Tag Archives: Photos

“All is a miracle”

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The close-up photo of a child’s face and sparkling eyes — the perfect illustration for “All is a miracle.” — John

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curious eyes of a child

People usually consider walking on water or in thin air a miracle. But I think the real miracle is not to walk either on water or in thin air, but to walk on earth. Every day we are engaged in a miracle which we don’t even recognize: a blue sky, white clouds, green leaves, the black, curious eyes of a child — our own two eyes. All is a miracle.

~Thich Nhat Hanh

Source: Thank you artemisdreaming

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Saturday Morning Inspiration

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If I’d known I was going to live this long, I’d have taken better care of myself. (Smile) A great photo! I’ve got to buy a decent camera. Today is the first day of the rest or your life!  — John

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Source: marcdesa via naniithran

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Ocean City, MD, Fire Destroys Top Floor of Condo Building

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Firefighters battled an intense fire that engulfed the top floor of a condominium building at 38th St., just south of the Convention Center, in midtown Ocean City, Maryland. The fire started at about 6 p.m. Wednesday, Sept. 26, 2012. No injuries were reported. The summer season is over, and parking lots on both sides of the building appeared to be nearly empty, allowing fire apparatus to get close to the building on both sides. Firefighters had to brave clouds of intense, acrid-smelling smoke. 

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On A Less Serious Note

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Princess Lola guards the back deck while I’m away at work.

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The Present Moment Does Not Linger

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Summertime, and the living is easy.

Unless you live and work at the beach. Then it’s a busy and sometimes stressful time. Work, sleep, eat, repeat.

If you’re a farmer, you might say, “Make hay while the sun shines.”

If you’re a baseball player, you might say, “It’s a long season, and you’ve got to trust it.”

I suppose we all might say, along with ‘Crash’ Davis, the perennial minor league slugger in “Bull Durham:”

“Some days you win, some days you lose, and some days it  rains.”

Or, as the part-owner of a boardwalk 5-and-10-cent store told me more than 30 years ago: “You can make money in Ocean City, if you know what you’re doing.” Not that I paid much attention to making money, then or now.

These photos of a lifeguard stand on the beach catch the sunlight fading into dusk, along with the cloud shapes in the sky, which never remain the same for more than a minute. Let the record show that the photos were shot four days after the Solstice, in the Sixth Month of the Twelfth Year in the First Century of the Third Millennium, AD. Not that it matters.

In June of 2012, I began my 65th year, Continue reading →

Walmart And The American Dream

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Creative Destruction, A Photo Story

There used to be a Walmart right here. But it was too small.   Continue reading →

Secrets of Living Large In A Small Apartment

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A TALL, SNOW-COVERED, OUTDOOR CHRISTMAS TREE IS THE RIGHT SOLUTION WHEN YOU LIVE IN A SMALL, INDOOR APARTMENT.

I’m making some progress on downsizing and simplifying my lifestyle. Two years ago, I moved from a large apartment in a pricey suburban neighborhood to a small apartment in a rural/seasonal resort area three hours from the cities.

I gave away a lot of stuff, and moved what was left helter-skelter into a one-room apartment. It has two windows in front and a door and screened porch in back. Cross-ventilation!

Rent is reasonable and includes all utilities. Priceless amenities are a quiet street that ends at the marsh; a parking space; a small fenced yard, with nothing but woods beyond; cable TV and high-speed internet service.

One-Room Apartment “Before” Pictures

CLUTTER GONE WILD.

CLUTTER ALL AROUND.

A COMPLETE GALLEY KITCHEN. EVEN A FIRE EXTINGUISHER, IN CASE I TRY TO COOK.

My neighborhood is an enclave of quiet affluence. Within sight, across the water, is a resort that can be rowdy in summer and a ghost town in winter. I might be the poorest church mouse on the block, but not the only one living on a tight budget. A few of the houses are little more than old beach cottages, but most are medium-size, modern homes with that suburban look. Some of the more spacious houses have million-dollar waterfront views. Within a short walk are two grand, waterfront homes that must be worth . . . I can’t even guess. One of them is a modern mansion.

