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#FourParkway

1/27/2015

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Picture
FourParkway.jpg
Coming Soon

Four Parkway

This is a child’s book about a family of birds.

“Gone Fishing” 


by Barbie DelCamp

(This is a picture of Freddy, one of the main characters. He is busy chasing away a seagull from the family nest.)
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#Photography #-6degrees #JustThinking

1/14/2015

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I once had a man insult me to my face about my camera. He held in his hands a very expensive Nikon. My own camera is a low end beginner Nikon 3100, it’s not what pros and real photographers use.  He was actually right in his flippant and off handed comment but for a different reason, then I was only using the “P” or program section of my instrument.  I wasn’t even close to having the understanding of photography that I have today.  Camera knowledge doesn’t guarantee a good picture but it is helpful.

As I look back to that time (1 ½ yrs ago) I see how I have grown, yet I still use my original gem. I say that because I am accustom to my camera, it has become my second Wilson, my first Wilson was when I bought myself an IPhone for my 50th birthday six years ago.

Photographers, like all cultures, are an interesting group of people. I don’t hang with them, lunch with them, or have coffee with them. I do “run” into them in the morning, at noon and in the evening. We are all over the place. We are on the web, social media, and in magazines.  Photographers navigate all forms of communication to establish themselves as “bona fide” artists.

This morning I met one such photographer, Benjamin Williamson, he is well entrenched in the state of Maine as a fine art photographer. He has gotten a lot of positive feedback on FB. He sells his well thought out and beautifully composed pictures. I have looked at his earlier work and I can see his progress. That is a good thing. As I have said before on other blogs, it is a craft of perseverance and challenge. This young man taught me a new word this morning; it was “snapper.” I am not rooted in the “insiders” language and I had never heard that one. A snapper is a person who snaps pictures with no tripod or additional equipment; such was I until a few months ago. I can proudly say I am no longer a “snapper.”

I have been waking up quite early lately and this morning was no exception. At 4:30 am I got up, dressed, and headed out to watch the sunrise. I was hoping that there would be some arctic fog because I haven’t yet tried to take pictures in that environment. There was fog everywhere! The temperature was -6 as I jumped out of my Jeep. When things are looking super for photography I can hardly stand it, my brain can’t keep up I get so enthused.  There was a lighthouse, fog, water, rocks, sky, birds and boats this caused a strain on my self-diagnosed attention deficit. Still I had a superb morning and as I looked over my pictures I can see where I could improve and do things differently.

I am loving it!




#Photography #-6degrees #JustTHinking

Lighthouse.jpg Dawn.jpg
-6 Degrees

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#Israel #TheFrenchTragedy #JustThinking

1/12/2015

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Recently my younger brother, who I am very proud of, went on a trip to Israel. My brother did not go as a tourist but as a business man. During his time in Israel and between meetings he was treated by his hosts to some spectacular sightseeing, some of which gripped his heart. When he returned home he called me to tell me how he now understood my love for this country. He said the people and hospitality showed to him was extraordinary

My brother went as a VIP and I’ve no doubt he was treated as such.

 My husband and I went several years ago as simple tourists and we too were treated with genuine respect and warmness. That’s just Israel. Unlike other places in the world that may snub or treat tourists rudely, Israelis are the
“crème de la crème. “

 On our trip to Israel we took several day excursions in small buses to see the historical sites. We drove each day with different tour directors and different people from all walks of life. Some were Jews, some Muslims, some business people, some families and some, like us, who were on a spiritual journey. Our trip to Israel from the moment we stepped on the plane was non-stop in discovery and wonder. It was profound. So much, in fact, that we hope to return and one day, God willing, to live there.

 My brother’s recent trip and our conversations have drawn me back to the pictures that we took and to the memories that I have. Those memories are not just about the awesome sights but are more about the people we met and visited with. It's as though they are my souls’ best friends. Drivers and cabbies, tour directors, store owners and doormen all took the time to tell us “their” story. Some were tragic yet filled with hope and the miracle of love. One such story was told to us by a cab driver who had been a Jew in Poland during WW2. He was a child of the woods, hunted by the Nazis. His rescue and the appreciation that ensued were infinite as was his devotion to his country, Israel.

 We had tour directors who were each as smart and witty as the next. One was an MIT graduate and retired, but giving tours kept him sharp and connected. His run was to Masada or ‘Metzada Fortress’ a location so rich in history and controversy that it would take days to understand. Masada sits overlooking the Dead Sea and it is spectacular! From Masada’s high vantage point in the desert a person can see for miles.

On one of our tours our driver was a Muslim. Our female tour guide that day was a Jew turned Christian or as she referred to herself a “Messianic Jew.” Now that is quite the thing.  My husband sat for a long time visiting with her in the church building built over where Jesus had lived in Israel. What the world doesn’t let you know is that there are many Jews and Muslims that get along. In cities and hillsides you can identify occupants by the roof tops (Jewish red and Muslim black) you can tell much about a community. There are obvious red areas but there are many places where a mix of houses is very apparent.

