better today

today it was actually very nice outside.
sunny and the temp reached about +5c.

that's more like it!
i took some photos and guess what? no gloves needed!

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some outdoor fun with ice sculptures


waiting for the green light while yelling nasty things at passing cars


from inside the 'friendly nest', drinking coffee
i really like this shot, for some reason...

it's damn cold!

i was starting to get a little nutty.
cabin fever.
stir crazy.

get up in the morning,
drive to work,
in the dark,
work for 8 hours,
drive home,
in the dark.

repeat 4 times.

and then comes Saturday and I’m free.
except for the bloody cold.
freezing temperatures, high wind chill factors!
so cold i couldn’t hold a camera without gloves or mitts.
have you ever tried to hold a metal camera without gloves or mitts when it’s -23c?
you need thin gloves to keep your skin from touching the metal and to work the camera controls.

perfect!

not really!

because thin gloves mean my hands get real cold but it takes 2 minutes.
then i start to cry.
and dream of warm places to live while i wait for the blood to return to my digits.

a few weeks ago i just couldn’t take it any longer and decided i was heading out to take some photos.
i got my gear and headed to whyte avenue.

i was ready.
i was pumped.
i lasted about 4 blocks before i escaped into the ‘friendly nest’ for a coffee.

damn i was cold.
these photos are from that great frozen adventure.

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can you imagine waiting for a bus in this cold?

or shoveling snow?

this is more like it - walk really fast!

coffee & cameras

i belong to a little internet community that celebrates the use of rangefinder cameras.
we also seem to celebrate the collection, admiration and general lust for said cameras.
while there are brand spankin’ new cameras out there (and we do love them), many of us also use older cameras. the kind that are heavy, chrome over brass made when we were kids kind of cameras.

one fellow at our forum started a thread that posted his camera with a cup of coffee. it’s a fine looking camera and a tasty cup of coffee.
last time i looked there was over a thousand posts to that thread. a few of them belong to me.

today, i took my canon ‘p’ camera (circa ‘59'-62') out for a coffee.

we shared a bagel and i took this shot with my digital.
some might worry that i have a camera to take photos of my cameras but it seems quite normal to me.

for those that may be interested, that’s a 35/2.8 canon lens mated to the camera.
it also is chrome on brass, weighs a tiny ton, weighs more than the digital camera.

and then we were gone...

the dark side?

what is the dark side?

when my initial interest in photography blossomed that would have meant thinking about buying a canon and not the nikon.

for others, this was likely preceded by the choice between a rangefinder or a single lens reflex camera.

and is now followed by choosing between a digital camera or film camera.

i have long scorned the rise of digital photography.
fear and ignorance being the key - added to a tendency to really dislike change.

and so after too many years i have gone over to the dark side and bought my ‘first good’ digital camera.

i still have my first good film camera, an olympus 35rc, and will keep it for as long as i can hold it steady.
film will always be my first choice but digital might be fun and it’s great to have so i can take instant snaps of my film cameras.

here are some samples from my first digital attempts, please bear with me and my new learning curve.


this is me!


and this is my dog, 'sugar'!

winter in alberta

this is my regular gas station, hidden behind some snow


this is the bus stop in front of the gas station.
note the snow up to the bench's seat.


a fence with snow up against it.

i'm in there, somewhere

this would be me, early

farmer's market, early

back

whimsy

__________________________________________

no idea

so i woke up the other morning
and i’m standing on this road
with absolutely no idea where i am
or where i’m going
needless to say i sat down
i sat down to assess the situation
now time was on my mind
i looked at my watch and noticed it had started to rain
where was my cat i thought
where was that red tabby
his fur does not like the feel of water
so began this travel in search of my scared kitty
i wandered hi and lo near and far far and wide
where could he be hiding
there was the old barn but that door had been left open
and I doubted that he would return
looked under the bridge but we’d crossed that one awhile ago
thought i’d turn ‘round but decided there was no goin’ back
with only one solution left
i knew i had to wait for kitty to return on his own
so once again i’m left on this open road
alone and sometimes lonely scared as my cat
except
I like the rain

________________________________________________________

the beast

first there’s beauty
then
there is the beast
while searching for
the ideal
I found the truth
that simplicity
is a complicated affair
honesty
is surrounded by lies
and the image of oneself
is not always
a perfect picture
on the road to peace
tranquillity
is frequently a stormy journey

_______________________________________________

prairie rain

fat man
standing
in the middle of the road
naked
radio playing
country music
fat man
motionless
his mind races
thoughts of her
dancing
fat man
turns
looks back
to where he came from
long stretch of empty road
ghost towns
prairie rain
sun at his back
fat man turns once again
squints at the distance
long shadows
unknown highway
dangerous journey

______________________________

on death...

mother

extreme
sadness
felt
emptiness
your place
in my life
at the table
your laugh
at my expense
answers
to my
questions
smile
in your
eye
comfort
in my
soul
voice
on the
phone
long distance
longer now
security
anchor
love
history
future
your death
my loss
i
was
ready
i
was
shattered

at the market

open bar

ever been divorced?