No Extra Charge For Natural Beauty

THE MARSH IN WINTER. VISIBLE BY WALKING DOWN THE STREET. NATURAL BEAUTY AND PUBLIC SPACES ARE IMPORTANT AND USUALLY FREE.

But I digress. This post is not about living large in a mansion. Anyone could do that. And it’s not about living large in your car or a tent, which would be more of a challenge than I’m up to. We’re talking about a modest and attainable goal of living large in a small apartment. (If your apartment has a separate living room and bedroom, with a walk-in closet . . . well, that doesn’t qualify as small).

If It’s Big Enough For A Cat . . .

SAFE AT HOME. LOLA IS PERFECTLY CONTENT IN A SMALL APARTMENT.

My challenges with living large in a one-room apartment are the same ones I would have in a big house. Fundamentally, I have no “nesting instinct.” Plus, I’m disorganized. The only kind of order that comes naturally to me is “Robert’s Rules of Order.” For everyday life, the nesting instinct is more useful than Robert’s Rules.

My Rules Of Order

Here are Hayden’s Rules of Order for one-room apartment living:

  • Pay the rent on time. Otherwise, you will be living in your car.
  • I’ve got to get organized, and it can’t be forever put off until tomorrow. Two years is long enough.
  • A place for everything. Everything in its place. Efficient use of what little storage space you have is essential if you live in one room and you own more than one “thing.” One-room apartments generally don’t have wine cellars, garages, or attics. Not even walk-in closets. Drawers, shelves and hooks are essential. (The easiest kind of hook is a nail in the wall, but some landlords frown on this method.)
  • Furniture. Less is better. Replace all large pieces of furniture with small. I’ve replaced the sofa with a chair, and the double bed with a single bed. (It helps if you have the lifestyle of a monk). A toaster is better than a toaster-oven; a good radio/CD player is better than a complicated stereo system; a laptop is better than a desktop.)
  • You can break the small-furniture rule once. I still have the same medium-sized dining room table as when I lived in more spacious apartments. The table is clunky and dominates my one-room apartment. But it’s an all-purpose table. It serves as dining room table, kitchen table, and desk. I need a certain amount of surface area to be organized, whether the task is paying the bills or making soup.
  • Experiment. Find a way to make the furniture fit. I’m on the third rearrangement of my furniture. After two years, you get tired of playing “furniture checkers.”  Furniture checkers is a game in which you have to move one chair and jump over at least one other “thing” in order to get to your goal. There must be a way to arrange this furniture efficiently! I will have to find it by trial and error, since I have no interior design skills.

HOME OFFICE OF THE ConsterNation BLOGGING EMPIRE. SOMETIMES ALSO USED AS A POLITICAL CAMPAIGN HEADQUARTERS.

Clutter Is My Enemy

I’ve saved the most important secret of living large for last. As you can plainly see from the photos, I need to reduce clutter.

People sometimes criticize me for having too much “stuff.” I’ve gotten rid of enormous amounts of stuff, but I still have too much. Other people have their stuff all over the basement, the garage, the attic, the walk-in closet, the guest room. And that’s not all. Homeowners often rent a storage space for their extra stuff. Why don’t they simply give it away or sell it on eBay?

Everything I own is inside my one-room apartment, or inside my car, which is parked in the driveway. And there’s a limit to how much clutter I can hide in the trunk of the car.

To sum up, I need to get organized and reduce clutter. That’s not too much to ask. I call this challenge “My Apartment Project.” Two years is long enough to put it off. What you see here are the “before” pictures. Coming soon will be the “after” pictures. Wish me luck and stay tuned.

If you have any helpful tips on one-room apartment living, they would be welcome under “comments” below.

— John Hayden

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“You Say You Want a Revolution?”

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A picture is worth a million words. There seems to be a difference of opinion throughout Europe (and in America, too) concerning money, and debt. Also, some mild disagreement about who should pay the price and make the sacrifices, and who should get bailed out.

Schoolgirls link hands to protect a police van during student protests in London. -- Peter Marshall photo.

