A Visit To L.A. and Hollywood, 2009

     It all began at 30,000-feet with the description of a Knob Noster, Mo., tomato.
     My seating arrangement for our flight to Los Angels, three years ago, was next to 75-year-old David Smith, a frail, bearded man in faded jeans, sneakers and a long sleeved, plaid, flannel shirt. Smith a retired physical science and mathematics teacher traveling back to Lompoc, Calf., informed me that he couldn’t hear very well or see very well so he carried a pair of small binoculars on his belt.
    He talked to my husband Roy and I about the universe, global warming, the law of gravity, how we are all forces of energy, God, the sad state of California’s highway system and the passing of his wife of 46 years.
     Smith also informed us that he grew up in Warrensburg and that his grandmother used to live on a farm in Knob Noster. As a child he would visit and help is uncle pick tomatoes.
     “Years later I can still taste the sweetness of that tomato,” he said. “It’s something you don’t forget.”
     When we arrived at LAX, he apologized for talking so much, and was whisked away in a wheel chair for a connecting flight to Santa Maria. Actually, we enjoyed letting him talk to us, and wished him well.
     Our trip Los Angeles was won by surprise when our daughter, Melissa Bedwell, signed us up through the Radio Lia show last summer. Finally able to make the trip, we decided to stay near Malibu. Our initial plans were to visit the famous Pink’s Hot Dog stand in Hollywood--but things never go as planned.

Roy and I along the shops on Rodeo Drive, in 2009.
C. 2009 Bemiss Photography

     Although a friend who lives in Sherman Oaks, Calf., gave us several ideas about places to eat near Malibu. Gladstone’s 4 Fish, Moonshadows and Saddle Peak Lodge, we choose Gladstone’s, a California causal kind of place with a weathered wood ceiling, vintage black and white photos of Pacific Coast Highway 1 and a beach side patio.
    I chose fresh stuffed prawns served with creamed spinach, fresh vegetables and bread. My husband chose the seafood sampler featuring grilled shrimp, salmon and scallops served on a bed of rice with a baked potato and corn. Both plates cost around $25. With drinks or salad and a tip, the total bill could hover around $90.
     Gladstone’s produces excellent meals; vegetables are fresh, the fish fresh and the flavor perfect. They offer breakfast and lunch and a variety of sandwiches.
     Moonshadows, also located along the beach, offers upscale gourmet food with excellent and artful presentation. Dinner prices range from $17 for wild boar and cranberry sausage with stone ground grits, to $27 for tiger shrimp with stone ground grits. Meals are prepared by executive chef, Joachim Weritz.
     Saddle Peak advises guests to wear business casual attire. Their dinner prices range from $36 for striped sea bass to $60 wood grilled cote de boeuf, or rib of beef.
     If you want to see Hollywood or places of interest in Los Angels, due to traffic congestion, I’d advise you to book a tour.

C. 2009 Bemiss Photography

     There are several to choose from. Our tour group Starline, explored the walk of fame and Grauman’s Chinese Theater, the Kodak Theater home of the Academy Awards and designer shops along Rodeo Drive. We also stopped for lunch at the Farmer’s Market located at Third and Fairfax.

Grauman's Chinese Theater. C. 2009 Bemiss Photography

     The Farmer’s Market not only has stands of fresh fruit and vegetables, but also stands where fresh cuts of meat are sold and a multitude of outdoor places to eat. You can watch bakers and butchers work and find donut and ice cream stands, as well and eat at stands featuring foods from Brazil, Asia and France. There are pizza stands and Mexican cuisine, barbecue and gumbo, sushi and Starbucks. An eaters paradise.
     After leaving the market we traveled to downtown Los Angeles and took in the sights like the artfully constructed Walt Disney Concert Hall.  The Hall was built by Frank Gehry to resemble the sails of a ship; it is home to the L.A Philharmonic.

