Can't look at this without thinking of some of the better years in my teaching days. I was famous among the students for the fact that I can't stand bright pink. So naturally one day after asking a question of the class nearly all of them simultaneously shot their hands up...and each was wearing a bright pink glove of the type that Michael Jackson wore.
Yes, those were the good ole' days...
There's nothing more fun that getting close and peeking through the windows in a place like this. You'll see all kinds of stuff inside, from scattered pews and hymnals to an old piano long neglected. And if it's in a place like West Texas it'll be well preserved...
An effort to take the wife was aborted because of the pandemic, but Lord willing we'll go within the next couple of years...
Having said that, I do consider them a portent to evil. It's no accident that a snake was the first recorded liar in the Bible. And I've been warned more than once in dreams that feature snakes.
But they are still interesting, and most are beautiful and good subjects of study. Use to be attracted to having them as pets (stories here), but no longer, as only a very few species show any interest in contact with humans once captured.
Reminds me of Linda Sides, of Cushing, Texas. She did cake decorating for folks and one day I picked up a magazine she had for hobbyists. With all of the artistry and vivid color, could have spent a day perusing through its pages.
And this ends the introduction to my bookmark collection, having published two posts from each category. From this point will be posting them at random, whichever ones that strike my fancy for the day.
Airshows are fantastic places to take pictures, for obvious reasons. At the annual Wings Over Houston airshow here in Houston they have a special platform in a premium spot for photographers willing to pay the price. Think it's somewhere around $100. Now that I have the Bigger Cahoona it might be worth it. If this ever does happen a new Aviation category with have to be worked into my bookmark repertoire.
The bookmark below was taken at the same Galveston event, but needs some work so didn't get front billing:
These places are incredible, and provide perfect fodder for a wannabe photographer to ply his trade. I brought a tripod for this trip, and a brand-new lens I'd bought a few weeks before. Of course, when you're going to set up a tripod in a heavily-peopled, commercial property it's necessary to get permission. The guy at the desk, seeing my rig (the Nikon d300S) and serious tripod, had to be convinced that these photos weren't going to be used for commercial purposes.
Which raises the question. I'm not the least in interested in making any money from any of my photos, but if these bookmarks should somehow enter the marketplace, would I be reneging on my promise at such a late date? (this photo was captured in 2012) Think the answer would be Yes. Thus, if things should go in that direction, will have to take out anything shot in the interior of this beautiful place.
Another waterfall bookmark captured in the same lobby (yes, these were interiors) on the same day. Since the Big Cahoona was perched on a tripod was free to slow the shutter speed without fear of camera shake...this was shot at two-thirds of a second:
And because I was shooting with the Bigger Cahoona, was able to crop in to make a second bookmark from the same pic. Just a little bit of fringe, but not much:
Thanks Brent! My childhood certainly would have been more boring without your friendship, and this time it extended well into adulthood also.
I really, really liked the picture, but the wife fussed at me, considering it an invasion of privacy in what was, on the face of it, a very private moment. Though it could be argued that these are public places and what the man was doing was potentially very much in the public eye, I ended up conceding that she was right to a degree. Though I did end up posting the picture, from then on I was more careful to respect a worshiper's space and stick to photos of the implements of worship, like this one, instead of the people involved.
I'm not at all shy about exploring the mechanisms of religions in other cultures. And, though I'm a conservative, Bible-believing Christian that belongs to a very conservative, fundamental church (the safest way to go in my opinion), I've even taken part in some ceremonies out of respect for the culture and other participants. My mother-in-law's funeral is a prime example.
But I knew someone, a member of the Church of Christ, that was so afraid and intimidated to be anywhere near this kind of thing it was downright funny. He visited Taiwan one time, and was at someone's home that had a shrine in a back room. A small statue of Buddha was positioned on a mantle along with some fruit and other accoutrements of worship. Every morning these homeowners would insert a couple of sticks of incense into the fruit as a prayer of safety, etc. for the day.
This fellow was a photographer - in fact, the best photographer I've ever known personally - and he could not resist the temptation to capture this back-room scene in a photograph. However this presented a dilemma, as he considering it a sin to be near such artifacts. I laughed out loud upon learning that he stood in the doorway for some time, gaining the courage to do his deed. When the time was right, he literally jumped into the room, snapped a single photo, and jumped back out of that room as quick as he could to escape whatever judgment would befall him on being so near these objects.
It was amusing, but at the same time I feel for those that live under such a cloak of insecurity that they effectively insulate themselves from many of the joys and pleasures of life on earth...not to mention some awesome learning and bonding opportunities that can help one to grow.
One of my all-time favorites, this pic in its larger format was posted here in the Lake District series. Sometimes it all comes together...on this day the sun came peeking through the foliage to highlight this cluster of mushrooms just as Andrew and I were hiking by on an Ambleside walk.
And yes, I know that mushrooms are technically not plants, but here they are anyway...