Baroque in Hackney reports that a younger generation — “The Kids” — is seizing responsibility because their elders are cowed by the powers that be. Ms. B’s post is enlightening. I urge you to read it.

How far will the wealthy elites in Europe and America push the children of the former middle-class? If you want to know which way the wind is blowing, please read this article by Jonathan Jones from The Guardian. Here’s a brief excerpt:

“For this picture tells a lot, very quickly. It tells us the menace of violence is real as anger grows among groups directly afflicted by the coalition’s cuts. Yet it also reveals that most protesters are peaceful, idealistic, with a sense of history and of the gravity of their actions. Most of all it tells us how amazingly young many of them are.

Future historians may well write that the Conservative-Liberal coalition was doomed the day schoolchildren took to the streets to assert their right to a university education.”

People are protesting in the streets in France (Social Security); England (college tuition); Ireland (budget cuts); and the European Union is getting ready to bail out the biggest banks in Greece, Ireland, Portugal, Spain, and maybe Italy. The U.S. already bailed out its bankers, and people protested with their votes.

So this is the way it’s going to be? The rich get richer; the middle-class get screwed?

“You say you want a revolution
Well, you know
We all want to change the world
You tell me that it’s evolution
Well, you know
We all want to change the world
But when you talk about destruction
Don’t you know that you can count me out
Don’t you know it’s gonna be all right
all right, all right

You say you got a real solution
Well, you know
We’d all love to see the plan
You ask me for a contribution
Well, you know
We’re doing what we can
But when you want money
for people with minds that hate
All I can tell is brother you have to wait
Don’t you know it’s gonna be all right
all right, all right”

— The Beatles

I’ve written about the consequences of what I would call “capitalism off the hook” before. I didn’t think the reaction in the streets and at the voting places would be so swift or serious.

With apologies to Buffalo Springfield, I don’t think it’s paranoia. I think, “There’s something happening here. What it is ain’t exactly clear.”

Mr. Jones of The Guardian describes what’s happening as follows:

“We can look at this picture and see a mass movement rapidly evolving as a generation goes beyond merely taking to the streets and starts finding a larger meaning in its rebellion, and imposing order in new ways. What these girls are showing us is that this is not just about rage. It is a defiant stand for youth and hope.”

Do you think President Barack Obama and Fed Chairman Ben Bernanke understand what’s happening?

“The Kids” and their “cowed” parents understand that they’re being screwed. Government leaders understand the consequences of tax cuts for the rich and budget cuts for the poor.

The wealthy elites understand that they’re screwing the poor, and what’s left of the middle-class. The wealthy always believe they have a right to exploit the poor.

So it looks like it’s the Powerful elites against “The Kids.” You can call it “class warfare,” if you want. I’m afraid that the Powerful will make precious few concessions to “The Kids,” at least not without an ugly struggle. How it will play out, no one knows.

— John Hayden

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Princess Lola

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I hear that you can get rich quick by simply posting photos of cats on your blog. With that in mind, please welcome Lola, the nocturnal wonder-cat. Can you believe those long, white whiskers?

It can be frustrating, trying to get a good photo of a black cat or dog, and Lola doesn’t help. I think she is a little bit camera shy. Lola is black as ink, with four white paws and a white belly, and green eyes. With the help of iPhoto, these photos have been digitally enhanced so you can actually see her against that blue dog blanket. (She doesn’t know I got the blanket for a dog, so please don’t tell her.)

What Lola does best is sleep. She is a world-class sleeper, and I’m not talking catnaps. She’s practicing to be a consultant on sleep disorders. Lola gets up in the morning when I do. After eating breakfast, she curls up and goes right to sleep, and snoozes through most of the day. Late at night (or more likely, early morning), when I’m trying to fall asleep, Lola is prowling around in the dark. My apartment is small, but she never tires of exploring. There are even small spaces here that she hasn’t gotten around to trying out. Small spaces are one of Lola’s favorite things.

