Cleaning the garage

First, let me confess that I am not a carpenter, mechanic, electrician or painter.

It all started Sunday afternoon while I was away and my wife Tonda decided to clean out the garage. I do not mean: just sweep it out. I mean clean it out - you know, keep what you need and throw out what you don’t need.

She started with the paint cans. She counted over 40 different cans and obviously some had to go, so she started shaking the cans. The ones that were solid were tossed. No big decision there. When she finished shaking (the cans) she’d cut our collection to about 20. She turned to start a new project when it dawned on her that many of the others were probably not colors we’d use any more. She discovered that 1/3 of the remaining cans either had no label or the lids were rusted shut. Actually two of the cans’ bottoms were rusted out. One of the cans had rusted so bad she broke a screwdriver opening it to see what was inside. After all this, we (I had arrived home by this time) had 10 cans remaining. My question to her was, “Why don’t we bite the bullet and throw them all out?”

Below is a brief inventory of stuff from our garage. You’ll notice no cars are listed in this inventory because no cars can fit in our garage. Also, did I mention that I’m a pack rat?

(1) Flag pole, less mounting bracket

(2) Out of date fire extinguisher

(3) Bedside table, olive green

(4) Drawer full of, at least, 30 pounds of gaskets, washers, screws, spark plugs and wires from my son’s car we’d sold decades ago.

(5) Scads of flower pots

(6) 20 feet of rusted, heavy chain

(7) An “I feel good when I smile” wall hanging

(8) Thirteen boxes of Christmas lights and decorations

(9) Two quarts of Boiled Linseed oil (I wonder what the linseed oil did to deserve that?)

(10) Picnic table with chairs (unpainted)

(11) Three unmatched work gloves

(12) Six cans of various stains

(13) Four different kinds of rope

(14) Seven bent curtain rods

(15) Six cans of various spray enamel (none working)

(16) Two different kinds of grout (petrified)

(17) One 5-gallon bucket of Ready Mix All Purpose joint Compound that weighed enough to be a battleship anchor

(18) Five ladders

(19) Various shovels, rakes and trowels

(20) One axe with broken handle, and

All together now, A partridge in a pear tree.

This list brings to mind the late George Carlin’s riff about stuff. He was so right.

Trivia question of the day

(Try it without Google)

The answer will be in tomorrow’s blog.

Yesterday’s Question: Who was the Englishman who bet he could travel around the world in 80 days? ANSWER: Phileas Fogg

Today’s Trivia: This watch was the sponsor of the first television commercial on July 1, 1941. The watch sold for $9. Name the company?

Holidays cost $19.2 billion per day

Many of you may have guessed that the 4th is one of my favorite holidays and they would be right. You get together at picnics with family and friends, eat hot dogs, barbecue, watermelon and ice cream, drink beer, and, of course, watch and/or explode fireworks till our heart’s content. What could be better?

However, have you ever stopped to consider what it costs to shut-down the U.S. economy for one day? Economist estimate $19.2 billion. That’s $77 for every man, woman and child in the nation. I know a lot of businesses keep going so let’s assume the economist were 50 percent off in their calculations - that’s still $9.6 billion which is certainly not chump change in anyone’s business. It’s easy see how difficult it would be to stop the wheels of commerce just to celebrate something.

I suppose this’s all well and good, but some folks are hollering for more holidays. As our population becomes more diverse it was bound to happen. The trend, unfortunately, has become more political and economic than commemorative. Are you surprised? But it can be an expensive trend to take 24 hours away from the assembly line every time someone needs stroking.

Here’s some additional holidays on somebody’s drawing board: There are more Jews here than Israel, wouldn’t it be fair to make Yom Kippur equal to Christmas and let everyone stay home on Sept. 17th? The Eastern Orthodox Christians celebrate Christmas on Jan. 7th, Confucius’ birthday is Sept. 28, Buddha’s birthday is April 8th, the Moslem’s first day of Ramadan is in early March, Zambian Unity Day is July 2nd, and Virgin Island Independence Day is July 3rd. Wow! We could get a six day weekend with some of those holidays, but who will be around to make things work if we’re all off celebrating?

