And the Winner Is . . . The Bumbling Brothers??

Well, yeah. I'm talking about the 2006 World Series. Some guys impersonating the great St. Louis Cardinals baseball teams of the past would up being the last man standing in some kind of a kinky game of musical chairs. You could almost hear the collective Cardinal team speak: "Yeah, I figured we would lose, well we screwed up enough to . . . what? You say we WON? Wait a minute. Let me check that out!

Oh well, somehow baseball is the real loser. The Boys of Summer are out of place wraped up to their chins on cold, semingly mid-winter nights, The fans become unworldly too, all covered in great football-like parkas and coats. Where are the slanting rays of the autumn sun from my own childhood that used to coat the World Series in a golden glow? Where are the fans of yesteryear who used to relax between innings and shield their eyes from the sunlight, not the glare of the winter arc-lights? Where are the "between-innings", for that matter? Now they are gone too, the buzz of the stadiums and friendly chatting of the announcers, the calls of "Coldbeer .. . IceCOLDbeer!", all now lost in the ka-ching of the commercial cash register that keeps increasing the profit of the TV stations and their advertisers by blasting the watching audience with 30-second dramas and other nonsense.

Well, there WAS some baseball there, Pujols great play between his legs and and Webster's stomp of triumph on first base stand out. There were others as well, but what will remain in the minds of many will be the dropped balls, the pitchers who couldn't throw straight, and the noses of fans sticking out of their parkas.

Baseball deserves better.

© John Womack, 2006. All rights reserved.

Some of John Womack's work:

Photography: http://www.photo.net/photos/Pathways

Travel stories:

Titan Tales

Methods and Procedures of Outdoor Photography

Methods and Procedures of Outdoor Photography

METHODS AND PROCEDURES OF OUTDOOR PHOTOGRAPHY: Photographic Art in the Southern Mountains.

By John Womack
160 pages, 4.25 x 7 inches. ISBN No. 0-9655546-1-9. Available from author for $15.95, plus $4.00 shipping and handling via USPS Priority Mail, shipping with invoice on the day after order. Payment may be made by check, money order, VISA or MasterCard. For more information write johnhwomack@gmail.com

Statement by the Author:
The southern mountains of the United States are the oldest mountains on the planet, yet the scenery they provide changes as easily as the clouds sail over their ridge lines. This is a indeed a land filled with an astonishing variety of life, spectacular scenery and color, but it is often difficult to make good nature photographs here! The great natural beauty of these mountains is often presented in a dazzling display of constantly changing brightness with contrast extremes that exceed the latitude of any film, and its distances are so great that tall mountains are easily flattened and rendered insignificant in the photographic frame. Great wildflowers whip about on mountain winds like trapped spiders, and autumn leaves sometimes become a messy jumble of random colors.

My book provides suggestions and strategies for dealing with these and other problems of photography in these and any other mountains. Here you will find how tones or values of darkness and light can be arranged to provide harmonic balances; how colors can be combined, and sometimes limited, to produce effective and compelling pictures; and how to emphasize and enhance the mountain environment, and keep those mountains tall! You will also find composition techniques that will attract the eye of the viewer and bring their imagination into your picture. Then keep them involved as an active participant in your pictures. I have taught these procedures in nature photography courses at my studio in Franklin, North Carolina, for the past several years. Many of my students have been artists in watercolor, oil or other mediums, and through working with them in the classroom and the field, and on into the exhibition gallery, a considerable amount of cross-fertilization has taken place. From that exciting interchange has come much of the material in Chapter Three, in which I discuss methods of discovering, exploring and interpreting the feelings that can be encountered in the world of nature, no matter what medium you are using. Then I present some of the methods I have found to be effective in pictorial storytelling. I use this book as a text in my classes, and it also serves as a field guide. In fact, I selected a book size that would easily slip into the pocket of a hiking shirt, as well as the hip pocket of jeans, and of course, into a vest pocket or camera bag. This manual is designed to help photographers of all skill levels make compelling photographs of the land and sky, and the wildflowers, butterflies and other objects found in the beautiful forests of the southern Appalachian Mountains.

Statement by the Publisher:
This book goes far beyond being a simple field manual for photographers visiting the southern mountains; it is a forthright investigation and description of the role played by any artist who wishes to share their own feelings, moods and spirits with those found in the world-wide universe of nature. Then, through the medium of photographic art, the writer shows how to creatively express the understandings and impressions that arise from those encounters and explorations. The work of the artist is finding, interpreting and expressing such impressions in an imaginative and creative manner so the images that are produced will not be just a mere copy of nature, but a unique and distinctive representation of of an encounter between that world and the larger one within each of us.

