Monthly Archives: May 2013

Every picture has a story except when it doesn’t

Salt Flats-0005Way back in the olden days, in the film era, I was driving home – across the Dumbarton Bridge – at sunset. It was a rare, warm summer day, with no wind and no fog peaking over the hills. The light was magical and I pulled over and took a couple of pictures.

I have dozens of Carousels of slides and even more binders filled with slides (maybe more binders than Romney). Right now, they are hidden in their Kodak boxes, doing nothing to enrich my life. I have not looked at them or shown a slide show in over ten years. To make room, and in an effort to actually make the slides accessible, I am slowly going through them, throwing alot away and converting some to digital. At Kirk Moore’s recommendation, I am using the ScanCafe and they are doing a super job.

One Carousel is a group of pictures from Japan in the 60’s and another, a trip down Coyote Gulch, that Michele and I first took in the early 90’s. There were also a couple of odds and ends that I tossed in the scan pile. One of them was the picture above.

Another sunset was from Russian Ridge. I have been to Russian Ridge  – probably – fifty times. Michele and I watched the Transit of Venus from there, I have watched the fog come in from there, and I have watched dozens of sunsets. None were even close to being as spectacular as this one from the film era when everything turned orange.

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A third sunset, this time in Arizona during a silence and fasting period of a week long spiritual retreat. It was a crummy, overcast, day that turned magic as the sun dropped below the cloud layer.

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Driving back from the same retreat, I drove by what seemed like miles of yellow flowers. Lisl Dennis talks about inertia in photography – not photography? – and I remember driving along and thinking This is gorgeous;  I should stop and take a picture. and continuing to drive. It is always a conflict, while driving someplace, between trying to actually get there and stopping to take a couple of pictures, and then a couple more pictures, especially if it requires any setup. This didn’t, the clouds, the flowers, the junipers, were just there, mile after mile.

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Before he had a studio in The Smoke Creek Desert, Mike Moore had a place on/in an old Air Force Radar Station south of Winnemucca, Nevada. It was a concrete block building, on top of a mountain,  and he called it Radar Ranch. Walking up from the building to a view point, we could see all the way to the edge of the earth in three out of the four directions. I think this was the view south.

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After a very crowded day at Machu Picchu, the tourist train left, leaving just three of us in the empty ruin. We were all photographers – a good friend with whom I often traveled, a photographer from Brooklyn, and myself – and we were all chewing coco leaves. I ended up shooting three roles of film of – basically – stone walls. Surprisingly, I liked them all. This stray shot showed up and, somewhere in a binder, there are another hundred shots just like this as well as more conventional shots.

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Of course, there are lots of odds and ends from various trips to Death Valley. I am almost positive that I didn’t take either of the next two shots. The first, a wedding picture of Michele and me. I have no idea where or how I got this wedding picture, we were married the afternoon before and the Wedding Photographer suggested that we get a picture the next morning from Zabriskie Point. What I had forgotten and the photographer never knew, because he had never been to Death Valley before, was that sunrise at Zabriskie is probably, photographically, the most popular sunrise place in California (atleast, that doesn’t involve water). There were dozens of photographers and Michele and me, all dressed up. Our wedding album has lots of pictures that are better than this but, still, this does have an enigmatic charm.

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Michele pointed out that the final shot, below, is close to the odds end of the odds and ends scale. I know that both our names are Steve and I am pretty sure that it was taken in greater Death Valley in the 60’s. Other than that, I have no idea what the story is, what we were doing, or what I was – apparently – trying to explain with my arms.

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Romeo + Juliet

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In preparation for The Great Gatsby, Michele and I saw Baz Luhrmann’s Romeo + Juliet the other night. I fell in love with it all over again. In my humble opinion, it is – by far – the best Romeo and Juliet movie. As a play, Romeo and Juliet works great but as a movie, it often doesn’t. Movies are usually too real for Shakespeare.

West Side Story, one of the great Romeo and Juliet‘s, is one of my favorite plays. It is stunning on stage. How could it not be, with lyrics by Stephen Sondheim, music by Leonard Bernstein, and choreography by the great Jerome Robbins. When Tony kills Bernardo, it is a shock. Every time. The music and choreography highlight the shock. But, in the movie, everything looks and feels fake. The sets, the gritty background, make everything else look and feel like Who are you kidding? For me, the movie was a bust.

Luhrmann’s Romeo + Juliet gets around that by going overboard. The star crossed lovers become real because of it. The movie opens with the usual, Two households, both alike in dignity, In fair Verona, where we lay our scene, From ancient grudge break to new mutiny, Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean. on a TV screen. And then the movie repeats it, and again. One of my problems with Shakespeare is that by the time I get used to the language, I am not sure what I missed. By repeating the opening in several different way, I get the language in time to understand the set-up.

As an aside, after watching this R & J, with all its religious iconography, Michele noticed that it was probably an allegory for Catholic verses Protestant conflict going on in England at the time. This especially makes sense given that Shakespeare’s family was Catholic when it was against the law. End aside.