And she would have done a lot more of this growing up, as she loves the beach, but alas...neither her mother nor I like the beach at all. (same goes for her brother Andrew, I think)
So interesting that in this part of England landowners are required by law to keep a path open through their property for the walking culture. A sign is commonly posted requesting respect when you're about to cross over a property line. And sometimes the path leads a walker very close to the house. Andrew and I ended up in this fellow's back yard before realizing that we might have missed a turn somewhere.
Must say that of all the places in the world we've been, this one tops the list. After having enjoyed it with my son for the first time, planned to take the wife there this year but the pesky pandemic got in the way...
Can't come here without thinking about our church friend Bob Ross, who was the administrator and head gardener of this property. He was regularly on Channel 8 as a gardening expert, and was invited to go to England on several occasions to share his horticultural expertise there.
He and his wife Polly were friends of ours for several years. They moved to Arizona and Polly has since passed on, but Bob's legacy lives on in our lives because of a lemon tree in the back yard of a previous home we owned. I told him that I wished we could grow a lemon tree just like another one we knew about in the neighborhood. Bob said No problem, just show me where it's at. So he and I walked up the driveway of that home where the tree was and snipped off part of one of the branches (we knew the homeowners and got permission beforehand). When we got it home Bob did something with some sphagnum and foil to graft it onto a lemon tree we already had in the back yard. After giving it time for the roots to grow into the sphagnum we planted it as a new tree and away we went...a genetically identical twin to the one we'd cut from before. Though we no longer live in that house, when we pass by and see it over the fence on our walking route I think of Bob.
Another one that's been posted before, this is of the Taiping suspension bridge up the mountain from the town of Zhuqi. As stated in that series of posts, many would be disappointed at not being able to see the ground below, but it was a bonus in my eyes because of the opportunity for shots like this.
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[continued from yesterday's post; series started 10/20]
So how do I conclude this series of slaughterhouse stories. Probably with the question/comment I get most, which is, "I'll bet you couldn't stand to eat meat after working there!"
Actually the opposite is true. I saw first-hand how standards of cleanliness were enforced by the FDA. The floor had at least six of them roaming around at all times, scrutinizing every move we made to ensure that we followed all the rules: no picking anything up off the floor; use the (steam-heated) hand sterilizers between every carcass processed; return and exchange a knife it it's been dropped, etc. etc. They would also look for unsanitary conditions everywhere, even ensuring that the brick floor was squeaky clean. And they would diligently check product for things that shouldn't be there, such as strands of hair or stomach contents. We all got nervous when an inspector ordered a box to be opened in our work area, which could happen anywhere at any time, then examine closely whatever was in there. I once got dinged because two strands of hair were found in a box of my lips, and a couple of guys had to work overtime during the A shift to open every single box in the pallet and get all the hairs out. This was not an uncommon sight on the floor. Very tedious work, but some were glad for the opportunity to earn a little extra dough.
I remember one of the inspectors very well...in fact he was the head
of the inspection team on B shift. He was a little guy - all of about
4'10" tall - but was mean enough to strike fear if he wandered into your
work area.
It's one thing to get a reprimand from the feds on meat that wasn't up to standard, but an absolutely fireable offense was consuming product on the floor. Here we were surrounded by meat, and what could be more fresh? It was the practice of some workers to take the little salt and pepper packets out of the cafeteria during break and bring them out on the floor to season meat that was clandestinely cooked in the hand sterilizers. I did this but once, for some heart meat, and thought it was great. But only once, as my conscience wouldn't allow it to become a habit; I bought heart meat at the supermarket thereafter. And if I saw an IBP logo on a box in the back through a door, wondered if I was the one that packed it in the first place.
So this ends the series on my experiences at IBP. Of course there is much, much more but it's all out there somewhere, and we'll just let it rest for now...
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[continued from yesterday's post; series started 10/20]
The fourth and last job I did at IBP was during the summer and fall of 1981. At the end of the gut table, once the parts intended for human consumption were taken out for processing, the leftovers were carried by the conveyor to be dumped into the basement below. Just before that, however, as the last job on the gut table, I was stationed to do two jobs.
One of those jobs was to use my knife to cut the trachea from the lungs. Don't know what they did with those things, but it was my job to separate them before the churning conveyor conveyed them over the edge into the basement.
The other part of that job was much more interesting. The gall bladders came my way either by themselves (if the liver was good enough to use for human consumption and taken off the line to be skinned) or attached to the liver (if it was diseased and/or otherwise deemed not fit for human consumption). Either way, I would grab it at the proximal end and slice it open, allowing the bile to drain into a 55-gallon plastic barrel. Naturally I was curious as to why they saved the stuff, and was told that it was sold to the perfume industry! What? Sure enough, I stuck my head in the barrel and took a good sniff, discovering that it actually smells pretty good! They used the gall from cow guts, drained by a college kid on the kill floor of a slaughterhouse, so that people could smell better...