Trivia question of the day

(Try it without Google)

The answer will be in tomorrow’s blog.

Yesterday’s Question: Give the secret identity of the comic book character Oliver Green. His sidekick’s name was Speedy. ANSWER: The Green Arrow

Today’s Trivia: Who was the Englishman who bet he could travel around the world in 80 days?

Happy belated 4th of July

It’s several weeks past our annual celebration of the signing of the Declaration of Independence but it’s never too late to honor that glorious event (actually it a celebration of the day Congress approved the wording, not the actual signing). It’s pretty amazing that at that early day in our country’s history that there were that many men of historic stature available to gather and hammer out the document that guides us to this day.

At that time, they were a collection of ordinary men: some bad, some good, some dull, some extremely bright, some pro-slavery, some anti-slavery. I’m sure you’ll agree that they were quite a group of men that met in 1787 to forge-out one of the greatest documents in the history of the world.

There were 39 signers of the U.S. Constitution:

2 of them ended as traitors and were executed

2 were murdered in duels

12+ because U.S. Senators

1 Chief Justice of the Supreme Court

1 the richest of the group died in poverty alone and forgotten

4 declared bankruptcy

3 served as presidents of the United States

2 died on July 4th

As I said they were truly extraordinary ordinary men. We were lucky to have them.

Trivia question of the day

(Try it without Google)

The answer will be in tomorrow’s blog.

Give the secret identity of the comic book character Oliver Green. His sidekick’s name was Speedy:

Sometimes rules are made not to be broken

Yesterday I wrote about my first and certainly not my last dastardly mistake while working in a photography darkroom.* Basically they were hot, many times crowded, smelly (they generally reeked of rotten eggs and sweaty bodies because 45 years ago they were rarely air conditioned), dark (not absolute black, not light enough to read, but had a lightly orange ambient quality of light). It was an environment we learned to love (if you wanted to control how your negative was printed) because we didn’t know any better and their really wasn’t much better available. This was very primitive pre-digital days.

Basic Darkroom Rules

1) Be Clean. Cleanliness is extremely important and cannot be overstressed. If everyone is

slightly messy we’ll soon have one very large mess. Leave everything cleaner than you

found it! Remember, lack of cleanliness leads to contamination of the darkroom

environment, which will in turn mess up your photographic work.

Wash your hands. A tiny bit of fixer can make many nasty bleached fingerprints on your

negatives and prints. Developer and stop bath are bad for negatives, too. Photo chemicals

are not beneficial to your health --use laboratory common sense in the darkroom.

No Food. No Smoking.

2. Be Friendly. Friendliness makes the darkroom considerably more pleasant. Consideration of other people is very important. If someone is having difficulty, take the time to help them do it right so they don’t do something that everyone will regret. Make sure all users have given their explicit permission to have the room lights turned on before doing so.

3. Signing In. There is some paperwork associated with the darkroom. Keep in mind that it

exists for a purpose --so that those coming after you will know exactly what has happened in the darkroom at any time. Sign in every time you enter the darkroom. The sign-in sheet has spaces for your name, the date, the time, and comments. The ‘comments’ column is very important: If you fail to note a problem with the darkroom, or to correct it, the next user will correctly assume that it is your fault and responsibility. In the comments column,

you should also make note of any work that you have done, especially mixing chemicals.

4. Report All Accidents. If you think you’ve contaminated chemistry, exposed a box of paper, or broken equipment, immediately report what has happened to a staff member.

*writer’s note: I’m one of those weird learners who learns best by making mistakes, sometimes lots of mistakes (psychologist say that to hardwire something into your system you need to repeat it successfully 27 times), and learning from those mistakes. It’s a cumbersome process but it’s my cross to bear and I’ve learned to live with it. My wife hates it.