What the movie shows even better than most play adaptations I have seen, is that this battle, between the Capulets and  Montagues, has been passed down to the younger generation. The cause is no loner important, the fighting, the war, has taken on a life of its own. It is senseless but the movie implies that nobody cares any more.

Clare Danes is a perfect Juliet. She was sixteen when the movie was made and could easily be fourteen. In the movie, she has a certain craziness that makes her very believable.  Leonardo DiCaprio is lost until he finds his Juliet and then he believably fall in love. Pete Postlethwaite is super as the priest with just enough menace to leave me worried for all the young boys he has hanging around. Both Paul Sorvino and Brian Dennehy, as the family patriarchs, are saddened as their feud spins out of control and they can’t do anything about it.

What makes this movie seem so powerful to me is that we all know what is coming and there seems to be no way to stop it.  .

PTSD and the American West

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The American West has lots of abandoned buildings. By the American West, I don’t mean the western part of the United States. The western part of the United States has cities and towns, by The American West, I mean the parts in between. The iconic empty West where only cowboys and homesteaders live.

The abandoned buildings are remnants of somebody’s dream that they could carve a living out of a piece of marginal land. The settlement of the West and the dream of making a living on new land started before the Civil War – even Grant tried his hand at it in the 1850’s, facetiously calling the farm Hardscrabble, according to his wife, Julia – but, with the Railroads pushing west and The Homestead Act setting the stage, the pace picked up after the war.

In the Great Plains, most of these settlers were immigrant families from northern Europe. In the Nevada West, many of these immigrants were Basque. I wonder if many of these settlers were Civil War vets with PTSD. I know the Civil War was violent, unbelievable so compared to war now -although not compared to WWI or parts of WWII – and it is hard to believe that many of those battle wrecked veterans, especially Southerns, didn’t go West.

Driving out to the Smoke Creek with Claudia, however, I noticed that some of the abandoned homesteads are being reclaimed. I think that there are several reasons for this. Obviously, it is easier to Live off the grid than it ever has been before. Also, there are more people with two or three homes and one of them might be out in the boonies. But I think that there is another reason, one similar to the post Civil War period. We have been at war for the last decade and, today, there are more people with PTSD than 30 years ago.
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I would be very surprised if the guy who lives in the house above also has an apartment in Manhattan. I would be much less surprised if he – or she, but probably he – was a veteran of, say  Fallujah, trying to get away from the chaos of modern America. Moreover, like today’s pot, today’s PTSD is much stronger, with, I think, a component of Moral Injury that WWII vets usually didn’t have.

That why Drone Pilots really do get PTSD even though they they are never in physical danger. Without the draft, the people fighting our wars are easier to hide – or worship from afar – making what what they are doing also easier to hide, but it is no easier for them to hide from themselves. I think that alot of people who have PTSD really have Moral Injures. Killing an unarmed little boy and his, equally unarmed, mother goes against all our moral teaching. The fact that many – if not most – of the Americans doing the killing are conservative Christians only aggravates that Moral Injury.

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As I drive by an abandoned farm with a new conex replacing an abandoned barn, I think how tough it must be to try to make a living on land so far away from everything. Then, I think, maybe that is the point.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Battle of Champion Hill

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In May, 2008, five years ago, Michele and I didn’t visit Champion Hill. We got close, we got to Vicksburg, but we didn’t get to Champion Hill. Today, one hundred and fifty years ago, on May 16th, 1863,  Ulysses S. Grant did.

He attacked the Confederate Army of General John Pemberton there. That battle, eventually, led to the fall of the Confederate fortress of Vicksburg, the separation of the South into two unconnected halves, the re-connection of the Midwest with the sea, and – I think – the end of the Confederacy. Lincoln said it best, We can take all the northern ports of the Confederacy, and they can defy us from Vicksburg. It means hog and hominy without limit, fresh troops from all the states of the far South, and a cotton country where they can raise the staple without interference.

It was one of, if not the greatest, military campaigns in our history. Grant was behind enemy lines  and outnumbered by almost two to one. All this, in an area that was swampy and mosquito infested. When Michele and I were there  – in 2008 on a pilgrimage – we didn’t even want to leave the paved roads. But Grant had been moving constantly since he and his army had crossed the Mississippi on April 3oth, two weeks before.

To distract and confuse the enemy, Grant had ordered two diversionary actions. One of them, Col. Ben Grierson’s raid, was  featured in the New York Times a couple of days ago.  Grierson made a 16 day, 600 mile, raid behind enemy lines. It was audacious, and typical of Grant, and it succeeded in diverting much of the southern cavalry – the eyes and ears of the army at that time – away from Grant’s Army.

When he crossed the Mississippi, Grant was deep in the delta flatlands – the Plantation South – and, as he captured territory, he freed slaves. Later, many of those slaves became Union soldiers, and some were immediately helpful to the Union. Without their help, Grant would have been blind; he didn’t know the country and he had no maps.  As an aside that amuses me, Grant also purchased, according to his son – freed?  liberated? captured? according to others – a horse from the plantation of Joseph Davis, Jefferson Davis’ brother. Grant renamed the horse Jeff Davis and rode him, along with Cincinnati,  for much of the war. End of asides.

