Confluence

I am standing at the confluence of three streams. The river that comes from this triad of sources is a new found love of Music.

The first having the good fortune of cheap memory, the second is the bit torrent of FLAC recordings from the span of 30 years of the Grateful Dead, and third is a pair of 1975 Advent loudspeakers from my second year in college.

The heart of the system is a Yamaha Natural sound receiver that featured a “CD Direct” circuit that allows the analog signal from my Sound Blaster audio card, to go directly into the main amplifiers, without any colouration of “bass” or “treble”. Only two controls still work, Power and Volume.

As a youngster, about the same time these lads from San Francisco were making these soundboard tapes, I was lusting for a great stereo. I dreamed of having something like my own Jukebox, with a remote control, and stacks of great records. 45 rpm and 33 long playing. I had a reel to reel, and would record both sides of an album so I didn't have to flip the record.

Who knew in 1975 that the Advent Loudspeaker would still garner high praise in the audiophile world, same for the crystal clear Yamaha amplifiers? Who knew that vinyl would give way to CD and record flipping was in the past?

The first stream is the cheap memory. I was at Best Buy looking at computer stuff and noticed a One-Terabyte external drive was only $20 more than the one half it's capacity. And I discovered bit torrent about the time when I could hear a significant difference between taped concerts that I downloaded as MP3 files and the world of FLAC (Free Lossless Audio Codec) open source files. I can hear a big difference, like an upgrade of your speaker wire or a new pair of interconnects used to give me.

I had only filled half of my 500 Gb drive with tons of RAW photo files, and the MP3 collection of shows and albums. I had plenty of room.

I discovered etree.org files , which are all FLAC, with no tolerance for MP3 lossy files. The files are huge, a Gigabyte each. But it is worth it.

I am enjoying a May 3, 1977 show at The Palladium in New York. It is so good. Soundboard tapes, the “wholly” grail of Tape collectors. Now since the Dead are systematically releasing these tapes as CDs, getting the lossless files for free is a Big Deal,

The final touch is a Clementine front end on my Linux box. It is more intuitive that even a Windows media player, and it handles FLAC files.

It is a beautiful thing, dude!

Beat North Korea with a bellyful

I have long wondered why we have shown so much interest in Iran achieving the capability to make a nuclear weapon, whilst watching North Korea flaunt the possession of such a weapon.

The Korean War was never resolved, and until recently was in a state of truce with it's southern half, the Republic of Korea.

Even without access to military intelligence, I am aware that Seoul is well within the range of artillery from the North, and they claim a “million-man” army that would easily repeat the mistake of Grandpa Kim, by attacking the South.

I suppose our reluctance to deal with North is because of China. But since the early 1950's, China has become a global trading partner, accepted some reforms and have become a lender of money to the United States.

I have written in the past of my friendship with a retired U.S. Army Ranger, and our long discussions about the Army he served. As a special forces operator, he was inserted into Iraq for months before he was painting command and control target for our “smart bombs” during the first Gulf War.

He said that if we had seen the news on CNN, that his team probably had been “boots on the ground” for months. One must assume these practices are still in force.

Infiltrating special forces operatives into a closed society, like the North Korea society would probably not include Anglo, or Black troops. But, we know that the Marines of the Republic of Korea (South Korea) are know world-wide as a highly trained group and called “some bad MFers” by their peers in the Rangers. I would like to believe that some operatives already are infiltrating the North, and have been in deep cover assignments for years.

I refuse to think that our government have not developed a number of options to quickly and decisively respond to any overt action by the Kim dynasty of the North.

I wonder if the well-trained snipers have the green light to put a .50 caliber round squarely in the skull of young Kim, should he acquire the target in the scope of his Barrett rifle. I hope that ROK special ops teams are ready to paint targets with lasers so we can surgically take our command and control sites, like we did in Baghdad in 1991.

But I would also think that if we could load up cargo planes with bags of rice, MREs (Meals Ready to Eat) and copies of the Seoul newspapers, and fly into North Korea and drop skid loads into population centers—military options would not be necessary. Korean people are the same on both sides of the De-Militarized Zone.