A push in the right direction can take you long way

My first real piece of photography equipment was a Yashica twin lens 120 camera I purchased surplus for $25 from an Army Navy Story on Harry Hines. I bought it because I was taking a required photojournalism course from Smith Kiker, a great big, crusty veteran journalist at North Texas State University and he required it.

I was virtually a complete neophyte. Not really because I’d taken several rolls of Kodachrome slides and a lot of pictures with my dad’s Polaroid. He didn’t care for the camera so he said I could use it and I did. The film was about $1.25 a packet and gave you 12 shots. The images were black & while and approximately 3x5. You would take your picture with this rectangular camera whose opening dropped down via a bellows system to expose the lens. You took the picture, opened the back, peeled off the exposure from a sticky piece of paper, waited 60 interminable seconds then peeled the picture off. The image was there but it was fugitive so you had to “preserve” it. This was done with a swab like thing that you wiped with a series of strokes across the face of the print. Sometimes it was smooth but most of the time it wasn’t so it was a haphazard affair. I don’t remember if it was my fault or the rudimentary materials - probably both.

Anyway, that was my photography background before joining Smith Kiker’s class. I’d never set foot in a darkroom and was totally mystified and thrilled when my first print gradually appeared in the Dektol. I was hooked.

The darkroom was a typical college darkroom. A non-air conditioned room about 20x30 feet with enlargers along the outside walls. Yellow safelights hung from the ceilings with developer, stop bath, fixer and washer in the middle. Everyone shared the chemicals and it was a stinky, hot, crowded affair. Because we were beginners we spent a lot of time in the darkroom.

During my second semester of photography I felt I’d found a home in journalism and maybe one in photography. One day the darkroom was stuffed with new beginning photographers and I had to get some prints completed for the yearbook. Mr. Kiker, being the teacher, had his own private compact and complete darkroom. It had the best enlarger , etc. With great trepidation I asked for permission to use it and with reluctance, he agreed.

Normally, we purchased our own enlarging paper and I could never afford anything more than a 25 sheet pack, so I was very chintzy with each print. Mr. Kiker said I could use his paper. It came in a gigantic 500 sheet box. I was in heaven. I made my prints, developed, stopped and fixed them then flipped on the white light to view my handy work.

I spend a few minutes studying the prints which were okay but, to my horror, I’d left the lid off the brand new 500 sheet box of paper. I knew this was trouble, because Mr. Kiker had pounded it into us that you NEVER exposed the paper to white light because that “ruined it.” I was mortified. Not only did I ruin an entire box of paper but I had to tell Mr. Kiker about. The first time he trusted me, I blew it.

He was unexpectedly kind but offered a very stern warning. I knew I had come right up to the edge of his patience, trust and possibly my future. I don’t remember the details of his response but I left still anticipating my next photographic foray, no hard feelings to Mr. Kiker and an absolute promise to myself to be a hell of a lot more careful from then on. It could have very easily gone the other way.

Dixie brings back memories

The song Dixie has come under attack from some folks who say it’s racist and conjures-up images of segregation, slavery and The Civil War. At one time in our history, that was a valid emotion. Growing-up in north Texas in the 50s, I saw sections of black soiled farmland carpeted with cotton, so when I hear the phrase “Land of Cotton” it means those fields off Preston Road that strung all the way to Lake Texoma. Of course, I can only speak for myself, but I freely

admit that when I hear Dixie played, it does indeed conjure-up certain images.

Dixie makes me think of Live Oak trees, spanish moss, hush puppies, corn bread, The Mississippi River, watermelon, fireflies and “lickin’ the dasher” on a July afternoon. It makes me think of gospel music, Brother Dave, Gomer Pile, New Orleans, Al Hurt, Paul Prudhomme, Minnie Pearl, Nashville, Gardenia bushes and children who say “Yes, Ma’am” and “No Ma’am.”

Dixie makes me think of firecracker stands and lemonaide. As a youngster, my mother would grow mint in the backyard then we’d pick the sprigs in the summer and put them in our iced tea. Remember the smell of fresh mint?

