So, I am getting married in less than two weeks.  Due to the fact that we are very busy becoming married folk and homeowners around here and will be out of the country for quite a while, Words + Images is going on vacation for exactly one month.  Weekly words and images should resume after Memorial Day, when everyone is settled down and has internet access again. 

Today I arrived home from work to find a box at my doorstep.  It was one of those days where I kept thinking about that box and waiting for the moment when I got to rip it open because I knew exactly what was inside: the Lowepro Slingshot 200aw. 

I've wanted one of these camera bags for a long time but couldn't exactly justify the cost.  Now, with a two-week tour of Europe upon me, I finally have an excuse to get my hands on one.  My current camera bag is woefully inadequate for a long trip: too small for my present array of gear, made for a video camera, and with the standard uncomfortable single strap.  With my bad shoulder, I would never survive entire days of walking around with that thing hanging off my arm, so I'd probably end up doing my usual throw-all-the-camera-gear-in-my-backpack routine.  This strategy leads to stopping to take off the backpack and rummage for a lens, getting left behind by the tour group...not good.

So I got the super-speedy Slingshot, with a single-strap design that is ergonomic yet allows me to swing the back around to my chest for quick access to my gear.  When I tried it out around the house this afternoon it didn't disappoint.  It sits very nice and snugly against my back, thanks in part to the cushy layer of padding it offers my delicate spine.  The strap is also well padded for good weight distribution, and there is a special extra strap that attaches for extra comfort with heavier loads.

Inside the main compartment I easily fit my D80 with a lens attached, my bigger zoom lens, and my SB-600 flash unit, along with a number of little accessories.  The smaller compartment on top is still empty, and I'm saving it for snacks, wallets, etc. during our long days of sightseeing in Europe. A memory card organizer behind a velcro flap in the main compartment will make it easy for me to switch out cards in a hurry.

All in all, this awesome accessory should encourage me to carry my camera non-stop and consequently take more pictures.  And that's what it's all about.  You can skimp on certain gear, but I feel like making your camera comfortable and easy to carry should be priority #1.  I know I've stashed my camera on numerous occasions or made my male counterpart to be a beast of burden because I was sick of lugging it around.  There have also been times when I have taken fewer pictures because I couldn't waste the time stopping what I was doing to put down my bag and get out my stuff.  A comfortable, easily accessible way to carry your camera means more pictures, and that's important.

Hopefully our European adventure will be well-documented and the Slingshot I have coveted for so long will serve me well.  I'm planning to take it on a test run this weekend on a trip to Columbus, Ohio for a visit with friends.   I might not have as many places to carry it around, but I will certainly get to take it as a carry-on when we fly out there, so I'll know what to expect when we fly overseas (sort of).  I know there have been some new flight restrictions on camera batteries, but I'm pretty sure we won't be affected.

So far, I'm pretty impressed.

Though I very rarely think in pictures and most often tend to have a steady stream of words and music running through my head, the times when I do think almost exclusively in images are often memorable and emotionally charged.

One of those times happened this weekend, near the beginning of another long car ride up to Pennsylvania.  Doug was happily rocking out to DC 101 and I wanted to use the 110-mile commute to hack through another Jonathan Kozol book before seeing him speak on Wednesday, so I put on headphones with wordless music.  Shortly after merging onto I-95 North I was jarred from my book by Doug urgently nudging my arm.  I scrunched my eyebrows and removed one of my earbuds.

"I just saw that car flip over, like, four times."

Absorbed in words on a page, I had missed this.  A BMW Z3 lay upside down in pieces on our side of the median, a special delivery from the middle lane on the southbound side.  As Doug pulled over onto the left shoulder, leaped from the car without shutting the engine off and began running toward the scene, I saw the driver of the car climb out the window and step away, like race car drivers do after their cars flip end over end into the center of the track.

I turned the key to off.  What if there was a passenger?  The first image I saw was of this man frantically calling for help, asking someone to save a passenger who was already dead.  The second was of myself, small and broken on the grassy median, torn to pieces by anguish and tragedy I had been forced to witness.  I knew I would cry, I knew I would be unable to stand.  I thought of Doug, running to the side of the car and being one of the first to look inside.  What image would he see?

If for no other reason than I did not want the burden of those images to be his alone between us, I grabbed my phone from my purse and got out of the car.  I joined a growing procession of passersby who had parked on both sides of the median and were jogging to the scene.

