There’s nothing like a broadband wireless connection and a laptop to fully explore the beauty of Apple’s online iTunes store. At quarter of eight in the morning, ensconced in the third floor room of the Wilmington/Newark Days Inn (you know where it is, just across the street from the mall, next to the Hilton, and in between Chili’s, Applebee’s and Michael’s) I find myself downloading an album that has been out of print since before my oldest brother was born. Yes friends, I am listening to the sublime oratory of William Shatner’s debut album, “The Transformed Man.” For a mere [View Full Entry]

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Somehow, the French make cycling sound beautiful- beautifully intense. After all, who else but a Frenchman would say, “Hey, Brest is only 600 kilometers (360 miles, for all good Englishmen) from Paris, let’s ride there and back!” And off they've gone “randonneuring,” or journeying, on a “brevet” called “Paris-Brest-Paris,” (PBP for short). Every four years for the better part of the past century hundreds of rider has attempted to complete the 1200 kilometer (720 miles, Queen’s subjects) within a time limit of 90 hours. It’s a crazy endeavor, but dang it, it sounds like fun! I must admit though that at [View Full Entry]

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Yesterday a coworker passed the “Garden State” soundtrack over the cubicle wall to me and I was reminded once again of how awesome Simon & Garfunkel were by the inclusion of the track “The Only Living Boy in New York.” I never got into the whole “Live in Central Park” bit, I mean who really cares about these two guys reuniting to sing the same songs that they had recorded together a decade before. I guess in some ways S&G were the forerunners of the current plague of rock & roll reunion tours, heck I think they’re even on another [View Full Entry]

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When I look back at it, my career path seems rather serendipitious. 9 years ago I was walking down a dripping wet pier in a blustery February thunderstorm, surrounded by the cold grimness of the Portsmouth Naval Shipyard. I endeavored then to take pictures that mattered, as opposed to the pictures that I was forced to take of award ceremonies and commissionings. I never imagined that I would find myself working for a Fortune 500 company as a photographic consultant. Last summer I went to see “What The Bleep Is It All About” at the Naro, our local arthouse cinema. At [View Full Entry]

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PFFffft... "Oh, geesh..." I was cold, but not so cold that I wanted to warm up by getting off my bike and walking the final two blocks home. But after running over a good-sized chunk of glass (judging by how fast I lost all tire pressure) I didn't have much choice. I could either sit around in the cold night air & try to change my tire in the dark, or I could walk back hime & change my tire in warmth & light. I chose warmth & light at the end of a long, dark night. I also once again [View Full Entry]

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"A Conversation Overheard at the Urinal Wall between Two Young Men with Short Haircuts at Hartfield International Airport, Atlanta: "Hey man, what gate are you leaving from?" "B17." "Yeah? I'm leaving from B19. Hey, do ya wanna grab something to eat?" "Nah, my flight leaves in, like, 20 minutes." "Well, I hope we see each other again." "Same here," Shake. Tuck. Zip. Shake of the other head, "Actually, no. No, I don't want to see you again, because you know where that would be-" Together they shouted, "Iraq!" Silently I thought, "Heaven." So many young men in uniform today. As our [View Full Entry]

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I flipped the newly installed kickstand down and let the bike stand on its own. The childseat over the rear wheel still carried the aroma of freshly extruded plastic, and I ran my fingers across the almost rigid surface, remembering when the plastic walls used to tower over me as I rode behind my mother. Or was it my father? How many of my memories are shaped by countless viewings of the family photo album? Turn the page, and there my father stands astride his Canadian touring bicycle in front of the Pittsford parsonage on the hillside, a red plastic child's [View Full Entry]

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A sunny Sunday afternoon in Indian Summer beckons to a bicyclist. The air moves with a gentle breeze, panoply of steak and hamburg grilled on charcoal and gas, with just a touch of deet. The sun is sinking low into the sky, another two hours of daylight remaining, at most. A twenty-mile ride into the sun on a warm, clear afternoon awaits. Suburbia sprawls ahead to the horizon, a maze of boulevards (minus the requisite trees) and avenues (not wide enough to bear the name). Cars roar by at 30, 40, 50 miles per hour, and yet the ride begins, [View Full Entry]

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7:43 AM and two miles from work. I'm waiting at a red light, ready to clip in to my pedals and turn left as soon as the light turns green. A car pulls up beside me, but I ignore it in favor of the traffic light. A familiar voice catches my ear though, "Hey man, whassup?" I turn to see my coworker Leon sitting in his car. I smile and return his greeting, "Just trying to get to work...Ya know, I betcha I'll beat you into the office." Leon chuckles and says, "You might be able to." "Yup, especially since you've [View Full Entry]

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Thursday, September 2nd was supposed to be the last, big day for protests in the street, but with a thousand or more people still sitting in police detention at Pier 57, there seemed to be less outright animosity. Instead, the scene at Union Square was one of learning and dialogue, prompted in no small part by the efforts of Veterans for Peace, 9/11 Families for Peaceful Tomorrows and the American Friends Service Committee's (AFSC) project entitled "Eyes Wide Open." The southern end of Union Square was the spot for a day-long vigil by numerous chapters of Veterans for Peace. Their witness [View Full Entry]

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