Picture, Schmickture

Not a nice title, maybe, but it best captures my strange reluctance to take pictures. I often am bummed to see a picture and find that it doesn't match what my memory. It's really simple, though; even a superb picture, full of colors, light, shadow, action and intrigue, aren't accompanied by the smells, sound and (yes, Charlie Bucket) the taste of the occasion. It's perfectly ridiculous to think that I could stand at Two Medicine Lake, MT, gaze up at the mountains and forever remember their magnificence. So, I should stop traveling alone and have a Voice of Reason that says, "Hey, dad, why don't we take some pix? Don't you want to be in some of them?" I always says Yes so fortunately do have some memories. Digital is the way to go, but I'm an Analog Kid at heart so still miss the Canon AE-1 Program days. Time to get with the program, eh?

Next trips are with my friends; with MT Mountain Man Lee to western MD and with PA Shutter Buster Jim to PA parts unknown. A day away from work is fraught with the peril of being closer to one's self, but it's a risk I gladly take.

I wonder at the downwind weather of the Lake Erie in November? I hear the soft and truly sad tones of Gordon Lightfoot and The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald resonating in my heart and so will drift off to work, wondering at this new day and what it brings...