Category: Life

Posted in Life

Seeing with our eyes

Posted on by William Douthwaite

“When did we stop seeing with our eyes?”

This is a quote from Lisa Unger’s murder mystery Under My Skin. “It’s been a year since Poppy’s husband Jack was brutally murdered during his morning run.” The story takes us through her journey to find out what really happened to her husband and to her. She’s a photographer who prefers to view the world through the lens of a camera.

In a number of places she explains why that is. She has forgotten some of the things that happened to her. To remember she sifts through photos. If she can capture it on film or in a camera memory, then it’s real. “If I can capture the image on my phone, then it’s real.”

With a camera in front of her face, she can blend into a scene and not be noticed. She can watch people, observe their faces and feelings, and actually see more than if she were looking at them face to face. “People are more knowable when they think they’re unobserved.” Rather than being what others expect, they are more like themselves.

With a camera, you can also freeze a moment. With each second, the light changes, expressions change, people come and go, things move in the breeze. Those moments come and go. A camera captures an instant.

While pondering this preference, she wonders, “When did we stop seeing with our eyes?” That’s a profound question for our time. We attempt to capture every moment of our lives with the camera on our phones. If you are watching through a lens of a camera, are you really watching the person, the place, or the thing? What about the lens of your eye?

With our eyes, we see a bigger picture. We see the rest of the team, not just our grandchild taking a shot. We see other people watching, reacting, crying, laughing, and cheering. We see what’s on the periphery, on the edges, not just in the center. We see the raw, untouched, naturally lighted sight in front of us, rather than a perfect and flawless image. With our eyes, we see what is real, not a fictional photoshopped image of a person who doesn’t even exist.

With our eyes, we miss a lot, too. We don’t notice that person over on the side that we later see in a photograph. We blink and a moment is gone. An illusionist distracts us so that we don’t see what he is really doing with the cards.

How many photos have we taken in which we no longer know who the people are, no longer remember when or where we took the picture, or remember why we took that picture?

When we see with our eyes, we can then share our description of what we saw, which will include what captured our attention, sparked an emotion, and made us linger to watch for more than just a moment.

Posted in Life

Barbershop irony

Posted on by William Douthwaite

“I’m going to get my haircut.”

“What time is your appointment?”

Someone who doesn’t frequent barber shops might ask that question. But that’s not how it works. You walk in, have a seat, take note of the guys already sitting there, and head for an empty chair when it’s your turn. You might wait four minutes or forty minutes. It just depends on how many barbers are working that day and how many are waiting ahead of you. You watch a little ESPN  on the TV, maybe page through an old magazine, check email on your phone or read whatever you brought with you. It’s all part of the experience.

One of the ironies of the barbershop is that no matter how little or how much hair you have a haircut costs the same for every one. From my dark brown-haired youth to my present silver gray, I’ve always had a full head of hair. But my haircut is $15 just like the guy ahead of me who’s only got a little bit of hair above his neckline stretching from ear to ear. I believe seniors get a $1 discount and a flattop costs a few bucks more, but those are the only variations.

All three chairs were filled up when I arrived yesterday and there were two guys waiting ahead of me. It looked to me like two of the barbers were almost done, so I was pretty sure I would get the third. I’ve been coming here for a while and have gotten haircuts from all three in the past. Plus, the guy in the third chair didn’t have a whole lot of hair.

For some reason, that third chair never opened up. Barber number three was experienced, but taking his time, and it looked like they were having  an involved conversation. The other two guys finished before him so I got the “next” from one of them. The last I glanced over, the third barber was precisely trimming individual isolated hairs sticking up from the top of that customer’s head.

Maybe it’s actually easier to cut a full head of hair like mine, because you don’t have to be precise. There’s plenty of margin for error. Not so when you’re down to your last few follicles.

Posted in Life

Engage

Posted on by William Douthwaite

As I sat enjoying my coffee, I noticed a man just a few feet away busily tapping on a phone screen. He was seated at a larger table, one with four chairs. In each of the chairs was a bulging backpack. A pile of books was stacked on the table in front of him, along with a tote bag overflowing with plastic bags.

