Author: mitchellsthoughtsphotosetc

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We are all storytellers.  We’ve all heard that line since birth. Some of us spend our lives telling stories, through dance, fiction, non-fiction, song and theater. 

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We’ve heard stories from U2 in “Sunday Bloody Sunday” and “Bullet the Blue Sky.” Of course, like Paul Simon, “I got a Nikon camera I love to take a photograph.” We know the story Simon’s telling. Or “I take pictures. Photographic pictures,” Depeche Mode. We know the amazing stories the guys from Basildon have been telling. Stories to live and cry by.  

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Many of you have seen my photos. If you haven’t check my Instagram accounts, personal and TMR Scout Museum. Ansel Adams or Robert Mapplethorpe I’m not. But I’ve gotten thousands of likes and views on mine. Yeah, I am sure they’d get more. I will keep trying to reach their level. I’d love to have their subject matter Andy Warhol, Peter Gabriel, Patti Smith and Yosemite National Park.

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Telling a story through photography is amazing. It is how you tell it that makes it fun. Creating the story is challenging. 

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I once took a photo class where we had to shoot for one week the same way. We had the option of using the same lens, lighting, settings, subject matter, etc. I chose to use the same lens. I picked a Nikkor 50MM F1.4. It is an amazing lens. To continue Simon’s lyrics, “They give us those nice bright colors.”

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And its major benefit is shooting in low light situations. Great for capturing bands in a dive bar. If only we could go back to those. My challenge presented by this lens is framing the shot. I had to be able to properly measure the subject matter from the lens. That’s always been challenging. I chose to take the challenge with a fixed focal length lens. It is tougher to frame your shot this way.

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 I didn’t want the option to zoom in and out. Too easy. Those lenses have other challenges. I have two. One is bigger than me. And probably weighs more. On a sunny day, it is fun to stroll parks along the East and Hudson Rivers. Even better a cloudy day on the Coney Island Boardwalk. Or get a great shot of everyone’s favorite cruise boat, the Staten Island Ferry sailing from St. George, Staten Island to Whitehall Street, Manhattan.  

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Lately, I am finding the best stories come via a wide-angle lens. I love the way it captures the whole story. Outdoor Photography’s website has an amazing YouTube video on the best way to shoot with your wide-angle lens. It is so much fun to hang by the East River and capture the Brooklyn, Manhattan and Williamsburg Bridges. Or just a nice shot of the Brooklyn Bridge. What makes it so special is you get the whole bridge, the river and if you shoot in a certain direction, everyone’s favorite highway the BQE.

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You also can capture the medicinal waters at Coney Island, the sandy beach and the Cyclone and Wonder Wheel.

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You get the picture. We have the ability to zoom in and out on great moments, capture images in different situations and see how they changed based on lighting, weather and of course the mood of the photographer. That goes into the subject matter, camera settings and photo edits.

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This is the story of life. No matter whether you choose your camera, pen (maybe keyboard these days), voice or all. Whatever mechanism you use tells your story.  Ultimately, your eyes and soul are capturing the story. They are the real camera or script.

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Tell it well.  

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Jay was making good time in his stolen truck. Safely he drove and kept within the speed limits. He had no identification. If he got pulled over and fingerprinted his ID would light right up and he’d be back in handcuffs. Of course, he always managed to escape.

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Marc was sitting on top of a bus singing “Pulling mussels from the shell.” The bus should be pulling into the Port Authority Bus Terminal any minute now. He would jump off and swipe his MetroCard for the E subway line.

Alana was starting to go crazy. She was slowly starting to worry about her pomegranate boy. She knew she couldn’t be without him. She’d beat him when he walked in. She has no problem with him skipping town for a few days, but she needed to know where he was and when he was coming home.

Anat had a wonderful Tu B’Shevat Seder with Jerry. She cried a little thinking about the ones her grandparents use to conduct. They always gave her extra dried fruit. Jerry loved it, too. But he seems to have developed a special liking to olives. He loved to eat them. He loved dipping his fingers into the oil.
And always smiled when Anat put them into his salads. He was getting bigger and stronger.

