An Amity Island Birthday!

Happy birthday!

It was an innocent beginning with dappled sunlight, bright balloons and happy children splashing in the wading pool as Walker celebrated his third birthday.  Only the large empty spot in the front yard hinted that something mysterious was going to happen there.

Pool boy.

Karsten arrives with presents.

Walker's Spiderman cake.

The children splashed, presents were received, and chicken nuggets, grapes, French fries and a Spiderman cake were devoured. As Walker’s guests picked up their goodie bags and left the party with their parents,  they passed a man entering the gate with a large, blue, plastic bundle on a dolly.

Setting out the chum line.

The blue bundle starts to inflate.

The blue bundle gets bigger........

.........and bigger!

BUM, bum, BUM, bum, BUM, bum…….It’s JAWS!

Brody and Quint, the shark hunters, aka William and Walker, fearlessly climb the twenty four feet into the very mouth of Jaws, and throw themselves onto the slide, testing it prior to the second birthday party of the day, William’s sixth birthday!

Jaws lives up to its reputation.

Walker meets a similar fate.

The shark hunters encounter a problem. There is a trough where the slide sections meet that is too deep to slide over, giving them a bad jolt as they come down the slide.  Walker bit his tongue twice, and both boys were in danger of whiplash, but never fear when Dad is near.  He can always figure out what to do.  And old deflated swimming pool filled the depression nicely, and things went smoothly after that.  Maybe too smoothly, and a little too slowly?  Whose idea was it to put baby oil on the surface of the slide?

For the next eight hours the boys at William’s party (no girls allowed), and then more friends and children through the evening, bounced and screamed and laughed their way down the slide over and over again, stopping only to eat William’s birthday cake and sing happy birthday to him.

William's cake.

Stopping for cake and "Happy birthday to you."

My Kind of Razzmatazz

Lucky William had a chance to visit Chicago for his sixth birthday.  Lucky me, I had a chance to visit it with him. Our birthdays are close together, so Elizabeth invited both of us to go on a business trip with her.  While she worked, he and I explored Chicago.

If he goes back a hundred times, a thousand times, he will still find something new. We hardly made a dent in the attractions, but my exhaustion level after four days told me we covered a lot of it: Navy Pier ferris wheel and swings, Children’s Museum, Shedd’s Aquarium, Lincoln Park Zoo, Millennium Park fountains and Bean, Field Museum and William’s personal favorite, the Lego Store. We hopped from plane to taxi to water taxi to city bus, and threw in some old fashioned pedestrian action as well. We saw pirates, bears, mummies, sharks, lions, dinosaurs, a tall ship, skyscrapers, a White Cheeked Gibbon that slammed into the glass where William was standing and hissed at him, and made a video starring the trash cans of Chicago!  In spite of the sights and sounds of a new, exciting city, William’s most asked question before we left the hotel was, “May I take my (Nintendo) DS with me?”

Playing Checkers at the Childrens' Museum, and ducking from the camera.

Navy Pier

Pulling away from Navy Pier on the water taxi on our way to Shedd Aquarium.

We arrived at the Shedd Aquarium and looked back at the city and Lakeshore Dr.

Shark in the Water!

The light level in the Aquarium was not a photographer’s friend, and there was no flash allowed, but I had to take a picture of the shark for William to go along with the shark tooth he bought at the Childrens’ Museum Gift Shop. We landlocked Tennesseans long for the sea, and William seems to be no exception. Chicago isn’t well known for sharks, but some strange things have been found in the Great Lakes since the St. Lawrence opened!

William and I both give the Lincoln Park Zoo our highest recommendation.

Lions....

....and Tigers....

....and Bears. Oh, my!

William got a dragon tattoo. Mine was a mythical bird.

William's entire head can fit inside a tiger's jaws!

We rode the carousel.

This is the White Cheeked Gibbon that swung back and forth and suddenly smacked into the glass where William was standing, and hissed at him. The whole crowd jumped back, but William loved it.

At the Field Museum we toured the mummy exhibit.  William wanted to see brains, of course. In the pirate ship exhibit we saw a treasure chest full of silver coins, the only sunken pirate treasure ever found, and were horrified to see and read about a gibbet, used to execute captured pirates. It is a metal cage like a straight jacket into which the pirate was locked and dangled from a pole at low tide, to wait for his death by drowning as the tide came in. I was horrified.  William didn’t seem to take it personally. It was all in a day’s work for a pirate, I guess.

Dinosaur overlooks Chicago.

Hey, there, Matey!

The Lego Store - a top attraction!

Navy Pier Swing

Navy Pier Swing and Ferris Wheel

William and E. go for the thrills.