At first, I thought the backpacks belonged to friends of his who had stepped away from the table to use the restroom or pick up coffee. But no one ever came to the table. When the gentleman stepped away, once to buy a coffee, and again to buy a bag of chips, he took the tote bag with him.

Suddenly, he stood up and methodically moved each backpack, his books and his tote bag to a smaller table, one with room for just too chairs.

I never got a chance to see what the books were or what he was looking at on his phone. I didn’t want him to think I was being nosy, although that’s exactly what I was.

Homeless? Perhaps, but I’m not certain. Nowhere to go that afternoon? I guess.

So now I’m wondering, why didn’t I just get up and get a look at what he was working on? Why didn’t I ask him about one of his books? Why did I hesitate to engage him in conversation? He clearly wasn’t a threat. The worst that could happen? He could give me a dirty look. Or tell me to mind my own business.

So maybe that will be my resolution for this year. Engage the people I notice or walk by.

Like the gentleman with a prosthetic leg sitting in the parking lot in a lawn chair with a sign “Had hard times, living in a truck.” He was just sitting there (not near a truck) with his wife. I look with curiosity. I wonder what the story is. But I didn’t engage that day.

But next time I will.

Posted in Life

Real conversation, real relationships

Posted on by William Douthwaite

In Lisa Unger’s mystery novel Under My Skin, the protagonist Poppy glances at her phone and reflects on what has happened to her relationships because of texting. “Relationships scrolling out in bubbles, text disembodied from voice and body, language pared down to barest meaning” is “far less meaningful than actual conversation.”

Even though these words are fictional, they ring true. They resonate. We have replaced real conversation and real relationships with a poor digital imitation. They are like products with artificial flavoring or colorized movies or cheap laminated furniture materials.

In the Star Trek series and movies, the replicator made it possible to enjoy any food or drink you wanted from any planet or culture or era. But space travelers treasured real ale from some alien race or a real apple from planet earth. There was nothing like the real thing.

No one says, “I wanted to see your words.” We say, “I just wanted to hear your voice.” We save and replay voice messages again and again.

Bubble relationships are convenient, but two-dimensional. The words have no actual feelings though we try to extract emotion from them. Text messages may be adorned with emoji, but they lack the hint of a smile, shifting of an eye, the furrow of a brow, or a subtle chuckle. Most texting is quick and efficient, with little thought to grammar, vocabulary, or spelling. (Unless it is a lengthy text, and who reads all the way through those?)

In an actual conversation, eyes tear up. Legs nervously bounce. Fingernails have been chewed. Breath smells like alcohol. Some words come quickly. Other sentences are punctuated with long pauses. Lips purse. Fingers drum on the table. Hands fold.

What has happened to our relationships?

Posted in Life

Three and counting

Posted on by William Douthwaite

“So, are you down to one vehicle now?”

“Three.”

Okay, that caught me completely off guard. My wife and I had been talking about when we might downsize from two cars in the driveway to one. How often did we go two different places at the same time? Not as often as we did when we were both working. Wouldn’t it be sweet to only have to fuel up, insure, and maintain a single car?

He had retired a few years before and his wife was newly retired. Now they traveled together to visit family, run errands, and meet friends (like us) for lunch. They told inspiring stories of how they frugally learned to live simply yet richly in this new chapter of their life.

The fall colors were peaking on a warmish fall day as we walked around a lake. I should have remembered I was venturing onto dangerously thin ice when I assumed, “You must be down to one vehicle.”

“Three. And I think I’m going to buy a tractor.”

We’ve owned three cars in the past. We live in a town with no public transportation, so we had no choice but to drive everywhere. My wife and I would both head out in our cars for work, after saying, “Goodbye” to our children as one of them drove off to high school.

Three cars? One was a small pickup truck he had owned for nearly twenty years. That wasn’t going anywhere. Another smaller sedan was fine for running around town, but certainly wasn’t reliable enough for longer trips. So they needed a newer car as well.

A tractor? They lived on an acreage in western North Carolina. They had to maintain their own half-mile gravel driveway. They were also tearing down some old dog kennels, moving firewood closer to the house as winter approached, and dragging a gazebo to a different spot in the yard. Besides, he might have to dig a hole one day. Of course he needed a tractor.

My next-door neighbor and his wife have two Corvettes in their garage and two smaller cars parked in the driveway. Another neighbor has two vans and an SUV for the two of them. Two houses up from us, four SUVs are parked in the driveway.

