Stuck In The Middle With You

“Yes I'm stuck in the middle with you,Trying to make some sense of it all,But I can see that it makes no sense at all,Clowns to the left of me, Jokers to the right,Here I am, stuck in the middle with you.Clowns to the left of me,Jokers to the right, here I am,Stuck in the middle with you,Yes I'm stuck in the middle with you,Stuck in the middle with you.”
Stealers Wheel, 1972

This might be my political anthem. After years of political drift , the ground I occupy that used to be seen as the middle is seen as left of center by many. One thing hasn’t changed though, we are still surrounded by jokers and clowns on both sides. These days the Jokers and Clowns are not only the politicians….but as often they are those we used to trust to “report the news”. That’s a laugh. These days even an organization that has the word “news” in it’s name doesn't really report news. It’s mostly manufactured entertainment, opinionated bloviators termed analysts by the networks, yelling back and forth at one another.
But this isn’t about politics or the state of modern journalism, as tempting as that might be. This summer Camilla and I traveled through the “heart of the heart of the country.” Quite literally the very middle of the lower 48 states. In the middle of pretty rolling Kansas countryside just outside the unremarkable little town of Lebanon is a neatly mowed little park and a field stone monument announcing we had found the geographic center of the contiguous 48 United States, and the location had been certified in 1918 by no less than the U.S. Coast and Geodetic Survey.
Now comes the Jokers and Clowns part. It seems this center point was arrived at through something less than scientific methodology. Someone carefully cut out a map of the lower 48 on some thick cardboard and then balanced the piece on a sharp point….it was determined that the map would balance if the point were on this spot representing a spot about 3 miles northwest of Lebanon Kansas. Town fathers no doubt had visions of tourists flooding into the town. A small motel was even built near the site. Of course the floods of tourists did not come, the motel had to close, but a small dedicated group of local backers still maintains the park. I can attest to the natural beauty of that tiny plot nestled in the rolling farmland one beautiful, blue sky, summer day in 2008.

Thinking Outside the Box

I was addicted to on-line photo contests. Perhaps what I was addicted to was success or at least validation. What a rush it is first thing in the morning to discover you have won a “photo of the day”. I’ve had my share of fame, probably well over 200 daily winners on 4 or 5 sites where I regularly participated as well as a few Monthly Best of Category winners. Of course the fame is short lived…a whole new batch of winners is posted the next day so as a result you have to upload a whole new batch of shots each day to stay in competition. Each site operates slightly differently. Judging protocol, categories, value and type of prizes offered, if any, number of entries you can make each day, upload requirements, rules.
For the most part site owners and judges try to be fair and impartial and for the most part the winners as a group represent good, and sometimes even great photography. What you don’t get so often is photography that strays beyond what I call “calendar art”.
Now, before you have a cow… There is nothing wrong with “calendar art”, I have a portfolio of contest winners that would fall easily into that category….and I’ve had several shots published on a few wide distribution local calendars and I was quite proud they were selected.
What I am trying to describe is what most on-line photo contests offer up. A similar and predictable fare of images. I have sometimes heard it referred to as pedestrian (lacking in vitality, imagination, distinction, etc.; commonplace; prosaic or dull) Though I would agree that certainly describes some of the fare I don’t believe that is a valid description on the whole. I would say instead that it seems commonplace and lacking in imagination because in general so few styles of Photography are rewarded so it is becomes the same thing, over and over again. I love ice cream, but even too much ice cream can be a bad thing.
After something like 6 or 7 years of avid contest participation it occurred to me that I was shooting pictures always with an eye on capturing an image that would make a good contest entry and that, I decided, was not a healthy way to grow. Something else happened at about the same time I began to question the direction I was moving, or not moving, with my photography. I retired from a 32 year career as a police officer, a career that career is, if nothing else, all about following rules and enforcing rules. For 32 years I honored a strict dress code…but within a month of retirement I was sporting a face full of whiskers, something I had not ever been allowed during my career. It’s a small thing but the point is, suddenly I was not constrained by a lot of rules and it felt good to do something different. This feeling of sudden freedom is probably not unique to retired police officers…I imagine it is common among all newly retired people.
All photo contest sites have rules, guidelines, expectations and as I said above, they generally cater to one flavor of art. Did I want to go in some new directions? Suddenly I realized I could do that. The choice was mine. For a while I want the freedom to think outside the box. Maybe some day I’ll go back into the box, where it is safe and familiar…but for now I’m enjoying some new freedom.

