Bixi takes over the world

Group ride
Montreal, QC
July 2012
Head here to share your own curvaceous vision

New York City's been getting a lot of headlines lately thanks to its much ballyhooed new bike sharing service, Citi Bike. I find it amusing that most media covering the story fail to accurately report - if they report at all - the system's origins.

For the record, it all started in Montreal, where a company called Bixi introduced a service called, coincidentally, Bixi Montreal, in 2009. It's since spread to a number of other cities in Canada, the U.S. and Europe. Go Canada!

I find initiatives like this rather inspiring because bike sharing services like this provide a new, inexpensive, easily accessible way of getting around the city. Urban transportation has for so long been dominated by the almighty car that it's refreshing to see a humble bike assert its place in the asphalt jungle. For folks afraid to leave their own bikes locked outside - and let's be honest, even if I take my deliberately old, beaten-up "beater bike" downtown for a meeting, I still worry when it's locked, alone, to a pole - a service like this could be an ideal solution for ad hoc, worry-free pedalling.

It isn't a perfect solution by any means. There have been conflicting reports in recent years about the service's financial viability, and the decidedly non-eco requirements to truck trailers filled with bikes from station to station to ensure even distribution. The automation-heavy solution also doesn't always work as it should, leaving riders either unable to get a bike on the road, or unable to check one back in when they're done.

These are all very real challenges, but at the same time nothing is ever perfect. Complex systems take time to mature, and we'll never improve city life if we don't push the bounds every once in a while. I'm glad a bunch of Montrealers chose to do just that. And I'm glad folks around the world are now benefitting from their efforts. Ride on.

Your turn: would you support something like this in your area?

On play

"When you play, never mind who listens to you."
Robert Schumann

Smart guy. Why do we put so much value on what others think, anyway?

They don't make them like they used to

Blue Ford
St. Thomas, ON
June 2009

I love the look of older cars. They weren't designed in wind tunnels or by focus groups. They were crafted by designers whose signatures were baked right into every curve* and flourish.

Yes, today's cars are far more efficient and safe. They can do things the antiques couldn't even dream of, and they'll last longer and do less damage to the world around them.

But. Because with me there's always a but.

I still stop in my tracks when I come across a well preserved older vehicle, and I'm guessing I'm not the only one who does. There's something inspiring about a machine that survives time. The people who take it upon themselves to keep them alive are even more inspiring. To listen to them talk about their cars, to see their eyes and faces light up as they explain what it took to get them from pile of rusted metal to pure rolling art - you feel reverent just being around them.

The Toyota Camry is a lovely car. It's safe, efficient and reliable. But I just don't see crowds gathered around one 40 years from now while the owner, fresh off a ground-up restoration job, waxes poetic about why this particular vehicle deserved to be saved from the ravages of time. Some things are best let go. Of course it's impossible to read the future and know beyond a shadow of a doubt what will and will not be a future classic. But with the benefit of hindsight, I'm kinda glad the Ford Customline V8 in the photo above continues among us.

Your turn: What separates something that's worth preserving from something that isn't?

* Thematic's curvaceous theme is here, and you're all invited.

Getting back on the road

Ready to roll
London, ON
May 2009
Thematic. Curvaceous. Here.

Once upon a time, I typically logged more miles (okay, kilometers) on two wheels than on four. I cycled everywhere. To work, to meetings, to kids' functions, to nowhere in particular...you name it and if I could find a way to leave the car at home, I did. I relished the prospect of pushing the bounds of bike culture, of building my day-to-day life around it, of powering myself to distant destinations with little more than muscle-driven power and stubborn will.

The adventure was a fun one. I went to new and incredible places. I got into crazy-good shape. I was even punched out by a nasty motorist. Good times, all.

These days my commute is a little too long for cycling, and the other competing priorities of life leave me little-to-no free time to get out and pedal.

Which is a poor excuse, I know. If I really wanted to ride, I'd find a way to make it happen. Every time I see someone cruise on past, or look at my own parked machine, it dawns on me that I'm not balancing this life thing as best I could. I need to start making better decisions about how I allocate my time, how I get around, and how I prioritize my activities.

Time to make a change. I'm guessing stark words on a screen, along with a stark photo, should be enough to get me to make that first move.

Your turn: This weekend, we ride. Who's with me?

Facebook is down. World panics.

Don't look now, but Facebook.com is unavailable. I'm actively watching the streets of our sleepy burg, ready to spirit my family to a safer location in case the masses decide to riot.

Or maybe I'll just unplug and walk the dog. Yeah, that's the ticket.

Update 9:35 pm ET: Aaaaand, we're back. The emergency seems to have passed, folks, and we can now return to our regularly scheduled lives. Which, if my read of Twitter streams over the last 10 minutes is accurate, mostly involves aimlessly reading through the Facebook feeds of so-called friends. Remember, they're not "friends" simply because Facebook calls them that. But that's a blog post for another day, I suppose.

9:51 pm ET: CNet has published this story, Facebook experiences apparent outage and NBC News ran this piece. Other updates: Gizmodo, AllThingsD,

9:53: Found these handy dandy DownForEveryoneButMe.com and DownRightNow.com pages. Other similar resources: DownWhere, IsItDownRightNow, and...

10:04: Best headline so far: Facebook server outage makes everyone freak out (gotta love Australia!) 2nd best headline: Facebook crashes, no injuries.

10:07: TheNextWeb.

10:12: This is ridiculous. I'm going to walk the dog. Ping me if anything momentous happens. On second thought...

Your turn: We all like to remember where we were and what we were doing when the lights went out. So let's update it for the social media age: where were you and what were you up to during the Great Facebook Not-Quite-Meltdown of June 2013?

On those who light the fire

"At times our own light goes out and is rekindled by a spark from another person. Each of us has cause to think with deep gratitude of those who have lighted the flame within us."
Albert Schweitzer

Your turn: Who lights the fire within you?

Thematic Photographic 248 - Curvaceous

I dream of geodesic
Montreal, QC
July 2012

If the world is a ball - and the seminal Canadian new wave band Martha and the Muffins certainly believed it was, because they named an entire album as such - then creations like the one I've shared here deserve their moment in the sun.

