1 July 2022 - Connections

I keenly feel the need for connections. These connections provide ties that keep me grounded. First are my connections with people - family, friends, coworkers, acquaintances. And not only my connections to them, but the bonds they make with each other, through me. My entire life I have had the urge, the desire to bring together all of the people important in my life. My friend, Steve, teases me about it occasionally. The master gathering never happened due to all sorts of issues - distance, timing, money, and now as I get older, death. But I still have parties where I delight in introducing individuals to others who I believe they would mesh with. I have amazing, interesting, talented, knowledgeable, magical friends.

But I depend on other connections as well. Such as with my non-human family members, mainly my dog. My dog is my running companion, my exercise motivator, my protector, my always-affectionate buddy. In moments of deep sadness, my dog has provided silent empathy and love. But, in their own way, my snakes have provided enjoyment as well - their unique movements, their bright colors, their mysterious ways. The wild animals I have encountered , especially those I see frequently, also contribute to my well being. The owls that frequent the yard, the kingfisher that nests nearby each year, the badger that came to dig and eat something under our bird feeders, the toad and lizards and skinks that live in our garden. Even the deer that nibble my roses and tulips and tomatoes.

The third important connection is Place. Certain places fill emotional and spiritual needs necessary for health. One such place is Death Valley - one of my favorite locations on earth. Anywhere in the Sonoran Desert qualifies. Glacier National Park. The foothills out my backyard. Place is important enough that I sacrificed career enhancement for the desire to live in a place that suited me and allowed me to visit the natural places I longed to immerse myself in.

Which leads to the photo I chose for today’s blog entry - one hose connected to 4 valves that lead into 4 more hoses - that keep our garden watered. The photo was captured with my Pentax SLR camera with a pinhole cap. It is a fitting metaphor for the relationships that spread out from me to other loved ones who keep life going.

25 June 2022 - Mutti on my Mind

I started calling my mom Mutti when I was in 9th grade and began studying German. The affectionate nickname stuck. Even though Mutti and I didn’t have a lot in common, we were very close. Because she lived in the Midwest, we saw each other usually only once a year. But we had adventures when we were together. Adventures that made happy memories.

Mutti died in 2018, one day before Easter. She was 90. I talked to her nearly every day for many years. She was generous and opinionated and active and loving. So her death left a large hole in my heart and my everyday life. For no reason I can think of, recently I have been missing her acutely. I talked to her yesterday while walking through my garden, telling her recent highlights in my life. Tonight, when the evening cooled off, I put on a sweatshirt of hers. Made me feel closer to her.

Today’s photo shows Mutti, my dog Shadow (also no longer with us), and ME, taken in 2017. We were celebrating my birthday - Mutti’s appearance was a surprise arranged by my brother. I don’t know what awaits any of us after death, if anything. But I do like to think about Mutti experiencing some wonderful existence I can’t imagine.

19 June 2022 - Party

I like parties. I enjoy attending parties and I especially like hosting parties. My spousal unit and I have hosted two soirees each year for two decades to celebrate the longest day of the year (summer solstice) and the return of light after the the shortest day of the year (winter solstice).

Attendance usually hovers near 40 guests. We present a spread of food and drink. Cucumber and cream cheese sandwiches are a staple at all parties. In winter, we have my spouse’s award-winning chili, my Swedish meatballs, smoked salmon, and holiday cookies. Summer solstice soiree menus are more fluid - sometimes sushi, sometimes pulled pork, sometimes burgers and brats. I usually make my Aunt Millie’s pound cake - a cake so massive (contains 6 eggs, 4.5 cups flour, and 2 cups sugar and takes 75 minutes to bake!) that I only bake it when we are having a house full of friends. Drinks are available and plentiful - beer, wine, sparkling wine, gin & tonics, soft drinks, flavored water (Le Croix). In the winter, I fire up the samovar and make tea the Russian way.

This tradition continued — until the COVID pandemic intervened. The last winter solstice party we held was in December, 2018. In 2019, I was deathly ill and in the hospital. And COVID prevented parties in 2020 and 2021 (and will probably this December as well). The summer solstice soiree was cancelled in 2020, but held in 2021 and again this year. Yesterday.

