bbd's Open Salon Blog

Dallas and the Dead President's X

Sun, 22 Nov 2009 20:11:01 -0500

The Dallas County Administration Building, formerly known as the Texas School Book Depository. The infamous window is seen inside the tree limb loop.

Live oak trees mature slowly. Forty six years of growth don't amount to much when those trees live to be hundreds of years old. The live oaks in Dealey Plaza were smaller in 1963. The shooter perched behind the constructed cubby of book boxes on the sixth floor had a clear view above the crown tops to the street below.

See a larger version here. Note the X in the roadway.

View the scene from the grassy knoll in the image below. The X in the roadway is near the top of the tree shadow and represents the approximate location of the first shot.

Larger view here

And here's a view toward the grassy knoll below. At the left of the pergola on top of the grassy knoll and under another live oak, you'll see the top of a wooden fence behind the hedge. This is the location where some speculate a second gunman fired at the President's motorcade.

Larger view is here.

Larger version is here.

In the image above, you can see two Xs in the roadway. You may have to click on the larger version link to see them. The one on your right is the approximate first shot. The one on your left near the edge of the photo represents the location of the subsequent shots. You can see that the second X is much closer to the wooden fence.

Students of the Kennedy assassination story are all surprised when they first visit Dealey Plaza. The photographs and diagrams, the explanations and various scenarios do not bring to life the human dimensions of the site. The scale transforms before their eyes and visitors realize that the distance from the sixth floor window to the painted X on the roadway does not represent an impossibly difficult rifle shot. A decent marksman would not have much trouble hitting his mark at the distance. Observers of those visitors can see the same assessments over and over again. The tourist is standing on the curb at Elm and Houston streets, and the motions are repeated from one to the next—they discover the X and then their eyes track back to the sixth floor, heads and bodies turning to gauge the distance. They never knew before their visit that the one was so close to the other.

I don't know what happened there nearly half a century ago. I was in fifth grade when the president was murdered. The news came to the classroom slowly as first our teacher, a nun at Saint Margaret's Catholic School, was called out of the room and then retuned, weeping, to tell her students about the tragedy. President Kennedy was second only to the Pope in reverence for much of the Catholic community—it was a terrible blow felt all around the world, but it truly devastated our parish half a country away from that terrible scene.

I'm not sure we will ever know what happened. Perhaps our grandchildren will witness the exposure of some previously hidden documents that will shed light on all that has been obscured. But it may be that even the passing of the 100th anniversary of his death will see those secrets still hidden away.

Larger version is here.

In the image above we're looking across the lower section of Dealey Plaza. Again, we can see the X. I'm standing close to being directly under the sixth floor window. In the near distance you can see the railroad viaduct under which the motorcade vanished on its mad dash to Parkland Hospital. The glass building is the Hyatt Regency and next to that is Reunion Tower.

Larger version is here.

You can see that the Plaza is large. Looking south across the lower portion you see a matching pergola. Imaging if you can, that other grassy knoll was covered with visitors and well wishers. But Dallas was not a safe or friendly place for our president. Vitriol and hatred filled the local papers prior to his arrival. He was called a liar, a communist, a commie sympathizer. Things that were not fit to print in the newspapers were readily available in tracts and flyers. It was a time filled with hysterical hatred. Not everyone who lined the motorcade route celebrated the president's appearance. Some came to spit and swear at the object of their hatred. I wonder if their hate filled hardened hearts changed in the aftermath of the assassination and in the result that some desperately wished for.

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A few hundred yards away from that X in the road is the John Fitzgerald Kennedy Memorial. It's a cenotaph, or open tomb—a sepulchral monument erected in memory for someone whose body is buried elsewhere.

Beyond the cenotaph is the renovated Old Red Courthouse, just a block away from the X in the roadway.

The cenotaph is open above and below. It was designed to symbolize the freedom of Kennedy's spirit.

Standing inside the cenotaph, one's thoughts are lifted upward. It's eerily silent inside, the surrounding city noises seem muted.

