The Brown Knowser

My feet can't take the pounding. My knees get sore. I sweat, and I get tired easily. When I was a teen, I used to dance all the time, with my friends, at school dances. I loved it. When we grew older, and could drive across the border, into Hull, Québec, we'd go to night clubs, where we could drink legally and we could dance 'til the wee hours of the morning. I danced at staff Christmas parties. Sometimes, my wife and I would leave our parties, which were often held at convention centres, where more than one party was being held, and we'd crash the other parties, dance on their floors, mingle with people we didn't know. I danced at weddings, including my own. My wife and I loved to dance. But I don't dance very much, these days. I blame my health, the arthritis in my bones and joints. Maybe, I danced too much in my youth, danced out all the dance that was left in me. I still dance, a little, around the house, when my kids are listening to their music, ...

It's not like I haven't hallucinated before. When I was about 12, I woke up, screaming, clutching my bedsheets, and pushing myself into the corner of my bed, away from the furniture that I was sure was moving toward me, wanting to do me harm. The walls were closing in on me, and I was surely going to be crushed. When my parents came to my rescue, my mother deemed that I was burning up. I was sweating and shivering, and my father prepared a cold bath in which to immerse me, to try and bring my core temperature down. When you have a fever, your mind can play tricks on you. I'm also known to talk in my sleep. Usually, I mutter, my words illegible, often coming out as grunts or off-key singing. I never remember saying anything, or I may wake myself as I have a conversation with a non-existent audience. My wife once told be that I lifted my head, rolled over to face her, and in a clear, perfectly enunciated voice, said, "You'd better get your snowmobile." I...

He's a good kid. I've known him his whole life. And I trust him. But when he asked my youngest daughter if she could lie in the middle of our quiet street, if she could stay perfectly still on that asphalt, while he rode his BMX bike toward her and jumped over her, without a ramp, to fly over her small, frail body, at a speed that was as fast as his peddling legs could propel him, I had to speak up. I trust him, but only so far. And even less so when my child's safety is at risk. I've seen him cycle up and down our streets countless times, over the years. Watched him handle jumps with coordination and skill, almost with a certain amount of grace. I knew that he would often go to the BMX park, where other enthusiasts like him tore up the dirt and flew over obstacles. Last year, I had asked him if I could accompany him to the park, so that I could capture him in various acrobatic and aerial stances, with my camera. An opportunity never ar...

No, not my story. That one still has a bit more life in it. I have wracked my brain to remember where I first heard the song, "Here's Where The Story Ends." When my good friend, Brad, shared it with me on a trip to Venice, in 2009, I recognized the song by the UK band, The Sundays . I think I might have first heard them on the radio, in 1991, as Lori and I drove the Welsh countryside, on our first overseas vacation together. We heard a lot of great music as we drove across the northern coastline, through Snowdonia, along the western coastline, and down toward Cardiff, before we headed east, to Tintern Abbey, and back into England. The countryside was so majestic, so beautiful, and the soft sounds of the acoustic guitar and the faery tones of Harriet Wheeler seem to go hand-in-hand with those memories. Since my friend shared this song and "My Finest Hour," I have started listening to more from this band, which ran from 1988 to 1997. I haven't found a so...

I hope you find my photos of New York City pleasing to look at. I took a lot of them, and plan to share my best with you. I probably shared my best photo when I was too tired to write anything. Originally, the photo that I posted on Tuesday was going to be today's photo, but I couldn't wait. That's okay. I've got more. I'll post more, next week, for Wordless Wednesday , and perhaps for the next Photo Friday . You can also see my photos in my Flickr album . One of the things that I like to do after a rain storm is to find puddles that reflect interesting objects. In a city like Ottawa, where there aren't tons of tall buildings, it's not impossible but for me, it's a challenge, since I don't hang out downtown nearly as often as I used to. In NYC, there are lots of tall buildings, lots of interesting structures to capture in reflections. On Sunday morning, as my wife and I cycled around the Financial District, one puddle took up much of the pat...

Whenever I travel, no matter the destination, I try to do as much as I can. I try to see as much as the destination offers. When the destination is far away and my chances of returning are remote, I will fill my waking hours with as many activities as my body can endure. Thankfully, New York City is close enough that I know if I can't fit an attraction into my visit, I will be back to see it, eventually. My wife and I packed too many activities into this trip. We were with two of our oldest and dearest friends, Bee and Marc, and we all had things we wanted to accomplish, things we wanted to see. There were activities that overlapped, which was great, and there were some things that took us in different directions. Whenever I go to NYC, I try to do new things. There are some things I have done more than once: I have ascended the Empire State Building three times; I have been to DUMBO twice; I have been in Central Park countless times; I have been to the Met, the Guggenheim, ...

I'm glad that my manager called me on Friday, while I was in the Flatiron District, in New York City, to tell me that my business trip to Texas was cancelled. I wasn't looking forward to travelling the day after returning home from vacation, and with the crap that's gone on in Waco, I'm not confident that a trip to Texas at this time is in my best interest. When I returned home, I had only enough energy to empty my suitcase, to put my dirty clothes in the laundry, and go to bed. I had no energy to even write a blog post, which would have been for Music Monday . When I awoke yesterday morning, my brain was fried. I had very little energy, and didn't want to get out of bed. I think my age is starting to catch up with me. A weekend of fun had worn me out. So, on Victoria Day, I stayed home, did very little, and had only enough creativity to slap together a pathetic haiku. Not all of my days are filled with ideas for the next day's blog post. Not even today....

Long hours through the night from New York City I drove. No blog post today.

It's a time of travel. For fun. For work. As you read this, if you're reading it on the day that this post is published, I'm finally in New York City, after postponing my March trip. It's a better time of year. The day after I return, on the Victoria Day Monday, I'm off again, heading to Texas, for work. Not my destination of choice, full of unknown. But I'll approach the week-long trip the way I do with every place I visit: with eyes open, looking for adventure. Around every corner, in every place I go, I hope to find a story that I can share. Wish me luck. Happy Friday!

Years ago, when I made the decision to move from 35mm film to digital photography, I bought my D-SLR, specifically looking for a camera that did not also record video. I had a couple of camcorders—some digital—and I wanted to keep the two media separate. A still camera for my stills: a movie camera for motion. My camera model was on the verge of being discontinued, specifically because it did not have video capabilities and everyone seemed to want it. The salesperson, who sold me my Nikon D80, tried to upsell me to the brand-new D90. No thanks, I said. I'm not interested in spending the extra dollars on a feature I didn't want or need. These days, it's near impossible to find a decent D-SLR that does not offer video recording. When I looked at upgrading my D80, I considered the Df because it was full-frame and it doesn't have a video feature, but I wasn't about to drop $3300 on a body just because it didn't record movies. For about the first month that...