Marc exited the E train and was walking down Queens Boulevard. As he approached the door to his residence he was splattered in wine. He was hit square in the head with figs. He saw Alana standing at the open door firing away. He didn’t want to shoot honey at his honey. But he had no choice. He walked in firing away and grabbed her. The two held each and kissed for what seemed like hours. Then Alana screamed at him. He understood. He explained his encounter with the Woodsman. She understood his craziness with following the lore of his leaders. So she just smiled and poured some wine into glasses. The two raised a glass to their continued craziness and love.

Anat took Jerry to Central Park he was running around like a typical little boy. An older kid pushed him. He fell down and cried. Anat ran over and picked him up. She knew kids are kids. She had no plans to fire her weapons on a boy who was about five or six.

Jerry got up and ran over to the kid that pushed him. The kid laughed at him. Jerry smiled. The kid smiled back. Was he trying to make peace?

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There are White Sox. Not a fan. There are Red Sox.  Can’t say anything positive about them.  They exist for the Bronx Bombers to beat. Then there are white socks. The kind you wear with your sneakers, train in and just wear when strolling about the city. There are black socks that are also designed for this. Then there are business socks. The kind you wear with your dress clothes. They can be black, brown, navy and other colors. The standard is usually black.  All socks come in different lengths, whether they be knee-highs or ones that don’t show. Of course, there is the famous old school Boy Scout socks with the garters or with the red band on top of the thick green sock. The new ones are boring. They just say BSA in black at the very top.

Then there are missing socks.  The question is where do they go?  Thanks to my grandmother who was the Thom McCann Jox Sox queen, over the years, I’ve learned quite a bit about socks and shoes. I have enjoyed some shoes. 

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Like most people, I do a load or two of laundry each week.  Before COVID-19, I always brought my clothes to the cleaners and had them done. Now laundry is entertainment. Sad world we live in. On that note, years ago, I used to be “Laundry Boy” in a prior apartment complex.

Now that I am back doing it, I am reuniting or trying to reunite socks.  They always seem to go missing from a load of laundry. I am always happy when I put it away if they all match up.  And I mean properly match up.  The right size, opening for your foot, store logo, etc. Usually the Gap for me.  All too often, I found socks that are similar but not exact.

Sometimes a sock stays in the laundry bag and doesn’t make it to the washing machine. Or never made it to the laundry bag and basket. It winds up on the floor underneath.

Sometimes when transferring from the washer to the dryer it can get dropped on the floor. To combat that I take things one by one from machine to machine.  Once things are in the dryer, I leave the laundry room, listen to music and do a variety of things.

I watch the clock. When the dry time concludes I race back to the laundry room to take it upstairs.  I fold my apparel and put it away.  I pair my socks. But often some socks remain single.  They are looking for their mates.  Due the lack of real entertainment such as going to ‘Da Bronx to watch the Red Sox get beaten, I’ve tried to reunite socks.

I’ve emptied the sock drawers from by bureau and separated them all. I carefully looked at each one and paired the proper ones together.  For some, there were no pairs. They sit on top of the bureau and wait for reunification. Sometimes after doing laundry I reunite a pair.

Last Wednesday, I reunited not one, but two pairs.  A glorious morning.

As I was typing this, I was doing laundry. I am happy to report that all laundered socks were paired.  None were missing.

Happy socks.

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Marc spent the next morning roaming the camp. He went to the bog, Rock Lake, the sawmill, swimming hole and remnants of dining halls and latrines.  He spent some time at the dam where he, Alana and Anat had an earlier battle with Jay.  The first place where he was arrested. 

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Marc thought a lot about his encounter with the Woodsman.  He had to get back to the city and hang with Alana and his other cronies. He did have a wall to break.  That would take time. But break it he will.

Marc hiked out of camp and back to the bus station. He jumped on top of the bus. He rode right into the Port Authority Bus Terminal and jumped on the E subway line to get back to Queens.

Alana was sitting at home. She was getting nervous. She knew Marc was likely fine.  She missed him.  She went to her parents in Sheepshead Bay. She hasn’t been there in a while.  All was well on 13th Street. They grabbed roast beef sandwiches at Brennan and Carr and sat in their sauna-like apartment and argued with each other. But the arguments would be silly. Of course, they’d tell her to wear some other color but black. They’ve been telling her that since the sixth grade.  They would tell her to marry Marc.  They’ve been saying that for decades.  Her parents didn’t understand kids. Funny, Marc and Alana are too old to be kids. But to their parents’ kids they shall be.

