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The colors of summer flowers,
Lush reds, brilliant yellows, subtle lavenders,
Reach their zenith early —
For just a moment —
And from those lofty heights
Begins their relentless decline.
As August rounds the bend
And gallops toward the finish line,
Petals droop and shrivel…and drop,
And once vibrant hues fade non-stop.
Yet even in this cruel effacement
Lingers there an echo of glory past,
As in the ravaged faces of the old
Remains there a hint of youth steadfast.
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Manhattan, A Photographer’s Journey by Henry Barnard
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I must admit to have been a Trekkie — for the series with Captain Kirk and Mr. Spock. But I’m not ashamed to admit that I never missed an episode, and still enjoy the reruns, although now I think some of the razzle dazzle technology a bit outdated, with the except of the tricorder (first smartphone?) and beaming people up and down and all around — no better way to travel.
Despite being popular culture, there were some episodes that had a real contemporary edge to them and a strong message. I remember one where there were two races on this planet who hated each other with a visceral hatred that they could barely contain. They were in mortal civil war at each other’s throats when the Enterprise showed up to mediate the conflict. What was truly brilliant about this episode about racism was that the two races were in fact almost identical except for one seemingly trivial difference. One race was all white on the left side of their bodies and all black on the right side. The other race was the reverse — all black on the left side and all white on the right. That ridiculous difference was the basis of their intense hatred. The episode, simply but eloquently, showed just how ludicrous it was to hate someone else for their skin color, and, with this little bit of imagination, the message hit home.
The show definitely had a strong moral center, as witnessed by the “Prime Directive”. This was the guideline set down by the United Federation of Planets (i.e., headquarters) for any of its Starfleet vessels in their interactions with other cultures in the universe. The Prime Directive (also known as Starfleet General Order 1) prohibited Starfleet personnel from interfering with the internal development of alien civilizations. How enlightened that was when you compare it to United States foreign policy since World War 2 where we have done nothing but interfere in the internal development of other nations — e.g., Vietnam, Iraq, etc.
But there was one episode where Mr. Spock has a long soliloquy about what it means to be a human being that bordered on Shakespearean, in my mind. I don’t remember the plot of the episode at all or any of its other details other than Spock conducted a mind meld with a human and for the first time experienced what it was like to be totally human instead of Vulcan and human. Frankly, I am still bowled over by his words. I am bowled over by them because they ring so true yet also profound: “How compact your bodies are. And what a variety of senses you have. This thing you call… language though — most remarkable. You depend on it, for so very much. But is any one of you really its master? But most of all, the aloneness. You are so alone. You live out your lives in this…shell of flesh. Self-contained. Separate. How lonely you are. How terribly lonely.”
The Bard of Avon would be envious.
Two Ships Passing in the Night
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People, A Photographer’s Perspective by Henry Barnard
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When I was a boy, I had a dog I named Prince, a black Labrador Retriever. Me and Price went everywhere together. We were buddies. We especially like the trails in the woods — lots of things to sniff there — and there was one spot on one of the trails under a pine tree that was my favorite. It had deep shade in the summer, the pungent fragrance of pine, and a thick layer of pine needles on the ground under the tree, and if you took your sneaks off, which I always did, the pine needles felt nice under foot, soft and cool to the touch, even in August. But more than that, that tree was one of the best climbs in the woods. You went up the branches and when you got to the top, you poked your head out above all the other treetops and you could see for miles. And when I got down again, there was Prince looking up at me and wagging its tail and jumping around expectantly. That was Prince, my buddy.
I had my own sailboat, a Beatlecat. One day I decided to just go for a sail out to sea. Sail for a bit and then tack around and come back. Why not, there was a nice breeze? So I got the sail up and was on my way out to sea when I looked back and could see a little black dot on the surface of the water — and the little black dot was following me. It was Prince! Now I don’t know about you, but that’s a pretty remarkable loyalty — to swim after a boat that’s going out to sea. Would you do that? I wouldn’t. But Prince did.
We had this dock that was pretty long. The first part of the dock was high and wooden, and then there was a ramp that went down to a floating pontoon that went up and down with the tide, and that pontoon was connected with three other similar pontoons, so in total the dock was, as I said, pretty long. One thing about Prince and labs in general, that kind of dog really takes to the water — just loves to swim, and after a good swim, loves to spray anyone foolish enough to stand too close.
Anyway, one of my favorite things I liked to do with Prince was to take a stick and at the very beginning of this long dock, I’d show the stick to Prince, get him all excited because he knew what was next, and then I’d give that stick a tremendous toss. Prince would bolt down the wooden part of the dock, sprint down the ramp, dash over the pontoons, and take a mighty leap off the end of the dock, and swim, stroking like crazy, until it got to the floating stick, and would then snap its jaws triumphantly on the prize. Everyone standing nearby who had never seen this dramatic display before would just be gaping with astonishment. That was Prince — showing off. I swear he knew everyone would be watching.
I’m 70 years old now — a far cry from that little boy, a regular Tom Sawyer…and many miles away from those fond and familiar shores, and my buddy Prince is long since departed. But I carry him with me still.
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People, A Photographer’s Perspective by Henry Barnard
What do you get for a one dollar contribution? My gratitude.
If you enjoyed the post, you can help me keeping blogging along with just a one dollar contribution. You can contribute more by increasing the quantity — each increase by 1 is an additional dollar. Thanks for your support in this blog-eat-blog world.
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Our politics imitate the Wizard of Oz, the Republicans have no heart and the Democrats no brain — except they, unlike the Scarecrow and the Tin Man, don’t care.
As for the Wizard himself, we have plenty of politicians who makes promises, promises, promises, and everything is miraculously free. They never do get around to explaining how their utopia will actually be paid for — that’s the rub. Taxpayers who pay the most are the least credulous of this hocus pocus, while that half of the population that pays nothing the most.
American politics are summed up by that old anecdote that is still relevant today. It goes something like this: American politics are like going to see a comic movie. You take your seat, and the movie is very funny. Everyone in the audience, the public, is laughing their heads off at the ridiculous characters on the screen — the loonie politicians and their shenanigans — but every once in a while, a live bullet comes out of the screen and kills someone in the audience.
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Manhattan, A Photographer’s Journey by Henry Barnard
Digital download of the JPEG file for this photograph.
If you buy this photograph, I will be sending you an email in a day or two with a link to its JPG file. You will then download the file into your computer in its Download or Picture folder or whichever folder you choose. You can use it on your PC as you will, just to look at now and then or as a screen saver after you configure your computer to use it as such. Up to you.
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Why do the leaves linger on,
Braving the wind — winter’s song?
Tenacious, they cling to the branch,
Desperate that age will not advance.
The rest, long since fallen to their grave,
While these remain, dogged and brave.
But the cloak of night draws ’round,
And the leaves shiver at every sound.
So why do the leaves linger on,
Braving the wind — winter’s song?
Hope — hope to see another spring dawn,
Hope to gaze upon a new-born fawn.
What do you get for a one dollar contribution? My gratitude.
If you enjoyed the post, you can help me keeping blogging along with just a one dollar contribution. You can contribute more by increasing the quantity — each increase by 1 is an additional dollar. Thanks for your support in this blog-eat-blog world.
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