The simplicity enhances the view upward.

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Some of us are not surprised that we're seeing a reincarnation of hatred. Christians and Conservatives are promoting a not-so-subliminal death threat against Obama. T-shirts and bumper stickers are being sold to promote this latest atrocity. Under the prominent words "Pray for Obama" is a Bible verse: Psalm 109:8. The intention is not an exhortation to pray for the leader in a more traditional sense of support and intercession for guidance for our leader. This is what the verse reads: "May his days be few; may another take his place of leadership." Verse 9 continues: "May his children be fatherless and his wife a widow."

How soon we forget.

How evil it is not to remember what hatred has wrought.

Will there be an X somewhere for President Barack Obama?

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it's getting cold, and some other thoughts

Mon, 16 Nov 2009 18:11:16 -0500

It was much too cold this morning to go without shoes or underwear—the first really chilly morning we've had here in Hades since last February or so.

She left early, before I got up, so I assume she simply changed her mind about what to wear. Even so, I'll have to make sure she gets a warm embrace when she gets home.

I think I'll make some soup—from some roasted vegetables I have frozen waiting for me to get around to doing just that—a warm potage will hit the spot—the loving aromas diffusing the blustery arrival back home.

I have to say again, for the record again, that I know how lucky I am to have someone like Eve. We passed another birthday not long ago and we're both willing to not mention what that means. And this year the bride and I passed the 28th anniversary of our marriage. They have been the best years of my life and now rapidly becoming the majority of those years.

How many of us can say, as I do, that my bride and partner is the best person I know? Scant few, I would imagine—though there are some lucky ones among us.

Images, not that you need confirmation of her grace and beauty—you can take my word for it—of my beautiful bride can be found in a previous post. There was one post early in the beta days of Open Salon that I wrote and removed before we went public. Some friends may recall that post and I'm thinking I should reconsider and put it up again, now that she's officially made public that which she so jealously guarded in privacy for so long.

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I know I've been absent for a while, but I have reading and making a few comments now and then. Things have been quite busy—it's been fun to go to the book signings. Just before the book debut party, recounted in the post it's all about friends, we were in Colorado celebrating the bride's birthday and the wondrous beauty of living at 8,000 feet. We then suffered through a long weekend at the Boca Raton Resort and Spa, a business meeting of the bride's where I was the happy consort and we were so delighted to meet Lea Lane and the new love in her life. They are both beautiful, and seemed to be a natural fit at the resort where we met.

And just two weeks ago it was Chicago that included a quick lunch on our way out of town with the OS titans Roger/Chicago Guy, Steve/Procopius and Jimmy/jimmymac1025—lovely, kind, generous men all three.

We then had our annual event in which you could have seen me in a tux in support of the local BeatLeukemia foundation.

And now this coming Friday we're to be the guests of the city of Baltimore to see The Boss in concert, flying in one day and out the next.

So...things have been busy, but you are in my thoughts all the time—this my extended family, my friends on Open Salon. Thanks for your kindness and affection. I'll be back before long to write and post some images.

Ok, off to make the soup.

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it's all about friends

Wed, 21 Oct 2009 15:10:24 -0400

The book debut party was terrific fun. What made it so are the friends.

It's been a busy couple of weeks. It looks like that will continue for a while—which is a good thing. I've got 4 or 5 bookstore signings to do—a couple that involve lectures—and I have to give a powerpoint (actually an Apple Keynote) presentation on photography and composition for the Dallas County Heritage Society in December.

My bride and I spent a week near Ouray and Telluride on an annual trip to look at the dirt we own on Loghill Mesa. While in Ridgway (yes, no "e") our own OS member Liz Emrich joined us for a few days which was an amazing treat. You should all be jealousing that we had that time with her. She's every bit as wonderful as you've imagined. We set aside a day for a picnic and went up to Owl Creek Pass to Silverjack Reservoir. The pass was just over 10,000 feet and while most of the aspens had already turned there were still a few providing autumn color.

On the way to Owl Creek Pass with a view to the Cimarrons. Larger version is here.