This is the Biosphere, a decidedly huge geodesic dome that's become something of an icon of the Montreal skyline.

If you're just old enough, you might remember this structure as the home of the U.S. pavilion at the Expo 67 World's Fair. Nine years later, the acrylic skin of the dome was destroyed in a spectacular fire, but the structure, sans skin, was eventually recycled as an environmental museum, which remains its prime function to this day.

I've chosen it as this week's Thematic launch photo because curves make for great photographic subjects, and this is just about one of the loveliest curved - okay, spherical, but I won't quibble about it if you won't - forms I've ever had the privilege to shoot. I need more lens time here the next time we're back in Montreal.

Your turn: Take a pic that evokes, suggests or even barely whispers the "curvaceous" theme. Share it on your blog, website, Facebook page - anywhere online, really - then leave a comment here letting everyone know where to find it. Visit other participants to share in the fun, and feel free to post additional photos throughout the week. This isn't a competition. Rather, it's a collaborative, supportive means of expanding our photographic horizons a bit, and more background can be found here. Have fun with it - I can't wait to see what you've got up your curvaceous sleeves!

Did our kid just become an adult?

It was a big weekend for our little man, as Noah celebrated his Bar Mitzvah. In the Jewish tradition, it's the milestone where you, quite literally, are recognized as a true adult. While we're not about to turf our almost-13-year-old into the big bad world so that he can earn his keep, we are pretty thrilled that he's already become a remarkable young man in his own right, and that he so ably stepped up to the plate and made the experience his own this weekend, surrounded by friends and family who adore him.

I'm generally not one for speeches, but I shared some thoughts in shul (synagogue) on Saturday, and wanted to share them here, as well. Hope you enjoy:

Thank you all for being here. Looking around the room, surrounded by friends and family who’ve come here from as close as around the corner and as far as Toronto, Montreal, Florida, it’s easy to see how blessed we are. We have the life we have in this amazing place called London thanks to the support of friends who have become family to us since the day we moved here. Thank you for opening your homes to us and our friends and family, and for always being such an integral part of our lives.

I'd like to share with you a brief peek into a typical morning in the life of Noah Mayer Gideon Levy.

The scene: our darkened bedroom. It's early. Very early. The sun isn't yet up, and even the birds outside are quiet. The dog is snoring away by my feet. I may or may not have been snoring, as well.

The door opens ever so gently, and soft feet pitter patter into the room. A slight shadow passes over the bed as little man, awoken from his slumber, reaches out for a hug from his mom.

He then saunters over to my side of the bed, and I get a hug, too. Just because. The dog is next, softened words filling a darkened room.

It doesn’t take long before our rescued, less-than-perfectly-trained dog is following our son downstairs. Noah feeds him, walks him, sits down with him in the middle of an otherwise empty kitchen floor, gives him his needle and plays with him until the rest of the house starts to stir. Pretty soon, the house is alive, and Noah’s helping Debbie load the car and head off to school.

An average day. But not an average kid. Because this is your every day. No one asks you to do any of this. You simply know it needs to get done. From the moment you wake up, you’re looking out for others. If someone in your group forgets lunch, you’re the one who shares. If someone needs a little extra help in class or out of class, you’re the one who jumps in. You always manage to quietly find opportunities – and people – that need just a little extra something.

You do your homework without complaint. You succeed in school and you’re a blur on the soccer field. Whatever you’re doing, you do it well – there’s no half-way with you; you’re always all-in.

You still hold your mom’s hand. You still hold mine. For how much longer, we don’t know, but the fact that you still do makes our hearts melt just a little every time you reach out.

None of this dropped from the sky, though. You came by it honestly. You’ve been absorbing all this goodness from your mom pretty much forever, and she, in turn, absorbed it from her parents.

Bubby Zelda, of blessed memory, wanted so much to be here today. Even had her outfit picked out. Her lessons, today and every day, live on in you, every time you feed the dog, look out for a friend, help someone in the community. She made the world’s best green jello, but it wasn’t the jello that mattered. It was the fact that she knew how much you loved it, made sure it was ready and waiting for you, Zach and Dahlia when you got there.

You make green jello for us.

Likewise, Zaidy Arthur, also of blessed memory, lives on in you. In the way you look out for others before yourself, in the way you surround yourself with your friends, immerse yourself in their world, laugh with them and squeeze the joy out of even the most everyday moments. His Zaidy Shows were legendary, but it’s how you took them and made them your own that stands out for me. When visiting him in the hospital, you’d put on the gown, gloves and mask, plop a get well card onto his bed and then read him what you wrote. You made the moment your own, let him know that you could make him smile just as much as he had done for you.

So many words come to mind when we think of you. Don’t worry: they’re all good. You are empathetic, sweet, kind. You’re driven and focused. You’re a remarkably good – most of the time – little brother to Zach and Dahlia. You’re a great friend, the kind of kid parents love to have over because they know they never need to worry about you. You’re a gutteh neshumeh, a good soul.

There are so many things we want to say to you as you make this transition from childhood to adulthood (and, no, you can’t have the car just yet.) But I’d like to share this with you, from Norman Vincent Peale, because I think it captures the spirit of who you are:

“The way to happiness: Keep your heart free from hate, your mind from worry. Live simply, expect little, give much. Scatter sunshine, forget yourself, and think of others.”

Mazel tov, mazel tov, mazel tov. We couldn’t be more proud of you, and we know how lucky we are to be on this remarkable journey with you.

Your turn: Got any wishes or words of advice for Noah?

On the next generation

“The way to happiness: Keep your heart free from hate, your mind from worry. Live simply, expect little, give much. Scatter sunshine, forget yourself, and think of others.”
Norman Vincent Peale

On this day of days - more on that later - these words reflect the spirit of our youngest son, Noah. These words are who he is and how he lives. They are the lessons he's learned in his almost-13 years on this planet, and the basis of the inspiring young man that he's become.

All parents are, of course, proud of their children. Consider me, my wife and our entire family just a little more proud of him than usual today.