Across America

I Like to travel, in fact it is more accurate to say I love to travel. The destination isn’t particularly important to me. Granted, I do have some preferred destinations, but my enjoyment derives as much from “the trip” as the final destination. I like driving. Aside from the physical aspect of “driving” my car, I find the thrill of discovery invigorating and I have learned that little discoveries are just as rewarding as big ones.

This summer Camilla and I put about 5000 miles under the wheels of our 11 year old car. Along with our youngest grandson, Cole, we explored a lengthy swath of the Heartland…from Indiana we crossed the prairie state of Illinois, pausing at the Mississippi then onward through Iowa, and Nebraska. Through Nebraska we followed the general route of the Oregon Trail trying to imagine what those crossing the great plains in 1849 must have seen and felt.
This would be the place to pause for a brief editorial. Where we crossed the Prairie state of Illinois there was little evidence of the lush tall grass prairies that once extended from the Wabash River bottoms of western Indiana to the Mississippi and beyond. Where emigrants of 1849 crossed a vast grassland beyond the Mississippi that extended all the way to the Rocky Mountains there is little evidence of that once treeless landscape. In fact Nebraska is even less a treeless landscape than it was when I passed through in 1959 as a child with my Grandparents.

There is a lot of talk about the homogenization of American Culture over the past couple of generations. Most of that talk applies to things like national retail and restaurant chains. From what I have seen it should also apply to what we have done to our landscape. In our drive across Nebraska there was barely any difference in the amount of timber we saw between Indiana and Nebraska. Yet I remembered a Nebraska with considerably fewer trees than a typical Indiana landscape. I remembered my grandparents telling me about the pioneer houses built of sod because there were no trees for log cabins. I even remember stopping along the road and walking out into a pasture and looking at an old soddy. I wonder if my memory is faulty? I might have been only about 10 the last time I crossed that state but I don’t remember it looking so much like home. I’m fairly certain emigrant travelers of 1849 would not have recognized much of the landscape we found in Nebraska this summer. Perhaps there are places in Nebraska that have not become so homogenized, but we did not see many of them on this trip. We did find this reproduction sod house and small museum along our route. I came away feeling somehow disappointed and looking back at the picture it took me a while to realize what was unsettling about the picture....It was the trees.....they were all wrong. There are still a few of the original sod houses that have survived since pioneer times, but they are very rare these days.

As amazing as it sounds, there are a few places where you still CAN see traces of the old Oregon Trail. Scars, yet unhealed, in the land caused by millions of wagon wheels. Another small example of ways in which we have put our mark upon this land. The depression is clearly visible here at the crest of Windlass Hill ...though it continues down both sides of the hill it is most easily photographed here.

Chimney Rock and Scotts Bluff and Devils Tower are still easily spotted landmarks along the route of the Oregon trail.

Why I Was a Republican

This whole election cycle has had me thinking a lot about my own politics, trying to figure out why I ever thought I was or should be a Republican. I had to dig really deep to come to some understanding of this on a personal level.
I guess some of what I figured out applies to a lot of people. You hear so many people say they would rather die than support a (fill in the blank). They throw out the terms "liberal" or “conservative” as a negative adjective. Two perfectly good words we have reduced to gutter language. 

Supporting a party that for the most part works against your own self interest. That's the kind of thing that just doesn't (or didn't) make a lot of sense to me. I can understand someone supporting a party when the policies that it espouses would be a direct benefit ....it is the others who seem to go into the voting booth suffering from what amounts to political schizophrenia that I wonder about.

