What is so significant about an empty bench? A lot if you ask me...

We've all been there before…looking for a place to sit and relax for a maybe a few moments, or perhaps maybe longer…in order to simply give our weary feet a rest or make a decision that will chart the course for the rest of our lives. As a guy, I know I've looked for sanctuary after trudging through store after store in the mall behind a female intent on looking at every piece of clothing in every rack, then trying on almost everything and usually buying nothing (no offense to anyone, but ya'll know what I'm talking about even if you don't want to admit it). I know I'm not alone here…I've seen the plight in the faces of my fellow man when subjected to this. No doubt you've seen us, or been a part of us, in the middle of the mall sitting on benches waiting to be told where to go next. "Shopping widows" sometimes strike up conversations about sports and beer, trying to hold our dignity intact knowing full well the boss will be along shortly to pull the leash and make us stop at every store except the ones we want to stop at. If you have ever been on a hike, or long walk, you understand that feeling of relief when you see an empty bench up ahead. Kinda the same feeling I get when the waitress brings me my roast beef sandwich at Bears. There is something to be said about taking a load off your feet when you need it most…and that word is usually "ahhhhh" or "whew". I can't even count the number of times I've been hiking in mountainous areas and been happy at the sight of an empty bench just up ahead. In this case, mostly the goal is to just get some rest, maybe catch a drink of water, and continue on with no other thought than getting to the destination. At that moment though, the normally insignificant bench becomes very important even if it is just for a fleeting moment. Will you remember this particular piece of furniture as you continue your journey? Chances are probably not. I know I can't remember all of the places I stopped on a hike. But there is a flip side to this that I had been thinking about, and it came to me full force today while I was walking on the lakefront. All along the path there are plenty of benches…some obviously old and some fairly new. Some of them have been dedicated as memorials to people who really loved the area or made significant contributions to the park. There were not a lot of people out there today. Perhaps because it was a bit cool and overcast, or maybe people are still trying to sort out all of the beads they caught at the parades. But there have been times where I've seen almost all of them occupied. Someone reading a book…someone taking a quick break from jogging…couples in each other's arms watching their kids play…a pregnant lady having maternity pictures taken…a couple of teenagers playing a flute and clarinet…a young couple obviously having an argument…and so much more. Then, of course, there is me thinking "if this bench could talk". I think like that when I'm out photographing old barns and farmhouses out west. I try to spend as much time as I can just walking around and thinking what things may have taken place there. I think about how at one time this was someone's new house, their pride and joy and the payoff for long days of struggle to put a roof over their heads. These places are filled with memories for people who have lived here. Most people pass by and probably never give these places a second look. I stop and wonder. For those who have lived here, it could be a symbol of great pride or of horrific loss. Good memories…bad memories…things they would love to never forget…or would do anything to forget. Today…looking at the empty benches…I thought about all of the conversations that have taken place in these exact spots and how, for some, they will want to come back to these particular spots to reflect on happy times. Or perhaps someone may go out of their way to avoid it altogether, not wanting to re-hash a very painful time in their lives. Just before getting back in my truck, I stopped at one particular bench that I've frequented for many reasons. I've read books there, rested my weary feet, and also sat and looked out over the lake and thought deeply about the direction my life was headed in. And I thought about all of the others that may have been here. Perhaps, at this exact spot, a young couple shared their first kiss. Perhaps a couple decided to get divorced here. Maybe someone proposed here. Someone may have made a decision to end their life, or perhaps start living sitting on this weathered wood and rusting legs. A young woman may have sat here…scared to death about having her first child and how that will affect the rest of her life. An old couple may have had their last conversation together in this exact spot, looking out over the same brackish water at the Causeway off in the distance. A person may have read a book that changed their lives and went on to pursue a dream. The fact that this bench is right here, in this spot, makes it part of those memories…for had it not been here, any of these significant events would have more than likely taken place somewhere else. This spot may be heaven or hell. The water ebbs and flows, the sky changes, the grass dies in winter and comes back in spring, but the bench stays right here. I wonder how many people come out here and say "I was sitting right here when _____". I know of at least one. I could easily walk around my neighborhood to get my outdoor exercise. But I choose to drive the 10 minutes down to the lake and visit a place that is as much a part of me as any keepsake I've ever had. My recollections are not of the unhappy kind. The discussions I've had with myself here have played a role in my attitude towards a lot of things and the hopes I have of being a better person all the way around. I've sat here for hours sometimes…on occasion with a good book, other times with just my thoughts. The view is relaxing in itself to me. People going about their lives, pelicans diving for a meal, seagulls yapping at each other (no doubt the females haha), and the ever changing sky all merge to make the experience what it is. I'm not going to say which bench is "mine", but if someone sees me there then they will know, and I'm OK with that. I often thought it would be interesting to hear people tell me why one of these spots means something to them, but other times I don't…only because it will take the mystery out of it. I like the thought of wondering and not knowing. The sky is the limit that way. No boundaries.