Silverjack Reservoir in the San Juans. Larger version is here and original resolution is here.

The bride and I also had a chance to visit with another OS favorite, High Lonesome. Those of you that are regular readers of her blog here only get an inkling of her grace. In addition to everything else she does, she is also a pastor and sewer of tents. The little church she shepherds in the high country is here:

Larger version is here where you can even see the moon in the sky if you look closely.

We make a transition now from high country peace and quiet in Colorado—a vacation we planned long before the date was set for the book debut party and art on the wall event this past Saturday—to the arrival back in Dallas and getting the show set up in short order.

I'm still processing it all and trying to think about what it means. My first impression was that it was a modest success. We sold about $500 worth of signed copies of the book which is pretty good for such a modest endeavor. We also sold a dozen or so smaller framed and matted images—but none of the large framed ones even at half of normal gallery pricing. There were some no shows who had sent rsvps, but that's ok—people get tied up unexpectedly.

However, the loveliest thing is who in fact showed up.

Julio Delio, another OS friend, lives nearby. If I had half a brain I would have picked up on some clues she was dropping: "I'm bringing a couple of friends to the show, I hope you don't mind."

Julie is a sneaker planner. I knew Dorinda was coming as she had flown to Little Rock for her father's birthday and was planning to drive in from there for the party. But Julie had successfully hidden that Lisa Lucas and Susan Mitchell were also staying with her.

Colin, our oldest, was here to help hang most of the show and do the lighting—that meant so much to me, he's very gifted and talented. That he was able to meet Susan, who was his very first donor on the bike ride for cancer from Austin to Anchorage, was enormously satisfying.

Julie Tarp and her husband Paul came from Oklahoma...she and OS's Mrs Michaels are friends, and since MrsM is a local they came to the show together, just missing the other OS crew who had left a few moments before they arrived.

I can't even tell you what it meant for these friends to appear, and to be enthusiastic about the book and my photography. I still think my book and my photography is more modest than what people ascribe to them, so I'm personally and privately conflicted—trying to be honest with myself and others—and haven't found the happy medium on that yet. But I'm brought to my knees by the true affection from friends.

Gary Justis called my cellphone while I was on my way to the gallery on Saturday afternoon...since he's been through so many openings of his own through the years he knew the words to help calm the jitters, and was very kind in his words as well. I payed it forward a bit by calling Jodi Kasten and thanking her for her support and encouragement this past year. She represented many people for me in that call.

Eve and I had breakfast with Julie and her guests on Sunday, the morning after. I'm still just floored that they all made the journey..

Thanks too to the beautiful daughter who also helped set up and served beverages during the event, and to our youngest, the third of three who worked hard and then provided comic relief.

The beautiful daughter, threatening her older brother:

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The third of three, in a typical mode:

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with his friend Bailey, who also helped with the show.

Now for some shots from the actual party. The image at the top of the post is the entry to the gallery room at the State of the Art Building in the Oak Lawn/Uptown area of Dallas. Once inside you get the sense of a nice cozy little gallery space:

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From the left, facing us: Irvin, hubby of Susan; Dorinda; Lisa Lucas; Susan Mitchell; the doof; Julie Delio; Joe, hubby of Julie

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The doofus signing books and probably making some silly point

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Third of three talking with a former teacher of his. She was shocked that he's now well over six feet tall.

And then, to bring it all home to a karmic conclusion, I discovered a special surprise as I walked out to my driveway on the Monday morning after the show:

What's silly is that the thief only got some pens and pencils and my Moleskines—and I was left, once again, with a mess to clean up and the cost to replace the glass. Ah, the gods have a sense of humor and balance after all.

I need to offer some thanks:

To Colin and his gf/bff Emily for their help in hanging the show, for Emily for her graphics assistance; to the lovely bride for all her preparation and advice and management; to the beautiful daughter for her willingness to help; to the third of three for his willingness as well; to Lisa Young and Rebel Calhoun for working the sales table; to Karen Peterson for all the detail work; to Sarah Jane Semrad for her invaluable advice; to Herschel Weisfeld, the owner of SOTA, for his graciousness and support; to Nancy Cole for her support and friendship.

