Signs - Part 3

I found this at a gas station in Birmingham, but just couldn’t summon the courage to try what was being advertised.  My initial glance at the sign resulted in a cartoonlike double take where the character shakes his head rapidly from side to side in disbelief.  Even after getting a second look at the message, I continued around the block soaking in what I had seen.

I’ve been in a lot of out of the way places where all manner of animal by-products are for sale, usually in a glass jar near the cash register, but Fresh, Juicy Pig Lips were a first for me.  Not being a pig lip connoisseur, I have lots of questions.

·      How does one know if they are fresh?

·      What scale is used to determine the level of juiciness?

·      What are the preferred methods for preparing and serving pig lips?

·      How would an inexperienced person tell if they are about to get the genuine item instead of being duped into purchasing goat, calf, or sheep lips?

·      How can I tell the lips are naturally plump versus those that have been enhanced with Botox?

·      If I want to serve pig lips at a party should they be an appetizer, entrée, or dessert?

·      How many lips in a serving?

·      What vegetables or side dishes complement the flavor of pig lips?

·      What kind of beverage goes best with pig lips?

·      If there are leftovers, can they be served again and, if so, how?

I guess all my questions could have been answered if I had stopped at the gas station and asked the attendant who was selling them, but by then my chicken fingers would have been cold.

Facing A Rapidly Changing Future

I shot this photo a few years back while attending a quilt auction in rural Daviess County, Indiana, which is home to a sizeable Amish community.  The auction is an annual event attracting folks from all over the country who appreciate the fabric artistry and the opportunity to experience some authentic country cuisine.  That year, the auction was held in a community center and the parking lot was filled with vehicles from several different states.  On two sides of the lot’s outer edges were long rails for hitching the horses of local residents.  As I was photographing the rows of buggies, I noticed this young Amish family making their way through the cars as they headed into the building and squeezed off a few frames. 

For me, the image conveys what it’s like for many of us to live in the early 21st century. Parts of our surroundings are familiar, but much of our environment is substantially different and we weren’t consulted on the changes.  They have been forced upon us and it feels that chunks of our lives are out of control.  In Managing At The Speed of Change, Daryl Conner offers that change is made up of three components:  quantity, pace, and complexity and each of these three elements are growing over time.   There is more change, it’s coming faster, and it’s going to be more complicated.  In laymen’s terms, that means if you were barely keeping it together Monday, you probably aren’t looking forward to Wednesday, you’ll be acting like your hair will be on fire Friday and next week will be worse. 

Photography is dear to my heart so I’ll use it as an example.  I started with a Kodak Instamatic camera, moved up to one of my dad’s small roll film cameras, made a big move up to his Rolleiflex TLR, then on to a 35mm SLR with interchangeable lenses.  While the equipment changed, there were a few constants:  film was the medium, the basic premise was you need a good camera and a modicum of talent to create good photographs on a consistent basis, and unless you got published, your images would be seen by a relatively small group of people.  Film had been around for a long time, changes were largely incremental, and its future seemed assured.

In the mid 1970’s, an engineer at Eastman Kodak, produced the first digital camera.  It weighed eight pounds and took 23 seconds to capture an image.  Digital photography had lots of growing pains and the first consumer camera wasn’t available until 1990.  It took another 10 years for the digital camera to really catch on with consumers, but once it did, the impact was huge and one of the first places it hit hard was where it was invented.  In the early 2000’s, one of Kodak’s film cameras was discontinued before it could be awarded “camera of the year” later that year.  In less than 25 years from its introduction, digital photography was well on the way to pushing film to the low end of the sales chart. 

Today, the three constants I noted earlier have been changed.  The medium uses pixels extensively and film sparingly.  More people than ever before have access to a camera, which shoots stills and video and most often is a component of their cell phone, which means it’s with them nearly all the time.  Talent is still required to make consistently good images and great photos are being made everyday by “photo enthusiasts.” Being a photojournalist is now possible for almost anyone with a camera phone.  I belong to a couple of photographic communities, and, with a few keystrokes, can share images and comments with people all over the world.  I can carry a battery-powered printer that’s about the size of a paperback book, take a portrait with my cell phone, wirelessly send the image to the printer and present the subject with a small print in about 30 seconds!

Though I used photography as an example, it could have just as easily been cars, appliances, music, or office equipment.  So, in a world of sweeping changes how do we get on top and ride the wave versus getting rolled and pounded by it?  Given what we know about the consistent shortening shelf life of ideas, products, and services, how can we prepare ourselves for what comes next?

I have more questions than answers, but know that at the heart of the matter I must reinvent myself on a regular basis.  I also know that getting comfortable will not serve me well in the long run.  I have to learn how to be resilient and be “change-able.” Like the family in the picture, I have to stay true to my values, hang on to my loved ones, and get out to where the changes are happening.

There are two Amish quilt auctions set for September.  For more information, go to:

www.daviesscounty.net/calendar 

But Wait, There's More!

Plainville, Indiana is a small town and it’s been that way for a long time.  There is no evidence to support that the population of 536 will be mushrooming any time soon.  Go to Plainville, IN onTripAdvisor.com and notice there are no listings under the headings of Lodging, Things to Do, and Restaurants, even though the Iron Kettle has been there for some time and serves a tasty lunch.