Reconnecting with my wavy past

Waved off
Grand Bend, ON
July 2012
Click here for more "on the water" Thematic

I had a weird ritual when I was a lifeguard. At the end of the day, as we cleared the pool and sent everyone on their merry way, I liked to watch the waves in the pool slowly subside until the surface returned to an almost-flat calmness. It was never perfectly still thanks to wind and filter action, but it was enough to reinforce that the day's swimming was done, that peace had once again returned to a usually noisy place.

Of course, the next morning, we'd open up and some kid (always a kid) would inevitably dive in and turn the glassy surface back into frenetic, molecular chaos.

Great Lakes - this one's Huron - don't subscribe to the same notions as swimming pools nestled behind local community centres. There are always waves here no matter how few swimmers are in the water (I blame the ducks, but that's a story for another day.) That doesn't mean I still don't stand off to the side and watch the inevitable, never-ending ebb and flow. It's strangely calming, and the textures in this deliberately underexposed shot serve as a reminder that personal touchstones exist everywhere, even hundreds of kilometers and decades apart from where the memories were first formed.

Your turn: a long-ago memory involving water. Please discuss.

Wait for me

When you run out of runway
Grand Bend, ON
July 2012
Thematic. On the water. Here.

Sometimes when I pull this picture up, I like to imagine what this guy was thinking as he perched so close to the edge of the breakwater. He was probably just enjoying a few peaceful moments on a sunny summer afternoon, but part of me wonders if he was trying to will those boats back to shore so he could hitch a ride.

I know I sure would.

Whatever his story may have been, the shot reminds me why I enjoy shooting beside the water. Because every experience is unique. And you can keep coming back to the same place and never run out of things to see, stories to tell or feelings to share. I think water does that to people.

Your turn: So what is he thinking?

Flying over the old 'hood

Rolling onto final approach
Montreal, QC
February 2013
For more Thematic on the water, click here.

In a certain respect, I was coming home.

To the left, Montreal, the city where I was born. To the right, Laval, where I was raised. In the middle, the Riviere-des-Prairies, the maligned, polluted, often forgotten little sister to the St. Lawrence River that flows around the other side of Montreal, to the south.

On both banks below, I had spent countless hours as a child biking the streets and paths, exploring an ever-widening world, wondering where it all ended. In an era before GPS or cell phones, I'd simply ride for a long as I dared before turning for home. Every time I pushed further from home, every next turn became a new adventure. With each turn of the pedals, I controlled my destiny just that much more.

Sadly, I'm not sure it's something I'd want my kids doing today. Different time. Different world. But as I glided far over streets that once looked so limitless, I realized how much larger the world really was, and how important it was for me to take those first steps so long ago.

Your turn: where do you like to explore?

On connecting with others

"At the end of the day your ability to connect with your readers comes down to how you make them feel."
Benjamin J. Carey, Barefoot in November

I'm guessing this applies to writing as well as everyday life. I'm guessing I need to spend more time figuring out the connecting-with-others thing. And the feeling thing. Because we all deserve to feel a little better.

Thematic Photographic 247 - On the water

Frozen in time
Laval, QC
July 2012

I was something of a late bloomer when it came to swimming. For a lot of reasons, I learned to swim at a relatively advanced age. Once bitten, though, it stuck, and it took years until my parents were able to coax my then-prune-skinned form back out of the water.

Our kids apparently inherited the fish gene, and have become strong, comfortable swimmers in their own right. Since we spend as much time as possible around the water, and given where we are in the calendar, I thought this week's theme should reflect our watery reality. Because if we're experiencing it here, I'm willing to guess you are, too.

So for the next week, I'll be sharing scenes from in and around - indeed, on - the water. Hope you'll join in, as well.

Your turn: Share a photo from on the water - or one that suggests or reflects the theme - on your blog or website (or Facebook, or anywhere online, really.) Leave a comment here letting everyone know where to find it. Visit other participants through the week, and feel free to return with additional posts as the inspiration hits you. If you'd like to learn more about how Thematic works, click here. Otherwise, can't wait to see what you've got!

Escape from the concrete jungle

Tucked away in plain sight
Montreal, QC
July 2012
New Thematic launches tonight at 7:00 Eastern
Concrete-themed entries accepted here.

To most of us, urban alleyways are foreboding, dirty places we've been taught to avoid. Risk lives here, among other things, and it's typically something that we spend much time thinking about. Note it in our peripheral vision, and keep on walking.

Yet this one is, if not different, at least worthy of a bit of a pause, a second thought, and clearly on this day, a picture. Someone felt comfortable enough to park a superbike here. And whoever built the surrounding buildings saw fit to include some fairly large windows overlooking this seemingly bleak landscape.

Perhaps we need to revisit the rules of what constitutes "worthy" and what does not. Perhaps there's more to these often-shunned patches of the urban fabric than meets the eye.

Your turn: Is there?

Not afraid to get a little dirty

Closeup
Laval, QC
September 2012
Click here for more concretely-themed Thematic

There are many moments in a child's life where you kind of sit back and realize he's more like you than you ever realized.

This was one of them.

Whenever Noah picks up a camera, he becomes even more thoughtful, deliberate and focused than he usually is. As his eyes carefully soak in the space around him, I can almost feel the gears in his head moving, processing the scene and pointing him toward the story he wants to tell.

On this cold and blustery afternoon, Noah, big sister Dahlia and I picked up our cameras, tightened our jackets and headed out into the light mist with no real agenda in mind. As we've done so often previously, the kids knew that inspiration would hit them once they had had a few minutes to get into the groove.

Which is exactly what happened here. What would normally be a washed out shuffleboard court to most was, to him, something worth a closer, low-angled look. I said nothing the entire time - it was enough to let him explore the moment on his own. And explore he did.

When he was done shooting, he got up, wiped the grit off of his clothes and immediately looked for the next target of opportunity. He and Dahlia buzzed about what they had found, and quietly discussed what they should look for next. The scene repeated itself a number of times before we finally headed back in, a little dirtier. Which is as it should be. Washing machines can clean up the gunk he picks up along the way, but nothing can take away the experience of seeing the world through a lens, on his own terms.

Your turn: What first sparked your interest in photography?

