Scribbles and Photos

It's another beautiful morning in New York City -- September 11, 2011.  The 9/11 memorial located at the site of the World Trade Center is opening as the names of the dead are being read.  Moments of silence are being observed.  Water is cascading down into the reflecting pools like the tears that streamed down our faces that day and in the days that have followed. The bell is tolling right now -- marking the strike on the Pentagon.  On TV, elected officials alternate with the families of the deceased.  James Taylor is on hand to sing  Close Your Eyes as he quietly strums his guitar.  Something hopeful yet sad about those lyrics -- "you can sing this song when I'm gone." The names of those who were lost are engraved on the walls surrounding the pools.   The children of the rescuers are making rubbings of their names while wearing their parents' hats.  Others stand mutely with pictures or flags and stare deep into the reflecting pool...

Cheek to Cheek (Tanzania) The last Saturday in July was one of those lazy summer days where I was spending my time doing not much of anything.  The kind of day where the most pressing thing on my mind is whether there was an episode of Law & Order (any variety) that I hadn't seen yet.  Picture me, ensconced on my nice soft couch weighing the watching of television with a long walk in the heat. At some point in my channel trolling, I stumbled across an infomercial for a DVD set that would teach me the ins and outs of Zumba.  For those of you who, like me, have been living under a rock, Zumba is a dance exercise program craze that has been sweeping the country.   I had recently spent some time visiting with Lisa who is one of my oldest and dearest friends and who is now a CERTIFIED Zumba teacher and skinny.  So, I paused on it (of course the caloric restriction (hmm, deprivation?) piece of this was in small print at the bottom of the screen and easily ...

Coronado Beach Calm On most days, Coronado Island is not the locus for big waves.  But sometimes, nature delivers big surf in the most unexpected places.  That’s the kind of day to take the camera out, screw on the biggest zoom lens I own and saunter off down the sand.  It’s a day to wade into the water and let it crash around my thighs.  It’s a day to dig my toes a little deeper against the strong pull of the undertow that wants me to come out to sea to play for a while in the roller coaster ride of the next big wave.  Click.  Click. Click.  Crash. Crash. Crash.  I wonder if it would ever get old if I lived at the beach and could frolic on the sand whenever I pleased.  Ah, that would be the life – falling asleep and waking up to the ebb and flow of the surf crashing on the shore.   It would need to be a desolate beach – one that was hard to get to so I could have it all to myself all of the time.  Coronado ...