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Showing posts from 2021

JAY

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  Jay waited for the next ride, the constant beat of the city soaking up the time, like a drummer in a band. He didn’t like quiet times, his thoughts often drifted back to the dark places in his life. Missteps, misdeeds and worse. How they had hurt others and himself.  Thoughts that always got through in reflective times. Somehow giving a crazy deafness to the better parts of his life, achievements and all. He tried to quiet these hauntings, hoping they would go away. They only became less dark, a graying if you will, but never going completely away. Overtime he understood this was the best you could hope for, that the real test of life being if you learned from your dark places.

CAMERAS

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  I have too many cameras. Even my camera store has hinted at this. Still, I love them and prefer them over my smart phone camera. Besides being beautiful tools, they have taken me to new places and unraveled the complexities of life. They have helped me make sense out of things.  A camera takes you away from your everyday world. It does not have the constant interference of the phone, freeing you to focus on what’s round you. It also separates you from the crowd and makes you feel you are doing something special. You are out there creating for your own account, not working for someone else’s. Having a camera can lead you to places and stories beyond those initially planned. The chance encounters with people and scenes. A camera never fails to provide you unique insights. It accomplishes this by the mere fact that it does one thing, capturing images. You will find yourself pausing and observing. Giving you rare calm in a pressed world.   Once you start using a camera you learn to see t

RAILROAD STREET

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  They were bright of red brick worn by time and stretching as far as you could see along Railroad Street. It seems like every small town and city in the South has a railroad street. Where long iconic textile and furniture factory buildings once flourished, where thousands worked and trains crossed rails loaded with goods. Gone now those days and sounds, only the buildings remain. Some towns have torn down the factories, others just leaving them to their own demise. Only a few like Lexington NC have realized their potential for community change. Lexington has cleared away the debris and kept buildings clean. They are like a living museum, gems waiting to be used again.  Lexington envisioned the “Depot District,” using it as a slogan for rebirth. To make it work, they developed incentives to foster its growth. Businesses including Crazy Joes, Bull City and Goose & Monkey Brewhouse have already moved in. Other buildings such as NC Candy Factory are under lease. An outdoor amphitheate

ODE TO ETEL ADNAN

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  Call it learning or envy if you like. I always try the painting style of departed artists, marveling at how easy they turned inspiration into wonderful work. Perhaps it’s because I have never found my style or had the courage to.  Efforts on my part to emulate great artists quickly bring understanding of just how talented they were. My Rothko attempts are in the garage, my Kline’s still in the art studio, and Picasso’s long ago given to Goodwill.  Still I try. Recently, Etel Adnan died. She lived in several countries and was gifted in speaking different languages. Her paintings follow no rules. Mountains are blue and sky’s yellow. Meadows are red and suns almost any color you can imagine.  Somehow Adnan grew to understand the world can be what you want it to be. Reminding me, that I could too. David Young Further Reading: Etel Adnan Obituary by Diane Theunissen - Wallpaper Magazine

WADESBORO WALK

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Past wanderings along the great Pee Dee River have taken me through Wadesboro NC. I always felt there were some good photos. A walk through town did not disappoint my camera. Wadesboro is probably most famous for two things. In 1900, the Smithsonian decided it would be the best place to view a historic total solar eclipse. Thousands came. Then in 1985, The Color Purple movie was filmed in Wadesboro (chapel), nearby Lilesville (home) and Marshville (town scenes).  Walking the streets, you find new life, interest and even some found art. Great stops along your wandering might include H. W. Little Hardware (founded in 1894 and still owned by the Little family), Price’s Place Pottery and Antiques, Ansonia Theater, a locally owned coffee shop and Olivers Restaurant (boasting a NYC trained chef).  My camera loved the many colors of the buildings and street scenes. History echos from every corner including the old Western Union building where Price’s Place is located. In 1894, during the glor

RAILROAD BUILDING #5

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    A photographer once told me that whenever you are taking a picture of something, turn around. Often the best photo is behind you. Sometimes, the lines are just right, leading you to an unplanned find. It’s about taking the time. Often not found much in todays fast pace world. The time to really study the detail of life before you. Stretching yourself to let all your being embrace and enjoy  even the simplest of moments.

