Learning Again: January 2014

I'm excited to report that I have decided to go back to school. This enthusiasm is not shared by any of the teachers or administrators with whom I will soon come in contact.

One of the local colleges offers a bunch of courses for adults, and I have decided to take one on digital photography. Before I tell you about this course, please allow me to tell you about some of the ones I decided not to take:

Yoga for Fat People:  While I am sure that the stretching one does in yoga would benefit my nagging sciatica, the thought of all that overtaxed spandex was more than I could bear. Also, I remember quite well  that Ada, who took several yoga classes in New Hampshire, was aghast at the number of times the yoga enthusiasts would unashamedly break wind when they had a really great pose going. Sorry, but if I were in the class, there would certainly be some spandex-poppin', wind-breakin' episodes and I just don't want that on my conscience.

The Quilt and How to Make It: My dear Nancy is a remarkable quilter. Here is one of her recent creations:

She gets very excited just looking at patterns and figuring out which fabrics and colors will work. Nancy's finished quilts are really remarkable examples of this fine old folk tradition. If I tried to make a quilt, I'd put my eye out. I'd stitch my fingers together into some bizarre kind of hand-quilt. I'd attempt to juxtapose colors that would cause instant blindness to anyone who gazed upon them.

No, quilting's not for me. Much too dangerous.

Watching Meaningless Sporting Events on TV: I gave this one some serious thought. It sounded like something I might find absorbing. Unfortunately, the class was offered during the telecast of the Winter X Games on ESPN. That proved to be too much of a conflict to overcome.

So why a course in digital photography, you ask. (Forgive me; I know you didn't really ask that but I had to make up that fake question so I could change the subject. We call that "a device.") Well, back in the day I used to own a pre-digital single lens reflex camera. I loved that camera and the cool click sound it made when I pushed the button. The camera was completely manual. I had to decide on the appropriate film speed, shutter speed, f-stop, focus point etc. before taking a successful picture. If I miscalculated any of the above, the resulting picture would reflect the error. I have boxes and boxes of errors. I used to send the pictures out to be developed and wait a week or ten days to view my errors. I had more errors than Don Buddin. (You're welcome, Red Sox fans from the late 50's!) Eventually, like many other people who were swept up in the digital movement, I went to the dark side, bought a point-and-shoot, and, for several years, made almost no errors. No errors, but every point and click picture was awash in mediocrity. I had files upon files of mediocrity to replace the boxes and boxes of errors.

Not conducive to hours and hours of fun family viewing.

So I bought myself a cool new Canon EOS Rebel T3i with a couple of spiffy lenses and enrolled in the digital photography course at Northwest Florida State College. I am told by someone who has taken the course that we will be prohibited from using the camera's "automatic" setting; instead the course will focus on all those other buttons and gizmos I don't understand yet.

Can you spell e-r-r-o-r-s?

We'll see.  It will be fun to learn some stuff again.

One last thing. The course is being offered on Friday mornings. Followers of these lame ramblings know that on Friday mornings my golf group plays for money. The way I see it, all the money I would have lost playing golf on Fridays will more than pay for the photography course.

And a camera bag.

And extra lenses.

And maybe even trips to picturesque places with the lovely quilting lady.

Ain't life grand?
J

A Book Recommendation: January 2014

 

Having been laid up recently with my old sciatic nerve complaint, I've had occasion to read a bunch of books. I read the latest Michael Connolly, which, like all his others, is terrific. Connolly is the Jerry Seinfeld of legal thriller authors. Not that he's funny. On the contrary, there are very few laughs in any of Connolly's books, whether they are part of the Harry Bosch or Mickey Haller series. No, what I mean is that Connolly, like Seinfeld, can take nothing and make it entertaining. Much of Connolly's interest is with PROCEDURE, i.e. the "crime book" that Bosch painstakingly develops with each new case or the courtroom maneuvers that Haller either follows or short circuits in his cases. Connolly spends a lot of time delving into procedures and therein lies his art. I believe I read that Harry Bosch will become a TV character in an upcoming series. I can only hope that Larry David is the producer!

As enjoyable as The Gods of Guilt was, the book that has really captivated me and made me almost glad to be painfully bedridden (note: the preceding phrase was a gross exaggeration and a cheap attempt to gain sympathy on the part of the author; pay it no heed!) is pictured above.

I have enjoyed Bill Bryson's writing for many years. Starting with his signature work, A Walk in the Woods, in which he describes his failed attempt to walk the Appalachian Trail, continuing with his mostly humorous examination of Australia, In a Sunburned Country, and his remarkably thorough A Short History of Nearly Everything, Bryson combines the doggedness of a master researcher with the wit of Mark Twain and the storytelling ability and dedication to truth of Doris Kearns Goodwin. The result is always an appetizing melange of hard facts blended with hilarious or mind-boggling anecdotes. Reading Bryson is like attending the class of the best teacher you ever had. Despite your best efforts, you learn stuff and have a good time doing it.

In One Summer, America 1927, Bryson covers in depth some of the most memorable and newsworthy events in modern American history, all of which happened in the summer of 1927. Each of his key events took on a life much larger than its own and several foretold of the modern America we would come to know in our lifetimes. Most of the events (the Lindbergh flight for example) you know about, at least in passing. The beauty of this book is in the interesting details Bryson provides and the connections he draws between these events. Playing key roles in this book are Babe Ruth, Henry and Edsel Ford, "Silent Cal" Coolidge, Jack Dempsey, Al Capone, and a host of other famous and obscure players who were prominent for one reason or another that remarkable summer. South Shore residents will be thoroughly captivated by Bryson's revelations on the infamous Sacco-Vanzetti case, including his research on the Bridgewater Police Chief who first had them arrested. Great stuff and timely given the national debate over what to do with the remaining Guantanamo detainees.

I had the pleasure of meeting Bryson once. He was teaching at Dartmouth for a time and Ada and I attended a talk he gave one night. He was exactly as he seems to be on the pages of his books: funny, professional, and interesting.

I highly recommend this book.

That's it for now. Although if this sciatic condition persists, I'll be able to review Ben Bradlee's new  800+ page biography of Ted Williams.

More drugs, Nancy, please!

Ain't life grand?

J