So the next time you are out and about, take notice of what might be some insignificant place or thing. Imagine why someone might want it to always be a part of their life, or never want to see it again. Is there somewhere or something like this in your life that others may not give a second glance to, but only you know why it means something? If you are walking along the lakefront and the urge strikes you to sit down, it may be the bench guiding you there to not only take a load off your feet, but take a load off your mind. Listen to it. Perhaps then, something may come to mind that may help answer that nagging question, guide your future, or help you decide what color to paint your kitchen. Just watch out for those nagging seagulls…if they are flying above you don't look up with your mouth open for they may just give you a present you don't want to receive.

Gone with the wind...

For those of you who know me, you know how picky I am when it comes to food. The running joke used to be that my blood type is "Ragu". So you might find this hard to believe…or maybe not, but there was a time when I would not eat breakfast from any fast food place. I remember being on vacation and we would get on the road bright and early and go to McDonald's. Everyone is getting Egg McMuffins, sausage biscuits, hash browns…and for me…a vanilla shake. I love french fries. Why for the life of me I would not eat hash browns is beyond me. And I love bread. Why for the life of me I would not eat biscuits, from anywhere, is beyond me too. Talk about difficult! So when I woke up this past Saturday morning and decided, within 5 minutes of opening my eyes, that I was going to grab the cameras and hit the road the first thing I did when I got in the car was head to McDonald's for breakfast. Somewhere, sometime…can't exactly remember when it happened, I started eating hash browns and biscuits from the fast food places. Now it's a ritual whenever I hit the road for a day of shooting. Map, GPS, cameras, 2 hash browns, plain biscuit, large sweet tea, and my favorite underwear. So if jeans with holes are cool, then my underwear is the BOMB baby! Yeah yeah I know what you are thinking…a couple hash browns sounds delicious right about now. After filling up on some cholesterol and refilling my saaweeeet tea, I sat in the car and took out the map. Hmmm, where should I go today. I love this moment. The anticipation of knowing I'm about to go somewhere…anywhere…gives me a rush. That, and a whole bag of Sour Skittles in one gulp kinda does the same thing. It's a windows down, sunroof open, music blaring kind of day. So I unfolded the big state map and look for those skinny roads. I start to form a plan…I'll head towards St. Francisville. Not in a straight line I'll have you know, not by any means. A short stint down the interstate then its off to some side roads. West, then north then west, then south, then west…rinse and repeat. I chose to go there to stop by Grace Episcopal Church again. The grounds surrounding the church are stunning. It is surrounded by ornate old iron fencing and framed by dozens of large oak trees. It also has a unique feature that I haven't really seen with other churches. Most of them have some type of graveyard close by, maybe located on a lot next to the grounds. But in this case, the cemetery surrounds the building on all four sides. Mix some old, beautiful weathered statues, crumbling bricks, sculptures, metal crosses, headstones dating back to the 1830s, oak trees, moss, and a Greek revival architectural gem of a church and you have plenty to keep your eyes busy for awhile. It's even creepy, in a cool sort of way. Not a place I'd like to find myself alone at night. So, I started making my way there. I exited I-55 on to Highway 442 and started west. I had my route figured out and kept running over the highway numbers in my head. Then, a RARE mistake. While I may make last minute decisions at intersections on which way I choose to go sometimes, this time I turned down a road I didn't plan on and found myself back down on hwy 190. I was a little miffed, but then again I'm just following the wind…so I go with the flow. Turns out, this mistake paid off! I was heading back to where I wanted to be and I caught a glimpse of 2 old gas pumps in the weeds on side the road. Then I noticed an old building behind them. Eureka! This is what I live for! The main reason I take so many backroads when I'm traveling is to find things like this. I immediately look for a place to turn around and head back. Just up the road I see a place I can hang a