THE NEW ASIA MARKET

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  What can I say about the New Asia Market, its a blur, a trip, a study, and most of all a game of thrones. The market is located in the Charlotte suburb of Stallings. An urban escape from its original location near Sugar. Going there takes you to a world apart. A blur of colors, people, products, tastes and sensations. Seemingly hundreds of people work there, going about their various tasks. The fish monger, the bamboo tree seller, the shelf stacker, the baker all proud of their own corner of the store. Colorful products you’ve not seen reach out to you from every direction played against a melody of dialects from shoppers you strain to understand. A must stop is the restaurant section of the market. A long curving counter separates two great empires, the bun people and the soup people. Here it gets confusing. If you want pork hum bao or pastries you go to register on the far right, a picture sign guides you to selections. No matter how long you wait in line, the people behind you

JUSTICE

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Union a small factory town in South Carolina is full of many stories. The local eatery (The Bantam Chef) is always busy. Pictures of local football legends adorn the wall. It almost seems like half the town works there and the other half eat there. Union is not a big place. The Monarch Mill once defined the town until it closed sending unemployment to nearly 20%.  The economy has recovered since then, but stories about the history of the place linger. Sherman on his march to Atlanta bypassed Union, flood waters sparing the burning of the place. Segregation persisted here through the restoration. In 1860, there were more enslaved than free people living in South Carolina. The town has a noted used book store that supports the library. It has moved to different locations over the years. Our last visit found the books moved to a historic building in town, the once black only Union Community Hospital. You could feel the history here. Books sales were now on a donation basis, no attendant p

THE MILESTONE CLUB

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  A few blocks from the glitz of downtown Charlotte you can find another city. Rough edged, industrial, run down and lonely places like Tukaseegee Road. They can haunt your feelings. Hidden gems though sometimes appear out of nowhere. Such is the case with The Milestone Club. A simple looking two story building only distinguished by its street loneliness. Pulling back the history of the place tells a different story. The 100 year old building once a grocery, then a hardware store was turned into a music and night club venue in 1969 by Bill Flowers.   Over the years famous music acts like Nirvana, R.E.M. and Melissa Etheridge have performed here on their journey to stardom. A secret venue of sorts only holding 150 people in its dark graffiti filled walls. The only thing changed, a larger bar and improved rest rooms. Kurt Cobain once drank beer in the parking lot with the club crowd.  Flowers was once ask if The Rolling Stones had played there. He answered, “No, but the 12-Stones have.”

ART LOST AND FOUND

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                                            Sometimes I hold too tightly my ideas, my thoughts, my inspiration for fear they would be taken or laughed at. Time overcomes all this because someone else bolder than me put the same ideas out in the world finding success and turning mine into lost opportunities. These experiences filled my mind as I walked near an art school recently. You see all the students going to and from carrying their portfolios of work under their arm. Youthful dreams and dedication spring from them, you sense it in their walk and eyes. Surprisingly, toward the end of the day you find work they have left behind on street corners and leaning against the school’s wall. Most in a semi complete state, as if to say I tried this. Some linger there, other artists adding their touches, others are grabbed by a passerby, and others just wait a demise. You never know the students motivation in leaving work behind, letting it go to the world. I suspect though it frees their spi

LONELY CORNERS

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  “Still around the corner there may wait, a new road or a secret gate and though I oft have passed them by, a day will come at last when I shall take the hidden paths that run West of the Moon, East of the Sun.” - J.R.R. Tolkien

BETWEEN THE ART

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  Great works at museums and galleries draw you in. You can get lost in the masterpieces of the artist. Sometimes though it is the in between that intrigues. The goings on of the place, the poses of the patrons, the ambience and architecture, the oddly placed item, the movement. It’s like a sympathy where each play a part in the wonder of the place. Artists complain that even to get in galleries your art style must line up like little soldiers. In that effort, you can lose your inspiration. They only hope some of that original soul shines through in their best work. That someday a museum will show their work and allow enough space between for the viewer to understand their essence.  The great art will leave impressions, but it is the whole of the museum experience that lingers. It may be an elegant coffee, the slant of light through the windows, the goings about of staging a new exhibit, a special person you meet, an item at the gift shop. It’s all there to enjoy in this special place.

CENTRAL AVENUE

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  It’s never really Main Street or Broadway. Pedestrian and working class defines it. Auto repair shops, small retail, a grocery store, a bookstore, and the occasional shop. It’s where people go about the living of their lives, drawn from every side of the city. Diverse, full of the experiences of everyday, and colorful.  Walking it blends together Americana at its best. Not ditto boutiques, but a place where people find the basics. Where the words and way of life can be found on the street. An art form like the record scrubbing of a DJ. It’s a place where you go back and forth readying yourself for the next day. Central Avenue is where the bus runs. Your mind though always takes you beyond if you let it. Giving you footing for what life could be and what is… 

REVEREND RICK

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  It had been many things, the small building on the corner of Mill St. For a while though, Reverend Rick spoke sermons here to a small flock. Workers with memories of better times and paychecks. Now just social security, food banks or worse. The giant empty factory building still casting a dark shadow. They felt unworthy of going to the big Baptist church up on Railroad Street. No one ask Reverend Rick how he came to this small place. He was thankful for that, not wanting to share the wandering years and drink. Somehow he just appeared one day, putting a simple cross above the door and giving sermons. He used the small offerings to fix the place as best he could. The market next door giving him food and a room in back to sleep. Then one day the Reverend was gone. Only the cross remained. Overtime the building again fell in disrepair. Rumors had it that an Asian man planned a bar there. Sometimes neighbors walking by claimed they could still hear Reverend Rick sharing the lords mess