We had the time, the time of our lives in Chi-CA-go! And so we left the windy city, in much the same way as we entered it, with William playing his Nintendo. I’ve posted the events of our trip so we can revisit and enjoy again, and to let William know what we did in case he was absorbed in Pokemon at the time.

Waiting for the plane home, and playing with the Nintendo.

Perfectly Boring

Jamie and William make plans for the uninteresting trash can video.

William and I met our friend Jamie, who lives in Chicago, outside the Field Museum. Jamie invited William to help him make a video with his iPhone camera, but William didn’t want his picture taken, as usual, and I suspect he had an overloaded brain from the dinosaurs, pirates and mummies he had just seen inside the Field.

Jamie, not one to be diverted from a creative mission, convinced William that a video had to be made. William didn’t have to be in it, and it could be something completely boring, like grass growing. In fact, nothing interesting would be allowed. A discussion followed as we wondered whether something devoid of interest would be inherently interesting, and if so, was it even possible to make a video of something uninteresting.

Field Museum

The Bean at Millennium Park

Several subjects were rejected as too interesting, but finally they settled on trash cans, and we began the long walk from the Field Museum to Millennium Park. The plan was to look for a place for lunch along the way, but I guess that was just too interesting for William and Jamie, and an empty stomach probably contributed to William’s eventual meltdown.

I hope I will see the trash can video. Garbage cans were featured in long shots and close ups. William hid behind one and slowly flipped the lid closed while Jamie filmed the mysterious self-closing trash can. The documentarian followed another trash can as it meandered down the sidewalk, William hidden on the far side doing the driving. My suggestion of panning along some wood slat fencing and ending up at a cluster of green trash cans was rejected as too interesting. William thought photographing a dumpster by the train tracks through the balusters of an overpass would be good, but, again, way too interesting, so it became a portrait of a lonely dumpster, the image uncluttered by any other object.

William in the garden next to the Art Institute. A rare photo of him not hiding his face from the camera.

So it went, until Jamie lost interest in the city of Chicago’s various solutions for refuse containment, and decided William should become the star. He could be a statue, or walk like a pidgeon, or hold his head in such a way with his mouth open to pretend he was catching water spouting from a fountain.  Even better, be in pictures with street performers! All great ideas, unless you are dealing with the stubbornly camera shy, two hours late for lunch William.

Statue with no head.

Hiding from the juggler.

I had to abandon my preferred role as approving, indulgent grandmother for that of scowling, we-are-not-putting-up-with-behavior-like-this disciplinarian, as I tried to clutch the hand of a six year old intent on running from the relentless camera, and keep him from darting onto Michigan Avenue. Jamie was using my camera to produce all this mayhem, which was good in a way, since I then had two hands free to wrestle a squirming octopus.

The cost of war. Protesters in front of the Art Institute.

More protesting in front of the Art Institute.

Enjoying the fountains at Millennium Park.

We threaded our way past jugglers, war and tax protesters and children splashing in fountains at Millennium Park. Everyone was having a great time.  I would have a good time once I got William back to the hotel.

If Abe is fake, is he still Honest?

Then we lost Jamie  as he slipped into some kind of creative coma and disappeared into the crowd to shoot a seven foot giant wearing an Abraham Lincoln costume, and who knows what else.  Since he didn’t come back and he had my camera, I began to have my own breakdown.  William straightened right up, intuitively sensing that mine was the preemptive hissy  fit.

There are many twists and turns to the rest of the story, but let’s just say I liked it much better when it was perfectly boring.

I read this post to William and asked him how he liked it.  He says it’s boring.

A Man for All Seasons

Looking for worms and bugs

When Karsten comes to my house, he likes to look for worms and bugs in the garden, kick the soccer ball and draw reptiles on the stones with sidewalk chalk. His interests reveal such a well-rounded young man: scientific, athletic, artistic.  Plus, he’s sweet and handsome.

Kicking the soccer ball

Exploring for wildlife under rocks

Admiring his sidewalk chalk reptiles.

Sitting Pretty

How handy that my granddaughter sat up for the first time at my house, where I happened to have a camera ready to record this milestone!

Do you think I should sit up for the first time today?

If I just move this leg over a little......

I think I'm doing it!

Hey, do you see what I'm doing? I'm amazing myself!

Oops, lost my balance for a second.

Oh, I've got it now!

You are a wonderfully clever little girl!  Watch out world!