Dixie makes me think of Lone Star Beer, OU Weekend, The Masters and Colonial Golf Tournaments, Key West sunsets, Savannah in the spring and Alabama's red clay and Pine trees . It reminds me of cool October weekend nights and the State Fair of Texas. I can still smell those wonderful Fletcher’s Corny Dogs.

It brings back memories whenever I hear it - good memories. I get goose bumps, a lump in my throat and a prickly feeling on the back of my neck when I hear the first six notes. If people of color feel differently, I’m sorry and I truly understand. I don’t expect everyone to feel the same way about this old song as I do, but I do wish they would try and understand that it’s not about the Civil War, at least not anymore. It’s about today, tomorrow and hopefully forever. I don’t mind if you don’t like it, but please don’t get your nose out of joint because I do.

There are several versions to Dixie, but this is the one I think most southerners are accustomed to:

O, I wish I was in the land of cotton

Old times there are not forgotten

Look away! Look away!

Look away! Dixie Land.

In Dixie Land where I was born in

Early on one frosty mornin’

Look away! Look away!

Look away! Dixie Land.

Chorus:

O, I wish I was in Dixie!

Hooray! Hooray!

In Dixie Land I’ll take my stand

To live and die in Dixie

Away, away,

Away down south in Dixie!

What we need are more cats

About twice a year I assist my brother at several of the 35 or so Art Shows where he has be chosen to exhibit. I hesitate to call them Arts & Crafts shows because that somehow demeans the incredible skills that these artisans display while creating and selling finished art throughout the United States.

While returning from a trip to Ruidosa, NM we discussed/cussed the merits and demerits of what makes a great piece of photographic art (that means: what is not only good artistically but one the public would buy with great regularity. They are not one in the same).

Obviously, the image must be technically well achieved (exposure, focus, composition, etc.), but lots of photographs do that. It must also be of interest to the viewer(s). What’s of interest is certainly up for debate and then there’s that “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder” business. None of that really nailed down an answer to our debate.

While searching for this answer, I used one of his photographs as an example. Clark had photographed a Spanish mission in San Antonio seconds after sunrise. The lighting was perfect to show textures, contrasts and colors. There was a rough hewn cross to the left of the entrance that cast a perfect shadow toward the ornate door. It was truly an outstanding photograph (see the previous paragraph). This is where luck and skill intersect to raise the picture to a classic. About the time Clark snapped the shutter, a black cat ambled up, sat and posed in front of the door. Clark was at the right place at the right time and savvy enough to take the picture - none of that happens totally by accident..

I contend that what great photographs need is something, that’s a smidgen out of the ordinary, to make the overall image superior. In that particular case, it was the cat.

Several months ago, he completed a beautiful sunset panoramic of Monument Valley (it’s about 5’ wide on canvas). It’s taken at the right time of day to show-off those gorgeous rock formations and the vastness of the vista. It’s technically excellent but not terribly different than other Monument Valley panoramas until you notice on the far, upper left side was a localized thunderstorm complete with rainbow. It takes up very little of the image and that was his “cat”, at least in that particular landscape. A “cat” is a metaphor for almost anything that adds additional, unexpected interest. Cartier-Bresson’s pictures were loaded with cats. He just happened to call them “decisive moments.”

Keep your eyes out for a “cat” in your next photograph.

Clark’s art may be seen at clarkcrenshawphotography.com, while mine are at web.me.com/crenshawa/Site.

You thought you had a bad weekend?

Saturday around sunset, with Houston’s temperature and humidity hovering around 100º, a tall, skinny man robbed a McDonalds and was seen running from the fast-food restaurant with several employees chasing him. He had a sack in one hand and what looked like a pistol in the other.

The thief darted across a busy intersection to a shopping center where he rushed into an auto parts store. Sensing his predicament, he grabbed a hostage and returned to the street. At this point, he was being chased by employees from the auto parts store, McDonalds and a member of Houston’s finest.

