Painting With Light

Déjà Vu

March 3, 2011

“The Ride” © R.L. Herron

I came across this image today while looking through photos stored on my computer. It brought a smile to my face.

It shows my eldest son driving his grandfather’s tractor with his son on his lap. My grandson was so excited at the ride through a field overgrown with weeds and wildflowers.

I recalled the day I took it, and how careful I had been to use a large aperture to minimize depth of field. I wanted the foreground and background, while remaining identifiable, to be out-of-focus and incidental to the two of them.

That was captured pretty much as I intended. There’s also something else captured there, which you can’t see and I didn’t realize myself until I saw it again.

A sense of déjà vu.

We all know déjà vu is the experience of feeling certain one has already witnessed or experienced a situation. The firm sense the experience has genuinely happened in the past.

In this case, it almost did.

Thirty-four years ago, probably about the same time of year, that same tractor was going through the same spot in that same field.

Only the driver was me and the passenger was my son.

I can recall that day with utter clarity. I’m certain if I searched I could find a grainy snapshot of the two of us, taken at almost the identical spot. It’s a very emotional feeling.

It’s somehow comforting to know my son has been able to experience the same gratification I felt at sharing that moment with him. There are four generations in that photo. My father-in-law (94 now), me, my son and my grandson. All linked by that tractor and that field.

Déjà vu.

It’s a good memory I wish more people could share. Come to think of it, now they have.

Posted in Lifestyle, Non-Fiction Writing, Photography | 2 Comments »

Reflections

March 1, 2011

“Little Swimmer” © R.L. Herron

As young as they are, my grandchildren are very capable swimmers.

There is no need for intense observation and concern regarding their actions. They are very much at ease in the water. Watching them is actually relaxing and relatively stress-free.

If only life in general could be more like that.

Unfortunately, humanity is a very fickle, ill-mannered species. It often seems the whole earth is in need of a disciplinary “time-out” — but there is no cosmic planet-sitter.

Even if there were a planetary pre-school, it would likely not be capable of preventing much of the mischief homo sapiens can create.

The cries of “Mine!” — “No, mine!” echo around the planet. Sadly, we are a species well known for letting our childish behavior, tribal differences, political disagreements or ethnic arguments erupt into violence.

Yet war is such a savage way for human beings to behave. No one who has ever been involved in war — even remotely — would disagree. There are no winners in war.

Such conflict is so universally repugnant a prohibition against it is built into one of our most accepted agreements on global behavior — the United Nations charter. The only exception to war’s illegality is for self-defense.

That exception is also a damning indication of our sorry, brutal nature.

Despite our best intentions we anticipate the need to retaliate at some point, so we make a provision for it. War is such a widespread, common occurrence the idea of a period without it seems almost quaint.

I worry now for my grandchildren as I did for my sons.

I hope there is a period of “quaintness” in their future. A long one. A period without strife. Without hatred. Without violence. Without war.

A period that — like watching my grandchildren swim — does not require constant, intense vigilance to ensure their safety.

That probably makes me an old-fashioned idealist, but I don’t care. For the sake of my grandchildren I can at least hope.

I have seen war and know you need hope to foster all those quaint ideas like friendship, trust, harmony and peace. For the sake of all the grandchildren in the world I can do my part to make this a better place, and I can hope.

If enough of us do that we just might have a chance.

Posted in Lifestyle, Non-Fiction Writing, Politics | 2 Comments »

Resting Place

February 25, 2011

It’s been interesting to observe all the activity in the world these past weeks. There are many emotions involved, but that’s the best way I can describe it. Interesting.

It has been alternately exciting, terrifying, demoralizing, fabulous and frustrating.

The happenings in the Middle East have conjured images both wondrous and awful. Wondrous that so many people, in so many countries, are now clamoring for democratic reforms; awful in the violence and bloodshed that ensues.

But you don’t have to travel thousands of miles to find frustration.

Right here at home the political posturing causes me to react the same way, because it is at once demoralizing and frustrating.

Where has the idea of compromise gone?

Where are the champions of the common good? Why are we trying so hard to destroy all the hard-earned advances won by collective bargaining? Does anyone seem to care that our middle class has become a citizenry that is rapidly becoming second class?

We seem to have forgotten how to have civilized debate in this country.

Our political system is full of self-serving rhetoric designed only to “tear down the other guy” while making our own side seem grand. In the process we are losing the ability to work together.

That attitude and ethic is what made our country great, and we seem hell-bent on destroying it.

Maybe we need a place, like the red bench above, just to meet, sit and discuss our issues. Or maybe it should be a place just to calmly rest and reflect.

We could all benefit with a little more thought behind our actions.