Walt Disney Concert Hall in Los Angeles, Calif. C. 2009 Bemiss Photography 

     We also drove by the Los Angeles County Museum of Art and the La Brea Tar Pits. One last stop was to historic Olvera Street, the birthplace of L.A. Visitors to Olvera Street can stroll along listening to musicians, visit outdoor shops and sample Mexican cuisine. One can also take a self-guided tour the Avila Adobe, the oldest building in L.A. The adobe was the home of Don Francisco Avila, mayor of Los Angeles in 1810.
     On our last day in Los Angeles we decided to drive ourselves around the city--big mistake. We did make it to the Beverly Hills 2009 Affaire in the Gardens art show. The show under tents on the lawn displayed a wide variety of two and three dimensional art. We were privileged to talk with glass blowers Marcus Thesing of Long Beach and Mariusz Rynkiewicz of Everett, Washington, metal artist, Andy Byrne of Pine Grove, Calif., and photographer Robert Kawika Sheer originally from Hawaii.
     After leaving the art show we were finally on our way to Hollywood and Pink’s Hot Dog stand. But it never happened. Due to police and emergency vehicles circling several blocks in yellow crime tape, and the ensuing traffic snarl, along with the premier opening of the movie “Up,” at the El Capitan Theater, traveling became almost impossible.
      Although the majority of the trip was enjoyable, after all the hustle and bustle of big city life, we were happy to be home, where it was quiet, where the roads are drivable and where we decided to plant a tomato vine in honor of former Missourian, David Smith. Life couldn’t be “sweeter.”

Impressions of a Butterfly's Wings

     Grandson "Magoo" ran into my office this morning exclaiming, "Nanny, two white butterflies just crashed into the window!" His eyes were bright with wonder and my curiosity was piqued so we ran together to see if they had crash landed in a crumpled heap on the deck floor. But no, there were no broken winged, lame lepidoptera and no explanations had to be rehearsed on how these things just happen sometimes.

     While we are looking for the bombardiers we noticed the faint, almost unnoticeable traces of wings on the glass door. If we hadn't known what had happened, those small wing prints would have been thought of as finger smudges worthy of Windex and a cloth. But since neither of us had ever seen butterfly wing impressions on a glass, we were in awe. 

     If you looked closely you could see the impressions of the wing's scales and powdery iridescence. Science says a butterfly can never repair its wing once it becomes damaged or torn, but what's so amazing is that we can repair those fragile wings with glue, patience and a steady hand. Hopefully these butterflies weren't damaged in their encounter with our door, but they did leave part of themselves behind for us to see.  

Impression of our butterfly encounter imprinted on the glass door.

     To reward our new butterfly friends and to prevent them from injury, we decided to place a saucer of orange juice on the deck, in hopes they would return. This reminds me of how each day as we go about our lives and our business we "brush" against the lives of others leaving an impression, much like the wings of a butterfly--just as others, we meet, leave impressions upon us in return. 

     These "butterfly-like" encounters are often not noticed--and if they are, we believe them to just be the daily smudge of life worthy to be "wiped" away because we are too busy, we are too stressed, and life is filled with too many electronic devices for us to notice human interaction. Although some encounters may be unpleasant, many are positive. The smile of the person facing us in traffic, the eye contact and thank you of a busy store clerk, the kind nod of a complete stranger. We are sometimes just too busy to allow small dustings of human kindness to touch us. 

     How different the world would be if we took more time to notice the small inflections and positive impressions others leave on our lives. Could we change the course of our day or the course of our lives if we took the time to notice? Could we change the course of someone else's life? I myself have been guilty of dashing through my day, through the lives of my family and friends and through meetings to let the butterfly's wings make an impression. Maybe today was food for thought; I will try to be more perceptive and I will try to touch others I meet with a kind word. I hope to replace that frown of concentration with a smile and I will watch for the kindness of others and be grateful they came into my life, if even for an instant as fleeting as the flight of a butterfly's wings. And, If I've broken a few wings along the way, I hope, with some "glue" of kindness, patience and a steady hand I can repair the damage so they can fly again.  

       

Operation: Save Nana's Tree!

     Hot, hot, hot! That's what it is across most of the United States. We've been seeing temperature's from 99 to 108 for the last 10 days or so, and no rain. The grass is tuning brown. You have to be careful when walking outside barefooted, on the concrete or stepping over the metal threshold of the French doors, or you'll be doing the hip-hop, two-step while muttering, "Rats!" Well at least that's what I say, anyway.

My favorite tree, a birch losing its leaves.

      I've been getting up early in the morning to water my flowers and kitchen garden and to take the dogs for an abbreviated walk. So far the flowers and veggies are doing okay, with only an occasional bowing of their heads and curling of their leaves--nothing that a quick revival of the water hose can't correct. But a couple days ago, I noticed our beautiful birch tree shedding its leaves. Not just one or two, but a mass exodus of leafy canopy descending well before their autumn departure. That same night I watched the comedy movie, "A Thousand Words," with Eddie Murphy who learned the value of choosing the right words. Full of himself, every time he spoke a word a leaf fell from the tree. He was cautioned that if all the leaves fell off the tree it would die, and he would do the same.
     This particular birch is one my favorite trees in our yard. We have pin oaks, a catalpa, red buds, dogwoods, a cypress and several sugar maples. But, this particular tree has weeping limbs that descend gracefully, sweeping down to touch the ground and bark that elegantly curls. I like to use this tree as a backdrop for outdoor photos--and much to my husband's chagrin the graceful sweeping limbs slap him in the face when he mows--(I don't think he'd mind if it died!) We've actually had word's about him trimming it!!