On Albert Einstein's latest feat

"Everbody is a genius. But if you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing that it is stupid."
Albert Einstein

The famed physicist hit the headlines again this week when the fourth European Space Agency Automated Transfer Vehicle (aka ATV-4) was lofted into orbit atop an Ariane 5 heavy-lift rocket. Per ESA tradition, the cargo ship, which docks with the International Space Station next week, is named after a famous European scientist. Jules Verne, Johannes Kepler and Edoardo Amalfi have already flown, while Georges Lemaitre will close out the program on flight 5 next year. (Don't worry, though, as ESA is planning on using the technology as the basis for a service module for NASA's Orion capsule, and possibly other applications, as well.)

Einstein may have died 58 years ago, but he's clearly still making his mark here on Earth and well above it. Beyond his scientific genius, he was a keen observer of the human condition, and his words, as evidenced here, continue to inspire. Now I'm guessing it's up to us to heed his advice.

Your turn: I'm a big believer in words that inspire. What words or quotes inspire you? Feel free to share here.

The lonely blue shoe

Missing its mate
London, ON
June 2013
For more Thematic concretely, please click here

A single shoe sitting in the middle of a parking lot at the local mall begs a million questions:

• Who wore it?
• How did it become separated from its rightful foot?
• How drunk was the owner of said foot? (And presumably the other one, come to think of it.)
• How did he (totally a he) get home afterward?
• Was he aware of his footsy imbalance?
• Would this have happened had he tied his laces properly?

We'll never get the real answers, I fear. And the shoe? It's probably since been scooped up by a wild flock of seagulls and deposited in the shadowy spot between the recycling bins and the loading dock behind the no-longer-shiny-and-new Target store.

I rather like the lesson inherent in this misplaced shoe. Just when you think malls aren't capable of throwing you a curve and making you think, they surprise you.

Your turn: So, what is the story of this shoe? Have at it. Best comment wins, uh, what...socks?

Truth in advertising

3D warning
London, ON
May 2009

This sewer cover warms my heart for a number of reasons:

• It's almost fully covered, lacking the linear grooves that have toppled so many cyclists over the years.
• It's a great example of effective industrial design.
• It's politely helpful - well, if you read English, that is - in that passive, friendly-Canadian kind of way.

I know it isn't concrete but it's suspended between the concrete curb and the crumbling asphalt road, so I figured it counted (head here if none of this is making any sense. Or even if it does.)

The urban landscape is filled with micro-examples like this, snippets of often overlooked design that quietly govern our day-to-day lives whether or not we choose to take note. Whenever I find myself in another city, I like to peek a little more closely at things like this, because there's just enough variation from one place to another to keep this little game of mine interesting.

Besides, what else are you going to do while waiting for the light to change?

Puppy love

Kennelcam
Laval, QC
August 2009
Thematic. Concretely. Here.

Say hello to my aunt and uncle's dog. Don't worry: she doesn't live in jail. She was being boarded at a kennel for a couple of days. She usually spends her life being loved and adored - and she has the full run of the house, including the couch.

I know concrete block construction is cost effective. It's an inexpensive material that can be built up quickly - perfect for buildings that are built to a price.

Unfortunately, concrete block has about as much charm as, well, it has no charm. Throw in some rusted gates and ill-fitting drains and you have a perfect storm of depressing architecture. From the look on her face, I absolutely believe she agrees, and the tail wags and kisses we got when she was let out only confirmed it.

Your turn: What's she thinking?

Shot through an open car window

Cubism
Montreal, QC
August 2009
Please click here for more Thematic concretely

I took this picture almost four years ago, and I'll confidently state now that I'll never take another one like it again.

That's because I took it while driving in heavy Montreal traffic. I was basically parked in the middle of the city because I made the mistake of finishing the day's work smack in the middle of rush hour. Living in smalltown London, you sort of forget these things. My bad.

Anyway, after sitting in neutral for 10 minutes, I figured if I wasn't otherwise doing anything, like driving, I may as well reach for my camera and snap off a few frames.

Great in theory. Not so great in practice, as they now call it distracted driving. And rightfully so. Even if you're stopped at a red light, or stuck in hopeless traffic, you really shouldn't be doing anything but driving. It's a lesson I wish the lady who passed me on the 401 one afternoon last week had learned. She was doing 125 km/h in the left lane...and texting furiously. I deftly changed lanes to get as far away from her as possible. Whatever it was that was so important that she Absolutely Had To Text Right Now, I hope she never learns the hard way that nothing is ever that important.

Looking at this shot, it's clear it never will be, either. No more traffic jam photography for me.

Your turn: What does the message on this concrete block mean?

Thematic Photographic 246 - Concretely

Cracked
Laval, QC
August 2009

I'm going to make this week's theme, concretely, an easy one because a) my life these days is filled with plenty of other complexities and b) I'm guessing yours is, too.

So I did the easy thing for the launch photo: grabbed a moody shot of past-its-prime concrete slab just before sunset. While concrete is fundamentally a literal and figurative pillar of modern construction, the cracks of age betray the fact that it isn't permanent, and it isn't anywhere near as strong as the day-to-day forces of nature that will eventually, inevitably, turn it to dust.

Perhaps there's a lesson in this that transcends the principles of materials engineering. Perhaps we'll have a chance to shed a little photographic light on it over the next week.

Your turn: Please take a photo of concrete - or something that evokes or suggests concrete. Share it on your blog, website, Facebook page, wherever you store stuff online. Leave a comment here letting folks know where to find it. Feel free to repeat the process through the week - multiple submissions are always welcome - and bring a friend along if you wish because more is always merrier. For more background on how Thematic works, click here. Otherwise, have fun with it - and thank you. I appreciate your continued participation and contribution.

Journey to the end of the earth

Nature's messiness
Deerfield Beach, FL
December 2010

I wanted to end off this week's messiness theme (head here to share yours) with a peek into the chaos of nature.

Walk through a thick stand of trees, watch a windstorm or, as is the case here, stand in the surf and you'll come face-to-face with nature's ability to make a huge mess. From impenetrable knots of branches to randomly strewn debris to a roiling intertidal zone, nature is constantly rewriting and redrawing itself in an eternally unfolding story, with a plot we're only beginning to understand.