 Now a Jew who is Christian may surprise people. That is no different than a Buddhist, or Hindu or even a Muslim becoming a Christian. Christianity is not about being a Catholic, a Baptist or a Methodist. Christianity is always when a person accepts Jesus into their life as Lord, God Savior and Redeemer. We accept that He took our penalty for sin. He paid it all and became as sin. As Christians, we become willing to also turn from sin and live a life pleasing to God. Anyone is welcome to join the club! All are invited, no matter what their background. Let’s not forget Jesus was a Jew, from the line of David, which also tracks all the way back to Abraham.

Picture
Masada.jpg
Picture
Gethsemane.jpg looking towards the Old City Jerusalem from Gethsemane
On our tour to Old Jerusalem and the Western Wall we enjoyed the company of a man from the states. As we were heading through the old city gates there were people checking our bags with dark colored skin? The gentleman we were visiting with questioned who they were; I explained that they were Ethiopian Jews.  I jokingly said “Solomon? Queen of Sheba?”  It clicked for him too. The first mass wave of return from Ethiopia was called ‘Operation Moses’ the second was called ‘Operation Solomon.’ The history of the ‘right of return’ is a fascinating one. It’s as though some omnipotent voice is saying “come home.” The ‘right of return’ or ‘law of return’ was established by the Israelis Parliament in 1950 just two years after it became a state. It is a welcome to all Jews across the world to become citizens of Israel.  If you know your history you will recall the Assyrian and Babylonian invasion. There are some who say that the Assyrians were in many ways the first Nazi, cruel beyond measure towards the Jew. The tactics used by the Assyrians are attested to by the ancient cuneiform inscriptions. The nation was dispersed and eventually the Hebrew people were all over the world and without a homeland. The Old Testament is rich in historical reference about that era. The last verse in Nahum has this to say about Assyria;
 “Everyone who hears the news about you claps his hands at your fall, for who has not felt your endless cruelty?”

 On one of our days in Israel my husband and I went for a long walk in Tel Aviv. We stopped at a store and had a very lively visit with a Jewish man named Rubin. Rubin was originally from Iran. He was supremely optimistic about Americas unwavering support for his country. We talked about how from our point of view that support was dwindling because of academia’s ignorance and their rewriting of history. We also talked about the geopolitical state of the world. He told us that in spite of our opinions about Americas support for Israel that our country wasn’t even close to being as anti-Semitic as Europe and specifically France.

 I was reminded of this conversation as I watched gripped and horrified like most people to the recent news and the terrible massacre by Islamic terrorists in Paris. I found myself paying very close attention to the hostage situation that followed when a Jewish Deli was taken over by one of those terrorist. To the credit of one Muslim man who worked at the deli several hostages were protected by him in a freezer. Which (like my relating that Muslims and Jews live in peace in many Israelis communities) is a witness to humanity that differences don’t always require hate.

In listening to the news account just after the terrorist was taken and the living hostages were freed, I was in tears. I heard an announcer say that the Israel TV reporters had gone into the deli to care for its people. It was said in passing and without fanfare, but I heard it. I wept as I thought about how Israelis believe in life first, above all things. As soon as they were able, the Israeli TV broadcasters' calling wasn’t to report, but to care for its dead, its injured and those who had been traumatized. That’s just who they are. Mercy and love come before the story.
“I will bless those who bless you and I will curse those who curse you.”

May the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob protect and keep the state of Israel ever close to Himself and May God’s will be done.

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Announcement

1/8/2015

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FOUR PARKWAY #FOURPARKWAY

Coming soon

FOUR PARKWAY

A child’s book

By author Barbie DelCamp

Picture
FOUR PARKWAY.jpg
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#Photography #LightHouse.jpg

1/5/2015

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What a good time I had the last few days, getting up bright and early then

running off to watch the sunrise. After the busyness of Christmas and the

New Year, it was rejuvenating to take a break...that is if you love the brisk

cold, winter mornings and taking pictures. Mostly, I practice with my

camera and learn new techniques. Just when I figure out how to do

something, another variable perplexes my mind and offers me a challenge.

(Reminder to anyone out there who loves doing the craft of photography:

the picture is the end result but getting there is the fun part. If you are enjoying it don’t get discouraged, just keep diving in.)

As I drove this morning over to an ionic Lighthouse to take pictures at dawn, I

grew excited traveling across a local bridge and seeing the beauty of the sky.

When I arrived well before daybreak, I noticed a slew of cars and a half

dozen photographers who seemed to have their territories staked out. Each of

them had all their gear, tripods, filters, and mega cameras. For this

photographer there was a momentary hesitation as I pulled my bootstraps up

and jumped out of our Jeep. Honestly, not since I watched the Westminster

dog show on TV, or attended the Red Sox baseball game, have I seen equipment

like that all in one place. I was a bit intimidated. It’s only been a few months

since I’ve grown comfortable with using a tripod regularly and shooting 99% of

the time in manual. That’s a lot of progress and I was about to show it off.

Not that fast, though. These men were hunkered down in the best locations at

the Lighthouse, and they were not about to be giving up any space for me.