When I grow up

William graduated from kindergarten yesterday. He and his classmates looked so young, yet so grown up, in their cheery red caps and gowns.  They entertained us with an impressive musical presentation, then each child received his certificate, stepped to the microphone, and told us what he wanted to be when he grew up.  Among the dreams – a teacher, a gymnast, a football player, a doctor, a famous pianist, a zoo keeper, a veterinarian, a lawyer and a cabinet maker. When it was William’s turn, I was not surprised to hear him  say, “When I grow up, I want to be an artist.”

When I grow up.......

 

William and Miss Nancy

Today he will come to my house for a few hours, and he will want to work on an art project. He’s been making books lately, filled with drawings of alien characters and pictures printed from my computer.  We set a limit on how many he can print, not because I think it isn’t money well invested, but so he is aware that supplies and material cost money and it is not respectful of the planet to be wasteful.

If we talk about what he said at graduation, I will point out that he is already doing what he wants to do when he grows up.  I would love to hear his explanation of why he loves to make art, but I won’t push the conversation for fear of making him self-conscious about it.  I want making art  to be as natural as breathing to him.

 Today the scissors and colored pencils are out on his table and I have finished everything I need to do on the computer so he can click on the Poptropica bookmark on my menu bar, and get to work. When he grows up he can analyze why he wants to be an artist.

A Star is Born

 

Cast and Stagehands

I applaud every teacher, school and parent that encourages a child to make art part of his life.  

My grandson’s day care recently put on a “dance recital”. On the surface it was a chance to see eighteen month to three year old kids being too cute for words. Beyond that it allowed children to practice together, to be patient while waiting a turn, to perform for an audience, to use their bodies in new ways and to begin to learn to express themselves creatively.

In the picture of the eighteen month olds above, there is one teacher for every one and a half children. Whoops! One of them still manages to escape!

Karsten's cue

Karsten, part of the two and a half year old group, is called to center stage. Wait. I think he has located his Mom in the audience.

First act appearance

There’s seems to be an attention problem. The rule that the show must go on is for four, maybe five, year olds. When you’re two and a half, Mom can be a show stopper!

Torn

 What to do?  He is torn between his dance commitment and  the siren call of the beautiful woman in the audience.  I bet she would hold him tight and reassure him. He’s a little bit scared.

Trying to be brave

Not able to keep it together

Sympathy from his classmate

Released to go to Mom.

I wanted to come to you, but I was held on that stage against my will!

Smiling again

Yay! A star is born!

I hope each of my grandchildren finds a passion in some form of art.  I encourage them to do art projects at my house, to print pictures of dinosaurs and Alien Force characters for collages on my computer, to take pictures with disposable cameras.  I take them to children’s art workshops that allow them to try out different art media. I attend their “dance recitals” and clap like crazy for their efforts, whatever they might be. The rest of the family does the same.  None of us doubts that our efforts will be rewarded by children who can see the beauty in the world and can express themselves in terms of their relationship to it.

The Difference between Life and Art

One of the good guys

William has it all figured out.

An old-fashioned Western came on TV the other night, and William was cautioned that there would be a lot of shooting, but it was just a movie, and none of it was real.  William assured his parents that he knew that.  In movies, he told them, the good guys always win, and the bad guys always lose.  In life, well, you just don’t know.

Too bad life doesn’t imitate art.

As for me, I’m still going by the hat color.

Portrait of a Young Man

Clematis Henryi prior to May 'showers'

Clematis Henryi when it still had it's petals

All that is left of the white Henryi Clematis

April showers bring May torrents! The Clematis petals are blanketing the ground below, leaving their filaments on the vine gracefully twisted like fine strands of metal, and the gorgeous Iris that opened last week have keeled over into mushy purple mounds in the grass. Fortunately, I took lots of macro shots of them last week before the heavens opened up, and due to the BetterPhoto Summit, a new 50mm prime lens and a cooperative child, I’ve moved on to sunnier pastures, at least until the rain stops.

Waterlogged Iris

I have often given lip service to the benefit of being able to take unlimited photos with a digital camera, without worrying about the cost of film, or of developing pictures only to throw them away when they turn out to be terrible. In film days I would never have dreamed of taking multiple shots of the same thing. Maybe because of those film days, I am still a bit of  a miser with my shots, trying to make every one count. After the BetterPhoto Summit I resolved to break that habit.

I am now committed and excited about using the continuous drive mode. If you are hand holding your camera to shoot, taking several shots one right after the other of the same scene gives you a greater chance of getting one that is in focus, especially since the first one is the most susceptible to camera shake and movement due to pressing the shutter button. If you are taking people shots, continuous shooting is the way to go. The result of my misguided stubbornness about this may be seen in disappointing pictures of people. Like bird photography, which I have never attempted because I just can’t see them, I thought portraiture was a type of photography that I didn’t have a gene for.