New waves of COVID infections have made people wary of gathering so Spousal Unit and I had difficulty deciding how much food to make. Optimistic, we made the usual quantities. I baked the ginormous Millie’s pound cake. Seventeen guests showed up. I knew some stayed away, fearing COVID. Some were vacationing out of the country. But I wondered if retirement, which distances us from former coworker friends, familiarity that promotes disinterest, and the new acceptance of social avoidance due to COVID are dooming future parties.

Today’s photo shows a solstice soiree spread just for two. Despite cancelling the party one year, Spousal Unit and I decided to celebrate in the usual way, with the usual food, to assuage our loneliness. It helped.

I hope we can safely restore parties in the winter when we must all be indoors. I hope people will continue to gather at our parties to partake of the food, drink, camaraderie, and laughs that occur. And I hope that my social bonds don’t break as I get older - I find I need them and value them and appreciate them.

Party on.

9 June 2022 - Inspiration

“Inspiration exists, but it has to find you working.”

— Pablo Picasso

Inspiration can be elusive. I found this especially true these past 2 years when travel was limited, contact with other people was restricted, and I seldom ventured beyond my own neighborhood. Familiarity can dull vision, dampen perceptions of our surroundings, and blunt the ability to see the extraordinary in the ordinary.

So I have struggled to keep my observations fresh in an effort to find inspiration in my all-too-familiar surroundings. One action that has helped me is perusing photography books or magazines to see the visions of other photographers. Recently, a good friend generously gave me a subscription to Black+White Photography magazine, which is delightful, and - yes - inspiring. The magazine inspired me to choose one of my black and white pinhole photographs for this post.

The photograph is a double exposure taken just below my house, showing a well-known trail with blooming arrowleaf balsamroots superimposed. I captured the image using a Zero Image pinhole camera and T-Max B&W film. The photo transforms a scene (well, two scenes) that I see every day in the spring - the trail through the high desert grasslands, fluffed up clouds, and the showiest spring wildflower - into something surprising, different, artistic.

I continue to invite inspiration into my life. But, I also just keep plugging away with my cameras. And, occasionally along the way, inspiration finds a way in.

7 June 2022 - Is Photography Art?

In my last post, I mentioned the debate that continues about photography as art. Some of the reasons given for why photography is not art include:

• “…unlike any other visual image, a photograph is not a rendering, an imitation or an interpretation of its subject, but actually a trace of it.“ - art critic John Berger in Ways of Seeing

• “…art is a subjectively biased interpretation of the artist’s subject. In many ways, the choice of subject is largely irrelevant; it’s the biased interpretation that makes things interesting and unique.“ AND “As photographers, it’s not easy to see anything other than what is in front of our lenses – we can only photograph what physically exists, or what we can make physically exist. And, as such, it’s not hard to see why some people can be very dismissive of photography as an art form.” Jo Plumridge (https://contrastly.com/photography-art-form/)

• In 1853, a member of the Photographic Society of London stated that photography was “too literal to compete with works of art“ and wasn’t able to engage the imagination.

• A photograph, whether digitally captured or based on film, can be exactly reprinted over and over again - not true for a painting or a sculpture or other multimedia art.

• These days, with ubiquitous phone cameras, photographs created just by clicking a button, without any thought or composition or technical expertise have proliferated exponentially, which can dilute or cheapen those images that may have taken hours to compose or execute.

I don’t buy these arguments, and today’s photograph was chosen to show why. It is an photo of my spouse undergoing chemotherapy surrounded by images of the flowers growing outside of the hospital. I created this with my blender pinhole camera - the center pinhole opened to capture my spouse, while the right and left pinholes brought the flowers into the photograph.

This photograph was carefully composed and certainly took time to produce. It engages the imagination - and tells a story. I call it The Promise of Chemotherapy, conveying the hope that the ordeal of chemotherapy will result in a blooming of health and life. Like a painting, this image shows a scene that doesn’t actually exist, it is an expression of my creativity.

But what about the ability to reproduce this image over and over again. I admit, that is a factor that sets photographs apart from other art forms. Photographers have dealt with this in a couple of ways. A limited printing can be made - for example, only print 10 images that are numbered and signed. And some photographers who shoot film have included the negative or transparency of the image when they offer a photograph for sale - thus ensuring that another photograph will never be printed (except by the buyer of the photograph).