I didn't need to understand the plot as I watched the waves roll in on this late afternoon. It was more than enough to stand and feel awestruck at the wonder of the moment. Sometimes, that's all you really need to appreciate where you stand in the universe, and why it's an inherently good thing to get outside every once in a while and drink it all in.

Your turn: What does messiness mean to you?

The tree of life

Silent witness
Duvernay, QC
May 2013

If life is messy, so, too, is its end. I've learned there's nothing linear, logical or predictable about any of it. Between navigating your own journey and managing the turbulence created - unintentionally or not - by others, it's a trip no one wants to be on, but we all end up there regardless.

So on a breezy afternoon in the cemetery where my father and mother-in-law are buried, I thought I might want to tote a camera along not because there's anything particularly gripping about shooting in a graveyard. But because this place has, for reasons we had never hoped for but knew were inevitable, become a permanent focus for our family. We don't come here often, but it's always there, in the back of our minds, reminding us of what we no longer have.

This tree was different than the others in the leafy stand that defined the border of this place. As you can see, it's led a hard life, and at some point I figure I'll return here and find a stump in its place. But for now, it stands, defiantly alive in a place that is not. In a place where the living come to somehow make sense of life after it ends.

Not that there's any sense to be had.

Your turn: what is this tree's story?

Related links:

• Endings, and possibly beginnings
• Bird on a stone
• Caption This 135
• At rest

A jet gets lost in the weeds

Grounded
London, ON
June 2012
For more Thematic messiness, click here.

Behold the D-Jet, a bold attempt by Diamond Aircraft to crack the inexpensive business jet (an oxymoron, I know, but work with me) market.

I saw this prototype, registered as C-GVLJ, fly at an airshow in 2007. Back then, optimism was high that this plane would take a company known mostly for its prop-driven aircraft to new heights, literally and figuratively.

The road's been decidedly rocky for Diamond since then. They cancelled the jet program, then revived it, then in February suspended it because of high development costs and sagging sales of the piston-engined planes that were supposed to pay for it all. Then Diamond laid off most of their staff at their plant just beside London's airport.

I grabbed this picture last June because I suspected I'd never again see the plane in the flesh - and because the sight of something that had once held so much promise parked beside a double-wide and a hibachi, surrounded by choking weeds, struck me as somewhat poignant.

The company continues to showcase the plane on its website, so there's always hope. I guess I'm being a little ridiculous, as it's just a plane. But every time I drive by the empty parking lot, I think of the hundreds of employees who've now been scattered to the wind. In the end, the plane is merely the glue that holds a community together, and it saddens me to think of what's been lost in the process.

Digging into the future

Leaving its mark
Shanghai, China
May 2012
Click here for more Thematic messiness

By definition, construction sites are messy places. There's a purpose to the messiness, of course, and a certain temporariness to it all. At some point, the muddy earth will turn to landscaped perfection, the exposed rebar replaced by finely finished, sleekly shaped surfaces. When the ribbon is finally cut, memories of what it took to build this place are almost universally relegated to history, dusty photos tucked away in a rarely opened album or archive.

None of this makes construction sites themselves less compelling. I find them endlessly fascinating landscapes of change, places that overwhelm the senses and challenge us to think about what could - and eventually will - be. Sure, they'll leave a layer of caked mud on your car if you get too close, but who among us hasn't hung around the perimeter fence and simply stared in?

I kind of dug (sorry) this scene as soon as I saw it. I know the digger is huge, but the high angle made it look like a kid's toy. As I tripped the shutter, I wondered if the machine's operator ever wondered about the things he creates.

Your turn: Why do construction sites appeal to us?

On the context of happiness

"Sometimes you have to get sad before you get happy 'cause otherwise how would you know the difference?"
Maureen Child, And Then Came You: Sam's Story

I had never thought of it in quite this way, but on reflection it seems to make a certain amount of sense. If we don't experience the full spectrum of it all, how do we really know?

Thematic Photographic 245 - Messiness

After the game is played
London, ON
January 2012

The world isn't always the neatest place. Folks drop stuff in places they shouldn't. Dirt gets into places we wish it wouldn't. The usual rules of neatness seem to be ignored in the process.

Sometimes, like when you're building or renovating something, it can't be helped. Other times, like this scene at the end of a hard fought hockey game at a usually spotless facility, it's another story.

My daughter scrunched her nose when she saw this, and wondered aloud why folks can't be a little more careful about the stuff they leave behind. I didn't have a real answer for her then, and I still don't.

Your turn: Take a picture that evokes the "messiness" theme and post it to your blog or website (or Facebook, or Twitter, or wherever else you like to share stuff.) Leave a comment here letting folks know where to find it. Visit other participants to spread the photographic joy. Pop by again throughout the week, as we encourage repeat photographic sharing. For more background on how Thematic works, click here. Have fun!

Throw momma from the train, a kiss

Little man goes to Washington
London, ON
May 2013

Sunday mornings are normally for sleeping in, lazy mornings when we let the kids take care of the dog while we enjoy our only untimed, unscheduled, undeadlined morning of the week.

Not this Sunday.

We set alarms for 5 a.m. and drowsily patted a puzzled puppy as we ushered our bleary-eyed little man out the door and into a frosty car. Yesterday was a big day for him, one he'd been waiting for all year: his class trip to Washington, DC.

We cruised into the school parking lot and joined up with a similarly bleary-eyed group of parents and kids. The sun hadn't risen high enough in the sky yet, so everyone's priority while we waited for the rest of the kids to arrive was to ward off the chill.

Soon enough, the group was complete and they gathered up their bags and converged with their teachers on the mega-van rented for the trip. After a quick last-hug, Noah hopped in with his friends, smiling faces and waving hands mostly concealed by the tinted glass. And then, just like that, they were gone.

Since this is 2013, he was able to message us whenever they stopped along the way and found free wi-fi. He pinged us as soon as they got to the hotel, too - and sent his sister a picture of the hotel pool. I expect he'll be taking a lot of pictures, absorbing a lot of experiences, and writing yet another page in the journal of a rapidly expanding life.