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Jay also traveled back to the city. He stole a car from a used car lot. It had no plates on it. He found plates on a flatbed truck in the lot.  The facility looked dormant. COVID-19 probably kept people away. He figured he could get away with it. He would ditch the car when he got to the city and travel by foot. His long hair and beard should disguise him.

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He kept within the speed limit and didn’t drug up before he got behind the wheel. Judas Priest was blasting.  Anat was taking Jerry to the park. She wished Broadway would reopen. She wanted to take him to kid’s shows.  He loved watching the “Lion King” and other movies on Disney+.  He’s still a little young for Broadway. But she remembers the shows her grandparents got her tickets to see. The ones where she got to color and be part of the show. She usually shied away from being part of the show. Most of the kids didn’t want to play with her.  She took Jerry to the Guggenheim. He’s a little young for that, too. Sadly due to the virus they didn’t have the children’s art programs going. She wanted him to sit with the other kids and work with an instructor to draw the Monets, Cezzannes and Picassos.  She wanted his worldwide open. She still had to test him to see what powers he had.

Right now, he was just a quiet, fun good little boy. The world was waiting for him to break loose.

Jay was continuing to prepare for his re-entry into society. It was going to be grand and deadly.

Meanwhile. Alana was freaking. She still hasn’t heard from Marc. She didn’t tell anyone he was missing. She didn’t even know if he was. Just because he didn’t respond doesn’t mean he’s missing. But she was concerned.

Marc just finished a long hike from the bagel store to the Sullivan Catskills region. He rode the bus for part of it. Marc hates buses. And now with the virus, he’s more worrisome. So he rode on top of the bus. No one noticed. The ride took him to Tusten. He jumped off the bus. And hiked. And hiked.

He wound up in his holy place. His summer camp. He walked up to a picturesque area. It was too grown in. He Sat down on the dry ground and said a prayer. But not one based on his religion. But rather what they said at induction ceremonies while camping.

His phone was still fully powered and overwhelmed with messages from Alana. He was missing her. But he was in no mood to be around anyone. He had to mediate. Nowhere was better than the venue he was now at. He only wished this part was still operational. Sadly the people that run the place are illiterates.
Friday night fell. Marc had nothing for Shabbos. He cared and he didn’t. He built a small fire and sat by it. The hours grew later. The birds were singing. He saw some other animals wander around his makeshift campsite.

He shut his eyes. But didn’t sleep. He heard the birds singing louder. Then he heard the sounds of a herd of buffalo. He was aghast. He knew the Woodsman was lurking. He hadn’t seen him since he, Alana and Anat were in a different section of the camp plotting their takeout of Jay.

Marc braced himself. It was very unheard of to see him more than once a decade. He was very mysterious. He was also very busy. He had to watch over the facility, which was in dire need of dozens of repairs. He had been working on them for decades. But had to tend to his garden.

Marc stood up. The Woodsman placed his hand on his shoulder and looked straight into Marc’s hazel eyes. Marc stood strong. But felt his knees tremble.
The Woodsman backed up and started to feed the fire. Marc watched. The Woodsman pulled out his iPhone. Marc had no service on his. The Woodsman’s was perfect. He pointed to the wi-fi router he installed near the site of an old dining hall, which was torched by the “rocket scientists” that ran the camp. It took the Woodsman about 10 years to install the router.

He played Marc greetings from his rabbi in the Old City in Jerusalem. They were short but monumental. Then the Woodsman offered Marc a bottle of ice-cold Genesee Cream Ale and a box of Freihoffers Chocolate Chip Cookies. They clinked their bottles and sipped. When they finished, standing by the fire, the Woodman addressed Marc.

“Marc. I have only done this type of private meeting once before. Oddly enough, that was many years ago… It was on this site. The young lad I addressed grew into one of the people you admire most of all. I know how much you learned or as some of you like to say “leeeeaaarrned” from him. Think deep. That girl loves you. I know you love her. You two will never marry. Just carry on the way you are. You heard what the man from the Old City said. His words speak true. Stay true to yourself. Don’t worry about the crazies. They are destructive. But mostly to themselves. Stay on the clear path.”

Marc felt relieved. He was very impressed that the Woodsman met with his guide. He wondered where they sat.