Womack has integrated traditional concepts with original ideas to form images in our own imaginations as colorful and dramatic as those he presents in film. He discusses the process of composition from four very different points of view. The relationship of colors to each other is explained in an unusual and unforgettable manner. He explains how to understand and use the different "oceans of light" for the best photographic opportunity that each offers, and how to use "tones of light and dark" to develop contrast, texture and harmony. Methods for the photography of mountains, landscapes and skyscapes are presented in detail, along with numerous strategies and options. Techniques for photography of wildflowers are discussed and include the use of props and how to "garden" without affecting the other valuable natural resources around the flower.

The book contains 160 pages, plus eight color plates. There are twenty-four black and white photographs and eight pen and ink sketches which illustrate concepts presented in the text. An appendix provides tables of sunrise and sunset times and azimuths for each month, times each month when the sun rises and descends through 45° elevation, a general calendar for natural photographic events and some exposure settings. There is a discussion of equipment and accessories that are useful in outdoor photography, and a description of the processes that the author uses when he is actively shooting in the field. It is truly a book for photographers of all skill levels. More than that, it is a book for all of us who are interested in those "wild places" of which John Womack speaks, whether they are in the world of nature, or in that greater world he sees within each one of us.

Titan Tales

TITAN TALES: DIARY OF A TITAN II CREW COMMANDER:
By John Womack

200 pages. 5.5 x 8.5 inches. ISBN No. 0-9655546-0-0. Available from author for $15.95, plus $4.00 shipping and handling via USPS Priority Mail, shipping with invoice on the day after order. Payment may be made by check, money order, VISA or MasterCard. For more information write johnhwomack@gmail.com

Statement by the Author:
Some of the movies about the Cold War have depicted those of us who carried the nuclear weapons into the air, or who stood ready to launch them at a moment's notice as being wild eyed, macho monsters full of bravado and rage, ready to attack to prove our manhood. Well, this is a story of what it was really like working with the incredible system known as the Titan II. This book tells a tale of great missiles and aircraft and great men, too, that's true; but it is also a story about their families. It is a tale of children and parents - and the larger family of the United States Air Force - and how all that fit in to the great war that stayed cold, and the one in Vietnam that did not.

I served as a crew member on the Titan II ICBM for six years. This book is a story of the last two of those years. During that time, I was Commander of a Senior Instructor Crew serving at the Alternate Command Post; my crew launched a Titan II from Vandenberg AFB, California, we were selected as the SAC Crew of the Month, and we participated in the filming of a simulated missile launch. I was active on the SAC Speakers' Bureau and presented speeches at community organizations and affairs and participated in several university seminars. I also published articles in the Strategic Air Command's professional magazine Combat Crew concerning missile operations, missile safety and management techniques.

In this book you will visit the hardened missile silos that once were dug into the southern rim of the Ozark mountains, you will go on alert with missile crew members and meet some of the people who maintained and operated America's first line of defense during the Cold War. You will travel to Vandenberg Air Force Base and the Western Test Range and explore some of the even-then ancient missile complexes from the first generation of ICBMs. Also, chapter three is a step-by-step description of the underground launch of a Titan II Intercontinental Ballistic Missile!

Statement by the Publisher:
This is a surprisingly deep book. It will turn out to be more complex than it appears at the beginning, and that's one of the reasons you will probably read it more than once. Initially, it presents a simple story describing two years in the life of a United States Air Force officer who is commander of a Titan II Intercontinental Ballistic Missile crew. The crew helps maintain a gigantic missile on constant alert status, a missile that can carry its multi-megaton nuclear weapon deep into enemy territory at the push of a button. But that's all background to the main story. There is also the subtle background tension of the Cold War with its constant ebb and flow, and the unsettling, nagging pulse of the Vietnam War which slowly makes its presence felt and then gradually rises in intensity throughout the book. Then there is the main story, a description of a pleasant but hectic life in a military family with three young children during the late 1960's. We are treated to a deep look at life seen through the eyes and feelings of this family, both from the perspective of the young parents, and also their children. The story unfolds across the southern United States. From the missile base in Arkansas, the family travels in an ancient travel trailer across the southern deserts to California, where they spend seven weeks preparing a Titan II for launch at Vandenberg AFB. The launch, itself, is described in vivid, moment-by-moment, detail. Then, back to Arkansas, and later, on into Florida. What was Orlando and the Atlantic Coast like back then? Remember? This book does. And throughout the book you will find revealing excerpts of direct observation of life, which carry a very strong Zen-like quality in which you may find yourself observing, not just nature, but a deep place within yourself. The book is well written, with humor, and a lively pace and rhythm that will lead you on to the next page, and then to the next, and on and on! It is a real treat to read, and it is a book for all ages!

Photography

Some of my photos are displayed here:
http://photo.net/photos/Pathways


My blogs are on Blogspot.com. Some that concern a specific item (usually travel) are organized as “Composite Blogs” and are listed below:

308 SMW Reunion in Little Rock Sep 2007
http://adventuresinexploration.blogspot.com/2007_09_16_adventuresinexploration_archive.html

Trip to Crete and Greece Oct 2006
http://adventuresinexploration.blogspot.com/2006_10_01_adventuresinexploration_archive.html

Trip to Czech Republic Oct 2005
http://adventuresinexploration.blogspot.com/2005_10_01_adventuresinexploration_archive.html

Trip to Andulicia, Novtp://adventuresinexploration.blogspot.com/2004/11/andulicia.htm
Trip to France Oct 2003
http://adventuresinexploration.blogspot.com/2006/07/france-2002.html

Austria and Germany, Oct 2002
http://adventuresinexploration.blogspot.com/2003/10/austria-and-germany-2003.html

DC, June 2001
http://adventuresinexploration.blogspot.com/2001_07_15_adventuresinexploration_archive.html

The Land of Flowers, May 2001
http://adventuresinexploration.blogspot.com/2001/05/land-of-flowers.html

Trip to Germany Oct 2000.
http://adventuresinexploration.blogspot.com/2000_10_22_adventuresinexploration_archive.html

The Problem With Religion . . .

. . .is that God, in Her great wisdom, has not yet spoken clearly to the multitude. Not in English at least, not in Arabic, nor in Yiddish or Aramaic or Italian or Spanish or Batu-batu. Not even in French for God’s sake.

And when God has spoken it has been in secret, to priests, rabbis, Imams, shamans, roshis, itinerant preachers and other assorted receivers of the True Word, all of whom have been afflicted with the identical learning difficulty associated with masculinity.

God, however, has clearly and truly revealed Her intention to a few special prophets. Most people agree on the first five or six or seven or so, like Abraham, Moses, Buddha, Jesus, Mohammed. But it doesn’t end there - there are always men (it’s always men) who have been chosen by God - such as Jonathan Edwards, Cotton Mather, Jim Jones and David Koresch, and it even gets worse. Of course not everybody would agree on the validity of all those “prophets”, but therein lies part of the problem with religion.

Even when we have winnowed down the lengthy list of potential prophets, we still are left with a few important questions, like should the sabbath be honored on Friday, Saturday or Sunday? To what tribe does the land surrounding Jerusalem really belong? Should a man cut his beard? How should a man treat his women - also, one wife only or can (should?) he have more? Only one God for that matter or more? Genesis indicates there were several, or that God was at least plural.

Well, never mind. God has provided that His/Her/Their word be truly recorded in language so that all people can have it available as a “Law” for posterity, to guide their actions and thoughts. Once the Law has been established, then it is THERE - for all eternity - no need for any more laws, ever. Therefore, no need for legislatures, we can do away with all that wrangling and bickering, and finally get rid of elected representatives and democratic dialog - no need for any more elections either. All the Laws ever needed have already been “passed”. Humanity will now need only judges and police.

The Law will be available to all people at all times. The Ten Commandments will be especially available - all thirteen , or sixteen of them will be posted in all public places. The rest of the Law (fine print) can be read in the Upanishads, Bagavad Gita, Rig Veda, Zend Avesta, the Torah, the Book of Tao, Talmud, Books of Cuang Tzu and Laotse, the Qur’an, the Tao te ching, and the Holy Bible. Doesn’t matter which book you read. They’re all the same - the Judges will explain later. Doesn’t matter which bible you read either: the King James Version, the Douay, Revised Standard Edition, the New Jerusalem Bible, the New English Edition, the Apocrypha, or the ASV, BBE, BWE, CET, CEV, DKJV, TEV, the Darby Translation, or the Book of Mormon. Well, that’s just to name a few. There are at least another 53 listed on just one site on the web. But it just doesn’t matter, they’re all the same - God would not let Her people be misled. They are all really the same. But don’t try to read them all, that would be confusing. You just have to Believe - the Judges will explain all that!

The judges will really be busy. And they will need to get right with God this time. No more screwing around like in the past. No more sanhedrins, colonialism, inquisitions, crusades, Salem witchcraft trials, slavery, segregation, and genocide against native people - like American Indians - all of which were (and still are) done in the Name of and for the Glory of God. As far as homosexuality is concerned, that too is a no- no, well - there’s supposed to something about it in there somewhere, no need to try to find it the Judges will take care of that. Female discrimination is different though, that’s OK, the Bible says so.

It is going to require a lot of judges, police and jails ( religious remediating schools). There will have to be substantial hierarchy involved here. The only thing that will handle all that will be a worldwide return to the feudal system. Then we can have a Lord who will run everything. The Lord can finally tell us which book to read and which parts of it to honor, and how to follow all that and how to live on the "Right Side of God". The Lord can appoint a coterie of wise men who will work and act in the name of the Lord. The Lord’s will will finally be done. And it will all be Catholic too. All who protest will be shot - about time! And no more Sunni, Shiite nonsense either - that will stop! No time for Orthodoxology and certainly no need for Reform - ever! Evolution will be banished both as theory and as a fact. Nothing will ever evolve again. Anyone caught evolving will be burned at a stake! The ban on evolution will evolve to include all learning except for religion and technology. The lion will quit eating all that lamb, and they will just lie down together - never to get up again.

But the real problem with religion is that it usurps the presence of Spirit and turns glory into mere gold, wonder into mindless creeds, realization into servitude, and it pretends you are a sinful piece of clay instead of a luminous being of light.

© John Womack, 2006. All Rights Reserved.

Old Friends

The great agony of death is the parting of friends - we shall never meet again! Or shall we? Certainly not in this life but perhaps in others. If that is so, how many friends have we already made and lost in total? Countless thousands, perhaps. Do we ever meet them again? Are we now meeting some of them? Did we sit next to one on the bus or in the theater today? Did we drive past others today? What of those sad, lonely people we saw today? Is is possible that some of them were actually close, warm friends, dearly beloved from our distant past? Perhaps some of them might have been relatives from another time; a parent long passed from their old form, or children that we left behind long ago, in another time? How would we know? Were we absorbed in the latest popular tune or last weekend'’s game? Or the comics, or the news? Those people, were they all strangers? Were any of them old friends? How would we recognize them for who they really are? What secret signals could we use? What do we share and have in common? What if we treated them as if they WERE old friends? How would we do that? With a friendly glance, a warm smile, an atmosphere of acceptance and appreciation, perhaps. If they aren't old friends or long lost family, what harm could be done? If they are all old friends aren'’t we lucky? And maybe, just maybe, we may even make some new friends!

© John Womack, 2006. All Rights Reserved.

The Land of Flowers

“Un, uh, uno - taza café - noir - uh - negro.” With these halting multi-lingual words, I placed my first ever order in the United States to a waitress who spoke no English. This was at a McDonald’s in Mission Beach, California, where English is kind of like a rumble seat - quaint, but not very useful if you really want to go anywhere.
Another trip, this time to San Diego, La Jolla, Tijuana, Tucson, and other assorted points. Best memories were of the cliffs at La Jolla and the Kielbassa seals lying about fifteen feet away from the wild photographers behind the fence at the Children’s Pool.
I Had no idea which flowers were native, but there are probably more flowers there than I have ever seen anywhere else “ . . bowers of flowers . . . bloom in the smog. . . ”. At the beach, above it really, $15 breakfast problems now were blown away on salt-scented breezes. Memories become bent, and distort into shapes that belong to another world. Clouds come off the ocean, teasing and imploring the Torrey pines which already seem crossing from land to sky, ready to be the first tree to fly, waving their great cumulo canopy of rising needles and only one slender, twisted foot still tenuously reaching to touch the earth.
The zoo was good, and it wears on one, although I confess I felt very sorry for the animals. I know some of them keep their species alive only in zoos, nonetheless. it is a repository of just bodies. How can one live in a world with no sense of discovery, challenge, curiosity, or mystery? Can a soul survive without mystery? And in a world without decay there is not even that hope of final escape. (You just become nothing? ) Then, what about the morphological impact? What kind of kinks are being twisted into the habits of the universe? Here is an area for Sheldrake to study. Best exhibit? Polar bears; next, the gorillas; third, the pandas. All three of these had significant protection against the constant man-made noise that overwhelms the zoo. Worst thing about the zoo? The noise. Weedeaters, lawnmowers, blowers, kids shrieking, prams squeaking, interstate traffic drumming and pulsating, horns, sirens, telephones ringing, back-up beepers all constantly sounding while hamburger wrappers and cellophane bags swirl past the bewildered animals.
There are lots of surfers and kayakers in San Diego and La Jolla; everywhere you look people are drifting by - like the fast-food wrappers at the zoo. I stopped at the Torrey Pines Glider Club to watch people flying parasails and hang gliders, all at very close ranges. They and the torrey pines seem to sum the entire message of California: “Why Stay Rooted?” Problem is, once airborne, there is nowhere to go - you leave California, you get back in the muck - so there’s a lot of hovering going on out there.