It was a quiet house last night. As I fetched the dog from Noah's empty room, I counted the number of sleeps left until he returns home Thursday night. Only four; a blink, really. Knowing him, however, we knew he was already filling his first night away with memories he'll carry for decades. Doubtless he'll do the same with every moment on this trip, because that's just the way he is. And we wouldn't have it - or him - any other way.

Happy travels, little man.

Your turn: What was your favorite childhood trip?

On prejudice and fools

"Prejudices are what fools use for reason."
Voltaire

Way stations in the night

Fuel up
Woodstock, ON
March 2013
Thematic. Frozen. Here.
New Thematic goes live Monday at 7 p.m. ET

I spend a lot of time moving between where I am and where I need to be. Which means I have a choice to either lament the surplus of in-between time, or embrace the zen of the journey. I'm all about embracing, so now you know which way I lean.

This particular place is known as an ONnRoute. It's one of a series of service stations alongside major Ontario highways. I grabbed this shot in Woodstock as I headed home from work on a particularly nasty evening.

On the surface, it's a gas station, a collection of fast food joints, and little else. Worse, it looks just like every other ONRoute, an efficiently designed, generically architected and ultimately forgettable facility designed to keep thousands of motorists moving on their way while they forget where they've been. There's no sense of place here, nothing to connect you with the town you're supposedly passing through - but never actually see, touch or experience. In fact, thanks to automated-pay pumps, you can theoretically complete an entire trip without actually encountering another soul. Welcome to the 21st century.

Given all of this, I normally wouldn't have bothered to take a picture. But the traffic had been insane thanks to the zany winter weather and road conditions, and I was feeling particularly reflective as I pulled off the highway and pointed my headlights toward the growing oasis of light up ahead. Before hitting the icy, windswept road for the rest of the trip home, I somehow got it into my head that this was a moment, in an otherwise forgettable place, that shouldn't be forgotten.

Which is my rather inelegant way of saying that every place, even a cookie cutter highway service station, has its merits, its uniquenesses, its reasons for standing out. And it's up to us to take the time to snag them as we move from one place to another. It's a long journey, this life thing. And I'd hate to think of what we'd miss if we wrote every midpoint off as somehow being not worthy.

It took a bitterly cold winter's night to make me realize they're all worthy.

Your turn: your favorite part of the journey is...?

One more thing: turns out I've got a bit of a thing for oases of light, as I've got more than a few examples in the old blog archives. I'm not entirely sure why I keep coming back to this theme, but maybe I should stop questioning why I shoot what I shoot. Here's a quick look back:

• Here at the oasis
• Energy oasis
• Keeping the night at bay

On the right kind of exit

"I would rather die of passion than of boredom."
Vincent van Gogh

Too sweet for words

Snack time
Laval QC
May 2013
Thematic. Frozen. Here.

I've been remiss in posting a new Thematic this week. Life's been, um, busy, with more than the usual concentration of stuff to keep me going from long before dawn until well after most normal people would have tucked themselves back into bed.

So while I mull over a new theme - suggestions always welcome, too - I thought I'd share this with you. On the surface, it's just an ice cream sandwich, a slab of dairy goodness slapped between, in this case, a couple of oversized cookies. It's the kind of food most folks shouldn't be consuming in any great quantity, but they do, anyway, because how can you say no to this?

In the end, we find a way to balance the desire to eat something that makes us happy with the desire to keep our arteries from clogging decades too soon. Because life is all about balance. And a little bit of sweetness mixed into the chaotic ebb and flow of the everyday is a pretty nice way to keep things balanced as they should be.

Bon appetit.

Your turn: Your favorite dessert is...? Because...?
(I'll even start you off: an ice cream sandwich just like this one. Because it takes me right back to when I was a kid, and my grandparents would get such a thrill every time I ate one.)

On playing with reckless abandon

"When you play, never mind who listens to you."
Robert Schumann

And so we play. Never had much patience for armchair critics, anyway. Those who can, after all...

Temporary tracks in the snow

Someone was here
Laval, QC
February 2013
Thematic. Frozen. Here.

If every picture supposedly tells a story, this one speaks of a bleary-eyed start to a grey workday, a bleak walk across a cold, snow-covered parking lot, to a cold, snow-covered car, and a cold, snow-covered drive in bumper-to-bumper traffic.

It's hard to tell who left these footsteps and tire tracks, or what they might have been thinking at the time. But as I stared down from my lofty perch and wondered about the greyness that had brought us here in the first place, I couldn't help but think that today wasn't a day for optimism, and it would be a while before we stopped seeing the world in cold, snow-covered, bleary-eyed tones.

Your turn: Who left these tracks?

On dancing by the light of the moon

"Don't tell me the moon is shining; show me the glint of light on broken glass."
Anton Chekov

Bonus points if anyone can figure out the song reference. Enjoy!

Blink and you'll miss it

Frozen in time
Delray Beach, FL
December 2009
Thematic. Frozen. Here.

Whether or not this scene qualifies as frozen is a matter of interpretation. Technically, the water here isn't frozen. At the moment this shot was taken, the water was in decidedly liquid form. Yet the combination of fast-moving surf, adequate light and a fast enough shutter speed combined to freeze the moment, even as it ceased to exist barely a millisecond later.

This is why I've always loved shooting surf (see here, here and here for past examples.) Because everything is transient - it's over before you even realize it's happened. And if you hang around long enough, you'll be blessed enough to see another transient moment. Before it, too, disappears forever.

So we keep our eyes open, ready to absorb the wonder of it all.

Your turn: Things that disappear in a blink. Please discuss.

On those who dance, and those who don't

"Those who danced were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music."
Nietzsche

So we dance, and ignore what anyone else might think. Sound good?

Thematic Photographic 244 - Frozen

Anything but plain vanilla
Deerfield Beach, FL
December 2009

It may seem anathema to choose frozen as a theme when the planet - okay, the northern hemisphere - is busy warming up and breaking free from a seemingly never-ending winter. But humor me for a moment.

Frozen doesn't necessarily need to be a winter thing. Even if you don't live in the Great White North, there's plenty of thematic potential closer to home. I found this one on a trip to the ice cream store with the munchkins - in Florida, of all places - and I'm betting you'll all find a way to interpret the theme in all sorts of creative ways.