Marc woke up early and noticed some water spilled on the floor of the kitchen. Alana was doing laundry. Perhaps water dripped from the laundry she was carrying up to dry. They didn’t dry much in the dryer. Marc and Alana took turns doing laundry and air-dried as much as possible.  They were low on paper towels. A new shipment was FreshDirect was en route.

Marc was about to start morning services when he realized his talit, which he draped over himself would be a perfect towel. He thought about it for a second. He was getting fed up with the phoniness of religion. He feared things. But not a supernal being. He needed proof of its existence. To date, he’d received none.

Alana came upstairs with the clothing that came out of the dryer. She rubbed a towel on Marc’s face. She knew he’d love the warmth. He smiled and said he go pick up bagels.  

Marc left and started walking to the store. He was enraged by the people traveling on electric scooters. Some environmental mess people say helps with sustainability. One almost hit him. The driver was too busy texting and was blasting country music out of his earbuds. Marc was normally calm in these situations. However, he fired a battery of pomegranates at the scooter rider. The rider fell right down. Marc laughed and walked to the bagel store.

Meanwhile, Jay was still in Buffalo preparing his return. His beard grew longer. He got dirtier.  He was getting higher. In his mind, he thought he was the king of the world. That’s just the drugs talking to him. He had no way to communicate as he left his phone in the police car he escaped from. 

Alana was waiting for Marc to come back with the bagels. She took out orange juice and some vodka to pour in.  She texted him to pick up a few other things. No response. Quite unusual. He hated being on his iPhone. But always quickly wrote back to those he knew that reached out to him. He did his best to block the spammers. 

Marc was still pissed at the scooter rider. He noticed a few others riding onto grass, tossing their cigarette butts onto the ground. He walked up to the front door of the bagel store. He was about to go in. Then he turned around and kept walking. Hours later Alana was freaking. He answered nothing. This was not like him.

Marc just got back from morning prayer services. He had no clue why he still went. But continued to attend. He was hopeful. But at the time discouraged. Alana was toasting bagels to the tunes of Duran Duran. They were trying to find Jay. This was their obsession.
Anat and Jen set up a play date for Jerry and Benjamin. Anat wanted her kid to have friends and be fairly normal in society. Between the background and former situations of the two of them that was going to be tough. But tough Anat is. The ladies and kids showed up by Riverside Park. The two women made casual conversation, while the kids kicked around a soccer ball. Jen was one of the few who knew of Anat’s powers. Of course, she knew of the other two’s. They saved her engagement at Coney Island and with the help of a herd of the mighty buffalo saved her wedding.
The kids were getting along. They ran over to their moms for lunch. The ladies each brought sandwiches. All Jerry wanted were brownies for dessert. Anat searched and searched. She couldn’t find any. She couldn’t even find brownie mix to bake her own. She promised him next time. She did have a thermos full of ice-cold milk for him to drink with his peanut butter and jelly. And of course, she had boxes of raisins. Playtime was nearing an end. The kids and ladies made their goodbyes and went home.
Jay was emerging from his cave in of all places in Buffalo, NY. He was quite hairy. He grew a long beard. He figured he could hide out in Buffalo. The only problem was despite the virus the city would be busier with the upcoming Bills playoff game. He knew there would be extra law enforcement. But he also knew they’d be closer to Bills Stadium in Orchard Park. He was planning to keep moving. Eventually, he’d get back to NYC to take back Jerry. Diane was still imprisoned. Her release date was nearing. He had no interest in going back to his wife. He had no cares about her being released or staying in jail.
He was getting angry when he saw people driving their cars towards the stadium. He began to shoot glass at the tires. But he quickly stopped. He wanted to continue to lay low. He was planning a great emergence and needed time to plan.

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Dan had to work New Year’s Eve. He and his fellow officers walked around Times Square and kept people watching the ball drop from their pens safe. He did a FaceTime with Anat at midnight to wish her a happy New Year. She held up Jerry. She wasn’t sure if she should keep him up this late. But she figured it was New Year’s.

Alana and Marc did what they always did. They had sandwiches and beer. This year they chose roast beef from Brennan & Carr. Marc visited his Sheepshead Bay-based grandma earlier for her birthday. As usual, they watched Dick Clark’s Rockin’ New Year’s Eve. All they watched was the ball drop. Every year the performers get worse and worse. This year they thought it was the worst of the worst. They dreamed of having up and coming new bands. Perhaps the Weird Wolves or Slooshy. And throw in some real talent. Maybe U2, Depeche Mode, Springsteen, Patti Smith or Sting? If only the Ramones were still around.