I do lament the multitude of snapshots that are presented as art. Owning a camera does not make one an artist, just like owning paint brushes does not make one a painter. And I also dislike the photography “competitions” that are not competitions at all - just popularity contests, in which photographs are not judged on their qualities, but are merely “liked” by friends of the photographer - the photograph that gets the most “likes” wins, which means that the photographer with the most friends gets the prize.

My pinhole photography is art. However, out of the many photographs I take, very few end up making it into my stable of images that I am willing to present as my art.

2 June 2022 - Artists and Their Art

Over the years, I have entered many art competitions, including calls for public art projects. It’s a risky business. Each time, I put the expressions of my creativity “out there” for judgement. Rejections are common. Even acceptances come with some anxiety - I can’t help but compare my art to the other pieces in the show. How does it stack up against the other art? Could it win a prize from the juror?

Rejections greatly outweigh successes. But the decades of creating art - photography, handmade paper, fused glass - have taught me that you must love your art enough for everybody, because you have no guarantee that anyone else will like it or be drawn to it, or get it. And photography has the additional hurdle that many in the art world do not consider it “art” - instead photography sometimes is thought of as a technical craft. I disagree vigorously, but realize that the perception exists.

Today’s photograph shows Baby Yoda and a glass heart sitting on a sign at a park I walk by often. Baby Yoda has an arm extended - exerting the Force. What does this photograph have to do with art and competitions? I think of my photography as my version of The Force that I put out into the world. It may find a receptive audience, or just pass through the universe ignored. Although I prefer the former, I am OK with the latter. Neither will stop me from continuing to load film into a pinhole camera and go out in search of unique images that represent my vision.

As Yoda says, “Do or do not. There is no try.“

Memorial Day 2022 - Remembering...

Memorial Day prompts us to meditate on the sacrifices of those who lost their lives in the fight for peace and freedom. On this day each year, I tend to follow the trail out my back yard to the Fort Boise Military Reserve Cemetery. A sobering place.

Today’s photograph was obtained with my Zero Image pinhole camera loaded with T-Max film. It shows one of the Unknown Soldier gravestones with the American flag blowing in front. This soldier, whose name was lost to time, died in the Indian Wars. Nothing is known of his age or actions. He is laid to rest in a place of honor.

But, I believe, in addition to honoring the soldiers who fought in previous wars, we should honor those others who died fighting in their own way for freedom and peace. Such as the Native Americans who died in the wars named after them. They also died for the peace and freedom of their people - but didn’t get much of either. Or the civil rights activists who were murdered trying to ensure the rights of Blacks and other people of color. The LGBTQ+ leaders who were hated for personal lifestyle choices and killed because of it. Police officers who fell protecting fellow citizens from harm.

Peace and freedom are not won only through wars. Many of the most important battles occur everyday, battles to provide rights to the oppressed, to preserve civility, to prevent insurrection, to protect the weak and meek among us. Each of us can make a contribution in this battle. We can call out a racial slur as unacceptable, we can express disapproval of sexist jokes, we can intervene when a woman is being harassed. This, too, promotes peace.

So, on this day, I honor all those who gave their lives in the struggle to bring peace and freedom to their own corner of the world. RIP.

24 May 2022 - Teamwork

My dog - a Weimaraner named Cairn - is ruled by her nose. More than any other dog I have had, she sniffs obsessively. She is also smart and - like most bird dogs - full of energy. But she has also always been quite timid - afraid of water and loud sounds and plastic bags, and many other objects and phenomena. While searching for some way to increase her confidence, challenge her, and give her an outlet for her energy, a coworker mentioned that she did scentwork with her dogs. Scentwork, also called nosework, is a team sport in which the dog has to find certain hidden scents (birch, anise, cloves, cypress) and indicate to the handler where the scent is. At the lowest level, one scent is hidden. As a team proceeds through the levels, searches get increasingly more difficult, with more scents and more hides possible.

I was intrigued, checked it out. So glad I did. That was a couple of years ago, and Cairn and I were quickly hooked. The work HAS increased Cairn’s confidence and challenged her. She has won ribbons and is always happy proud when she finishes a successful search. But as my instructor points out, scentwork is a team sport. The dog’s job is to find the hidden scents and indicate to the handler where it is. But the handler has to be very aware of the dog’s behavior, notice when the dog is “in odor,” and help the dog work out situations that the team may not have experienced before. The work is satisfying and builds a strong bond between dog and handler.