Your turn: Thematic is our weekly photo sharing/exploration/learning thing. It's certainly not competitive, and is designed to get us to look through our lenses just a little differently. To participate, grab a photo that evokes or reflects the weekly theme and share it on your blog or website (or Pinterest or Instagram or Twitter or wherever else you hang out online.) Leave a comment here letting folks know where to find it. Visit other participants to share the joy and pop back in through the week to share additional pics. For more background, click here. And have fun - because that's why we do this in the first place!

On Aesop's most profound lesson

"No act of kindness, however small, is ever wasted."
Aesop

Pondering the flip side of Mother's Day

I've never been a fan of the manufactured holiday. Valentine's Day, Mother's Day, Father's Day, whatever so-called Day it may be, I can't get past visions of the mad rush to buy stuff, any stuff, to raid the card section, bring home something, anything, to avoid the stigma of non-recognition, the shame of empty-handedness.

The avalanche of printed, broadcast and electronic flyers and ads would have us believe that these Days are all about stuff. That we're in the good books if we obtain stuff. And to a certain extent, the unseen faces behind the avalanche are right. Try not bringing something home on a day like today and see what happens. With few exceptions, it likely wouldn't be pretty.

But here's the thing: this year's Mother's Day, at least in our house, isn't remotely about stuff. It's about the things we can no longer have. Like time. Or each other.

It's my wife's first Mother's Day without her mom. And as I wrote on the first Father's Day without my dad (here), it's a day that has undertones never anticipated long ago by the denizens of Hallmark whose only interest was - and clearly still is - selling more cards and related uselessness. They, and if we're being honest, we, forget the dark side of a day like today. They ignore the impact of limitless commercialism on folks who may no longer have their parents around. It's like rubbing salt into a wound, and it makes the process harder than it needs to be.

But who am I to stand in the way of profit?

This morning, the kids woke up early and fetched me as quietly as they could. We fed the dog, gave him his insulin and brought him outside. We made my wife breakfast, loaded it onto a tray and and tiptoed upstairs. We sat on the bed with her and tried to keep the dog from shnarfing her bagel. The phone rang, and when she got off the phone with her dad, the room was suddenly very quiet.

Every day is a special Day to my wife, and every day is an opportunity to both honor and connect with the important folks who helped shape her. She doesn't need a holiday or an avalanche of flyers to remind her what she has, or what she's lost. We don't need a holiday to gather around her and remind her that she's the center of our universe. And she doesn't need a day like today to remind her of the calls she can no longer make. It'll be just as stark and raw tomorrow as it is today.

Maybe we'll do breakfast in bed for her next weekend, too. Just because.

Darkness descends from above

Meteorological
London, ON
July 2012
Click here for more chaotic Thematic

Weatherpeople get no respect. When their weather predictions are correct, we forget their role in ensuring we had enough shorts and sandals on hand to enjoy that gloriously warm and sunny day. And when they're wrong, they become our chosen objects of disconnected scorn. They made us get wet in the rain, we reason, so they must be roundly criticized.

We assume their work is little more than guesswork. We figure they're throwing highs, lows and troughs at a virtual dartboard in the hope that some of them will stick. We're wrong, of course, but that doesn't make the armchair quarterbacking any less fun. This is interactive television at its finest, and we relish the process because we never have to actually say any of this directly to them.

Which brings me to this scene of weird looking clouds. I could almost feel the storm moving in as the winds picked up and the temperature dropped. I suddenly felt a bit smaller as I realized just how powerful the forces around us were, and how powerless we were to do anything about them.

The mathematics of what was going on in the atmosphere at that moment were well beyond anything I could fathom, but I knew that somewhere, an unseen supercomputer was crunching the data and trying to figure out what might happen next. And somewhere, a meteorologist was turning that impossibly complex mountain of ever changing numbers into a forecast for all of us armchair quarterbacks. Just wanted to say thanks.

Your turn: why do we spend so much time and energy talking and worrying about the weather?

On why we exist

"We are not on this earth to accumulate victories, things, and experiences, but to be whittled and sandpapered until what’s left is who we truly are."Arianna Huffington

Yes. What she said.

Oy, my aching back

Out for a walk

Deerfield Beach, FL,

December 2008

Time moves slowly in this retirement community, filled with folks who, free from the constraints of the 9-to-5 world, seem to follow a different timeline than the rest of us.

Breakfast is lingered over, conversations by the community pool can drag on well past lunch, dinner is often done before the outside world's equivalent of rush hour, and bedtime may or may not compete with an early sundown. That last one depends on whether the guy who played the bartender on the Love Boat is scheduled to play the community auditorium tonight.

I'm not sure if this woman was a fan of Isaac "Boom Boom" Washington, so I never found out if she had tickets for that night's show. I am, however, certain she didn't know I was there as she shuffled along the sun-baked asphalt after dropping off her day's recycling. So I felt a little voyeuristic in taking this picture. But just a little. Because life here is different than it is elsewhere. Sometimes poignantly so.

Part of me felt that whoever this woman was and whatever stories her life may or may not have held, a photo might make us wonder a little more about the strangers among us.

Yes, I'm an odd one.

Your turn: Taking photos of strangers. Please discuss.

One more thing: What does this have to do with chaos? On the surface, not a whole lot. But dig a little deeper, and I suspect this is my way of calming things down after a week that offered more than its fair share of unscheduled chaos - from brutal kidnappings in Cleveland to a spiralling death toll from a garment factory collapse in Bangladesh and a young father's sudden disappearance not far from here. A quiet view of a place where the outside world seems so very far away seemed like a great way to lower the volume and restore a sense of balance. Head here for more Thematic chaotic.

Ring around the sun

Thanks to my parents' long-ago (and getting longer) decision to have me, the fact that they did so on the planet Earth, and that folks way smarter than I'll ever be decided eons ago to use orbital mechanics to measure time, today is apparently my birthday.