Sleeping, eating, and small spaces. That about exhausts the list of Lola’s interests. If she has a hobby, it’s going out on the screened porch to listen to the birds, or swat at the moths. I really have to get her on an exercise program. She’s age four, in the prime of life, and if I can persuade her to shed a few pounds, she will easily live another 10 years, or more. Right this moment, Lola is perched precariously but serenely on a narrow window sill, listening to the summer rain. It’s kinda hard to tell if she’s awake or asleep.

One more thing about Lola. She is a talker, with a vocabulary for all occasions. Lola has a word for “Hey, you!” and others for greeting, contentment, surprise, curiosity. Lola’s favorite subject is food. I believe she can say “Feed me,” in five languages, including French and Chinese.

After an hour or so of late-night exploring, Lola settles down at the foot of my bed. (Lola sleeps wherever she wants. During the day, my favorite chair. At night, on the bed. Only thing I ask is that she avoid walking across my stomach more than twice a night.) Lola sleeps sporadically, at night. Mostly, she lies awake, with her head up, meditating on the middle distance. Either that, or she’s working complicated mathematics problems in her head.

Memorial Day Thoughts, 2010

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SOLDIER AT ATTENTION ON THE BOARDWALK AT OCEAN CITY, MD, MEMORIAL DAY, 2010.

Faith Of Our Fathers

My father was born in 1920. He was a teenager in the Depression, and a young adult at the start of World War II. He was a skinny young man, to tell the truth.  All of 5-foot-7, maybe 120 pounds, and one arm shorter than the other, believed to have been stunted by polio as an infant. He called it, “My bum arm.”

A CLOSER VIEW OF THE SOLDIER. HE IS A REAL LIVE MAN, STANDING IN THE SUN, WITH SKIN AND UNIFORM PAINTED GOLD.

My father’s name is Bernard John Hayden, Sr.  He was drafted and went for the Army physical. Hundreds of young men lined up, buck naked, in an armory, and went from doctor to doctor around the floor. One doc made sure their heart was beating, another made sure they could see, and so on, like an assembly line. The nation was on wartime footing, and government in those days was efficient.

Last stop on the assembly line was the doctor who made the final decisions. He looked at the reports from the other docs, and looked my father up and down. It must have been painfully obvious that this young man with the bum arm was not promising soldier material.

The head doctor said to my father: “So what’ll it be? In or out?” He was letting the draftee make the decision.

Everyone was going into the Army, and my father didn’t want to be exempted from service.The one-word answer was “In,” and just that fast the choice was made.

In due time, my father was stationed at the Panama Canal. It was possibly the most strategic transportation target in the world. Perhaps surprisingly, the Germans and the Japanese never attacked. Probably they were otherwise occupied in Europe and the Pacific. But I like to think that my father and his friends, on guard in the tropical heat of the Canal Zone, prevented an enemy attack by their willingness to serve. They were America’s “Greatest Generation.”

I CALL THIS LADY IN SILVER “MS. LIBERTY.” SHE IS STANDING ON THE BOARDWALK, SOMETIMES GRACIOUSLY GIVING HER HAND TO PASSERS-BY.

At Holy Savior Church Saturday afternoon, the priest dispensed with his normal homily, but spoke for a few minutes about Memorial Day.  We would not be free this weekend, the priest said, except for God and America’s veterans.

At the end of Mass, the priest asked all veterans present to stand and be recognized.  I have to report that fewer than 20 percent of the congregation stood, and they were mostly older men and women. Times have changed, and in the America of 2010, military service is no longer a universal duty. I don’t know if that is a step forward or a step back, if the goal is peace.

Two widely quoted, relevant statements by great men:

“He shall judge between the nations, and impose terms on many peoples.  They shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks; One nation shall not raise the sword against another, nor shall they train for war again.”

— Isaiah chapter 2; verse 4 (written about 742-735 B.C.)

“I am tired of fighting . . . Hear me, my chiefs. I am tired. My heart is sick and sad. From where the sun now stands, I will fight no more forever.”

— Chief Joseph, Nez Perce Indians, Oct. 5, 1877, at Bears Paw, Montana

So many questions, blowin’ in the wind . . .

— John Hayden

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