One big reason I like scentwork is that - as you move up the levels - the dog needs to be better at what dogs are naturally good at. This is different from many other competitions where a dog has to either be a beauty queen or king (not that I think there is anything wrong with it - it’s just not for me) or has to move beyond basic necessary obedience to what seems to me are tricks.

Today’s photo was taken by my scentwork instructor, Hallie McMullen, at scent camp this past weekend at Warm Lake in Idaho. I chose it because Cairn is afraid of water - she will move close to the water’s edge, but a small wave lapping up on the shore can make her take a foot-long leap backward. Here, the scent is hidden in the crack in the concrete right by the water’s edge. Cairn was brave enough to identify it - I was proud of her.

We have almost earned our Novice Elite title and have just started our Advanced title work. We have a long way to go yet - through Advanced classes to Excellent to Master and then to Detective. But we’ll do it together, my dog and me.

20 May 2022 - Passion

My entire life I have felt different. My brothers would sometimes joke that I was an alien left on the doorstep that our parents took in. I was an intense child, endlessly curious, and full of enthusiasm for subjects and activities - paleontology, crystal growing, softball, chemistry, philosophy, writing (kept a journal and wrote poetry), religion (raised Catholic), horses, dogs, fishing. One summer I played in 3 softball leagues. I asked my parents to let me join the Wisconsin Geological Society - they would take me to meetings downtown where I was in way over my head. I started working as a sacristan at my church when I was 10 years old. I had more than one chemistry set. My closest friend was an adult.

As I matured, I dropped some passions, but gained others. Still loving horses, I spent academic award money while in college to pay for English riding lessons - learned to show jump and eventually bought a dappled gray Anglo-Arab gelding. I got married and learned to love the traveling that my spouse introduced me to. Traveled to Death Valley, to the Sonoran Desert, which sparked a passion that has brought me back to the desert time and time again. Dropped my involvement in Catholicism. Began running regularly and decided I was a runner. Turned my love of chemistry into a career. Had a son who has never ceased to fascinate me. Became a medical writer and reporter. Made friends who became as much a family to me as those related to me by blood. Ran 9 marathons. Began training my dog in scentwork. And, of course, began a love affair with photography.

And, as an adult, I realized, these passions, that haven’t dimmed with time, are why I feel different - why I am sometimes looked at askance. My observations seem to indicate that people shed their passions as they age. I have remained intense, a person of extremes. I am extremely loyal to my friends, in a way that has often made for lopsided relationships. I am always up for learning, formal or informal. Still curious after all these years. My closest loved ones are similarly “different” and accept me for what and who I am.

I really struggled to come up with one photograph to illustrate today’s entry. I thought about a picture of a special place in Death Valley - the racetrack, perhaps, or Teakettle Junction. Maybe an exuberant photo of flowers bursting into bloom. My dog and me with the ribbons she won in a scentwork trial. ME posing with a marathon finisher’s medal. Some place in Russia that I love dearly. A gorgeous landscape I was in awe of. But I finally decided on a joyous celebration with one branch of my chosen family - my Russian family. This celebration wasn’t for any particular occasion - just because we were together. We had caviar and cheese and black bread and vodka toasts. It was marvelous and it gave me the same rush of emotion that all of my passions provide and that make my life worth living.

So tonight I drink a toast to all of the people, the places, the creatures, the activities that I love dearly. Thank you for making me who I am, sustaining me.

18 May 2022 - Planting

The very cool spring and my knee surgery postponed planting season. But, finally, the last couple of days have been warm and suitable for working outdoors AND I am off of crutches, out of the leg brace, and able to carry watering buckets. A planting flurry commenced!

Planting is a favorite activity. A sacred activity. The feel of rich soil. The effort of digging just the right sized hole. The satisfaction of seeing a plant set firmly into the ground or settled happily into a pot. The delight of watching the growth, the blooming, the activity of pollinators.

And all throughout the summer, the pride of overseeing pots full of flowers in full bloom around my house and a lush garden that supplies food for my table. Even the supportive tasks - hoeing and watering and fertilizing - are fun and keep me moving.

Today’s photo is a close-up of Johnny Jump-Ups (or violas) that I planted in a pot just outside my front door. They are friendly flowers and never fail to make me smile. I am enjoying them now because they will stop blooming in the intense heat of the Boise summer.