Years ago, Plainville had the usual assortment of buildings along Main Street that you would find in a farming community:  bank, grocery, hardware, post office, machine shop, and grain elevator.  Main Street was made thoughtfully broad to accommodate tractors with wide implements.  Today, there is little activity on Main Street.  The Post Office building has been replaced by a set of individual aluminum boxes similar to what you might find at the entrance to an apartment building.  The bank building is still standing, converted to a scarcely used office on the ground floor complete with a very impressive Mosler cannonball safe, which weighs over 6,000 pounds, and an apartment on the second floor.  L. J.’s welding shop is open when the owner decides.  The grain elevator and machine shop are the only two businesses that could be categorized as “thriving.” 

The most interesting business in the heart of town has got to be Baker Bike Works, LLC.  It occupies prime real estate at the corner of Highway 57 and Main.  You’re probably thinking, “What’s so interesting about a small town motorcycle shop?” As you often hear on infomercials, but wait, there’s more!  George Baker, the owner, has interests that extend way beyond the sale and maintenance of cycles and ATV’s. 

Approaching the building, you’ll notice an old bicycle for sale in the front window.   Stepping inside, you see a motorcycle in the middle of floor, but what catches your eye is the eight-lane, two level slot car track that runs the length of the front part of the store.  To the right of the cycle is a slot car drag strip and, on a separate table, another track for smaller scale vehicles.  Wandering past the tracks, you will also see a number of musical instruments, amplifiers, and guns, in addition to the helmets and motorcycle parts you would expect to find.  The back of George’s enterprise houses the maintenance shop where his two mechanics are working. 

A couple of bikers from a neighboring town drop by while I’m there and George spends quite a bit of time talking to them about motorcycling and a mechanical issue one of the guys is having with his ride.  Like much of life in Plainville, there doesn’t seem to be a sense of urgency to the discussion or the bike problem.  The conversation draws to a close, the riders get back on their bikes, leave, and George is ready to call it a day around 3:30, leaving his mechanics to close the shop. 

George was very hospitable and I appreciated his willingness to let me take a few pictures around his shop.  I never expected to find anything like this in Plainville…or anywhere else.

Signs

Signs fascinate me and catch my eyes for different reasons.  Sometimes it’s the overall design, other times the color scheme, but a lot of times it’s the message.  I tend to view things in a humorous vein and often wonder if the people who wanted the advertising were serious when they paid to have it done that way or if they were being clever, playing to a small audience who would actually read the sign, get the intended meaning, chuckle as they drove by, and then share it with friends.

Since I can’t be sure, I’m just going to give you my take on the occasional sign that pops up here.  Feel free to share your thoughts.  I found this one in Jasper, Alabama.

How do I advertise my criminal defense attorney practice when I’m a small firm, with a small advertising budget, and an even smaller space for a sign?

Tough Situations, Resilient People

I came across this lady while on a mission trip in Chincha Alta, Peru.  The city had been devastated by a major earthquake in 2007 and when we arrived two years later, there was still much repairing and rebuilding to be done.  The residents in the parts of the city that had been most heavily damaged had been relocated to the edges of town where they were still living in structures with woven bamboo walls and roofs made with blue plastic tarps.  Fresh water, when available, came from spigots located at various places in this makeshift suburb.  I was amazed at the resiliency of the residents who had spent almost two years living in these very challenging conditions.

Rather than deal with relocation, some of the city's residents chose to remain in their homes, most of which had been condemned due to the damage to the walls and roof.  Standing in the doorway of one of the homes near where we were working, I was admiring a beautiful set of long lace curtains that appeared to be covering a very large picture window in the back wall of the house.  Upon closer examination, I discovered the lace curtains were the back wall.  With so much lost in the earthquake, I can empathize with those who decided to stay in their neighborhoods, hang on to whatever possessions they had left, and stitch their communities back together.   I came away inspired by so many folks who refused to be defined by their situations.  They kept working, kept helping their neighbors, and kept moving forward.  

Many of the stories from the trip had happy endings, others had promising outcomes, while some were filled with sadness and appeared to be headed toward an unhappy ending, though the final chapters were still being written.  While walking through one of the neighborhoods, we encountered this elderly lady resting outside a store and stopped to chat with her.  Drawn to her hat and red sweater, I asked if I could take a photo of her and she graciously let me squeeze off a few frames.  When I finished, I turned the camera around to let her see the image on the LCD.  At first, she gave a puzzled expression, but that quickly turned to a big smile as she spoke to my translator, who told me, "She said the lady in the camera has the same hat as I do."  It dawned on me that this might have been the first time she had her picture taken.  Further discussion revealed that she had three sons who lived in the city, but they had put her on the street to fend for herself.  She declined any assistance from us, got up from the bench she was on, pulled herself up straight, and resolutely moved on down the street.

I followed her for a time before taking this image, which I felt showed her courage and determination in the face of uncertainty.

Together Apart

While in Washington, DC we visited a few of the tourist attractions and were very impressed with the Native American Museum.  After getting a snack in the cafeteria, I was standing in the entryway when I noticed a group of what appeared to be middle schoolers on a field trip who were waiting for the rest of their group to finish their tour.  While this should not be taken as an indictment of all middle schoolers, I have found most of them to be about as stable as a wagon load of nitroglycerin jostling down a rocky mountain road on a hot day.  Since a lot of their outbursts are frequently directed at peers, I watched the group with great interest and not just a little anticipation.

What I saw turned out to be more interesting than the typical high-speed emotional come apart.  They barely interacted with each other at all.  Each person was riveted to whatever was happening on their handheld device.  While they were all present in the same physical space, they may as well have been on different planets.  With no evidence to support they were texting each other, it did not appear there was any interpersonal connection at all.

I just thought this was a great image for where we are headed as a society.  We are connected and we are interacting.  Just not with each other.  We are together apart.