Somewhere along the way he lost the hostage. He had to do something so he hopped into the car of an 18-year-old, Lawrence Blackwell, pointed his gun at him and yelled, “DRIVE!”

Blackwell drove him to a nearby condominium where the harried bandit abandoned the car and literally kicked down the door of Miriam Trashell. Miriam apparently was expecting trouble because she immediately started firing her pistol at the intruder, who naturally returned fire – luckily neither hit anything. Houstonians tend to get a bit testy with the temperature and humidity are high.

Shortly, he had enough of Miriam Trashell and dashed through the remnants of her front door onto the parking lot where he accosted a driver who’d just entered the lot. However, he didn’t get very far because he somehow couldn’t get the car through the security gate. So, he dumped his second car and again took-off on foot.

He ran straight to a nearby Dairy Queen where he leaped into the cab of a meat truck, pointed the gun at the driver and between huffs and puffs demanded the truck. The brave driver yanked the gun out of his hand and the befuddled thief escaped out the side door.

He staggered into a nearby residential neighborhood while being chased on foot by a Houston policeman and employees from McDonalds, the auto parts store, a Dairy Queen meat truck driver and, presumably, the still irate Miriam Trashell.

The poor guy- I’m beginning to feel sorry for him at this point- jumps a fence where he is attacked and bitten by a large weimaraner. He then beats a hasty, albeit bloody, retreat back over the fence where he runs headlong into the growing posse.

When last heard, he was being treated for minor injuries at Ben Taub General Hospital and obviously under arrest. Oh yes, McDonalds did get their money back.

Inspector Clouseau could not have planned it better.

Moon landing was unforgettable

Forty years ago today the United States Space Agency (NASA) achieved the first manned landing on the Moon as part of the Apollo 11 mission commanded by Neil Armstrong and narrated to the world by Walter Cronkite. Anyone on the Earth within sight and hearing of a television set watched the roundtrip almost from liftoff to the landing in the Pacific. On July 20, 1969, lunar module Eagle landed on the surface of the Moon, carrying Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin. Armstrong was the first human to set foot on the moon and Aldrin the second. Michael Collins orbited above. Armstrong and Aldrin spent a day on the surface of the Moon before returning to Earth. The computer guiding the space and landing vehicles held less RAM than most of today’s cell phones. It was and is and amazing feat.

My wife and I joined millions, if not billions, of people by going outside and staring up to the gloriously full moon just to see if by some wild chance we could spot them. It was an important day for all of us and by us I mean everybody on earth.

We’d watched the birth of the United States space efforts, and some of it was not very pretty, as they slowly but surely figured out how to get a multi-stage rocket to takeoff without either falling over or blowing up. Just the previous year we attended the World Premier of a Stanley Kubrick’s movie in Hollywood called 2001. It was so far advanced in special effects that it looked just like, but better, than the three network coverage and Walter Cronkite’s grandfatherly voice.

Below is the 1969 NASA release to the public.

“On July 20, 1969, the human race accomplished its single greatest technological achievement of all time when a human first set foot on another celestial body.

Six hours after landing at 4:17 p.m. Eastern Daylight Time (with less than 30 seconds of fuel remaining), Neil A. Armstrong took the “Small Step” into our greater future when he stepped off the Lunar Module, named “Eagle,” onto the surface of the Moon, from which he could look up and see Earth in the heavens as no one had done before him.

He was shortly joined by “Buzz” Aldrin, and the two astronauts spent 21 hours on the lunar surface and returned 46 pounds of lunar rocks. After their historic walks on the Moon, they successfully docked with the Command Module “Columbia,” in which Michael Collins was patiently orbiting the cold but no longer lifeless Moon.”

Today we’re blissfully unaware when a new shuttle has left for the ISS or JPL has launched another rover to Mars. It happens now with such regularity that it holds very little meaning - I suppose that’s natural and unavoidable. None of which would be possible without the unimaginably heroic efforts of lots of people in lots of places (literally stretching around the world) but especially the three pilots in Apollo 11 forty years ago today. I still get goose bumps. And that’s the way it was. . .