Norman

Norman

Norman

Some kids

Some kids

The past few weeks have been saddening for me, mostly because a boy I grew up with and have known all my life passed away. Norman was seventy-one years old when he died and was the oldest of and the leader of the community kids with whom I played. Norman was my main influence to join the National Rifle Association when I was young. He had a great sense of humor which the rest of us had to pay for in sometimes embarrassing situations. He lived a good life and had a great family. The color photo is his obituary photo for the newspaper and the other one is part of our gang from the mid-1950’s. Norman is the tallest and I am the long-legged kid at his side. Others are his brother, his two cousins, and his sister. The photo was made in my grandmother’s front yard and his family’s home is the white house just over Norman’s left shoulder. Losing someone such as a life-long friend is the most difficult part of growing old; much more difficult than any physical infirmities. The memories are cherished but the reality of the present is a bit overwhelming.

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Published in: on May 5, 2013 at 1:23 pm  Comments (4)  
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Lean on me

All quiet on the home front. I am trying a new tactic with the RA control; well, not a new approach but one I used for years. Instead of getting the rather expensive and troublesome shots each week, I am once again trying the methotrexate pills like I did for many years. About 10 years ago I gave up taking the 10 pills at one time once a week for getting the injections; the shots seem to work quite a bit better. Taking the pills is much cheaper since I have Medicare prescription coverage, so I am going to once more cross my fingers and give them a try, with maybe taking a shot every third or fourth week instead of the pills. Also and sometime next week, I plan to call my orthopedic surgeon for an appointment and get the knee replacement surgery setup; I have now graduated from a cane to crutches this past weekend, and I ain’t liking it one bit. However, the pain in the right knee has increased to a point of desperation; can’t walk or sleep without aids. Now you know why I haven’t made any new photos to speak of since mid-Autumn.
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Have a goodly spring weekend, my friends.

Published in: on April 15, 2011 at 1:50 pm  Comments (6)  
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Silver Surfer

Bucolic

Oh, god! Now I am a silver surfer! Those glorious Madison Avenue boys and girls whom spend their days thinking up catchy merchandising phrases to promote all kinds of crappy products have decided that I am (drum roll, please) a Silver Surfer! We of advanced years whom use the internet via computer, smart phone, tablets, e-book readers, televisions, semaphore, or prayers to the gods of electrons have been honored with a wonderful new designation. I am very much humbled by this; I just nod my old, gray head and smile. I don’t know what age one must have achieved to be a Silver Surfer, but I suppose it is we helpless and senile escapees from nursing homes or cheaters of the grim reaper over the age of 50 or maybe 55 whom are the lucky ones. I feel touched that I have received another slap-down from those well meaning youngsters. They’ve already bestowed upon me such benevolent titles as “silver fox”, “golden years”, “golden-ager”, “senior”, and “senior citizen”. I don’t even like the words surf, surfing, or surfer when it comes to using the internet and I am damn sure not pleased with Silver Surfer. I’ll tell them one thing; let ’em send one of those hot, young, New York City ad-chicks down here to the hills and I will surely take her to the woods and introduce her to a hunk of silver merchandise which she will remember even into her Silver Surfer years. Maybe she can think up a better moniker for me when I bend her over a stump for a guided tour of geezer heaven; she can soar back to NYC with a sore ass and a smile on her face. To quote Russel Casse from the movie Independence Day, “In the words of my generation: Up Yours!”
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Have a Tuesday.

Published in: on April 5, 2011 at 12:42 pm  Comments (6)  
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Niggling and nagging

Original view ©

Mirrored copy ©

Today’s photo is a processed version of the original. Yesterday’s photo is a b/w converted (obviously) copy and has been mirrored. I made this photo in 2007 with my Canon S3 IS camera and it was picked for publication in a Swedish language magazine in, where else, Sweden. I’ve always liked the photo, but something niggling about about it kept nagging at me; I just could not figure what it was. I previously converted it to b/w and published it on Flickr and on my Blogspot blog, but it wasn’t a full cup of coffee for me. A few months back, I was looking at some photos on Megashot’s Critique Forum and saw where Cyrus suggested to someone that they mirror their photo and he had a mirrored copy of it below the original. That is when it hit me and I started digging through my college photography class notes and there it was: “See your photograph in every possible way; like a book, it should read from left to right”. Thanks Cyrus for jogging my memory. Since I read the critique, I have been scrutinizing every photo I work with and have mirrored a lot of them, and I now consider the Tomatoes photo as being complete.
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Finally got my shot yesterday, my nose is healing, I haven’t gained any weight in the past year, and life could be a lot worse. On the flip side, I still have to get the shots, my nose is itching, I haven’t lost any weight in the past year, and life could be a lot better. Balance.
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Same old rhetoric from a same old political talking head tonight as President Obama tells his side of the story in the annual State of the Union address to our beloved Congress. He should have been out talking the talk and walking the walk for the past two years; if he is going to a president of the people, he surely needs to show us he is one of the people. Tell us the truth, Mr. President.
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Have a–damn, it’s Tuesday already–great day, my friends.

Published in: on January 25, 2011 at 11:07 am  Comments (6)  
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Blanks, taxes, and scabs

This plant flourishes atop Roan Mt. at more than 6,000 ft (1828m)

I had intentions of Carolyn hauling my carcass around today to try and get some photos and a breath of fresh air; except for doc appointments, I do not leave this house. It has been months since I was on a dedicated photo hunt, and I am deathly sick of looking at and reworking my old photos. I’m no longer capable of walking around in my tiny back yard where I can at least shoot some birds and other semi-interesting stuff. Anyway, she came up with something else she had to do today, so I sit here trying to think of a lie for the blog and am shooting blanks.
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The thick, black scab seems to be about ready to come off the side of my nose; I will spend some quality time soaking it and hoping it will fall away; it is such a degrading blemish on my natural facial beauty.
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It is once again tax time; and I am a week behind on beginning them; some were due yesterday but I have had no motivation to proceed with the onerous tasks. To say the truth, I do not care if they are ever done, but I suspect Uncle Sam has a different mind-set about such laxity; of course, Old Uncle doesn’t have to pay taxes; just collect them. It would be a great thing if the government had to pay taxes on its income; I bet the tax laws would quickly be rewritten if Daddy Sugar had to ante-up.
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A word about the coming and all important worsh day; the word “worsh” is used by mostly uneducated hillbillies; the folk with more than a third grade education prefer the classier high-society sounding word “warsh”. My grandma always said worsh and she had only third grade schooling. Her sister said warsh because she finished part of the fifth grade. The reason Mom had only third grade knowledge is because her father became sick and in 1903 when she was eight years old and she had to quit school to help support the large family. Her dad died in 1906.
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A Sunday salute to You, my friends!
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Published in: on January 16, 2011 at 12:59 pm  Comments (4)  
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