Because he couldn’t attack Vicksburg directly, Grant moved east to cut off the city’s supply line. In doing so, he cut off all connection to his own base. Now he was alone, outnumbered, and surrounded. In his memoirs, Grant says, I therefore determined to move swiftly towards Jackson, destroy or drive any force in that direction and then turn upon Pemberton. But by moving against Jackson, I uncovered my own communication [and supply lines]. So I finally decided to have none–to cut loose altogether from my base and move my whole force eastward. I then had no fears for my communications, and if I moved quickly enough could turn upon Pemberton before he could attack me in the rear.

It was a blitzkrieg if I can use that word with an army mostly walking and using muledrawn wagons, oxcarts, and horses pulling buggies. According to Major-General J F C Fuller, an early theorist of modern armored warfare, Grant’s tremendous energy electrified his men, everywhere was there activity….reconnaissances were sent out daily to examine the roads and country, and foraging parties swarmed over the cultivated areas collecting supplies….Nothing was left undone which would speed up the advance, and assist in maintaining it at maximum pressure once the move forward was ordered.

On May 14th, two weeks after he crossed the Mississippi, in country he did not know and without maps, Grant took Jackson, about 60 miles from where he crossed the river, and as he says in his memoirs, his troops hoisted the National flag over the rebel capital of Mississippi. 

One more aside, in the Not everybody appreciates Grant’s humor department, the night after capturing, Jackson, Mississippi, Grant stayed at the best hotel in town, The Bowman House (in the same room that General Joseph Johnson had stayed in, for free, the night before). When the owner demanded payment, Grant’s aide-de-camp said No, but Grant agreed with the hotel owner and insisted on paying for the room…in Confederate money. End aside.

Grant then turned towards Vicksburg  from the east, and 27 miles west of where he slept two days before, he met Pemberton at Champion Hill. Again, Grant in his memoirs, The battle of Champion’s Hill lasted about four hours, hard fighting, preceded by two or three hours of skirmishing, some of which almost rose to the dignity of battle….We had in this battle about 15,000 men absolutely engaged. Our loss was 410 killed, 1,844 wounded and 187 missing. The south lost 4,082 men and were driven back into Vicksburg never to recover.

On our pilgrimage of only one day, we only had time to drive south to the area where Grant crossed the Mississippi and tour the Vicksburg Battlefield itself. Our guide for the day told us that Champion Hill was too far away (maybe he was influenced by our reluctance to leave the road earlier). He didn’t say Keep moving, there is nothing to see there, keep moving but that was the drift. Now I am sorry that I missed it, even if there was nothing to see, and I want to say that I am sorry that I will not be able to attend the 150th Anniversary, but that is not true, if I did go, all I would do is gloat.

But we did have time to get a Chinese dinner in Vicksburg  as is our ritual when traveling, and we did have time to see the Mighty Mississippi. From the bluff overlooking the River, we confirmed, as Lincoln said, that The Father of Waters again goes unvexed to the sea.
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And Thanks to Michele who really helped write this. 

 

Bahrain

 

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I read in Al Jazeera that A Bahraini court has sentenced six Twitter users to one year in prison for allegedly insulting King Hamad bin Isa Al Khalifa….The six were charged by the lower criminal court with “misusing the right of free expression”…and “undermining the values and traditions of Bahrain’s society towards the king”.

I guess the good news is that the courts said  the right of free expression and used a lower case “k” when referring to the king. The bad news, to me, is everything else and I am afraid that even the good news is just window dressing.

The United States 5th Fleet is stationed in Bahrain so we have to be nice to our host (I tried to resist saying kowtow). Our host, in this case is a regime that called in the Saudi army to help it put down peaceful protests. Our host is a minority Sunni regime that suppresses its Shiite majority. A host that, by its own admission, has killed and tortured its own citizens when they protested.

The FIA runs a Formula One race in Bahrain and that bothers me, but it bothers me even more that we have a Navy fleet stationed there. I don’t know, for sure,  how many fleets we have, but I think it is six and I know we have to put them somewhere and many democratic governments don’t want a US Navy fleet stationed in their country. As an aside,I do know that we have eleven aircraft carriers and the next most powerful country – still Russia – has only one, so we are pretty safe on that front. End aside.

According to a PR release, the fleet is there to ensure the free flow of oil through the Gulf, as well as monitoring Iran and deterring piracy and navy officials have said there is no sign that the protesters  intend to direct their hostility toward us. I guess that the latter is good news, but – really – what are we doing there? Why are we the world’s protector of the world’s free flow of oil? Why don’t the oil producers protect their oil? They are the ones making huge profits. Why do we have to subsidize Arab oil?

I think it perverts us. It leads our leader to pretend everything is great in Bahrain when it isn’t. It leads Hillary Clinton to say I am impressed by the commitment that the government has to the democratic path that Bahrain is walking on. when they are putting people in jail for misusing the right of free expression.