But right now, I am happy in the anticipation of the growing season to come.

Friday the 13th

For this Friday the 13th in May, I thought a ghost photograph was appropriate - a garden ghost. Sometimes I see two figures that appear to be hugging when I look at this eerie image. The garden ghost(s) appeared mysteriously and disappeared in a wispy swirl of mist, leaving behind a patch of freshly turned over soil.

Actually, this is a pinhole photograph of my Spousal Unit, digging up the soil in the vegetable garden. The camera I used was the Zero Image medium format pinhole, with T-max 100 film. Even on a sunny day, as this was, I needed to keep the shutter open for several seconds, blurring any action.

That tendency to blur action is both an advantage and a disadvantage of pinhole photography. It can make scenes with wild activity, such as flapping flags and crashing waves, appear calm. But it can also convey action, such as flowers or leaves blowing in the wind. And there also lies the disadvantage. You can create a ghost, but can’t capture the image of a flower when it’s windy. Wildlife also is not a suitable subject for pinhole photography. And no way can I get a photo of my Weimaraner, who is in perpetual motion when ever she isn’t asleep (and even then, she twitches and moves while she is dreaming). I have tried multiple times to get a photo of my dog with a pinhole camera - but get a ghost dog every time.

11 May 2022 - Brace in Place

Since April 6th, a brace has encased my right leg from upper thigh to ankle. A dial on the brace allows my knee to bend to a set degree. The brace protects the work done on my knee. I hate the brace.

When I get frustrated with or am frightened of some aspect of my body, I photograph it. Photography lets me look at the problematic part/issue/device merely as a subject that must be evaluated for composition. I did that with my crutches when I had to stay off of my left leg for 10 weeks due to osteonecrosis in my knee. The crutches were such an imposition - I couldn’t carry anything, my ability to walk outside was limited, I needed help to do small everyday activities. I resented those crutches. So, I did a photographic shoot with them - that act was very satisfying and changed my attitude toward them. After hospitalization for a systemic Staph infection, I came home with a PICC line installed in my arm so I could continue antibiotic infusions at home. The PICC line creeped me out, scared me. I didn’t want to look at it. But once I photographed it, I could accept it.

Which leads me to the brace. The brace is a pain. I find sleeping with it difficult. When I began walking around the neighborhood, I discovered that, despite having four adjustable straps, the brace slid down my leg every 30 yards or so. During a walk of several miles, this proved to be beyond irritating. I would tighten the straps until they felt like a tourniquet, to no avail. Eventually the brace dropped and the joint portion slid below my knee, preventing it from bending.

Today’s image is the brace - specifically, the adjustment that controls the range of motion allowed. Right now, it is set at 90 degrees. I was able to ditch the crutches today, but still have to wear the brace 24/7. But I can now look at it as an interesting photographic subject until I can shed it as well.

10 May 2022 - Mid-May Snow

Just after the stroke of midnight, as Mother’s Day ended, snow started falling at my house. Large fluffy wet flakes accumulated rapidly. By the time the snow stopped, 5 inches had collected, shocking me and many other Boiseans who woke up and looked out the window to see winter had returned. The snow piled on limbs wreaked havoc on trees and shrubs (and powerlines). Huge branches broke off of the silver maples in our yard - some crashing to the ground and others getting hung up in the tree. Our lilac - in full bloom - lost a branch.

Now that I can put some weight on my bum leg, I have been walking the neighborhood, trying to rebuild muscle strength. While wandering the neighborhood, I saw these hardy arrowleaf balsamroots stretching up again toward the sun after being flattened by the snowfall. Next to the balsamroots is a blooming antelope bitterbrush, which still released the most lovely fragrance despite being surrounded by snow.

I captured other, less positive, images - trees completely uprooted from the ground, jagged breaks where branches cracked off, fell, and completely covered the sidewalk. One Russian olive pulled out of the ground and tipped over, taking another tree with it. An entire row of red-leafed trees were decimated - looked like a tornado had torn off limbs and toppled trunks.

We needed the snow - this late moisture may help southern Idaho avoid a serious drought. But I mourn the loss of the trees - after all, Boise is the City of Trees, and we have lost so many.