Singing in the "rain." Water play helps my tree!

     I, on the other hand, don't want to lose this beautiful tree. So the other day I decided to connect several hoses together and water the poor thing for two hours. I have no idea if this amount of water helped, but it sure couldn't hurt. According to ABC news, in June there were over 3000 records set for the highest temp in in cities and towns across the U.S. And, already this month, 1000 more record temperatures have been made across the country. Supposedly, according to the meteorologists, there is no relief in sight for some time yet. 

The kids beaded up like little waxed cars!!

     So yesterday I devised a plan to "Save Nana's Tree." The grand kids wanted to play in the slippy side, so the most logical solution would be to place the water slide near my drought stricken tree. Because so many hoses were connected together the water pressure wasn't high enough for the slippy slide to work properly, so my daughter and I manned the hose with a sprayer attachment and sprayed the kids. It became a fun event for them as well as us, and a good teaching event about conservation. Such as what happens when it doesn't rain for a long time (plants and trees and crops die), and why the tree drops its leaves (to help it survive and to carpet the ground to preserve moisture).  
     As we sprayed the kids they beaded up with water drops like little waxed cars--which they thought was very funny. They got into the sport of it too and took the hose close to the trunk and sprayed the tree and spread it's fallen leaves out to further help keep the sun's rays from drying the ground.
     It looks like the simpleness of leaves failing from a tree, during the hot days of a summer drought, brought us together for a moment of fun and learning--priceless for a family! Maybe we even helped save Nana's tree--we'll see. 

Happy 4th!! Happy Shooting!

     Last fall I gave a photo class, at the local college, on shooting night photography. We explored shooting fireworks and night carnival rides to capturing the night sky with stars and star trails. What a fun class. The students were so eager to learn!

Fireworks shot with Nikon D-200 on tripod--ISO 100, F-11 or 16 at 15 sec. (C. Bemiss Photography) 

(C. Bemiss Photography)

     When shooting fireworks normally, as I taught the class, you need a tripod. Also it's best to shoot at ISO 50 to 100, at f-11 to 16, with an 8 to 15 second exposure. But as I've learned through trial and error, and as I've taught in my classes, once you know the rules it's okay sometimes to break them. Even Ansel Adams broke a few photography rules in his compositions. His "Moon over Hernandez," has the moon almost directly in the center of the frame--a no, no as far as composition goes, but it worked for this particular photo.

     Well, this past Saturday I decided to break from the norm and try hand holding my camera at a fireworks celebration at Bagnall Dam in Warsaw, Mo. It was a spectacular show, but I didn't want to drag my tripod along. The grandkids were coming along and this was supposed to more about having fun together than precise technique. So together we enjoyed the display camped out on the back bumper of my daughter's van, while the kids sat in their moon chairs.

     With experimentation, I decided to use an ISO of 400, at f-4.3 at 1/6th second exposure. To my delight the photos became almost flower-like, with some interesting abstractions and almost a deep space nebula effect.   

Hand holding my Nikon D-200 at ISO 400, f-4.3 at 1/6 sec. produced this flower-like image. (C. Bemiss Photography) 

A ring of fire created by fireworks giving an abstract look to the photo. (C. Bemiss Photography)

     This bears out the fact that once you know the rules, you should never be afraid to experiment--you might be pleasantly surprised at the end result. Enjoy your 4th of July!! If you are privileged to have fire works this year, get out your camera and enjoy the show, and enjoy time with your family and friends. Be thankful for freedom and liberty and America the Beautiful! Be creative!

Fireworks shot at 400 ISO--hand holding the camera created an otherworldly photo. (C. Bemiss Photography)

Little Boo Boo Walks--the Effects of Methamphetamine Addiction

     This coming Saturday, I'll read original poetry at the local Spofest--Celebration of the Spoken Word. I've decided to read a poem, that I haven't read for about a year. The poem below, "Little Boo Boo Walks," is about the effects of methamphetamine addiction not only on the addict, but on the children and surrounding family members. It is to be included in a textbook, that will be published this fall, written by sociologist, George Hendricks, Ph.D., of Methodist University, Fayetteville, N.C.