u. And what do I see walking towards me? A dog. He is just walking up what little shoulder there is on the road…right towards me…and in the direction I'm about to head to go back to the old gas station. Now, if you don't know the significance of why I mention this, you have to go back to some of my older posts. I have not had good look stopping at old places like this without having some Tasmanian Devil of a dog politely run me off. Just my luck, I'm in the middle of nowhere and a stray appears. So I concentrate on the task at hand, hang a u, and head back to the old relic. I pulled up, grabbed my gear, looked over my shoulder for a possible sneak attack from Cujo, and I see he has hung a u himself and headed in the opposite direction. I have a sigh of relief, then a quick thought. Maybe he turned around because something bigger and badder than him wants a piece of me. And maybe this creature is hiding just inside the abandoned building and he's hungry. Well, I'm not deterred, and anyway my camera doubles as a weapon should things resort to that. So I look around and bit and start taking pics. This place is so cool! The gas pumps are not super old, probably from the 60's or 70's but I can tell the building is much older. I can see things inside through the broken windows. Of course I have to go look in, and of course I'm getting myself prepared for a cat, dog, raccoon, or a circus clown to jump out and scare the bejeesus out me. But still, no threat of an alcoholic circus clown is going to stop me from checking this place out. I walked up and peeked inside. No clowns or animals, just some old chairs, clothes, and a general appearance of a place that has not seen customers in many years. I can see the old sign on the building and it reads "Carver's 4 way grocery". And another sign says "cold beer". Unfortunately, this was false advertising as there was not a cold beer anywhere to be found. So I did my usual thing when I'm in the woods…marked my territory, then headed down the road. I passed my little furry friend again and he was in exactly the same spot I saw him when I turned around. Then it hit me…he was just out getting some exercise running up and down the highway. I think he had an iPod and a sweatband on. After cruising on a bit, I came to the cute little town of Clinton, La. I've passed through here may times and have always said to myself that I needed to stop and take some pictures of the old courthouse. The last few times through the place was surrounded by scaffolding as it was being refurbished. This time, it was just surrounded by cops sitting in their cars. In any case, I stopped and took a few pics. The marker states it was built in 1840 and is one of the oldest operating courthouses in the state. I spent a few minutes firing off a few shots then headed back down towards St. Francisville. Along Hwy 10 I had a spot marked on my GPS where the road crossed over some old abandoned railroad tracks. I had stopped here once before but didn't take pics. It was kinda neat, the old rusty tracks, weathered ties, and weeds all over in between the tracks being a telltale sign that no train has passed this way in a long time. So I decide today I'm going to stop and get a few "artistic" shots. But, to my surprise, all I found this time was a dirt road where the tracks used to be. They had been pulled up since the last time I was here. Oh well, my own loss. I should have taken the opportunity on one of the last 271 times I passed this way. Can't stop progress. I made it to St. Francisville and headed straight for the church. I pulled in the parking lot and I realized I had the place all to myself. I grabbed the gear and walked through the beautiful iron gates. While it was an absolutely beautiful day, it wasn't exactly the best day for taking pictures in a setting like this. With the bright sunshine and huge trees with vast expanses of branches, it creates an exposure nightmare because of the bright light and harsh shadows contrasting each other. An overcast day is actually the best bet here…naturally diffused, even lighting makes a photog happy. I knew this coming in and my main reason for visiting was to just spend time walking the grounds and reflecting on life in general, not necessarily to take pictures. This place is beautiful, peaceful, and quiet. Of course I would not have left the car without the camera and I wound up taking some pics anyway. It was nice to just slow down, walk around, not be on a time schedule, and clear the mind. After spending about 45 minutes walking the grounds I figured I had enough time to