8 May 2022 - Mother's Day

Today is Mother’s Day. So today’s photos are images of my mom, who I called Mutti. In the first photo, she is about 16 years old. The second photo was the last one I took of my mom - a few weeks before she died. She was 90. I told her she needed a butterfly sticker on her forehead. When she looked up at me with a smile and a sparkle in her eyes, I couldn’t resist taking a photo.

I miss Mutti terribly. When she was alive, we talked early every day and always tried to make her laugh. She liked word searches and Lladro statues. She collected shot glasses and I would buy her one every time I traveled to some new place. I still stop and look at shot glasses when I travel, until I remember that she is no longer around.

Mutti was a professional seamstress - the best I have ever seen. She owned 7 sewing machines and was a perfectionist when sewing, repairing, or altering clothing. She was smart, tougher than nails, stubbornly independent. She lived alone right up until her death. I loved her and admired her and was grateful for her.

The photos show her attractiveness, which she kept as she aged. And the photos make me think of the arc of her life - from a girl raised on a farm by parents who emigrated from Poland, to her wedding to my dad - a sailor in the Navy, through the births of her four children (I am the youngest), past the death of my dad and on to her life as a widow. She acknowledged that she had lived a wonderful life. Generous, kind, loyal, and willing to suspend judgement, she had many friends - too many of whom she lost as she got older.

I toast her today and the many memories that remain with me and that I cherish. To you, Mutti. I love you.

Cinco de Mayo

Today is Cinco de Mayo. Had bean and rice burritos for dinner - they were delicious. But I was thinking that they weren’t very authentic. Just like Cinco de Mayo. Although many Americans believe Cinco de Mayo celebrates Mexican independence, it actually celebrates the outcome of just one battle - the battle of Puebla. A group of vastly outnumbered and poorly supplied Mexicans fortified the town of Pueblo and prepared for a French assault during the Franco-Mexican War. On May 5, 1862, the Mexicans were victorious over the French forces. In Mexico, the 5th of May also is known as Battle of Puebla Day.

Although not widely commemorated in Mexico, Cinco de Mayo is celebrated throughout the U.S. with Mexican food and margaritas and tequila toasts. So, Spousal Unit and I had burritos.

Today’s photo was taken earlier this year in Loreto, Baja California Sur, Mexico. Loreto is on the Sea of Cortez and is surrounded by beautiful desert. The fences were brightly painted, the waters full of fish and marine mammals. Cardon cacti towered over palo verde and palo blanco trees. The rocks along the canyon trails were the most colorful I have ever seen. I was captivated by the colors, the history, the plants and animals, the architecture, the people, and, yes, the food of Loreto. But I did not see any burritos on the menus at the eateries in Mexico where the locals ate. Thus, having a burrito is perhaps a very appropriate choice for Cinco de Mayo. Salud!

3 May 2022 - On the Move

Took a walk today - a half-mile walk - the first one in a month. Got cleared to put 25% of my weight on my surgeried leg. You may think this wouldn’t make much difference, but the ability to put some weight on my right leg makes a huge difference. I can use my right leg to balance while I bake or cook or mix. Every step is safer, especially going up stairs. I can actually walk, instead of crutch around. Yes, I still have crutches, but am less dependent on them. This is the first step toward ditching them.

Today’s photograph is merely documentation of this period in my life. This aspect of photography may not be glamorous, but is important. And with the ability to easily manipulate photographs in programs such as Photoshop, maintaining the accuracy/realism of documentation/journalism photos is the responsibility of the ethical photographer. Very different from fine art photography, which attempts to share the vision of the photographer with the viewer, induce an emotional response, or tell a story.

So I’ve been sprung from jail - and am walking away as fast as I can.

2 May 2022 - Get Out of Jail Free

Sitting in my usual glider rocker, leg up on an ottoman, rain pelting the deck outside the door, I realized I was feeling as if I was in jail. I spend most of my day in one room, sitting, lots of time on my hands. If I go outside, it’s only to the backyard for short durations. This happens to be the most sedentary I have been in my life - well, outside the 2.5 weeks I was in the hospital at the end of 2019. And I’m chafing.