I’m pretty sure my family only owned one car for years. My dad traveled to work in Philadelphia on the train, so we only needed one station wagon to haul everyone around. When my dad got a new job, he bought a second car for his commute. It was a yellow Ford Maverick with distinctive rusty trim. Once we three kids were grown and gone, they downsized to one Ford (my dad was a Ford fan) Tempo station wagon. They drove so few miles they changed the oil based on the calendar rather than the odometer.

One day we’ll decide one car or SUV or truck is enough. We’ll just have to decide what to own. Maybe we need something big enough to cart a lot of grandkids around in. Or maybe a sporty-two seater to zip around in. An electric vehicle? Something autonomous? We’ll see.

Posted in Life

“Welcome in!”

Posted on by William Douthwaite

I guess I noticed it at Starbucks the other day. One of the barista’s greeted me and then every other customer who walked through the door with a bright, “Welcome in!”

“Welcome to Moe’s!” began in 2000. I’ve only been in that restaurant a few times, but I’ve seen it on TV commercials, too.

It’s trending everywhere. A person at the register of the pet supply store I frequent never fails to greet me. They used to say, “Welcome to Pet Supermarket.” But now it’s, “Welcome in!” I might not see the person who is working behind some boxes or shelves, but they always see me.

I hear it at Ace Hardware, Dollar General, ABC Wine and Liquors, the UPS Store, Racetrack and Circle K convenience stores, Subway, the dry cleaners, and the Chinese takeout restaurant.

Now I notice it when I don’t hear that greeting. The always straight-faced guy at the Pack and Ship simply points to the place you’re to put your package. At the post office, you get a straightforward, “I can help you.” At the barbershop, it’s a familiar, “Hey, how’s it going?” At the Honda dealership where I’ve been taking cars for service for many years, I hear, “Good morning, Mr. Douthwaite.” Employees at big box stores are few and far between, so don’t expect to be greeted there. And I rarely am.

Since it seems like no one has enough help, you may not find someone at the front of the store when you walk in. They may be stocking shelves or helping other customers. It’s a way of letting you know someone’s here in the store.

Maybe they’re just being friendly. Maybe they want you to know someone sees you. Maybe it’s just a phrase that has worked its way into everyday conversation, offered up without much thought.

Posted in Life

“I’ll watch it for you.”

Posted on by William Douthwaite

At the top step of the old hospital entrance, a woman asked me, “Do you think it will be safe to leave this here while I go get the car?” Next to her on the curb of pick up entrance was a wagon full of clothes, a child car seat, and take-out food.

This city boy thought to himself, ” I wouldn’t leave anything out of my sight around here.” We weren’t too far away from the emergency room entrance, a gathering place for people without homes. I said, “I’ll stay here and watch it for you.”

“Oh, thank you! I’ll be back in a minute.” She ran off towards the parking lot as I stood guard for a moment. It was indeed just a minute and she pulled into the circular driveway. As she did, a young woman walked out of the hospital carrying a newborn. The family packed up all their stuff as I headed to the information desk to get my visitor ID. Even though no one eyed the contents of the wagon, I’m glad I waited there.

On the way home, I sat in a coffee shop, I saw an open laptop computer, textbooks, and a cell phone  on an unoccupied table. Again I thought, “I wouldn’t take my eyes off of anything around here.” Anyone could walk out the door with those things in just a few seconds.

But no one touched or looked at anything on the table. Everyone just went about their business. The owner stepped out of the restroom, sat down, and got back to work.

I would never do that. I would take all my stuff with me. Every time. Am I overly cautious? Are others naive? Should I be more trusting? Or does unattended stuff usually disappear?

I’ve seen purses sitting atop unattended shopping carts, cell phones hanging from back pockets, and unoccupied running cars (yes, people still do that).

Don’t worry. I’ll keep an eye on your stuff. But someone else is probably eyeing it, too.

Posted in Life

The highlight of my day

Posted on by William Douthwaite

“Any chance someone will be home earlier than our appointment?”

“Sure. Come any time.”

The insurance inspector was way ahead of schedule to take photos of our home. A new policy required a quick check of the roof, water valves, breaker box, and hot water heater. I was just hanging out waiting for her, so my schedule was flexible.