The second component of my new approach to photography is a 50mm fixed lens. Several people at the Summit mentioned that they preferred shooting people with a fixed 50mm or 85mm  as opposed to a zoom lens. I used to have a 50mm lens, but gave it away when I got my zooms thinking they would replace prime lenses. 50mm lenses are inexpensive, sharp, good in low light situations and widely used both as a walking around lens and for portraiture. I decided I would buy another one and use it as a start to experiment with prime lenses.

I was not consciously thinking I would try again to make a decent picture of a person, but there couldn’t have been any other reason for such a sudden, single-minded pursuit of a 50mm prime lens. There is a special portion of the brain, I’m convinced, that takes over periodically and tricks you into thinking you need some new piece of hobby equipment. On Monday, for example, you don’t need, want or even think about a 50mm fixed lens. On Tuesday you comparison shop for one on-line, and order it!

My purchase was relatively minor. Some people left the Summit and returned home to purchase new Really Right Stuff tripods and ball heads (no need to name names, you know who you are!), and 400mm telephoto lenses! Oh, so that’s how you get those bird shots? Well, now, that’s interesting.

So, I have my camera set to continuous shot, the 50mm prime has arrived, and along comes the flu epidemic scare. It all works together. Daycare sent my grandson home with a slight fever and since he couldn’t return the next day, he came to me so his mom could go to work. He got out the Playdough and we both became intensely involved in designing stars and bears and snakes.  Why was I sitting there getting Eau de Playdough all over my hands, when I could be taking some pictures of him with my new lens in continuous drive mode?

Walker was in such a cooperative mood for pictures that I was almost giddy, and I took picture after picture as he worked along on his Playdough project.  It turned out to be the most successful people shooting session I’ve ever had.

I’ll refine my portraiture technique for awhile, and then maybe I should think about recording some of the bird life in our yard.

Playdough 1

Playdough 2

Playdough 3

Playdough 4

Playdough 5

Playdough 6

The Ancient Indian

This is the story of a boy, a bear, a four hundred year old Indian, and a big imagination. Like all stories that are partly fairy tales, this one begins………

Once upon a time, there was a little boy who lived at the foot of a hill with a teddy bear he loved, but who had no name. Somewhere along the way Teddy bear had been involved in a terrible incident involving a dog that ate his nose and leg and decapitated him. The little boy’s mother sewed his head back on and gave him a shiny new red button nose. She could work no magic on the leg, nor did she give teddy bear a name, but teddy bear was brave and kept on smiling. 

Every day before the little boy went out to play he would put on his cape and holster, and take some carrots out of the refrigerator to put in the holes he would dig to catch rabbits. Then he would go up the hill to talk to Thunder Lizard, the four hundred year old Indian who lived there. Thunder Lizard was very wise and taught the little boy the things that he knew. His family asked him every night at dinner what the old Indian had to say, and the little boy would tell them about the conversation they had on that day. And so the days and seasons passed, setting rabbit traps and visiting the ancient Indian on the hill.

Teddy reveals his injury.

The little boy and his friend. Where the rabbit came from, I could not say. Better ask Thunder Lizard.

The little boy’s grandfather lived a long way away, but he knew about the little boy’s visits to the old Indian. He loved hearing this story. One day a  present came from the grandfather to the little boy. It was a blue tee shirt just the little boy’s size. “Thunder Lizard” was written on the front of it. The little boy’s family thought this was a wonderful present, but the little boy wasn’t excited, and didn’t smile very much.

The little boy didn’t talk about Thunder Lizard after that, and one evening at the dinner table his family asked him what had happened to the old Indian. The little boy stopped eating and sat quietly for a long time before he said, “I have something to tell you.” More silence. “There isn’t really a four hundred year old Indian. Thunder Lizard isn’t real. Please don’t tell Grandpa.” 

Fun little play acting had become a lie that was getting bigger than he could handle. Not only did his family believe Thunder Lizard was up there on the hill, but now his grandfather believed it, too, and here was this shirt! He didn’t want to live this lie any longer, and he thought he was probably going to be in trouble for making up stories.

The little boy didn’t know it, but his family was in a worse spot than he was. How could they tell him they had led him on? That they knew there was no Thunder Lizard? That his grandfather knew this, too? That they had involved themselves too much in imaginative play? No one remembers how the conversation went, but the story has a happy ending. Teddy bear now wears the tee shirt and sits on a shelf in the little boy’s bedroom. He has a name, the shirt hides his missing leg, and he is still smiling.

Teddy Bear acquires a name.

The little boy isn’t little anymore.  He has a little boy of his own with a big imagination.