     Addiction doesn't only effect the user, but has far reaching tentacles. Missouri is, once again, the number one state in the nation for meth lab incidents--"little Boo Boo" is real. She is my granddaughter. Although, the end of this poem hasn't become a reality for her, a family member is a user and she is effected by the fallout. She is safe for now, but misses being with the father she loves. Her sorrow is our family's sorrow, as we watch the decent of someone we love walk into the abyss of darkness. Many other children haven't been as lucky as Boo Boo, but have perished in meth lab explosions or have been badly burned. And, many children are neglected and abused. 

     For those families who may need information or help with a loved one addicted to meth, The Sedalia, Missouri Chapter of Mother's against Meth-amphetamine (MAMa) has a new Executive Director, Claudia Kays. She can be contacted on Facebook at: Mother's against Meth-amphetamine Mo. Chapter, or by calling 660-202-9619.

     The national MAMa website, http://www.mamasite.net, provides additional resources can direct anyone needing information to state chapters for help with this devastating drug.

Little Boo Boo Walks

Boo Boo walks, little toes bare through the morning grass,

no one knows she's flown the coop.

Everyone just lets her pass.

Dew collects on her small bare feet, 

but Boo Boo doesn't mind she's free to walk through the Easter grass

and smiling butter flowers.

She stops to etch her toes in the gravelly gravel, 

making fun designs,

smelling the fresh morning breeze,

chubby rose checks flushing with the freedom of the winding road,

eyes blue as pastel robin's eggs,

seeing deeper than anyone thinks.

Little Boo Boo walks through the grass for close to a mile,

no one sees Boo Boo pass,

she's so small, 

a chubby cherub dressed in clothes from the thrift-store mall. 

She pads through the puddles of newly fallen rain,

and walks along the storm drain,

blonde curls creeping around her moistened face,

chubby hands pushing them out of place.

Until she reaches the city street, buzzing with cars and trucks,

and big yellow school buses all busy to get someplace.

Now little Boo Boo stands at the intersection of her life,

she pauses and lifts a pensive finger to her lips,

blue eyes scanning the busy scene,

taking in the surge of life, little Boo Boo standing sight unseen,

in the world of big adults she's not noticed in her pink thrift suit.

Back at home the house is abuzz, 

with the frantic activity of it's members, 

measuring and stirring and talking and tweaking and moving and calculating money in their heads.

(Everyone's been awake for weeks, moving endlessly in a crystal daze.)

Frantic, not of the missing Boo Boo, but of scoring the next sell and the next fix

the next never coming down off the ultimate high,

seeing visions, never eating, building a tower and tearing it down.

Boo Boo's daddy, that lusty pirate, whose ship crashed in the chemical sea,

laughs real hearty with his-comrades-in-arms,

"This batch is the best ever, just wait and see!"

Tattooed with skulls and death,

he lefts his fist to heaven saluting the demon gods of ice and flames.

But who is this lusty pirate?  Someone's son who lost his way...

A boy who set sail way to soon, one that used to play baseball, and skate on the lagoon.

The boy who sang the strains of Ava Maria, but replaced it with a death metal growl.

He loved to help in mama's kitchen, but now cooks his own speedy stew, 

it's worth money too. 

Boo Boo was his life's blood,

his special angel, the savior of his soul,

the one that would help him escape the demon dungeon,

 he'd built as his fate, 

 and when she was born he vowed to never let her down,

but that crystal sea came calling, wooing with it's lust,

His will power was lost,

so into it's deceiving light he drew,

leaving Boo Boo as an after thought,

the only one who could guide him through.

Now Boo Boo's standing at the intersection of her life,

she takes a step into the traffic seeking the other side,

where the flowers are blooming and a puppy barks

where the side walk travels on up the grassy knoll.

And as her pensive blue eyes look toward the horizon,

all the cars have come to a complete stop,

shock written across each occupant's face, 

each sits motionless as a tiny, 

curly haired, welfare angel toddles across the asphalt,

bare footed, her pink outfit wet from the morning dew. 

Then as Boo Boo reaches mid-stride,

a terrific explosion lights up the morning sky,

flames and smoke lap the spring air,

devouring the home that Boo Boo shared  

with that lusty pirate, the apple of her eye,

the tattooed daddy who loved her once,

 before the ice froze him to a flame. 

Little Boo Boo walks across the now quiet street

to the distant wail of fire trucks and police,

placing each foot step into a new destiny,

a homeless child, 

looking for her daddy,

will she ever know the man he was supposed to be?  

We all need Roots

         We all need roots to survive. A place to belong. Family from which we spring from--it's so obvious, without roots we can't survive. In some families their tree sprouts and grows strong through the generations leaving behind a legacy of tradition, culture and customs.