______________________________________

alone

driving
sitting alone
in my jeep

waiting for the pizza
sitting alone
in my seat

watching television
sitting alone
in the dark

shopping
walking down the aisle
alone
pushing my cart

lighting a fire
match to kindling
alone
by the warm glow

in my kitchen
cooking
working alone
making coffee
stirring my cup
drinking alone

sitting at my computer
writing this poem
writing alone

lighting a smoke
casual relaxation
smoking alone

thinking of ways
of how i’m alone
thinking alone

music playing
lights way down low
wee small hours of the morning
listening alone

off to bed
under my covers
comfortable
relaxed
sleeping alone

unemployed
looking for work
feeling alone

got my own place
neat as a pin
wandering
from room to room
living alone

_____________________________________

footsteps

eyes heavy
another sleepless nite
legs shaky
they drop
off
the empty bed
feet hit the floor
alarm continues it’s
relentless job
morning struggle
to the bathroom
begin the routine
that is my life
looking into
shower fogged mirror
there is something different
today
something not right
something very wrong
the nervous knot
that has won the war with my stomach
radiates it’s sickening feeling
thru-out
now
un
mistakable
reflected
is a tired face
only familiar
increasingly alien
i see my father

my desire to be
quiet and gentle
patient and kind
filled with
peace and goodness
has never materialized
instead i have become my father
step-father
loud
bitter
angry man
heavy heart
filled with stabbing sadness
sudden realization
shoulders bend with the weight
of painful understanding
that i will never
be the man i had hoped to be
but instead
i am the man
i swore
i never
would be
the hope
less
ness
leads me to
wonder
why
why bother

__________________________________

no picnic

i walked
through the doorway
you opened the door
it was
my voice
everyone heard
but
you

once you said
life with me was like living
with a woman
then proceeded
to treat me like
a second class person

i wrote poems
took photographs
listened to music
my diversity was attractive
then
no more

you were drawn to
my dark side
then chose the light

i realize
i’m no picnic
but you brought your share
of ants
to the blanket

the journey is mine
you held the compass
set the direction
i’m the traveller
you bought the tickets

i yelled
you reacted

there are better days
clear thoughts
goals
and then
not so good days
and nites
what once seemed a game
now too real
painful
permanent
thoughts of you
cloud my mind
overrun logic
outdistance
discipline & control
make me crazy
make me cry

____________________________________

oh so wrong

so
where was it
that i went wrong
i thought you might want some company
dinner maybe
when you were lonely
was i there
was i missing in action
or just
missing the point

coffee would be nice
conversation better
was your heart
hurting
did you know where to turn
was my back to you
sitting quietly on the couch
just hold me
let my strength
be there
for you

i thought our dreams
were
the same
i thought our fears
were
the same
i thought
wrong


and now
every day
i pay the price
for my
thoughtlessness
insensitivity
closed eyes ears heart

hold my hand
feel my friendship
let’s talk
i see your tears
hear the pain in your voice
wonder how i missed it
before
to feel you
lying beside me
my warmth
against
your cold hands feet

i miss you
my spirt is broken
i have given up
back bent eyes dulled
shuffle through
what is left
of my life

i long to feel
your skin
your strength
your love
and friendship

my heart
is empty
my soul
is empty
my life
is empty

to hear your voice
to experience your smile
your laugh
i would sacrifice
the sanctuary
of who i am
who i was
or
ever will be again

___________________________________________

from my series 'family'

_____________________________

grandpa

i remember
new york summers
living with my
grandparents
on long island
far from the city
my grandfather
gentle farmer
shovel in one hand
old handkerchief in the other
tilling the earth
wiping his face
bending
seeds between his fingers
hands into the dirt
he loved his garden
would show with pride
his tomatoes
large round ripe
years later
i would sit
for hours
alone
in my garden
watching
the green shoots
push their way
through the dirt
thinking
about grandpa
remembering
smiling
loving him
missing
the innocence
of
our friendship

___________________________________________

am i right ?

new york city
we lived above an empty store
on the avenue
four of us
in a two bedroom apartment
winters
cold and damp
hot water heating
the pipes
that
always seemed
to hiss at us
daddy
slept on the couch
between jobs
days for the city
full time
nites for extra money
part time
(he was a good man)
i remember
my father
(step-father really)
a smiling man
who always seemed angry
he was hard working
capable of a good time
although not
with me
or
my mother
or
my sister
(half-sister really)
he had large hands
a tall wide frame
and muscles
beautiful salt and pepper hair
and a voice
loud enough
to frighten the soul
from a little boy

there were
rules
and somehow
i managed
to break all of them
(often)
feeling like an afterthought
(usually)
i couldn’t do much
right
couldn’t hold the flashlite
so the beam
was in
the right place
couldn’t pass the right tool
when demanded
even though
the shapes
names
and reasons for being
were never
described to me
i always guessed
i wasn’t
smart enough
to have been born
with the same information
as every one else
at 46
i’m still treated
the same as
when i was 12
but for me
its different now
i’m no longer
intimidated
no longer
afraid
to ask
the questions
that need
to be asked
my only
fear
is
following
in his footsteps

________________________________

family tree

neil diamond
sang
brooklyn roads
opened my soul
to sleeping memories
i ache
remembering
the smells
and sounds
seeing again
the faces
of my family
long dead
buried
deep in my being
grandfather
sicilian
new york
factory worker
garment district
born in africa
tunisia
fisherman
loved the sea
as he loved the earth
gardener
big smile
strong hands
friendly to children
asthmatic
gentle soul in pain

grandmother
scowling
lined face
hard worker
cook & cleaner
3 sons
2 dead
1 my father
the other
an uncle i never met
remaining uncle
like a second dad
my memories are of
sunday dinners
pasta
homemade
sauce
homemade
wine
homemade
love
homemade

_____________________________________

edge

we were prepared
waiting
old news old information
doctors orders
the ordeal
the pain
the wait
sometimes
we acted
as if

as if everything
were ok
as if everything
would just go
away
as if you
would never
leave

but you left
died
now
i am alone
my parents are dead
am i an orphan
or just old

the edge
close
insanity
the cord is cut
my anchor is
floating
fear
terrifying aloneness
empty
hungry
crying

you
a part of
me
a part of you
always

one of my favourite photos.
this is whyte avenue, early saturday morning.