Although a whole generation has been raised up under an oppressive Stalinist regime, they are also hungry for food. With a full belly, and a newspaper full of truth, they might not be so interested in flooding over the border to kill their relatives.

Saved from Death again

This is not an April fool's joke. 

By the Grace of my Loving God, my life was spared once again. 
Monday morning I awoke at about 6:30 am as my bladder is wont to do. Normally I use a urinal but yesterday, I had to get up, and into my chair to take care of the pressing matter. 
Thank God I did. 

I had just transferred back on the bed when an electrical fire flared up where my space heater was plugged into an extension strip. It arced and the flame was about a foot straight up. I panicked and pulled the cord from the wall socket.
My heart was racing, and then I began thanking and praising God for his Tender Mercies.

Sunday night was not that cold, so I did not have the heater turned on. But, if I had been asleep, and the dirty clothes bag had fallen over on top of the extension strip, well we would be dead. I set about clearing away other things from electrical cords, sweeping up dog hair, and I called the landlord to send over an electrician to check things out.

Once again, by His Grace, the electrician replaced FOUR other outlets that were circa 1948 and posed additional threats. There was no rhyme nor reason why it arced and burned with me awake and alert. I shudder when I think if this had happened when I was away, or if something flammable was near by. Since this outlet was adjacent to the only door out of my bedroom, I could have been trapped in bed.

Over the years, I have walked the razor's edge that separates life and Abraham's Bosom. Infections have almost killed me six or seven times, but my life was spared.

I know that my Work on Earth is yet to be completed, that a purpose in my life is yet to be fulfilled. My Faith is much larger than a mustard seed. I have seen, participated in, and experienced Miracles that were Divine. Please, I beg you all to look into a mirror of your life and ask yourself, "If I were to die today, do I know where my Soul will take me." If you are not saved, if you do not have a personal relationship with your Creator God, please pray the sinner's prayer and start today a new life in Christ.

Any doubt that might keep you from making your decision today, is the Evil One, who rules his Earthly realm. The Devil is a liar, he wants your soul to be cast into the Lake of Fire. But, by choosing to accept Jesus Christ today, you are saved!

March Madness Day and riding my bike

I truly love this time of year. The nights are still chilly, the days are warm, and flowers are abloom everywhere. And, there is the Big Dance. Today is March Madness, Day One.

I have eaten a good brunch, and the games are on. I think I can do two things at one time, so I thought I might blog a bit. I really have nothing better to do.

Some days I might write about God and a personal relationship with my Creator. Other times I might tell you about something I am just thinking about. That should be as reservoir of material, because I have plenty of time to think.

Is being disabled a life altering experience? Yes, it presents it's challenges, but it also filled with rewards. When I was a freelance photojournalist, my reward was a front page, or a good pay day. Now I celebrate my first few steps, back in my leg. Spend two years sitting, and you will share my joy that exceeds even a check for a thousand dollars, by walking again.

I am not quite ready to ride the bicycle, but it is here beside me and needs only air in the tires. At 100 psi those “fat boy” slicks reduce the rolling resistance to like a road bike. When I am on my Schwinn steel frame (welded in Chicago) I know there will never be another like this tank. I call it the Red Fat-burning Machine. I was 385 pounds when I purchased the bike. I added good gears, an elliptical crank with longer arms, and a 36-spoke rear wheel. It is heavy, but then so was I.

I live on street which terminates at either end by tee intersections, so I have a closed circuit where traffic will not be an issue. I a big fan in the early stages of my training routine to limit myself to what I call circuit riding. A school track, a circular track around the lake at Freedom Park, or McAlpine Greenway have been convenient. That aspect is also important, because it takes 21 straight days of riding, without a break to get the bugs out and burn those hard first calories. In that time, it becomes a habit, an integral part of your lifestyle, and something you can do for the rest of your life.

There is no value in pushing yourself early, because these are the final days of lugging around a 50 pound tire around your belly. There will plenty of time to enjoy hills and longer rides, when you are under 300 pounds, and getting much more fit.

I have no idea what the sequence will be. I guess riding the bike from one end to the other, one lap would be like taking my first steps. That may be what I will do for the first seven days. You must resist the urge to push yourself and try two laps. It is a fool-hardy move. You have the next seven days for two laps. 

