perspective
i took this picture a block from the house in which i grew up.
i have crossed over and along those tracks, usually accompanied by brother and cousins, innumerable times throughout my childhood. never would i have thought of it as a photo opportunity. the tracks? by the playground? near the town dumpsters and recycling sheds? no, no. the tracks, you see, were only an obstacle to cross. on the other side are the reservoirs: i.e., the usual summer fishing spot and winter sledding hills. hardly an area that would be defined as picturesque.
and yet there i stood, snapping shots of boxcars and rail ties. funny how fifteen years or so [and a camera] can change one's perspective on things. heck, i'd never thought about the possibility of taking anything other than "okay, ready? smile!" pictures until a few short years ago [thanks, joy]. i don't know an f-stop from an aperture; cameras with dials, adjustments, and indecipherable-yet-presumably-helpful miniature icons frighten me a bit. but i realize that sometimes all it takes is a different outlook, a different angle, a different eye, to find a decent photo.
my view of the world has changed a lot since i was a kid. i expect that trend to continue. i just hope i can keep everything in perspective, and always look out for the good side of things.
i have crossed over and along those tracks, usually accompanied by brother and cousins, innumerable times throughout my childhood. never would i have thought of it as a photo opportunity. the tracks? by the playground? near the town dumpsters and recycling sheds? no, no. the tracks, you see, were only an obstacle to cross. on the other side are the reservoirs: i.e., the usual summer fishing spot and winter sledding hills. hardly an area that would be defined as picturesque.
and yet there i stood, snapping shots of boxcars and rail ties. funny how fifteen years or so [and a camera] can change one's perspective on things. heck, i'd never thought about the possibility of taking anything other than "okay, ready? smile!" pictures until a few short years ago [thanks, joy]. i don't know an f-stop from an aperture; cameras with dials, adjustments, and indecipherable-yet-presumably-helpful miniature icons frighten me a bit. but i realize that sometimes all it takes is a different outlook, a different angle, a different eye, to find a decent photo.
my view of the world has changed a lot since i was a kid. i expect that trend to continue. i just hope i can keep everything in perspective, and always look out for the good side of things.
mdog
6 Comments
Reader Comments (6)
Thank you for the perspective and the encouragement. God seems to have a habit of using you like that for me.
i'd been beginning to wonder if this whole blog thing was just a narcissistic ego feeder. 'who the heck really wants to read this stuff, anyway?', i often ask myself.
thank you for sharing that. i'm glad you are encouraged... i know i am.
i should really call you sometime, before you turn into a teaching machine in the fall.
But for me, the tracks weren't an obstacle, they were the destination. Much fun was to be had on the tracks. The abandonded depot, as well as the "monkey tree" on the side of the rails, was a haven for daydreaming. I crossed over them to get to school or to go to the convenience store or to walk down Tinley Ave., past the beautiful houses, to the park. As I grew older, the tracks represented a way out. I never knew where the tracks led, just as I didn't know where life would take me. I hoped that one day I'd leave that little town and never set foot there again.
Now that I'm an adult, I long for those days. I've gone back to my little town, and things are different. I'm not the same person. The little town isn't the same. And I wish there was something there I could go home to.
(Will resume mind speak on my own time. Thanks for the memories.)
hang in there, and trust that people will find your site and be changed.
r
b109.com
and take pictures..
*sigh*
:idea: