What a fool believes.

"But what a fool believes he sees

No wise man has the power to reason away
What seems to be
Is always better than nothing
And nothing at all keeps sending him..."

We all can be gullible at times. If it has never happened to you, I am sure I have made up for your abilities to read through the lines of not being duped. 

One of the best ways to make the most of these situation is to pull practical jokes. I have pulled them, had them pulled on me, and been involved when others pulled them on unsuspecting victims. Whereas they are funny, when done well, they can be very destructive as well. 

A few weeks ago, my associate and I took a walk during lunch. She is in much better shape than I am, is pregnant, and makes me look like the 20-plus years older I am than she is; she’s also very funny. As we were walking, we started discussing practical jokes. Whereas she is pretty good at them, based upon the stories she told, her husband deserves a major award for his actions. I mean, these are standing ovation situations.

One of my favorites was when they had hired contractors for work on their home, and as a practical joke, her husband called them (mind you these guys are working on THEIR home) and said they had run out of cash and were not going to be able to pay them. This is a very dangerous joke as you might imagine—-one that could come back to haunt them if not disclosed in time to thwart them walking off the job. I don’t know how he did it, but this went on for a rather extended period of time that day. If it were me, and I was pulling the joke, well….that would not have been one I would have pulled. In the end, all worked out, there was a good laugh and their house was featured in a magazine; in the world of practical jokes, that was gutsy.

She asked me about ones I had pulled and although it was nothing like what her husband had done, I did have a few to provide. One of my favorites has been pulled twice. It involved a business associate, a client, and a false eye. The first time occurred when one of my associates was bragging how this client, who is a friend of mine, would like her more. I usually shake these things off, but she was serious. I said, like a 12 year old, “whatever.”

Once I thought further about this, I started to think about how to get her back. 

I called the person she was going to be meeting with, and we devised a plan. After the plan was set, I approached her and said, “You know so and so has a glass eye, right and when he gets excited, it starts to click?” She didn’t believe it for a second. (ding, ding.) I said, like a 12 year old, “whatever.”

When she went to the meeting—-sure enough my contact was wearing glasses—-and as the meeting started, and they got into talking, the clicking started. All of the sudden, his eye popped out. (It was a marble I had sent to him that was the size of an eyeball that rolled on to the table.) She screamed when this happened and he truly had trouble containing himself. Recently I did the joke again, but did not take it to the level I had a few years ago. Before she went to the meeting, and after she had called me and apologized for not believing me, I knew I had to stop it  before the meeting. She still is untrusting of me several months later…wonder why?

The photo above was taken at my daughter’s 5th grade party. I had rented a “fish-eye” lens and was having a lot of fun with it. The photos of the kids (and some adults) were really unflattering; I knew if I put them up on social media sites I would probably get in a lot of trouble. For some reason, placing my photo up was ok—-for me, playing the fool can sometimes be the best journey to take in life, not matter what you believe. 

Thanks for stopping by.

Memories of another day.

"She was like, oh my God, this is my song
I've been listenin' to the radio all night long
Sittin' 'round waitin' for it to come on and here it is
She was like, come here boy, I wanna dance
'Fore I said a word, she was takin' my hand
Spinnin' me around 'til it faded out.

This weekend I was back in my hometown of St. Louis, MO. Well, actually Chesterfield a Western suburb; a suburb that has gone from Podunk to pretty darn large as far as population in the area. My son told me Chesterfield is now the second largest community in the St. Louis area. Hard to believe only 45 years ago I literally learned that "chickens do run around with their heads cut off" as I watched a farmer dismember their heads waiting for the bus to go to school.

Certainly one of the best things about coming home, is the unexpected look of seeing people you know, or think you know, and when you learn you do, having a long lost conversation with them. The "six degrees of separation" sometimes are just amazing. We've all had them, and that's what life is truly all about.

Yesterday, as I was catching up on some e-mails at the St. Louis Bread Company (known as Panera outside St. Louis) I saw someone I knew; we started to catch up, she made a comment that someone knew me, and suddenly someone broke into the conversation letting me know that individual (who knew me) was his brother in law. Nearly two hours later, I looked at my watch, knowing I needed to get back to see my Dad who would likely be waking up from a long sleep. (He sleeps a lot.) Oh by the way, yes I still wear a watch!

I learned that his brother in law, I was aware of the story but kept listening, had re-married someone we used to hang around with so many years ago. She was divorced, he was as well, and there you have it--they just got married. Fate has a weird way of finding its way back into life. If that's not weird enough, the woman has a twin, and one of my fraternity brothers now dates her twin sister. Not crazy enough for you? The woman my friend married, she and I went on a date together back in the 70s---my first concert, the Beach Boys and Chicago. She doesn't remember it I am sure, but I do.

There are many memories that come forward when I cross the Missouri state line. I was commenting to my Dad that when I drive to his house, from Chicago, it's like a road map has been laid out before me and I am on auto pilot for all 300+ miles. I know the stops, the scenery where I have taken photos along the way---mile marker 212 on Highway 55 has a barn that has now given way to the pressures of ridiculous weather---and then suddenly I pull into his driveway.

When I walk into the house where I was raised, I see photos galore; my Mom, brother and sister, my kids, nieces, nephews, and so many more. I am very thankful my Dad saw the benefits in taking pictures---whereas he never was bitten by the bug---he knew their importance.

Thanks Dad.

The photo above is of my Grandson Brandon. When I mentioned to my son I was wanting to take a few pictures, he paused. I knew where this was going. He said, "Just a few Dad...we have plenty." Saying you have plenty of photos to a photographer is like telling someone who has been sitting all day waiting for a song to come on the air that they've heard it enough---it's an addiction. One that I have---and for me these photos will provide those long lost images many years from now of memories of another day.

Thanks for stopping by.