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Just after the ball dropped Marc played the live version of “New Year’s Day.” He chose the Red Rocks version. Man, U2 in 1983. When music was still good. They did a Zoom beer with all their friends. All were in good spirits. By that time Jerry was fast asleep in his baseball pajamas. Anat didn’t know if she should put him in Red Sox PJs or wait till he chose his team. She wanted him to like Boston. But wouldn’t push it on him. If Alana ever gave birth the kid would probably pop out in a Yankee hat and Iron Horse jersey.

Things were quiet. No one knew where Jay was. He was laying low. But they knew he was preparing more havoc. He was still on bolos throughout the USA. No one has seen him.

Jay knew exactly what he was doing. He was living upstate NY in a cave.

The trio knew about Jay’s escape. Here it is Christmas Day and Marc is sitting at home. Normally, he’d go to the movies or be with friends. Alana was in the kitchen. The two were bored out of their minds. The pandemic was getting to everyone.

Marc was still questioning his beliefs. Today is a minor fast day and for some reason, he’s fasting. Later on, he will break it with a nice meal from his friend’s food cart. He picked it up yesterday.

Jay was hiding. He knew they’d find him again. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep this up. He had to get out of the US. In his disheveled mind, he began to think of a plan to leave. He figured he could not buy an airline ticket. He had to be on a watch list. He thought of sneaking over the border to Mexico. But he’s in NY and he’d have to get there. The police would have put out a bolo on him nationwide.

Marc went outside in the pouring rain to the convenience store. He saw a few kids not wearing masks. 

This reminded him of his episode in the pharmacy months ago. He looked at the kids and they laughed at him. Marc shot pomegranates at them. Marc was not one to use his powers if unattacked. But he felt people not following the PPE rules was attacking society. He used that for his justification. He really unloaded. The kids went down. He bought a few things and went home.

Anat, also fasting was warming up the food from the cart.  

Anat was home with Jerry. Dan was over. They were playing games. Dan checked his phone and saw a text about Jay. It seems that he was seen running through the Bronx. The NYPD was searching. Anat texted Alana and Marc. They said they’d go out there if need be. Marc kept his interlude with the unmasked kids quiet for now. But he knew eventually he’d tell Alana.

Marc broke the fast while humming U2 tunes. The police were near Yankee Stadium. But couldn’t find Jay. They deepened the search.

Marc hadn’t been to weekday morning services in days. Yesterday, he sat through them. He wondered whether the religious scriptures were the first comic book? He read the different pages and wondered if Stan Lee looked to these for his influences. He figured when the scriptures were written how stoned the writers were.

Let’s face it if today someone said a serpent told me to eat the forbidden fruit, they’d be placed in Bellevue. Perhaps in those times, they didn’t have mental hospitals and psych evals. The times were more primitive. Marc dreamed on during services about the truth of anything.

He figured the stories were passed down through the years and like when someone wakes up from a drunken night they remember things differently than what happened. Plus, the substances they ingested changed their thoughts and vision. Marc still wanted to believe. However, he needed real proof. That is his problem. He’s a researcher. No stone goes unturned

Meanwhile, Jay was seated in the back of the squad car. He was being taken to a maximum-security prison. He was jittery. But was hatching a plan. He has done this before. He knew it was a matter of time before he pulled a fast one. His hands were cuffed. That will slow him down. But that isn’t a problem. The car drove along.

Jay knew it was time. He started aiming glass through the barricade at the driver. Glass shot out of his eyes and nose. He hit the driver in the neck. The glass sliced through his skin. The car started to swerve. The cop in the passenger seat tried to grab the wheel. As he did, Jay fired glass at his eyes. Direct hit. The car was moving in a such way that it’d be pulled over for DWI. As the car shimmied, Jay rolled over to the back driver’s side door and kicked the lock open. His foot opened the door and he rolled out. The car flew into a tree. There were two police vehicles behind it. They slammed on their brakes and came to a shortstop. Jay still cuffed shot glass at the tires of the cars. Those cars barreled into each other. Jay managed to get glass into the locks of the cuff. They snapped right off. He ran.