And then you increase incrementally, week to week, until you are doing fifty laps. By then, you are in a routine. Your body is addicted to endorphins. I remember riding in a snow storm one day not because of lunacy, but because nothing was going to stop me.

Believe me, I remember how significant the reward to work ratio shifts quickly. The more you ride, the more weight you lose, losing weight makes it easy to ride more, so the more you want to ride. I know of no other exercise program that has worked for me, but this one.

Obviously, there is a modification of your diet. Sugars in drinks is replaced by cold fresh water, you simply lose your taste for things which do not provide nutrition to fuel your fat burning machine.

A protocol is something you perfect and use it daily. It starts with breakfast, and the best for me was a meal of oatmeal and orange juice, with some whole wheat bread and good peanut butter, maybe a banana or blueberries in the oatmeal. I make my oatmeal the old fashioned way with a twist. I use apple juice instead of water, and thrown nuts in with some cinnamon. This is not a low calorie, low glycemic regimen, because it fuels the bike ride. I will continue in later blogs. My page is full.    

My best-seller

Authors have best-sellers. So do photographers.

For me, I am proud to say was an out of focus, out take that I fired off by holding my camera up and burning off the roll of film after security ran me off a movie set.

With world syndication, I netted $5,000.

This the story.

I got a call from the National Enquirer to do a SPLIT DEAL with an L.A. Based film syndicate. I would get my standard fee from the “newspaper” and then I was to send a contact sheet and negs to the guy in L.A.

It was the set of “Shallow Hal” with Gwyneth Paltrow, and Jack Black, being filmed here in Charlotte. It was a stake out, so I haul out the 600mm and a monopod and a second body with a short zoom. They wanted Paltrow in a fat suit. I set up across the street, and just waited.

Her “fat body double” was an extra, who was a very big and beautiful woman, so I popped off some frames as soon as I saw her walk out of the trailer. In a grab and go, you are in a race until somebody hears the camera and security runs you off.

I had about 36 frames to the good and then here comes comes a rent-a-cop. I figure if they are going to run me off anyhow, I should cross the street and change to the shorter lens. They tell me to move along, so I do a hail Mary and burn the roll with the motor drive.

I really didn't know if it was Paltrow or not until I processed the film, and it wasn't Paltrow.

Being 6-foot-11 meant I had burned myself. I wasn't getting another chance.

The National Enquirer asked the rhetorical question, “Is this Gwyneth?” and it played a quarter page on page two. I Fed-Ex'd the contact sheet and negs to L.A.

The next I get a call and they said what I had was dynamite! I said thanks, and he said they had sold Australia, England already. He asked me if I knew kind of money I had already earned? Of course not, I said. And he said if I could accept a Fed-Ex the next day and I said sure.

Then he started explaining that I was in for 50% net of all proceeds, and this would trickle in, but I figured if it was worth an overnight charge it might be interesting. The first check was $1,500, a few weeks later another overnight, and it was a check for like $700, and this went on up to the time of the release of the film. Then I get another whooper, over $1,000. The grand total was $5,000.

When they sent me clips from fan mags, who bought the images, I was shocked. The fat double girl was a blurry image, at a weird angle...the kind of picture I would have cut off and thrown in the trash. But, they loved it because it looked like a “spy cam” and the caption had me hiding wait to get Paltrow's picture.

Not one check bounced, and I never did a paparazzi gig ever again.

I didn't think I could ever top that story.  

My career behind the camera

There is a saying that some of us were born with ink in our blood. I might be one of those lucky enough to have been a journalist for the majority of my career.

When I was in my second year at Tipton High School, my career as a football player came to an end during the first game of the season. A clip block destroyed both my knees, and the verdict of the orthopedic surgeon was either quit football or surgery. I chose to pursue other options, and a new 35mm camera for my birthday was the beginning of a career that would span almost 40 years.

