Here goes nothing

With an entry pool of 8,500 and only 90 films admitted, I don’t expect to be selected. But at least I’ll never ask “What if?”  A 1% chance is better than 0%.

When subtlety no longer works

18th Street, Columbus, Ind.

Meinard

This weekend I finally found the burial place of Meinard Laker, my long lost ancestor who was the first Laker German immigrant. A couple of months ago, I went to St. Marys of the Rock cemetery to do a bit of groundskeeping around the tombstone of his wife, Maria Adelheide (Sturwold) Laker. Her headstone is broken, and the slab is quickly overgrown in the summer. I spotted a woman caring for flowers at the grotto behind the church, so I walked back and asked her if she knew if the church had a plot map. I explained to her that I had never been able to find Maria’s husband. She was unsure where the church would keep such a document, but said that she would check with the Sister there.

A couple of weeks ago, the woman called with good news: The cemetery DID have a plot map. She wrote down every Laker - 13 in all - that she could find buried in the old part of the cemetery. Meinard was one of them! I had suspected Meinard was not buried there or that his headstone was missing. I was wrong on both counts. His headstone is intact (pictured in the foreground at right), but it is nearly impossible to read. I have probably walked by it dozens of times, but this weekend I traced my hands in the grooves of his stone and confirmed Meinard’s burial place and date of death - 1857. I’m not one to pray (and I may in fact be the spawn of Satan), but I’ve gotten in the habit of saying a little Our Father or a Hail Mary when I find a lost ancestor. I figure that it’s probably been a while since anyone has done such a thing for them. 

It’s always nice making the drive to St. Marys. I make sure to take Loop Road, a little shortcut. It’s where Meinard and his four sons owned adjoining farms. Back then the land was cheap because farming the Indiana hills and valleys was backbreaking labor. Cheap land is all these poor sodbusters could afford. In my mind, it’s one of the prettiest places I’ve ever seen. Take a (shaky) ride with me through a land that was once owned almost entirely by Lakers. If the road looks narrow, that’s because it is.

(As with all Vimeo vids, you may have to let this buffer a bit.)

Ready for some football

Just filled out my Colts credential waiver. Super excited. Wonder if I’ll need earplugs for this new stadium. The RCA Dome melted my brains.

Bokeh test

Bokeh frame grabs from my homemade 35mm adapter. Controlling the depth of field is so much easier with this thing. Of course, the whole shooting upside down part makes it a bit challenging. I’m going to draw up plans for an LCD attachment that rights the image.

Dust is a common problem with these adapters. You can make an adapter (or buy one for $2k) that vibrates the focusing screen, but they’re noisy. I kind of like the dust.

Uh-duh!

Check out this cutline for a photo the A and P ran with an advance story today:

**ADVANCE FOR SUNDAY, AUG. 10**In this Revolutionary War era photograph released by Maurice A. Barboza, Barboza’s great-great-grandfather, John Curtis Gay, a soldier in the Revolutionary War, is seen. Barboza is leading an effort to build the first national monument honoring thousands of black soldiers who fought in the Revolutionary War.

Ahem. Revolutionary War era photograph? Mmmkay, a few things: (1) Photography hadn’t been invented yet; (2) Doesn’t this uniform look, oh I don’t know, kinda Civil War-y? (3) If you go to the Liberty Fund web site, you find out that this is indeed a white guy. Not black. He is, however, the man’s great-great-grandfather, but I’d say it’s a bit misleading to show a picture of a white dude for a story about honoring black soldiers. Jesus, that would be one messed up memorial if they made it according to this caption’s specifications. What’s next - a flaming cross at an MLK memorial? What makes it worse is that it was an AP photog that wrote the cutline. Honestly, did she write it in crayon? I suppose it’s possible the editors got a hold of it with their big RED crayons and screwed it up (there are the initials of two others in the metadata). Ugh, I am so utterly ashamed of my profession on days like today.

Hoagie and the Giant Wompit

Amy came home with this on Sunday. Whatever she paid, it was totally worth it.

Crankin’ it in the parking lot

To the extreme, I rock a mic like a vandal,
Light up a stage and wax a chump like a candle.

I’d embed the video, but I’m lazy.

Huzzah, vintage base ball! Huzzah!

Sunday couldn’t have had better weather for an 1860s vintage base ball double header between the Batesville Lumbermen and the Cincinnati Buckeyes. I went purely as a spectator, but I was soon shooting hundreds of photos as if I had been sent there to cover the game.

I have been wanting to see one of these games played for years, and my first time did not disappoint. Admission was free. Bring your own beer. Compare that to the price of admission for a Cincy Reds game and the ridiculous $7 beers (12 oz.). I had such a good time, and I was mesmerized by the strange rules and nostalgic uniforms. In fact, I would now rather watch a vintage baseball game than a professional game.

There is no spitting. No high fives (they didn’t exist back then). No cussing (you can’t win them all). This is a gentleman’s game. One umpire in a top hat. No balls or strikes are called. No gloves. Wooden bats are called “willows.” Every player has a nickname like “Ice Wagon” Jones and “Preacher” Swanson and “Longfinger” Laker.

It turns out my Uncle Longfinger (Jim) Laker plays third base for the Lumbermen (I had no idea). I came up to him after the first game and told him how amazing it was. He asked me if I wanted to play. “Yes,” I said without hesitation. He isn’t going to make it to a game in two weeks, and so I will be playing in his stead. I can’t wait. I’m already thinking of my nickname, which will be in honor of one of my German immigrant ancestors: “Nimrod” Laker (which meant “brave hunter” before Bugs Bunny ruined it), or old “Pflugenheinrich” [FLOO-gun-HINE-reesh] Laker.

I spent the second game shagging foul balls like a little boy.

TERMINOLOGY:
Leg it = Run hard
Hurler = Pitcher
Striker = Batter
Behind = Catcher
Ace = Run
Make your first = Single
Hands dead = Outs
Ginger = Spirit, enthusiasm
Cranks = Fans
Muff = Error
Ballist = Player