What's Black and White and Rarely Read?

 

Like armored sentinels, these news boxes are a painful reminder of the suicidal downward spiral of newspapers. The downsizing vortex within the industry not only cleared the newsroom floor of our most valuable resource...people, but also the very essence of what we do. To tell stories. Real stories about real people and how the world around them affects all of us. It's disheartening to watch a once vibrant and creative bastion of journalism reduced to press release mentality.

We have our moments. We still produce brilliant stories, photos and pages. But somethings missing. Maybe the spirit, the vitality of what we do. We'd like to blame someone or something as we stand in a group huddled together turning in circles, pointing our fingers and looking for a likely culprit. And it comes back to us. We're the ones. No one ever said it'd be easy. It's easy to give up, easy to point fingers. But there are still great stories to be told and great people to tell them. There's still a place that will collect those stories and display them in a great way. We can't be tired, We can't give up.

Just like the story of gun collections when they melt down the offending weapons are produce something meaningful from them. Perhaps we should melt down the news boxes.

After all...it'd be a great story.

Shooting from the Hip

First off, this is a photo shot from the hip. Not a new idea, but one I took from the blog of a friend, Andrew Christopherson. Andrew says it's something his grandfather used to do and something Andrew himself did in his blog. Andrew's not a professional photographer, he's a school teacher. I admired his willingness to try different things with his camera and post to his blog. And once again part of the idea of this blog is to attempt or try things I wouldn't normally do. But more importantly look for inspiration in other photographers. Thanks Andrew!

I'm not unhappy with the results. There is a certain satisfaction in allowing my imagination to run wild...again...and imagine that I'm a modern day Wyatt Earp armed with a Nikon instead of a six-shooter. The photojournalist's purist in me looks at the photo and sees a myriad of things I'd like to correct. The bloggist in me sees a vehicle for another story.

Just the other night I was scheduled to fly a local mission aboard the C-17. And as I was boarding the jet, I thought about our men and women serving around the world. I thought about all of them. I thought about the sacrifices they and their families are making. I know there's not much I can do, except think about them, pray for them, and remember them during the holidays. And as I settle in for my family's annual Christmas eve dinner, I'll lift a glass of cheer and say a prayer. A prayer for all of them stretched out across the globe and hope that they all come home soon.