Two heroes

I love stories about heroes, and during some idle moments today came across two that are worth sharing. The first of these is one I had read before, when it made its original appearance as an article in a 1989 issue of Reader's Digest, but it touches me now as much as it did then. It's about a U. S. Army officer named Sam Bird. For reasons explained in the article itself, I knew who he was before I became aware that he was, in fact, a hero. The second article is about Rick Rescorla, a decorated veteran of the Battle of the Ia Drang Valley who, 36 years later, outdid his own previous heroism during the 9/11 attack on the World Trade Center.

Ad altare Dei

Ad altare Dei
Originally uploaded by gwilmore

I missed the Saturday-morning session of General Conference in order to attend a Flickr meetup in Phoenix, during which I captured this, which is certain to rank among my favorite images of all time. The model is the lovely Miss Amanda Lee, who, at my request, graciously agreed to attend the meetup. I came home from the event with 177 photos, but there was never any doubt that this one would be my clear favorite.

The Mormon experience of death

Although it is two months old now, I came across this article only today, while visiting the official website of the LDS Church. It appeared in the online edition of the Washington Post a few days after President Hinckley's funeral. I found it to be well-written, touching, and insightful. I did not realize until later that the author is herself LDS, but I still regard the publication of this article as a remarkable and noteworthy event, considering that it was published in the mainstream media, which has so often been unfair or inaccurate in its treatment of the Church, its members, and its teachings and practices.

The meaning of "sexy"

I routinely post links to my Flickr images to this blog. One recent post was a cherished photograph of my friend Denise, a dance instructor in training at the local Fred Astaire studio. Yesterday, while checking my Flickr photostream, I discovered that I had been invited to post the image to a group called "Sexy Black Women," or something like that; in any event, the word "sexy" was part of the group's name. Because Denise is both a married woman and someone I want to treat with decency, kindness, and respect, I declined the invitation. I intended the photograph to be beautiful and appealing, but not erotic in any way, and I simply felt that Denise deserved far better from me than to be linked to a Flickr group with a name such as that one, with its less-than-savory overtones.

It was therefore with great interest that I read this article in today's edition of Meridian Magazine, which analyzes that word and its connotations. I have never doubted for a moment that declining that invitation was the right thing to do, but if I had had any doubts, I believe this article would have removed them. And I also think Denise, who strikes me as being a class act, would very much appreciate what I have done.

Incidentally, in a related development, I have made two 8x10 prints of that image and put them to good use. One was given to Denise at her request, and she, in turn, presented it to her husband as a birthday present. (It meant a lot to me, by the way, that Denise and her husband were both so delighted with that photograph.) The other print was for me, and I framed it and hung it in my office. It is there for a couple of reasons. First, I spend my workdays helping litigants to settle divorce and paternity cases, which at times can be unpleasant and acrimonious, and I thought the presence of that image in the room might exert a subtle psychological impact on the parties to my conferences. (A few days ago an attorney who attended one of them told me it had had precisely that effect on him.) The second reason is for my own benefit. I am basically a pessimist by nature, and highly prone to long episodes of dark, brooding introspection; but who, including myself, can possibly look at that pleasant, cheerful countenance without being infected by it? Moreover, it represents a sort of personal triumph for me as well. Denise was somewhat reluctant to pose for me at first, but ended up loving the result; and while making her look beautiful was very easy, I also succeeded in making her feel beautiful, which was far more important. So the framed portrait serves as a reminder that I used my camera and my developing talent as a photographer to bless and enrich someone else's life, and as an incentive to continue doing so.