Before I arrived, I was met by Doug jogging against the flow, back toward me.

"He's fine."

Personal affects and pieces of the car, small and large, had been scattered about on the grass.  The tiny car had been launched over two lanes, a guardrail and most of the median, flipping several times and landing upside down, and somehow the sole occupant had walked away with no injuries.

I turned around to see one of the strangest sights I have ever encountered.  The number of people who had pulled over and began walking or running to the overturned vehicle was eerie, inspiring, and heartbreaking.  In this moment we had all seen our own lives flash before our eyes, and as we waved each other on and announced the shockingly positive outcome of this sudden chaos, I'm sure that image remained etched in our minds as we made our way back onto the interstate.

None of the images of those few minutes will escape me.  Not the ones my worried mind conjured, not the real image of the wreckage, and not the gathering of so many human travelers concerned for the fate of one of our own.

When I originally redesigned the site and began Words + Images, I decided not to allow public commenting.  I put the blog together this way because I did not want to manage comments that were irrelevant, off-topic, or otherwise offensive to me or other readers. 

After some email requests and some time spent reconsidering my position, I have decided to open Words + Images for commenting.  If there is one thing I miss about art school, I have to admit it is the conversations I had with my peers and the way we often spent an entire class picking an image or idea to the bone.

Also, I have a sense that after moving within the city limits in June, Words + Images will become a little more distinctly Baltimorean.  Why not allow a little more sense of community?  Why not invite a little banter?  Plus, I like reading blogs where a small community has formed and gathers on a regular basis to chew through the newest posts. 

I'm still working out how I want to moderate and manage comments, so don't be shocked if the comment form changes from time to time.  For now, I'm curious to see what conversation develops over the coming months.

While I am forming an opinion on the recent Baltimorean uproar over Lee Freeman's public installation in Mt. Vernon Place, allow me to ask a question:

How many people have received non-profit junk mail?  This mail uses strong, guilt-inducing language and often even stronger images.  Most recently I have gotten packets of photos of children with terrible cleft lips, children at the brink of starvation, and women in Bangladesh who have started their own business and achieved economic freedom thanks to people like me.  Especially offensive are the packages that also contain free gifts and even money.  Whimsical address labels with my name on them make me feel guilty every time I use them, yet I feel like it would be wasteful to throw them away.  But these gifts, regardless of how cute or pretty or useful, are hardly friendly gestures.  In fact, they are supposed to make me feel badly.

As new generations become increasingly susceptible to language and images employed by the media, so they become less able to discern their own feelings and opinions from those provided by external sources.  That non-profits seem to be able to prey upon this growing weakness deeply disturbs me.  If these practices continue, where will our money and support be going in the future?

Below is a letter I wrote to UNICEF.  I will continue to reply with similar letters to every organization that operates these manipulative campaigns.

April 7, 2008

Caryl M. Stern

President & CEO

U.S. Fund for UNICEF

Dear Ms. Stern,

Over the past six months I have received two letters from your organization. Both have contained a letter with a nickel attached. Your letter states that this solitary nickel “could save a child's life,” making the implication that by failing to return that nickel - or far worse, by tearing it away from its paper backing and slipping it into my wallet - I have somehow affected the life of an innocent child.

I would like to know why you choose to operate your fundraising campaign in this manner, by giving people something unsolicited, then making them feel indebted to you. Allow me to point out that this is the primary tactic used by the Taliban to gain control of their target populations.

I work for a non-profit organization in Baltimore, Maryland whose mission is to strengthen neighborhoods through a multi-faceted approach that includes caring for our children and making sure they have a chance at a bright future. This year we celebrate our fortieth anniversary.

I can guarantee that our executive director would never use guilt to solicit money from our donors. Why? Because we believe in partnering with people and building strong relationships. A partnership implies mutual respect and mutual benefit. Our organization receives donations and grants because we have proven ourselves a worthwhile investment. Wasting money on an unethical fundraising campaign that emotionally strong-arms people doesn't show respect for anyone: not your prospective donors, and certainly not the children.

I will never donate money to an organization that sends unsolicited “free gifts” - or even cash, as seems to be the style these days - before I have expressed any interest, knowledge, or investment in the organization. At best, this is emotional bribery and a strategy not worthy of reward by anyone. Please remove me from your mailing list until such a time when you no longer use guilt as a primary motivator to encourage donations.

Sincerely,

Jaclyn L. Cole

AmeriCorps*VISTA and concerned citizen