I learned this via a number of other channels:

• Our youngest son burst into the room at first light and gave me a birthday hug
• My wife and kids decorated the house, and most of the decorations had my name on them
• Oodles of folks on Facebook have been saying so on my wall
• My phone's been chirping all day

I'm long past the point at which birthdays were excuses for a big, boisterous party in Mom and Dad's basement, complete with too-loud music and overflowing bowls of cheesies. I no longer relish the prospect of adding another year to a number that's already getting, ahem, up there.

But I've got to admit I rather enjoy the hullabaloo that surrounds this one day of the year, when everything is tinged with just a hint of special, and everyone you encounter smiles just a little more. I've never been entirely comfortable when folks turn the spotlight on me, but it's nice to be surrounded by so much warmth. Days like today remind me how blessed I am with family, friends, health and opportunity - more, frankly, than I ever thought I'd deserve.

Now, to find a way to capture some of the loveliness of today and spread it out over the 364 days that, if I'm lucky, lie ahead of me before the next one. If you have any secrets to share with me, I'm all ears.

On being moved

“The main thing is to be moved, to love, to hope, to tremble, to live.”
Auguste Rodin

Yeah. What he said. Word for word.

Thematic Photographic 243 - Chaotic

Is this even edible?
London, ON
December 2010

Not every scene has to adhere to pre-ordained patterns of neatness. Not everything has to follow some kind of order or established rule.

Sometimes chaos needs to rule, and that isn't necessarily a negative thing. So for the next week, let's celebrate chaotic scenes, things that break the norm and look a little less than perfectly aligned. Because perfection can be boring.

Your turn: The Thematic drill is a simple one. Post a pic that evokes the theme to your blog or website. Leave a comment here letting folks know where to find it. Visit other participants to share the fun. Repeat as often as you wish, as the theme will be live for a full week. For more on how Thematic works, click here. Otherwise, have fun!

All that remains

Traces
London, ON
December 2006
Thematic. Vegetative. Here.

I wanted to end off this week's vegetative theme with something a little different: Not the thing itself, but an echo of the thing.

Images like this haunt me, and I'm not entirely sure why. Perhaps it's because they're fading echoes of what once was. Maybe it's because you can see the history, but you can't really touch it because the original is now gone. It's like a photo - sure, you can see the faces in front of you - but you can't speak with, or otherwise interact with them, because none of it is real or otherwise tangible.

It didn't take long for the acidic imprints of these long-gone leaves to themselves disappear. Before long, the rains came and washed the sidewalks clean until these dark images were barely wisps. Then came a winter-long blanket of snow. By the time spring melted it all away, even the trace memories of these leaves had disappeared.

Well, except for this photo.

Your turn: Holding onto the past. Please discuss.

One more thing: Thematic's new theme, chaotic, launches tonight at 7:00 p.m. Eastern. Hope to see y'all then!

Waiting for the snow to melt

Where's my blanket?
London, ON
February 2013
Click here for more vegetative Thematic

It's sunny and gorgeous outside. No one's complaining about the cold or the snow, and the Environment Canada website could be offline for all we know and no one would care.

Pretty soon, I'll take my shorts-and-t-shirt wearing self outside, and I won't have to put on a parka or hunt down mittens. The dog won't bury himself in a snowdrift, and the winds won't howl around the edges of the windows.

Yet it wasn't that long ago that I was freezing my hands blue to get this shot. Funny what time can do to the landscape. And to us.

Your turn: For some strange reason, I'm having flashbacks to Les Nessman's Eyewitness Weather. what's the weather like where you are?

On conformity

"I think the reward for conformity is that everyone likes you except yourself."
Rita Mae Brown

Drummer. March. Beat. Your own.

We stand on guard for thee

Posted
St. Thomas, ON
June 2009
Click here for more Thematic vegetative

Get off the superhighway for a bit and you'll come face to face with life as it was lived decades ago. Sleepy two-lane, unpaved roads bisect massive farmers' fields, with the occasional pickup or tractor breaking the silence. Time seems to either move more slowly here, or it's simply ignored in favor of a cycle driven by when the animals get up, when the sun rises, and when it sets.

That more genteel pace probably explains the guardrail you see here. I doubt it would hold back an out-of-control 18-wheeler. But folks don't drive like that out here, anyway. At least that's what I like to think as I take in this scene and feel the summery breeze on my face.

Your turn: What's the appeal of farm country to you?

A rose is a rose is a rose

Pretty in pink
London, ON
February 2013
Thematic. Vegetative. Here.

I don't take nearly enough pictures of flowers. That's largely because I don't bring them home nearly as often as I should. Bad Carmi!

This time, however, I managed to get the camera to the vase before time took its toll. Or before the dog managed to jump up onto the table and take care of it himself. He doesn't mean to be mischievous. He just is. And we love him for it.

Back to the flowers. On the surface, they're wholly impractical and sadly transient. Once upon a time the practical/cynical side of me failed to see their purpose. Sure, they looked lovely, but they didn't do anything. Well, beyond costing a lot of money. And once you bought them, you got to watch them slowly wither back to nothingness, crunchy remnants of now-lost beauty.

None of that matters when you're surrounded by family, though. Because a flower's worth has nothing to do with practicality and everything to do with the message it sends. And you can't put a price on that. Nor should you.

So as I stare at these long-since trashed roses, I think of the moment I decided to pick them up, the moment I brought them through the front door, and how lucky I felt - then as now - to have someone to bring them to.

Your turn: What do flowers mean to you?

May Day

Spring has sprung
London, ON
May 2013
Click here for more vegetative Thematic

It seems we all blinked and April was over. All day I've been staring at my smartphone. It has a feature called "live tiles" where the app for the calendar icon shows the date as well as your next appointment. I kept staring at the disembodied "1" in disbelief, because the month of May wasn't supposed to get here so quickly, was it?

When I got home after work, the flowers poking out of the clearly untended garden made it abundantly clear: the season has changed. Now where did I leave my cargo shorts and Hawaiian shirts?

None of this upsets me in any way, though. I just...is. And for some reason, I feel an overwhelming need to take note of smallish milestones like this one. I guess that's because there are far more small moments in life than big ones, and you never want to miss an opportunity to appreciate the minor miracles of life on this planet. Because when things spring from the messy earth literally right under your nose, the only word that applies is "miracle".