camera obscura

camera obscura : dark chamber, a dark box, with a light sensitive element within. Thats what I lost, but found again. Then, well... Listen to the story... Last week I was having lunch with my wife Elaine, she had the day off and I had no work. The kid, Connor was in school and this was one of the rare times we get to do something together, just the two of us. Lainy excused herself and went to the restroom. I used the time to check my emails on my phone. {Email from Brandy S- Peter, did you perchance lose a digital camera at 32 University ave E.? } Thats where it was, on a job site, 5 weeks or so ago I was replacing a broken door at a student housing complex. My Camera was found by a student who brought it to the administration office, Brandy, who looks after me when I work there, scrolled through he pictures on the memory card until she saw a blurred image of a man sitting on a couch in his living room. The person in the picture was me.

I took the picture above at the Riverside Rails skate park in the Preston section of Cambridge. This is for sure the last picture that I will ever take with my little camera. Shortly after my Cannon Powershot, suffered a fatal lens error. A speck of dust or a misalignment of pins has rendered it useless, all forms of remedy suggested by an in-depth internet search have come to no avail...She's dead Jim.

My head: camera obscura : dark chamber, a dark box. My brain : a light sensitive element within.

Bottle Cap

If you find a single bottle cap on the beach you would have a treasure, a reminder of a wonderful day in the sun. If you find a dozen bottle caps you would have a hand full of litter. That is sometimes the way that I feel about blogs, about photography. I wonder about my adding to this litter of words and images, I wonder to what end. I lost my little camera, it can't be found. I must have set it down on a job or in a cafe. It is most likely in the hands of another.

I feel content not taking pictures, taking a break from it. My wife wants me to buy another camera she says it's part of who I am... I think that I would like to be someone else for a little while, think about other things.

I baked the most amazing loaf of bread today and hung a new door on my front closet, a carpenter, a baker, a prose writing faker. Work is a little slow but I have plenty of the nonpaying variety to do around the house.

I'll cut this short, I'll press just one bottle cap into your hand to take away and stash in that shoe box in your mind, to remind you of a happy day.

The Soft Skeptic

I've miss placed my camera, I think. It's small, about the size of a package of cigarettes. It's very portability caused me to take up photography again, unencumbered by a huge gadget bag and a leather strap around my sweaty neck. Oh well it will turn up in a drawer or my glove box, maybe in the pocket of my heavy coat. No matter.

I've been thinking a lot about belief lately. I've heard interviews with some writers, writers who charmingly put forth the idea that religious belief is not only wrong, it is harmful to humankind. Rather then simply not believing and and being an atheist they feel compelled to be anti-theists and point out the harmful absurdity of the believer.

What am I then? Certainly not an atheist, nor a true believer either. I'm what I call a soft skeptic.

The soft skeptic at his core admits that all things may be. He knows that there is no proof so absolute that he can totally discount anything. He does however, pay little attention to those things that are not supported by solid evidence, a firm testable theory. He does not demand proof of other peoples beliefs, only his own. The soft skeptic has in the past blown and will most likely in the future blow again, upon a pair of dice.

It does not matter to me what you believe as long as you have a good heart. Even if you don't believe in Heaven or Hell it would be helpful if you could suggest to me... Where in the hell did I leave my camera?

The Solace of Snow

Boy, February is beating the heck outa me. Work is slow, I hate the cold and the snow. We've all been sick and I have a cough that just wont quit. Tonight I'm trying to bust out of my funk. I'm cooking Tuscan Chicken, peasant food at its best. I'm drinking a little wine, past sunshine caught by the grape and stored in a bottle. I hope that you, my northern hemisphere crew, are hanging in there. Spring is just around the corner, fellow children of the light. Days will become longer the warmth will return.

The Solace of Snow

The snow has fallen, it covers both king's barrow and peasant's grave.

All stains of sadness lie hidden beneath. From pain, our hearts it does save.

A white illusion of newness, of purity, gives hope, an escape from the past.

It insulates us from bitter, troubling reminders that happiness will never last.

Flowers and earth, and sprouts of green, the Spring brings life to the land.

I say keep the snow covering all, It is sadness that the Spring has planned.

This is the mood that February brings, melancholy through lack of light.

our limbs seem like lead and we cannot move, inaction is our plight.

Keep the path and plod along, know that what you're doing is good.

Spring will come whether we wish or not, it will elevate our mood.

Sadness comes I know not why, it seems like it has no reason.
Sadness will past in three months or so, just like any season.