But especially, especially, to the friends who showed up: Thank you.

All images except as noted are

All images followed by *** are

used with permission

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lonely dawn shots

Mon, 19 Oct 2009 18:10:28 -0400

I'm about to put up a post about the book party/soirée/art on the walls event that happened just two days ago. I'm still processing what went on that night, all that led up to it and the aftermath. The most wonderful thing about the whole experience are the friends who showed up. I was really floored by the affection and support.

So I'm still thinking about how to say it the right way, how to thank those involved. I don't generally say much, and this event has me even more contemplative and I appreciate your indulgence and patience. I'll work it out and figure out what to say, but right now I'm still flummoxed by all the attention.

Thus, this short interim post on a few favorite images on the recent sojourn to and from Colorado. The bride flew, I went on another blue highway leisurely photo road trip. I don't know how I can ever be disappointed in doing that—even when revisiting some favorite spots.

The image at the top is near the Capulin Volcano National Monument in northeastern New Mexico. An image from an earlier visit and from a different season is here. I like the earlier one, but this recent one is technically and artistically much better. The light is better at dawn and a bonus moon and beautiful wispy clouds make it an instant favorite of mine. The one at the top here was on the drive to Colorado. Here is another one, a third one I like, that I took on the way home to Dallas:

It's not a dawn shot, taken mid-afternoon, but it fits the other theme elements. A larger version can be found here.

Just south of Palo Duro Canyon, and still coming out of dawn on the way back home I ran across this evocative scene:

A larger version is here. I always wonder about what went on in a now abandoned home—the love, the laughter, the pain and tears. We'll never know, but it seems as if the power of the lives linger still.

I sent my OS friend Steve/Procopius an earlier version of this next shot. Again, it was a different season and a different time of day. Steve loves the Llano Estacado and I know how he feels. There is a spare beauty in the big sky and distant horizons—a vast area that induces yearning and longing either to leave or to return.

See a larger version of it here.

Here's a cool thing: My son, the one that went on the cancer bike ride from Austin to Anchorage, left a comment on this picture when he saw it on Flickr. He said "Perfect TOD…" (time of day). Since I consider Colin to be a much better photographer than I am—his avant garde abilities are incredible compared to my snap-shottiness—getting a compliment from him is something I treasure.

I'll end with a shot from one of my favorite places. This is a dawn shot at the overlook on the south rim of the Palo Duro Canyon. It overlooks State Highway 207, the Hamblen Highway.

A larger version of the Palo Duro shot above is here. You can see some other images of mine from this vantage spot here and here.

In the distance, at the bottom of the shallow canyon, is the Prairie Dog Fork of the Red River.

Larger is here.

You'll notice that I don't feature a lot of people in my shots when I'm on my solo photo road trips. I think it's one of the advantages of taking the blue highways and back roads that suits my not quite misanthropic sensibilities and contemplative (read: slow) photo style and abilities.

Thanks for visiting—I'll get the post about the book debut party up sometime tomorrow or Wednesday (I hope).

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closer to the sun, moon and stars

Mon, 12 Oct 2009 09:10:39 -0400

See a larger version here.

This is not the view from our property, but it’s a short stroll away. We own land near a little town of 800 souls in southwestern Colorado. We’ve come here in the fall for many years to look at our own dirt and piñons and soak up what God hath wrought by his own hand. Yes, actually, I’m still an agnostic, but that's a bit harder to maintain when you’re that much closer to the sun, moon and stars.

So lets move away for the space and time it takes you to read this—to look at a few pictures that we’ll now share—from all the gnashing of teeth and wailing and railing against all the powers that be and recent international decisions made. There is a time for discussing the Nobel Peace Prize, but not now for a few precious moments. Come along.