So why did I spend so many years thinking of myself as a Republican? I think if you go deep into my genealogy the answer would be Abe Lincoln. LOL, Yes, seriously, the 16th President and founding father of the present GOP is the reason. The buck stops there. Him, and the genetic predisposition of the Robinson's to hold "Tradition" in very high regard. The early GOP being the party of the victorious Union forces....and darling of the GAR, and the wavers of "the bloody shirt". Isn't it funny.....even after more than 100 years the GOP is still the waver of the "Bloody shirt" (using 911 as the excuse for a power grab, for every policy you want to create or change or dispense with).

First there was great-great-great grandpa Robinson....an Abolitionist who before the Civil war was active in the Freedom Party.   Being of some local political importance, we can assume he was or certainly would have been a Republican had he lived beyond 1866 although many of his beliefs would have been considered quite liberal at the time.  His son, great-great grandpa, was a Veteran of that bloody conflict which ended slavery, a member of the GAR and no doubt a Republican. The Robinsons of that era were big on tradition...family reunions, GAR Conventions (I think they were called encampments) and that good old fashioned religion. Great grandpa wasn't a Veteran of the Civil War but he grew up on the knees of those who were, so I'm sure he was well indoctrinated in that tradition.

Then came the Klan....defender of truth, justice, and the American (WASP) way....and (at least in Indiana) the owner of the GOP for several years, or did the GOP own the Klan? This was grandpa's era and in a lot of ways he is more the enigma than his forbears. The bloody shirt of the Civil War was greatly faded by the time he came along so more than anything I believe it was Tradition that kept him in the party. (and probably his mother, lol)

Even during the depression when the family farm was in peril and after he was able to save that land through the aid of one of FDR's alphabet programs he remained loyal to the GOP. During WWII while his son was serving in the South Pacific under commander in chief FDR he remained a GOP insider, serving multiple terms at two county positions, and as a state GOP convention delegate.

Being a Republican was "expected" in my family and I was certainly not the person to question that. I was loyal...not to Republican ideals and theories of governance...but to the family tradition. In truth I can’t say I really ever heard either my grandfather or father say why they supported the Republicans. In many ways it was the only party where I grew up. With only occasional exceptions I was to become a voter the GOP could count on for many years. It was always easier to follow tradition than to work at understanding the issues and learning how those issues affected me and my family. 

 These days the pace of life is hectic, and there is no shortage of both important and complicated issues that require a lot of time to investigate all sides and to gain any sort of understanding of the whole picture. Being an informed voter is hard and I understand why so few are. Politicians of all kinds (both the R's and the D's) count on us remaining uninformed and for that reason there are few independent sources of balanced information available.

That was, I think, how I became a Republican. I don’t think my belief system has steered to left as much as the Republicans have steered to the right over the past generation. The gap between where I stand and where the GOP stands has become too large to ignore. I would have to credit George W. Bush with creating the environment which has given me serious doubts about my prior blind allegiance to the GOP. That is fuel for another blog, another day.

I wonder how many others are like me; how many inherited their political beliefs and whether those inherited beliefs ever changed over time? It would be cool to hear from some other folks on that question.

Did You Ever Wonder?

Is it just me? 

Did you ever wonder: Or is it just me? Why do you have to come up with a Blog title even before you know how the plot is going to play out? Before the characters have been fully developed? Before this novel called life happens? Do I want a blog to share my excitement over my latest Photographic achievements, or do I just want to talk about life since retirement, the grandkids, travel exploits, or how the flowers look today? Do I want my blog to be personal, political, academic, chatty, chic, inspirational, educational, or silly? Can it be a blog of interest to potential clients? Will my far flung family find it a useful way to stay in touch? Who might read this?  

After a good deal of imaginative thought I settled on "Is it just me?" I have no idea how long I might stay interested in recording my thoughts on life and events.  I guess we will see.  Thanks for reading.