THE MONTAGE (a lost art)

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  My wandering days in Portland, Oregon always seemed to lead to the Eastside. It’s low profile warehouses  and edge loved by my camera. Wandering often ended or started just down from SE Grand Avenue, under the Morrison Bridge. There, the colorful Montage restaurant held court. True to its name, it served everything from alligator to oysters somehow combining those small parts into a French and Cajon delight. For those who could find it, the Montage became a favorite over 27 years. Some complained of its loudness, the noise from the bridge, the waiters shouting out orders (a tradition) and the rowdy late night diners. It was loud, but I always got lost in the wonder of how all the pieces of the place came together to delight. I remember how the chef would form tin foil into fish, frogs, and alligator as part of the meal presentations. A covid loss, The Montage unfortunately closed in 2020, only survived by a food cart of the same name. Ironically, I now live on a street named Grand in

PAVEMENT NOTES

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  We chase the pavement leaving notes behind. Ones never fully understood or destination known. But, they are the marks of our lives. “ Should I give up or should I just keep chasing the pavement, even if it leads nowhere…”  - Adele

A GREAT FALLS BLESSING

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  Great Falls had it heydays many years ago. It looks like it had been put to sleep. Its downtown is a row of empty worn storefronts, a legacy shared by many small places here when the textile industry died. It was the closing of Republic Textile Mill here that seemed to freeze the town in time, breathless of life, waiting for fortune to find it again. I had visited here many times with my camera capturing the faded colors and patina of the place. You never find many people wandering here, streets seem always empty. The quiet giving you time to photograph. Early one morning, to my surprise, I saw the doors to one of the store fronts, Browning T shirts open. I had photographed the building many times, never thinking the business was still there. Holding the door open was a small table with a vase.  Mr. Browning greeted me, “Pretty isn’t she.” He said seeing me eyeing the vase. “$2 since you are my first customer.” He handed it to me, as I thought about how my Kathleen would love it espe

MISSED CONNECTIONS

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  People pass each other every day without connecting. I used to routinely seek out new connections both in business and on the personal side. The business ones represented new opportunities. The personal ones were equally rewarding. They were chances to learn about people and ideas. It was like catching small sound bites of their worlds and experiences. They made me feel more human and open to new things. Well before the pandemic, I found myself losing this art of making connections with new people. The smartphone, pace of life, and divisions in the country led me to be less welling to start the casual conversation. This only increased with the pandemic. While I didn’t pull up the covers in bleak depression, I did feel more isolated. Talking with friends, I have learned that I am not alone in this feeling. In fact, a recent study found that people now prefer a machine instead of interacting with people. Good if we are in a hurry and we are all in a hurry it seems. However, talking wit

SHIPPING BOX ART

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  They come to us folded and perfect, protecting our goods. It’s not always been that way. Before the corrugated box was invented in 1871, shipping was a haphazard affair. The only protection a tarp or clumsy wooden box. One that could not be easily reproduced. Shipping boxes were invented by accident when a printer dropped a ruler into his press and discovered it left creases that could be folded on the poster board he printed. Today, we expect a lot from these boxes. Too often though, we ignore and take them for granted. If you really look though, there is certain art about them. They have traveled many miles and wear the marks from doing so. Marks that give them patina and an abstract appeal. If you don’t believe boxes have an art to themselves, a recent study of toys and young children might give you pause. It seems that young children will open a box containing a toy, but quickly tire of the toy. Once they do, they start playing with the box it came in. This phenomena happens so o

TWO KNOCKS - A collection of short Stories

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  "Two Knocks" by David Young - a collection of short stories about second chances, second acts, changed minds and the final two knocks is available on both Apple Book Store and Amazon's Kindle: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09BLF19TP

WINDOWS

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Windows “Let there be many windows to your soul, that all the glory of the world may beautify it”  Ella Wheeler Wilcox Windows let us look at the soul of the city. Through some you look out at the city in its purest, seemingly apart and untouched by reality. In others, you look in at the lives of people. Some working, some reflecting, some happy and some angry. Dealmakers, makers of food, readers of life, those waiting for something, dreams that are gone. All behind the windows we pass. We catch our reflections in windows leaving us to think about how we might change our lives or make ourselves more beautiful. We only get quick glimpses, held in the black and white lines we write silently to ourselves about what we think we see.  The closed shop with covered windows holding the broken dreams of someone. Or the closed window hiding what we only imagine.  We never have the full story.  We move on held apart by the windows, but touched by the reflections we see… David Young