The shot above is from the edge of a precipice. Our place is up on Loghill Mesa. The little slow-paced sleepy town of Ridgway, off to the left in the photo, is more than a 1,000 feet further down. It takes a day or so to acclimate to the altitude here. There’s less oxygen at 8,000 feet above sea level—one needs to drink a bit more water and take it slow for a day to get the body used to seeing the sky from a new vantage point.

At the center of the photo, roughly between the two roads going off into the distance, is a “fourteener.” Mount Sneffels, with the tiniest of rock promontories at its very tip, comes in at 14,150 ft (4,312 m). You might think it’s a silly name for a majestic peak, but it has some history. Mount Sneffels was named after the volcano Snæfell, which is located on the tip of the Snæfellsnes peninsula in Iceland. That mountain and its glacier, Snæfellsjökull, which caps the crater like a convex lens, were featured in the Jules Verne novel A Journey to the Center of the Earth. It is located in the northern part of the San Juan Mountains in Ouray County about 5 miles west of the box canyon picturesque town of Ouray. (The locals pronounce Ouray as yur-RAY.)

Off to the right of the image just out of view and at the base of the mesa is the former home of Dennis Weaver where he raised llamas on his Sunridge Ranch and spent the last quarter of his life contemplating beauty and participating in the small town life.

(Many of you that know me know that I'm seriously challenged in a fear of heights—so please be appreciative of the weak-kneed sacrifice I made on your behalf to get this close to my own personal plummeting.)

We have friends here, small world as it is. The bride’s college roommate lives nearby. And we once had some friends join us from Dallas for our fall vacation in the mountains. We found out in a roundabout way that our friend went to her senior prom with another resident of Loghill Mesa. And every time we come, we make more friends. It seems more and more like home, though it will be a few years before we can make it so. We first have to get our three kids, now all in college at the same time (!) out of school and on their own. We hope to get here.

Ok, enough talking (writing). Let's get to some images.

Mule deer. See a larger shot here.

The deer up here in Loghill Mesa aren't exactly tame, but I think they've figured out they're in a safe zone. No hunting is allowed, even in the midst of the October elk hunting season here in southwestern Colorado. So they tend to wander about even during the day looking for tasty morsels. The locals, when they venture out into the surrounding mountains during hunting season, tend to dress their dogs in bright day-glo vests to help the hunters realize it's a pet and not a prize.

Above is our property. We have about 300 feet fronting this little road and about 2 acres deep. The view beyond is to the Cimarrons, made famous by the movie True Grit, as some of the scenes were shot at the base of this short range just east of the greater San Juans. Precipice Peak is near the center and then to the left is Courthouse, Coxcomb and Chimney. The gorgeous thing about the Cimarrons is the alpine glow we get just before sunset as the range faces west in all its roseate glory.

Not quite alpine glow, but close:

Now take a walk with me and let's take a macro look at what's on the property:

One of the corner markers on our two acre lot

Someone built a fire ring on our place—I don't know who

Elk scat

Bear scat

Lichen

A snow melt runoff wash

A deer run

A baby yucca

A baby juniper

A baby piñon

Baby spanish moss

Morning dew on a dried aspen leaf

On Sunday, we went west over the Dallas Divide, a ridge separating Ridgway/Ouray and Telluride, to visit OS friend High Lonesome. It was a beautiful morning, as you can see from the two shots below. HL is as lovely a person as we imagined her to be.

Just look at that sky!

We'll end with a couple of shots. One on the way to Sneffels, the other of the venerable mountain itself. This was on a back road to the base for a picnic day trip. You can see why we love this beautiful place.

This post is dedicated to friends, flung far and wide. Some of whom are able to be with us, some not—we wish we could have you here laughing and talking and sharing in flesh and blood raising a glass of cab or pinot—Love abounds and perseveres—always getting closer to you and closer to the sun, moon and stars with you by our sides.

We're here till Wednesday, then I drive back to Dallas to get ready for the the book debut party and my photo art on the walls/gallery event that I posted about here.

(We now return you to your regularly scheduled discussions.)

all images copyright © 2009 by barry b. doyle • all rights reserved

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