“Great. I’ll be there in a couple of minutes.”

When she arrived, I asked, “How do you feel about dogs?” I didn’t want Samson to ruin her day if she wasn’t a large dog lover.

“They are the highlight of my day!”

Now that’s my kind of person. If I see a neighbor walking a dog by our house, I go out to greet them. When I’m walking dogs in our neighborhood, I stop to talk to the faithful canines guarding their front yard or barking at me through a window or fence. They are the highlights of my days, too.

My dog Samson met the inspector at the front door, leaving the usual light-brown hairy reminder of the encounter on her black pants. “My baby will know I met some new friends today.”

Samson can tell whether or not to greet someone or hold them at bay by my reaction as I open the door. Somehow he knows whether or not to trust a person or keep an eye on them. Someone once said, “If my dog doesn’t trust you, I probably won’t either!” I like having a second opinion around.

Posted in Life

No solar for you

Posted on by William Douthwaite

“I can’t sell you solar panels.”

Just by chance I responded to a random email from Enlight, a Gainesville-based company that sells solar roof panels. I answered a few basic questions and they texted me to set up an appointment.

I figured we were the perfect candidates for solar panels. Our house faces directly north, so we’ve got a ton of southern roof exposure on the backyard side. Feeling very green lately, I was confident we’d not only be able to power our house, but even sell energy back to Florida Power and Light. Our monthly electric bill might be zero or less.

As much as this is advertised and as nice as it sounds, it’s not so simple. When I met the sales rep at the door, he immediately said, “I can’t sell you solar panels.” First of all, we’ve got too many trees on the corners of the backyard. A few of the trees are in our yard and we could have had them removed. But the two lots on either side of our house are still filled with thirty to forty foot tall scrub pine trees. They cast enough morning and afternoon shadows on the roof that we wouldn’t generate enough power to reach zero outside power usage.

Did we think our neighbors might be willing to cut down a few trees? Doubtful. The neighbor to our west bought the vacant lot specifically so no one would build on it. I don’t know the neighbor to the east. Plus we’re talking about a lot of trees. At least a dozen or so, and that wouldn’t be cheap. When Hurricane Ian blew through I thought, “Some of those trees might come down after all.” I came to my senses and realized I didn’t want these trees coming down on our houses.

Plus, the salesman told us that local electric company has a minimum monthly charge. No matter now little power you use, you’re gonna pay at least thirty dollars a month. Our monthly electric is only a hundred dollars, so even if we used little or nothing, it would take a long time to break even after investing in solar panels.

I appreciate his honesty. He had driven an hour and a half from his home office to visit us. He had checked satellite views of the property and didn’t see a problem until he pulled up in front of our home. As he left he added, “Don’t let anyone come in and sell you solar. It won’t work till those trees are gone.”

When we walk the neighborhood, I scan for solar panels. In our area they are few and far between. The ones I do see are to heat up the water for a swimming pool. There are a few single panels which I assume are to power a hot water heater. The homes I’ve seen with a roof full of solar panels are on corner lots away from any wooded lots.

The radio is full of solar panel advertisements from a variety of companies. I think Solar Bear has the most creative name at the moment. Online reports are all over the place, but there’s not that much solar power in Florida. Yet. Prices are coming down dramatically. Lots are being cleared quickly to make space for more homes. In a year or so, we’ll have a ton of options. We may be able to install batteries to store power for cloudy days. We might replace part of our roof with solar shingles. Solar hot water is probably a viable option right now. Our camper trailer was prewired for roof solar panels. By the time we have an electric car, it will probably have solar panels on the roof.

When we built our house, most of the lots around us were undeveloped. We didn’t even clear the back fifteen yards of our property. We liked being surrounded by the woods, our little home built in the middle of nature. The trees provided lots of shade and were our friends on hot days, cutting the power needed for air conditioning. The builder deliberately designed our house to let in the light while keeping out the heat. One by one, the lots were cleared, the shade trees were chopped down, and our shade friends were replaced by new neighbors and families. It won’t be long before the woods next to us disappear and I’ll be revisiting our solar options. For years we tried to keep the sun out. Now we’re waiting to let it in.