Merry Christmas

I, at one time, five years ago or so, would rush home from work on a Thursday night to take my boy to his swimming lessons. I would sit on the bleachers and watch the little ones tread water. Each week they were able go a little longer before they had the need to grab the deck at the feet of their encouraging instructor. One thing that always struck me as funny was that when the whistle called them from the water into the cool air, they would all clasp together their hands at their chests. It looked to me like little monks lining up and joining in a chattering, shivering, prayer.

It makes me wonder about the origins of this almost universal gesture, that of hands pressed together, held to the body, an outward indication of prayer. Do we humans do this in order to warm our spirits?

2009 was a chilling time for a lot of people in this world. Many found hardship and challenge. I hope that if the whistle blew for you, and you were forced into the coolness of the air, that you found a way to keep your spirit warm. I also hope that 2010 will afford you plenty of time in the pool.

Merry Christmas

Be Inspired

This will be my first sort of guest post on my blog. On Friday my Uncle Wilfred was granted, or he excepted, I'm not sure of the exact term... Perhaps had bestowed upon him, a well earned degree. I could not get away to attend the ceremony. My cousin Jane Curtis sent me an email saying that she would take some pictures and share them out. That not being enough for me I asked her to write something. Pictures are never enough, I need to hear a story.

With Jane's kind permission, I will share what she wrote for me with you. Take this story of my Uncle Wilf and use it when you feel like your best days are behind you, when all opportunity seems missed. Use the story when you need to cut the grass and weed the garden, but just can't find the energy.

Thanks Uncle for the inspiration, and thank you Jane for taking us there.



A Day to Remember
October 30, 2009
Wilfred Gregory Tschirhart receives his
Doctor of Philosophy in Geography at he age of 88
 
Today was a rare and special day. My Uncle Wilfred Tschirhart achieved his Doctor of Philosophy in Geography and quite remarkably at the age of 88 years of age!
The Wilfred Laurier University convocation took place at the Waterloo Recreation Complex with a graduating class of approximately 500 students.
I met up with my Uncle Wilf’s son Cousin Chris, along with my sister Judy, cousins Ed and Bill and then we were joined by our cousin Mary Jane who is Wilf’s daughter. As we sat waiting for the ceremony to begin we laughed and joked as we always do when we get together. We had excellent seats right next to the stage.
The arena facility was transformed with red carpet and a very large stage and a band played music to set the tone. Later we found out that all the musicians in the band were graduates of Laurier.
When the procession started there was Uncle Wilf right near the front in his beautiful gown and cap. He looked like a true scholar. His seat was near the front and second from the aisle on the side where we sat so we had a great view. The convocation began with the Chancellor for the University making a speech about education and future goals.
The Doctorates were recognized first and Uncle Wilf was the second to go on stage. As he proceeded to the stage the speaker remarked that he had achieved all of his educational degrees after the age of 65. At that moment the entire graduating class rose to their feet for a standing ovation, the only one of the day! This moment brought a proud feeling to my heart and a tear to my eye. What a remarkable achievement, extremely inspirational.
Uncle Wilf was also given a special gift from the book store.
After the convocation we got together to take photos and then the majority of us proceeded to a restaurant called Kennedys in St. Agatha where Uncle Wilf lives. We were joined by Cousin Ed’s wife Pauline and Mary Jane’s daughter Jessica and her boyfriend Phil. Jessica and her sister Rebecca had mid term exams today or they would have been there for their Grandfather’s marvellous achievement.
We had a lovely meal and further time to talk about the day. After the meal we went to Uncle Wilf’s for some more socializing and he opened up his gift to discover a book on the brain.
He remarked that he saw us all sitting together as soon as he got near the front and that having us there made his day more special.
He is truly inspirational and I can’t even begin to imagine all of his efforts toward this day.
I will never forget this once in a lifetime event.
 
 

Ten Foot Pole

Yesterday I was painting a difficult ceiling, it was above a stairway and it had a strange curve to it .
There was no way to use a ladder and I had no scaffolding, so I took out my telescoping pole and attached my roller to it. The job was going well, but when it came time to cut into the corner where the wall met the ceiling on the curve, the work began to slow down. I had to tape my brush to the pole and slowly, carefully, with great concentration, trace the contour.

Last night as I slept, I dreamt that I had come upon an installation of performance art. A woman sat in a chair behind a low barricade. Leaning against the barricade was a long bamboo pole with one end covered in a soft fabric. I picked up the pole, and with its soft end I traced along the contour of the woman's face, down her long neck to the V shaped depression where it met her upper sternum.

When I awoke my first thought was of blogging and the Internet. It occurred to me that the writing and the reading of blogs was somehow like reaching out and touching someone with a pole.

Poke, poke.