The Eyes Have It.

Eyes. They give a glimpse into the inner workings of us all. Over the years, I have developed a fascination with how eyes tell stories all by themselves. Try watching "Braveheart" without the sound, and focus on the protagonist's eyes. You can't help but feel the emotion that William Wallace conveys. Two scenes in particular come to mind. The first is when Wallace realizes that his friend Robert the Bruce has joined forces with Longshanks. His eyes fill with tears; they go out of focus. His head cocks slightly to the side as the impact of the betrayal sinks in. You can feel the absolute despair at the realization that a person he thought he trusted has allied himself with Scotland's hated and ruthless enemy. The other scene is when William Wallace is being tortured. Again, words are not needed to share the experience of the horrific pain of evisceration. When Wallace sees his murdered wife in the throng, however, the pain in his eyes gives way to a sense of peace and calm. This ability to tell a story with just the eyes is one of the reasons that Mel Gibson is such a great actor. I have taken pictures since my high school days. (That is a long time) As I go through my pictures, I occasionally come across one or two that have just a hint of story in the eyes. That is part of what makes a good picture for me. The eyes have to convey something beyond the mere capture of an image. So far, the captures seem to be more luck than anything else. I want to work on this, though, as I am convinced that the best pictures are the ones where the eyes grab you and pull you into the picture. Think of the famous National Geographic photo many years back of the young woman with the piercing eyes. Such a great picture! Maybe some day.

Beat the Water!

As children, my siblings and I would stand at the kitchen sink while mom did the dishes. Back then we did not have a septic system in place. Instead, the sink drain was connected to a pipe that ran above ground to an irrigation ditch located outside our front door. As soon as mom pulled the sink plug, we kids raced out of the house shouting "beat the water." Our goal was to reach the discharge end of the pipe before the water started pouring out. We put everything we had into the race. Repetition barely diminished the excitement. That is the way it is with childlike enthusiasm. You put your all into the simplest of tasks, and you find joy in the most routine of diversions. As we grow older, however, that youthful zest dims. We fall into ruts. We go through the motions. But it does not have to be that way. I, for one, refuse to go that route without a fight. I will search for the small pleasures. I will share them with those I love. That is the point of CowEye. Maybe -- just maybe -- by sharing this optimism others will learn the joy of playing "beat the water."

Into the Future

My father served as a radioman in the United States Air Force during World War II. When he and mom visited us a few years back, dad and I went to a local airport where vintage aircraft were on display. I was surprised to learn that he had flown in several of the smaller aircraft to reach his posts of duty. Were these forward areas where young men reached maturity beyond their years? I wonder. Now in his mid 80's, the years are catching up. They inexorably strip away the ability to do things younger men do with ease. I am 55, and even at that relatively young age, I see the harbinger of things to come. How will I react as I grow older? Will I rage against the limitations or will I adapt? The path is laid out before me. I trust I can follow in the footsteps of those who have led the way.

2010 Polar Bear Plunge

Last weekend, I went to a nearby lake to take pictures of a Polar Bear Plunge. The sponsors chose what turned out to be the "perfect" day. Temperatures hovered around 25 degrees. The wind made it feel much colder. Despite the bitter chill, nearly 50 people, ranging in age from around 6 to 50+, participated. I have to ask: Why do people engage in such insanity? On the other hand, why do some people avoid the adventures of living? Even though jumping into frigid water might seem odd, the thrill of knowing you have done something others would never dream of trying has to be a highlight of a fully lived life. I would much rather try something crazy than to live a boring life without adventure. Maybe next year!