My parents would not pay for my new hobby, and I wanted to be a newspaper photographer. I rode my bicycle to office of the local daily, the Tipton (IN) Tribune and told the editor that I took better pictures than the ones being used in the paper. He challenged me with my first assignment, a high school track meet that afternoon. On my way to school the next day I dropped off the finished 5x7 prints, and to my surprise, I was offered a job. I was 15 years old. They provided me with film and the use of the darkroom. And, they paid me on a per picture basis.

I heard sirens wailing for a long time one afternoon, and called the Sheriff's office to find out what was going on. They told me that a school bus full of teenagers working in the corn fields had been struck by a truck head-on, with numerous injuries. I rode my bicycle to the scene, several miles out of town.

A few weeks before, I had met Jim Schweiker, the Indianapolis based photographer for United Press International. After processing the film, I called him about photos and he wanted me to rush the film to him. I told him I had to wait till my father came home, because at 15 I could not drive a car. My father drove me to the state capitol, and my first pictures were transmitted worldwide.

I won awards from the Hoosier State Press Association, working for the paper while finishing high school. I had a friend from the camera store who was a student at Butler University, so I decided that would be a good choice. I was awarded the Hilton U. Brown Scholarship, by the publishers of the Indianapolis Star, and started college.

During my freshman year, my mother lost her battle with cancer. I had met the Indianapolis based photographer for the Associated Press, Chuck Robinson, and Dr. Wil Counts at Indiana University's distinguished Journalism program. I decided after my freshman year at Butler to decline the scholarship, and transferred to IU-Bloomington. The AP offered me a position to cover sports for the wire service. That was the 1975-76 year when Indiana's basketball team went undefeated, winning the NCAA Championship.

When I left school in May, my father's life was in turmoil. I returned to the Tribune as a staff photographer, and Sports Editor. I continued my college degree work at IU-Kokomo, and worked full time to help support my father. In the summer of 1977, I decided to finish my double major in Journalism and Political Science in Bloomington, and began taking a double load of classes during both summer sessions. I graduated the following May, with my class of 1978.

That winter, a coal strike paralyzed the Bloomington campus and we enjoyed an extended Spring Break. I visited my grandparents in North Carolina, setting up job interviews in the Tar Heel state. On the first stop, I was offered a position at the Gastonia Gazette, a newspaper near Charlotte with a good reputation of news photography.

I was one of the first members of my class to be awarded a gold star on Marge Blewett's honor roll of graduating Seniors to find a job. After six months, I returned home for Christmas, and before I could return to North Carolina, I was offered a position with the Muncie (IN) newspapers. This was a challenge, because the paper had committed to install color photography, and that was something I wanted to learn.

I spent a year working in Muncie, and was then offered a position with Indiana's Blue Ribbon Daily newspaper, the Shelbyville News. The publisher of that paper had committed to running a color picture on each day's front page. I had knowledge of making color separations so this was a good fit.

After a year of award-winning work, the editor of the Gazette called and wanted me to return to North Carolina as Chief Photographer, heading up a four person staff. They too were joining the ranks of color photography, and I was able to install their color processing system. I also created a subsidiary of the publishing company to supply expendable photo products for the Gazette, and other NC papers owned by the same company.

When my father passed away in 1982, I left the paper, to embark upon a life without a camera. I had jobs in sales and marketing, selling pre-press services and fine-art reproductions.

My first love, black and white photography processing, came back as I gained a reputation as an outstanding darkroom technician, printing for Charlotte's best commercial photographers.

In 1990, the British news agency Reuters began expansion into the US, and my mentor Jim Schweiker contacted me to help cover the Indianapolis 500 race. My work was outstanding, and the editors in Washington offered me a contract for coverage in North Carolina. I worked for the international wire service for the next 18 years, covering the Charlotte Hornets and Bobcats NBA teams and the NFL's Carolina Panthers until 2008. I retired when an infection caused my right leg to be amputated.

My work was seen by over One Billion people on a daily basis. By far the best assignment I completed was one of my last. I covered the dedication ceremony of the Rev. Billy Graham Library, photographing Dr. Graham with three former U.S. Presidents: George H.W. Bush, Jimmy Carter and Bill Clinton. Those pictures played well on the front pages of both the New York Times and Washington Post as well as internationally and are now syndicated by the Corbis picture agency.