©John Womack, 2006. All Rights Reserved.

Life Comes.

Gift
Originally uploaded by Pretty Penny.

Spring is a reckless season, coming in wild, ahead of time, before things are ready, before the safeguards have been put in place.
There’s more to Spring than just its beauty - it’s wet and cold and it comes here lost. The rest of the world dosen’t know what to do with it. Sometimes we just want it to go back, get its act together and come back when it’s ready and when we’re ready. But that’s not how Spring comes.
Life came briefly in the form of tiny animals to our doorstep last spring.
As the ephemeral wildflowers began to fade and the early spring flowers rose through the cold wet leaves, the New Green cast its magic colors across the mountains, bringing bright young leaves out in profusion, so also then come to us tiny animals.
A dead possum lay in our yard one spring morning, obviously a victim of our dogs. I went out to bury it and found tiny creatures, still without hair or opened eyes, that had tried to crawl out from her pouch. One was three or four feet away. It had died while crawling away from that suddenly cold world it had know all of its entire life. I wondered briefly what it must have been like in that sudden silence, when the great heartbeat stilled, leaving a moment that wouldn't end, a moment in which it must have also felt the aura of its mother's love slipping away, and with the silence that followed an unknown coolness came creeping into its world. Then it went crawling, looking for Mother. It embarked upon the greatest trip it ever took before it died; a mind-boggling journey of a lifetime.
Mother and children were reunited in a shallow grave below the crowfoot flower, with human words of sadness to bid them farewell.
Next midnight three tiny creatures lay on my back deck, obviously brought there again by my dogs. These too were without hair or opened eyes. I placed them on a newspaper with another on top of that, perhaps to die, not being able either to kill them or to care for them. Next morning, I found one had crawled away from its now dead siblings and had nestled under a light. The solar powered light had also been chewed by the dogs and had also been placed on the table for its protection, and thus these two survivors of the beasts provided each other a measure of their own cold warmth. I was touched by the tiny creature’s will to live, its mad desire to find out what Life was all about. It kicked and thrashed and struggled, looking for food. I called the Nature Center in Asheville and found that they would take it in, and there was another place in Cullowhee. Both might as well be on the moon. I was finishing IRS taxes at the last moment and preparing to leave for Florida early the next morning. The tiny creature was placed in a shoe box with old towels and it wrestled quite mightily, snuggling into the warm darkness. Every time I tried to feed him I was impressed by his energy and and strength and desire to live. It was obvious that he would survive, somehow. He must have been his mother’s pride. She must have a long time to see such a special baby.
Telephone talk indicated that Gator Aid and moistened and mashed dog burger- bits might be edible for him. I tried these with a dropper, and he struggled and strained but did not know how to drink or eat. I toured all the veterinarians in town to see if they would take my little gift of life, which I realized by looking at its see-through ears
was a tiny cottontail rabbit. They all held their hands helplessly and showed signs of profound pity as they sadly shook their heads.
A wonderful friend named Jan agreed to accept our little burden and we left it with her along with Gator Aid and dog-burger bits.
When we returned from Florida, we found its search for life had ended. I had somehow seen it returning to the wild to race through the brambles and canes, leading our dogs on years of fruitless chases. Burial was beneath a bramble bush on the south side of steep hill; its monument a small stack of rocks; also a memory in the hearts of those who shared its life .
Now the tiny rabbit lives on, not in this world but in another world, close by this one,. It lives with Zach and Cherry and Scooter and those other ancestor creature-beings, part now of the soft, dark summer breezes, sharing together the magic moonlight nights of autumn, and delighting in the sparkle of winter sunrises.
And now spring comes again, and whenever spring comes, life comes.
©John Womack, 2005, All Rights Reserved.