If you have read any of my other blogs you would know that I am not a

feminist or a man basher. I rather enjoy being treated like a lady, but I am

not above a good challenge or hard work. I like to have an impact in whatever I

do. That’s just my personality. Over the past years I have somewhat sorted

out which medium I enjoy in photographing. I am not a "people" photographer

but I love landscape, wildlife and gritty streets. I am an outdoors-woman. That

said, I hardly ever see other women doing what I do, only the gentlemen.

This past summer I would camp out for literally hours, watching an osprey

nest. I would go for whatever spare time I could... I even built a small area

under a tree to protect myself from the sun. My “gone fishing” summer with

birds was pure delight. Every time a bird soared into the sky I thought my

own soul would jump out of my body, heaven bound. One evening as I was

standing near the ocean with my camera, watching, and waiting for the

juvenile birds feeding time, I heard a sound nearby. As I looked, a man and

woman approached with their cameras. He had the biggest camera I think I’ve

ever seen, hers was quite impressive too. They had them mounted on tripods

and both of these strangers even dressed their cameras in camouflage. Pretty

cool! Mine was held in my hands as I leaned over the water balancing

myself...it was also set to auto, as I was clueless about manual, then.

We struck up a conversation as the man helped the woman, showing her how

to adjust her speed and f-stop. I gathered he was a kind photographer mentor.

I suggested they move closer to where I was to get better pictures.  I jokingly

said, “are you from National Geographic?" and she said he was. No way! She

then repeated herself assuring me that he was with National Geographic. We

talked about their travels that day and the other wildlife they had seen. They

introduced themselves but I didn’t catch their names. He did offer me his

business card, which I declined, saying to him, “God Bless, you are so

trusting.” I didn't really get it... really, National Geographic? I went home that

night and looked up all of their photographers: the one whose picture resembled

this man was named Steve McCurry, but I am not sure if it was or wasn't

him.

I would love to see the pictures they shot that day!

So back to my original thoughts…Today the high ground at the Lighthouse was

all taken by the “big dogs”, their prime property claimed. I moved down to the

beach low ground, near the rocks and water. They were somewhat in my line

of view and I had to adjust my lens to keep them out of the frame. I had fun

playing with motion and space. I was able to watch them from my vantage

point. I saw their very serious endeavors to catch “the best” photograph EVER!

When I was done I waved to a woman who stood near the path I was on.

She wasn’t all geared up but she’d been enchanted by the sunrise and had a

handheld camera. I then moved up to where “the guys” were. One

elderly gentleman (with a Patriots hat on) smiled at me as we began

conversing. I asked about his lens filters and fancy equipment. He was sweet and

shared generously.  The others moved to and fro, as though it was not a

common morning sunrise but “their” sunrise.

I found myself needing to check my own ego, throw it out into the ocean and

thank the good Lord above for another beautiful day and for His gift of wonder.

FortWilliams.jpg Lighthouse.jpg

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#Christianity #Grief #Alzheimer's #Photography

1/4/2015

4 Comments

 
Sheep.jpg
Picture
Sheep.jpg

Christianity,Grief,Eternity, JustThinking&Photography



I thought I was ok, really. It's not as though I don't think about my mom. I

do and often. Most days it's just a moment of sadness, somewhat bearable

now.

Christmas came and went. I baked, cleaned, ate, laughed, wrapped, shopped,

talked and visited. All was well until the first of January when out of

nowhere, that familiar ache at my heart returned. My nose got itchy as my

eyes filled with tears. I had to stop myself, yet again, from heaving and outright

bawling. How is it that after all this time, grief came knocking at my door?

I wonder about Mom. As a Christian, I don't believe in actually talking to her,

but I ask Jesus to hug her and to let her know I'm thinking about her. I

contemplate what deaths’ LIFE must be like. Knowing and seeing as she must

see today. Is she smiling... waiting for when we show up? Is she visiting with

her own mother and sister?

There are many things that remain a mystery for me.


Still, I am curious.

I'm not ignoring death. After we die it’s a long, long time. Death is but another

step into eternity, its everlasting. So I think about it often. My death, or leaving

this life, will be far longer than the days I have walked this world. I'd better

think about it, prepare for it and get ready.   It's not going to be just a short

vacation, followed by my return home. Eternity and heaven will be my new

permanent home. It's nothing to be flip about.

My husband and I talk often about how much time people spend planning here

on earth which is so fleeting compared to the concept of forever. Yet, many

people hardly anticipate dying until; sadly, it's too late to think about it. Some

say it is morbid. What is morbid about awesomeness? Or God? Everything


here is about practicing for the real deal...or SHOULD be. We are ambassadors

to the King who has gone to prepare a place for us: a home. Much as I like

my house, I'm quite sure that the one the King is working on is going to be

really nice.


 Heaven, beyond my imagination...

I miss my mom terribly but I can't help but be more than a little jealous.

"Blessed assurance, Jesus is mine!
 O what a foretaste of glory divine!
Heir of salvation, purchase of God, 
Born of His Spirit, washed in His blood. "

Mom is now living in that assurance, she is living her inheritance and in the

presence of glory divine.



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