So today’s photograph shows the interior of the jail in the ghost town of Ballarat in Death Valley National Park. Now, Death Valley is one of my favorite places on earth. I have spent many happy hours exploring this huge national park. Ballarat was established in 1897 as a supply point for the mines in the Panamint Mountains. Although Ballarat had 400 to 500 residents from 1897 to 1905, only one person lives there today. I wandered around Ballarat in March 2020, just as the COVID pandemic was shutting down the US. Old rusting equipment is scattered around the town, ancient trucks are abandoned in the sand, and a few buildings remain standing, including the old jail (which also served as the morgue).

Tomorrow I see my knee surgeon for a 4-week follow-up visit. I am hoping she will hand me a “get-out-of-jail-free card” that allows me to start putting weight on my leg, and get back to a more normal, active life. I have almost forgotten what that was like.

29 April 2022 - Celebration of another rotation around the sun

Today is my birthday. And because I seize any opportunity to have a party, I hoped to have as much of a party as I could manage with 3 people (one of whom can’t drink alcohol right now and one on crutches) and a dog. Planned to get party hats at the grocery store, but the store I went to had none. So I got a festive banner and some candles. My Spousal Unit bought a beautiful black and white cake (a cake in a tuxedo!) and my friend Steve drove down from Montana. We wore blue and green birthday beads (well, really Mardi Gras beads repurposed).

But the party was decidedly low-key. We had happy hour with some chips and gin & tonics (except for Spousal Unit, who had a nonalcoholic beer). Got takeouts from a local Russian restaurant - the food was delicious and plentiful. Lit the candles on the cake, did some singing, and I ceremonially blew out the candles. Ate a large slice of cake - mighty tasty. Finished the evening by watching the movie Big Night.

Not wild, but perfectly satisfying. Maybe next year’s commemoration can be wilder - don’t think I’ll ever outgrow delight in a party full of movement and music.

27 April 2022 - Getting Along (con't)

Today’s thoughts continue those of yesterday. So, I’m back in Kazan, Russia. Kazan is the capital of Tatarstan, which is a Russian Republic. Tatarstan is semi-autonomous, governed by its own elected officials, yet under the scrutiny of the Kremlin.

I arrived in Kazan was after dark, and gasped when I laid eyes on the Kazan kremlin. Most large cities in Russia have a kremlin (fortress). But this kremlin contained both a Russian Orthodox cathedral (Annunciation Cathedral) AND a Muslim Mosque (Kul Sharif Mosque). (The majority of Tatars are Sunni Muslims.) In all of my travels throughout Russia, I had not seen a mosque inside a kremlin. Ever. But here, followers of Russian Orthodox and Islam get along. And nothing symbolizes that better than the dual structures inside the kremlin.

The first picture above shows the Annunciation Cathedral in the foreground with the mosque in the background, while the second image is of the Kul Sharif Mosque. Two and a half years have passed since I captured those images. And they fill me with questions and longing. Questions about whether divisiveness has infiltrated Tatarstan life, whether visitors to Kazan are still amazed at the sight of the kremlin. Longing to see these places again that have such a fond place in my heart.

26 April 2022 - Tolerance, Community, Getting Along

The current incivility in the US, and the war in Ukraine, which is causing the same divisiveness among Russians, has me longing for the days when civility and tolerance were more prevalent, or at least outright intolerance was not socially acceptable. My son tells me I always want everyone to get along, and it’s true. The ability of people to accept the differences of others in their community is an extraordinary gift that improves the lives of everyone. And why wouldn’t we want to do that?

Today’s photograph that represents the hope of tolerance and acceptance is one I took in Kazan, Russia - the Temple of All Religions. This complex has been under construction since 1992 and includes the architecture of a Russian Orthodox church, mosque, synagogue, Chinese pagoda, and Buddhist temple. Inside, rooms are dedicated to individual religions, including several types of Christianity, Islam, Hinduism, Judaism, Buddhism, paganism, and others. Several rooms also function as art galleries.

The founder, Ildar Khanov (who died in 2013), was an artist and a visionary who said that the Temple was meant as a place where people of all religions could come together, “to give them a meeting and communication place.” He also wanted everyone to get along.

This place is spectacular. I wandered through room after room filled with religious imagery, stained glass windows casting colored light upon the displays. Khanov’s brother (who I met when I was there) and sister now maintain the Temple. I wonder how the Temple of All Religions has fared since I visited in 2019. Has it remained a beacon of acceptance despite increasing polarization? I hope so.