drive around more before heading back to 3 loads of laundry waiting for me back home. I knew they had recently built a brand new bridge over the Mississippi River near here so I decided to head just south of St. Francisville to go over it. It replaced an old ferry which, when the water in the river was high, it would not be running. The only other options would be to drive to Baton Rouge or Natchez to cross. Quite a hike either way. I made my way to the new bridge and hopped across. It sure is a purty one. Named the "Audubon Bridge" it bears the distinction of being Hwy 10, which had not run this way. Kinda reminded me how Route 66 had been re-aligned dozens and dozens of times over the years. It truly is not just one single highway running from Chicago to L.A. There are many different segments, and even one place in Albuquerque where it crosses itself…one older alignment passing perpendicular to a later designated route. After crossing I immediately picked up the River Road and head north. I was now charting new territory for me. I had driven River Road on the eastern side from Greenville, Mississippi down to New Orleans in the past, but I hadn't been on the western portion in this part of the state. It was well worth the trip. I noted many old places to come back to in the summer when the sun is in the northern hemisphere. The light from the winter sun just doesn't hit right where it needs to on these places. Not like I need a reason to go back, but now I truly have one. Heading north I get into some wetlands areas and see some deer and bald eagles flying around. Looks like there are some recreational areas to come back and visit. Duly marked. Have I mentioned this is an awesome drive? After awhile the sun is starting to fade and the golden light and long shadows start to appear. This happens just as I'm driving into Vidalia, La. I remember from a previous trip that there is a park along the riverfront that allows access to the waterfront so, why not right? I crossed the levee and stopped to take some pics of the twin bridges crossing the mighty Mississippi. I was always amazed that the Louisiana side is so flat, and to cross the river the bridges go up an incline like "normal". Yet on the Mississippi, it is hilly and there are bluffs along the river. On that side you actually have to go downhill to get to the bridges. When approaching them from the Natchez side, the bridges are below you. Kinda cool. Anyway when I got out the car (by this time I had rolled the windows up) I had no idea how freakin cold it was outside! Luckily I had a jacket and promptly covered up. I walked up and down, took some cool shots of the bridges and even one of myself which I NEVER do…and still not sure why I did. I stayed a little while and watched as the shadows grew longer and the "golden hour" of light cast its glow on everything. I love that time of day. I headed back across the big muddy and pulled into Natchez. At this point it was too late to take some pics around town. This place is chock full of photo opportunities. At one time, this town had more millionaires per capita than anywhere else in the country. The plantation owners lived here, while having cotton fields just across the river in Louisiana. I highly recommend spending some time visiting Natchez. It is a beautiful place with many grand historic homes. As I jump on Hwy 61 and start heading south towards home, I'm rewarding with an absolutely gorgeous sunset. The golden horizon gave way to a million shades of blue as one looks up towards the heavens. Couldn't have capped off the day any better…except maybe if I had a deep dish pepperoni lovers pizza from Pizza Hut. I think that would have taken it up a notch. So after 12 hours on the road, almost 500 miles driven, about 100 pictures, 4 chicken tenders and 3 iced teas later, I made it back to the old homestead…satisfied and thankful for such a wonderful day. To me, these adventures are crucial for my sanity. Some people need a Hubig's Pie and reruns of Good Times to make them happy. Me, all I need is a good map, 4 wheels, a camera, time, beef jerky, and some tunes and Clay is a happy boy. Get off the interstate once in awhile whydontcha!

I recently finished reading the book "No Life For A Lady" by Agnes Morely Cleaveland. It is a fantastic description of how life was growing up in the late 1800's/early 1900's in southwest New Mexico. Makes you appreciate the things we take for granted every day. I highly recommend it for anyone who has any interest in the old west. Get off Facebook for awhile and read a real book whydontcha!