RETIREMENT NOTES

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  Articles abound on how to retire early and the money you will need. There are far less on the reality of retirement and how to be successful in it. Only 10% of people will achieve the $1,000,000 experts say is needed to retire. What about the other 90%? The good news is that retirement can be  enjoyable and successful on far less. Some changes in your life and thinking though may be necessary to achieve that. This booklet contains five articles on my insights into making that happen. The book is available on Apple iBooks at the link below: http://books.apple.com/us/book/id1575136442

THE GREAT ASIAN MALL

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  The dark loneliness left you to fill in the blanks about the place. Such it was in the almost deserted Great Asian Mall. A giant place framed by an endless parking lot with only a few cars Greatness had long left this place. I learned the owner a man from Vietnam resided far away, the mall floors unswept. The closed shops with windows covered by newspaper sat side by side like forgotten tombstones, only names remained.   There’s a sadness here, but the far end of the mall still has life. There a cosmetic art school, Asian market, dim sum restaurant and Vietnam sandwich shop kept the lights on. Everyday, debris from each would fill the mall space between them. Each fighting with the other to keep entry ways clear. You could see stacks of crates and pallets moving all the time. Money still flowed here. The women at the cosmetic school sat at attention, all hoping for a better future. Numbers on paper hung on wall boards. Some hawking services, some seeking the lost. The dim sum found

A $4,853 Bottle of Tylenol

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  If you want to be immersed in abstract thinking, be dazzled by statistics, or ponder what is wrong with our health care system, look no further than hospitals and how they bill. A recent trip to the hospital for an operation left me scratching my head regarding our health system. It’s not the skilled care and great results the hospital delivered. It’s the cost of the services and how it impacts different individuals that dazzles me. My bills for surgery and overnight stay came to $49,450, including a hospital pharmacy bill of $4,853. Fortunately between medicare and my insurance carrier, I only paid a small fraction of this bill.  The way hospitals charge is at best confusing. While raw rates are in part based on cost, they also are for market positioning. Those raw rates are forced much lower if the patient is medicare or medicaid. The balance left is further settled at a lower negotiated rate with major insurers. The hospital simply writes off the difference. Thats all good

SMALL BUILDING TALES (Rock Hill, SC)

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    The small towns of the South are full of small buildings with tales to tell. Such is the case in Rock Hill, SC. Some of these buildings are little gems that need no tales, some wear their tales on their sides, and other bear the notes from many endeavors. The building at 528 S. Dave Lyle Boulevard (pictured above) is beautiful to behold, even if you didn’t know its history. It has one though. Build in 1909 it was the headquarters for the Afro-American insurance Company which grew to have many offices in the South. It is listed in the National Historical Buildings and also in the Greenbook. Some buildings hint at their purpose by the architecture. The building at 114 Oakland Avenue looks like piano keys on the side. If you turn the corner, you find an elegant piano featured in the only showcase window. Turns out that the building houses Marshalls Piano Company. The Marshall family founded the buisness in 1925 and still operate it today. The company features pianos from $3,500 to $

LOST AND FOUND

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Henry David Thoreau once said, “Not until we are lost, do we begin to understand ourselves.” When you are lost though, it can be difficult to find the “Lost and Found” department for people. There are many ways you can find yourself lost. Too many problems and failures in the rear-view mirror of life, loss of love, no one to reach out to, being stuck in a remote place, shoved aside by society and loosing the strength to risk. All these and many more can leave you frozen in time, unable to take advantage of opportunities or new relationships, even if they pass by you everyday. The world is a dynamic and wonderful place. Most of us recover from being lost. We gain a new spirituality, find internal peace with what has passed, meet a special person, rediscover our dreams or finally risk finding that new opportunity. The time lost gives us space we need to gather our resources and venture again. For some, it’s a much longer journey than others. They find only darkness i

WORKAROUNDS

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  Todays complex and connected world takes problems you encounter to a new depth. The inevitable of death and taxes now has a new partner. Unending time spent with technicians to unravel those problems. This is giving rise to a resurgence of workarounds. Fixes you find yourself that do not solve the problem but keep things working. All be it on a temporary basis. Who has the time to spend half a day with technicians trying to completely solve a problem. Even Captain Kirk had to call on the workaround talent of Scotty to figure out quick fixes to save the Enterprise. Scotty in most cases today is a Google search. It’s not surprising that the term workarounds originated in the early 1960’s with the growth of technology. Since then, we have more and more devices, more compressed chips and continual upgrades. Recently, my HomePod went on the fritz. It couldn’t pull up Apple Music. Impertinent messages from the device simply said, “Theres a problem accessing Apple Music.” Two and a half hou