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     For others it's not so easy. They are born alone, live alone and die alone. Although they have roots somewhere, they are unaware of them or believe them unimportant. What roots they have, are small and stunted trying so hard to absorb the moisture of life, only to find their sense of belonging isn't strong enough to help them to survive.
     Recently, my little granddaughter, age four, brought me two weeds she'd plucked up that day. It was so sweet, the weeds looked like small palm trees.
     I said, "Wow, thank you, they look like palm trees!"
     She said, "They have roots too!"
     She's learned at an early age that even flowers and weeds need roots to live. She had previously brought wild flowers to me and asked why they didn't live longer in the water. I explained to her that once they are cut off, and are without their roots, they only live for a short time. I guess she took this to heart.

My granddaughter's flower--with roots! 

     My mother and dad are both gone, and I was my mother's only child. Not many relatives are left on either side for me, so feeling rather rootless, I began to search out my genealogy earlier this year. What I found was so rich. I wasn't rootless-- I had a heritage. I found relatives that had fought and died in the Revolutionary and Civil War, a three times great grandmother in eastern Missouri listed as a witch (she made the history book in Missouri!), a great grandfather who was a prominent rancher in Colorado, relatives that had married Native Americans when our country was new and some Knights and blue bloods in England! My mother came from very humble beginnings and further back in her tree there were Barons, Lords and Ladies! I was amazed!

     Biological roots aren't always possible, for those that are adopted. But even though these roots spring from a different source they give solidarity and purpose. One great grandmother was adopted by a officer and family at Ft. Garland and was a pioneer resident to Colorado--she bore 11 children and was the first post mistress at St. Mary's in Colorado.

My father Leonard Benson and Mother Lucille and me as a baby 1961.

     
     These relatives bring color and drama into our lives, stories and legends. They help us belong to humanity, to nationalities and tribes and languages. They are our stories and our life, the ground we were born over. Without roots, we have no meaning, I'm so glad to have found mine!

Fear of Flying

     I'm an outdoor and nature photographer, among other things, and one challenge I've always wanted to take on was aerial photography. This may not seem strange to others, but since I've always had a fear of flying, aerial photography was something I wanted to accomplish. It's all about facing one's fears!
     Usually when I travel, it's on the ground. I didn't fly anywhere until sometime in my 40's. I remember one time, after 9/11, that I was sitting on a United flight waiting for take-off in the throes of a panic attack. My heart started racing, I felt like I couldn't breath, I began to sweat and I was hanging onto the armrests with claw-like hands. I guess my eyes were as big as a summer melon. After the plane took off, I settled down, but still clung the the armrests--just in case. If we crashed, I'd hang on to my chair at least!
     Every time I got ready to fly I just knew the plane would crash. I could imagine it in my mind. Once a friend said, "Don't jinx yourself! Think positive thoughts!" Eventually I learned to do just that. To push aside the fear, and enjoy the ride.

Clouds shot with a Nikon D200 from plane window--at about 30,000-feet.

     My last flying trip was to New Orleans last summer. It was a great flight, my friend let me sit by the window and the clouds were amazing! I shot several cloud scenes through the plane window, enhancing them in Photoshop later. It's unreal how brave I am with my camera in tow. Shooting clouds through a window can be done, easily, if you position the camera where there's no interior reflection. Because it's usually bright when photographing clouds, hand holding isn't a problem. I shot the images at an ISO of 200 at 1/500 a second at f-11. After getting home I was able to refine them, making them a little more saturated and adjusting the contrast.
     Although I'm still a little timid about flying, I completed my first aerial photo assignment earlier this year. I flew in a small Cessna for over two hours with just enough room for the pilot and me. Flying in a small plane is a quite different experience than soaring in a jet. We were skimming along between 1000 to 3000-feet and it felt like I was the one flying. Of course the pilot was very good at his job or I might have another story to tell.

Winter landscape in Kansas shot from a small Cessna at about 1500-feet.

Face your fears--touch the clouds!

     To get the assigned shots we had to open my window and allow the wind current to keep the flap open. Sometimes the pilot reached over and propped it open with his arm-as he was flying the craft. Most of the photos were taken at ISO-800, at 1/1600 second at f-9. Some were taken with a AF-S Nikkor 70-300 mm VR ED (vibration reduction and extra-low dispersion glass) lens while others were take with a AF-S Nikkor 18-70mm lens.

     This assignment allowed me to come full circle--face my fears, and believe in myself and get some great shots! We are often faced with challenges, whether it be on the job or in life, if we allow our fears to get the best of us, they will become phobias and we might just miss out on wonderful adventure. Life is short, dance while you can and fly too--touch the clouds!