Mr. Jobs recommends, follow your heart?

After summer ends

Chlorinated blue
Rigaud, QC, July 2011

About this photo: We're looking at details this week. You can, too, by clicking here and joining in the Thematic goodness.

Autumn started this week, a fact that I deftly tried to ignore in deference to my need to remain optimistic. Perhaps that's harsh: I really do like the season, as there's a texture and a feel to it that both reach down deep into my soul.

Still, that doesn't mean I can't look at something I shot in the heat of summer without a bit of a sigh at what's been left behind. It was a good season, filled with good times and good people. I suspect Autumn has similar moments in store for us all, even if they're served up in a slightly different-looking and feeling package.

Your turn: What does autumn have in store for you?

On being truly alive

"Don't ask yourself what the world needs, ask yourself what makes you come alive. And then go and do that. Because what the world needs is people who are alive."
Howard Thurman

Thematic Photographic 164 - It's in the details

Safety sells
London, ON, June 2011

I don't have a whole lot of rules in my life, but one that does pop up fairly regularly is this: Look closely. When you narrow your view, lean in and squint your eyes just so to focus in on a specific detail, you see things you might have otherwise missed.

And as the photo of the rear end of a black Volvo XC90 attests, you don't have to go all the way in to see more. Sometimes, just a slight amount of zeroing in is enough to get a fresh perspective. So that's what I'd like to accomplish over the next week. Thematic's "It's in the details" theme will challenge us to isolate things a bit, to stop looking at the big picture and instead look at one or two of the details that contribute to it.

I think it'll be fun, and I hope you'll think so, too.

Your turn: Please share a picture that reflects this week's "it's in the details" theme, or find something you've already posted online. Leave a comment here letting folks know where to find it. Drop in on other participants, and feel free to repeat the process throughout the week. If you're new to Thematic, just click here for more details on how it works. You'll be glad you did.

They were vegetables once

Cholesterolfest
London, ON, July 2011

I thought it made sense to end off this week's celebration of all things vegetable with a somewhat off-center look at what a vegetable is - or can be. I know the onion rings pictured here are horridly bad for you, and have had virtually all of their Mother Nature-gifted goodness sucked out of them by the deep fryer. But as a very occasional treat and still life subject, I'm thinking they're just barely acceptable.

Besides, that checkered-placemat-in-a-tray is too retro for words.

Your turn: When good foods go bad. Please discuss.

One more thing: Our new Thematic theme - "It's in the details" - launches tonight at 7:00 Eastern. Hope you'll join us for that, too.

On those who light fires

"In everyone's life, at some time, our inner fire goes out. It is then burst into flame by an encounter with another human being. We should all be thankful for those people who rekindle the inner spirit."
Albert Schweitzer

What's up, Doc?

I've been toying with the camera on my new BlackBerry (yes, I'm old school) and while it'll never be a DSLR, it's surprisingly decent when the right set of factors - read, the stars - align.

It reminds me of the old saying that goes something like this: the best camera is the one you remember to take with you. And since my Berry is never more than arm's length away from me, I'm guessing it's the best tool for the job when I notice the carrot display and decide it's something I want to remember.

Because when all is said and done, this photography thing is more about preserving moments and memories than it is about what equipment you use.

Your turn: Do you use your camera's phone?

One more thing: We're still doing the vegetable thing, and you're welcome to submit your veggie-themed photos through tomorrow (Monday) night. Just pop over here if you've got something to share.

Pick a peck of non-pickled peppers

I've gone back to grocery store photography because I apparently won't be satisfied until I'm busted by the Retail Police Force and forcibly removed from store by a couple of baton-wielding retirees.

Once upon a time, I coined the practice "fruitography" because, well, I was shooting fruits. So does this pepper shot qualify as "vegotography"? What about Loblawsography or Sobeysography in honor of the two major grocery store retailers around here? Does it really matter what it's called?

I'm guessing the only thing that matters is that this kind of spontaneous shooting presents yet another opportunity to stretch the bounds of photography. And life. Because that's why we do these artistic things in the first place, right?

A moment alone in the darkness

It was well before dawn today when I quietly picked up my Mac and tiptoed downstairs. It's a ritual I often follow now that I'm balancing full-time 9-to-5 work with life as an independent tech journalist. If I'm going to write on my own time, it'll usually be when the sky is dark and the rest of the house is quiet.

Indeed, on this morning, even the dog didn't stir as I headed to the kitchen for some quality time with my keyboard. As much as I treasure my sleep, I admit I really enjoy these early morning writing jags. I know what I need to do and how much time I've got to get it done. My phone isn't ringing and folks I thought I left behind after high school aren't trying to IM me. I'm not even remotely close to being a loner, but I like the thought of being awake when no one else is. And I like ripping through whatever's on the docket so I can tiptoe back upstairs for a few more zees before the rest of the house stirs.

This morning was different. In the back of my mind, I knew this wasn't going to be my best writer's session. My mind weighed heavy with the significance of the day, and I wasn't sure I had enough in the tank to set the sadness aside and let the writer's muse take over. I didn't think I'd be able to get myself into that zone of sorts where the words just tumble out of my head and through my fingers. All I could think of was my father, and how incomprehensible it seemed that two years had already gone by since we lost him.

I looked at the clocks on the stove, the coffee machine and my BlackBerry. All moving forward, as they always had. Unfeeling pieces of technology ticking silently toward an unseen deadline, they didn't much care that today was different for me. They didn't much care that this whole life-of-a-writer thing of mine had been rekindled a decade ago, in the early morning gloom as I flew back home to be there for another of my father's surgeries, with my fingers dancing across the keys of some long-since-disposed laptop. They didn't much care that that moment, so similar to this one, became the first of many newspaper columns that helped me find my writer's voice and ultimately reignited my passion for the craft.

All that mattered was what came next, that an empty screen sat in front of me and was waiting to be filled.

So I wrote. And the muse woke up and sent the right words in the right order through my fingers and into the backlit keyboard. And for the 45 or so minutes it took me to hit word count and shape the piece for submission, the darkness of the day didn't matter. I wrote like I always had, focused on the one thing that matters to everyone who trades words for opportunity: Finishing.

And when I did, I clicked Send, then softly closed my laptop's lid and padded silently back to our room. As I got to the bottom of the stairs, the first slivers of blue morning light were already working their way through the window.

I woke up this morning unsure of how I should mark the day, or whether I should even be marking it at all. But as I thought about the words that were now floating into a faraway editor's inbox, I realized I had already marked it in the most appropriate way possible. My writing had always been so closely tied to my father's life that it seemed somewhat right to have closed the loop in the darkness of my kitchen.

Although he's no longer around to read the words, it felt cathartic to have written them on this morning, and to have set the stage for so many more mornings like this one in the months and years ahead.

Two years on...

I lost my dad two years ago today. They say that time heals, but I'm not entirely sure I believe it, and I'm not entirely sure it would make a difference one way or another.

Normally I'd have a whole lot to say, but today, for whatever reason, the words won't come.

Maybe later.

On a physicist's imagination

"Logic will get you from A to B. Imagination will take you everywhere."
Albert Einstein