Photography Thinks
My friend Paul Berch was elected to the New Hampshire House of Representatives. An image shot by me appeared on his campaign literature. He insists I own a small part of the victory, but I think that his smile, ability to listen and progressive/inclusive view of government earned him the seat far more than my image. Go democracy!
They care about where they live, so they participate in the process. All are very serious about representative government. We have to trust them, because there isn’t a way to keep informed. So we vote, hoping they will do the right thing.
My friend Paul Berch is running for office. A knowledgeable lawyer, committed humanist and family man, he brings needed tools to the legislative fray. He has fought battles for his clients and compromised when necessary. He will be as effective as a legislator.
Hard to tell if he the Mayor doesn’t like Judge Shira Shindlin looking at his stop and frisk policies or if he is outraged about the number of minorities who have been harassed and humiliated. Were there an impartial judiciary and prosecutors interested in doing justice, civil rights and liberties would be far more prevalent than they are now. He and PC Kelly have legislated a police state and their enormous power and wealth prevents anyone from speaking out against it. Who’s at fault? The Judges who he appoints (and who Rudy appointed for the last how many year?) and the DAs who seem to be elected for life (they know the secrets, eh?).
But, as a student of photography, no longer a lawyer, and a disgraced judge, I can only comment on the shot. Strong composition by Mr. Barritt. Good color. And a narrative with a question which we don’t want to answer!
As for Mr. Dimon (I have to admit being a shareholder), he and the EXXON chair really control America, if not the world. So, what is he thinking. I am saying I am sorry for not being in control or what can I say that will convince them I really give a shit? Another mystery shot.
In case you hadn’t noticed, Bloomberg News produced the second shot. Do we really have a chance? Bloomberg has 10 billion and Dimon earns $20 million a year. But the photos are exquisite. Just think of how they would have made Napoleon look!
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Miro will bring Burlington good management and a future. He sees into the future and will not repeat the past. Feel good about him being in control and in charge.
Judge Robert Carter died. He sat on the bench with quiet dignity, after a distinguished career as an attorney working with Justice Marshall and the NAACP legal defense team on Brown v The School Board. One cannot live forever, but his sense of justice can.
I tried a case before him -United States v. Chang AN-LO, a/k/a “White Wolf”, et al, 851 F2d 547 (1988) My client was Peter Yang. The case involved a conspiracy which included the murder of a journalist from Nationalist China, a heroin conspiracy and I don’t remember what else. A multi-defendant case, I sat for six weeks without asking a question on my clients behalf, allowing my co-counsel to do the work for me. Yang was at best a marginal character, the driver, at times, for the purported head of the United States arm of the conspiratorial group, United Bamboo, a person whom I argued hung around because employment opportunities in Houston forced him to find work elsewhere, a mere presence which allowed him to hear and see things without actually being involved in any of the criminal activity. The jury disagreed, convicting him. Everyone went to prison except Peter Yang. Judge Carter set him free.
When the case got to the 2nd Circuit, Bill Kunstler had substituted as counsel for my friend, Jay Gregory Horlick, who died in 1996. Horlick was a lot like Kunstler, practical and honest; he didn’t believe in anything, though, except that you didn’t want to know how corrupt the entire system was from top to bottom, because it would make you sick. Rest in peace, my last good friend. Anyway, we all wrote some fanciful dribble to satisfy our obligations as counsel, an obligation that ran from arraignment through appeal, and we ventured to the 17th floor to argue before the court, as if that would make a difference anywhere but some law school class on due process. Bill, having the lead defendant, got to go first. He rose to the lecturn, it rose to meet his height and addressed the court. “Good morning, Judge somebody. I represent appellant Chang AN_LO. Mr. Duckman will do the facts.” We had never spoken about my doing anything other than what I had to do. No matter. The conviction was affirmed.
Lots of people serve the law. Some get to the bench and forget their beginnings. Few have the insight, courage or deliberative skills which Judge Carter possessed. He helped to make the United States of America a fairer place to live.
Larry Glen and Kevin couldn’t decide if the pieces which look like furniture were art. They had no trouble deciding that, on this cold day, it wasn’t a good idea to sit on either the sofa or the chair. Both are made of metal and it was 5 degrees.
I mean, what is art? The chair image ain’t the chair; it represents the chair, lacks the function of the chair, has its design, but it ain’t real. It must be art, eh? Too cold, though to talk with these connoisseurs about the topic. It was too cold to even have a camera; I shot with Canon S90, which I kept in my pocket where it fogged up.
Kevin came from Barre. “Don’t drink the water there,” I was told when we came to VT. He has stage 5 colon cancer. In town to go to the doctor and see his social worker, he hopes that Make a Wish will send him to Japan for his last fling to see amime and the life there. He don’t care about cold. He’s still alive. Go live, my man. You have courage.
Larry and Matt Sweet have a tent. No way these guys do the shelter thing; too many rules. Know how to camp in the tent. Keep out the drafts and cold air.
Joe knows some kids, maybe college kids, who let him sleep in a utility room. They give him beer, pot, and food. He offered me some of his pina colada. Not exactly a drink I would drink, assuming I would drink in the park on a day like this, even if I were thirsty or going through withdrawl. I associate pina coladas with warm weather and tropical breezes, not sub arctic cold.
Connor and Country. I cannot be sure. They were looking for someone or something, they thought.
Keith came out for tobacco. I could not see coming out for something to smoke. A hospital appointment, sure; you got nowhere to go or you don’t know where you are, sure; but tobacco …. What a country. We all get a vote, too.
Damn, it was cold. And the cold doesn’t usually bother me. Tomorrow, colder. Joe said only the really hard core would be out tomorrow. We will see.
Weather slightly bitter, as am I for being shut out of the caucus this weekend for reasons I cannot even imagine, but who cares about either of these problems. I will continue to live here, hoping the place lives up to its promises.
Miro walked alone up Church Street. He seemed upbeat about the election and upbeat about serving at a time when the job would be more difficult than if someone forced from office by term limits had succeeded in his task and all he had to do was color in the spaces. Why anyone would want to be a hall monitor in this zoo, escapes me. He thinks he can do the job, okay, but for what reason?
Charming, personable, knowledgeable and seemingly experienced in the ways of small city government, can he, if elected, move the city ahead, leaving the 1950’s where it is mired and make it a place more attractive to a growing upper lower and middle class than a nomadic college crowd? More crime. More poor. More vacancies. Not so chic shops. Lots of coffee shops and semi-fast food, but not a lot of cuisine. Does he support art? How about help for the hopeless and hapless. Is he a puppet of the authorities he has served or a visionary? He says he is a hands on problem solver; if nominated, he gets a chance to run for a thankless job.
Good luck dude. Thanks for the portrait.
He talks constantly. Some say he mumbles. I understand him, sometimes. He undersands me, maybe.
Same old. Same old. Seizures no one recognizes. System want to put him in jail for tickets. Judge doesn’t want him in. No clothes. No id. No driver’s license. Needs a shower. Not crazy enough for disability because no diagnosis. Beaten by cops. No idea why no alms on the street.
