Ruminator

Photo by: Tim Bindner I struggled with writing this post today for many reasons. You will understand why by the time I am done. I have learned some things about myself by doing research and also with the help of Dr. Erin. I am the type of person who loves to research. I never decide until I have done the research. Whether it is buying something, going on vacation, or even the scary topic of politics. I read, learn and listen, then decide. I also research my beliefs, personality traits and the logic behind my thinking. I always question that and I am trying to figure out the why I think and believe the way I do, and who I am. My recent visit with Dr. Erin got me thinking about many of the traits that make me who I am. I also feel I frustrate those around me. I want to know why, so I researched. Most people have heard of narcissism. The traits involve things like; lack of empathy for others, inflated sense of importance, deep needs for excessive attention and admiration, self-importance,

Photo by: Tim Bindner Recently I sold two copies of the picture above. Both customers wanted a 10×30 inch canvas print. I sent it off; it arrived within a week, and the prints were delivered last week. I have heard no feedback from the customers. From a court deed I could find that the Hoosier Homestead Farm was in Crawford County, Indiana changed names to The Tower Orchards, Inc. The plot of land had the original name from 1871 until July 18 th , 1977. The intersection of Highway 62 and Highway 66 (see picture) is where the above barn is located. This farm/orchard served as a farmer’s market for the local community for decades. Fresh fruits and vegetables were sold here, and many families stopped by after church to socialize. Paul Tower’s family home is no longer standing, neither is the original barn nest to their home. The land is no longer farmed or produces fruit or vegetables. However The Tower Orchard Packing House (above) and the Tower Orchard Barn remains. It no longer functio

I mentioned in a previous blog that as a child I had a ton of freedom to play and explore my neighborhood. This is not something very prevalent today for kids. Here is a story of one such memory I have. As a photographer I am drawn to clouds. The larger and more ominous they are, the more I love them. The reason I am drawn to them is that of my childhood. One early spring day, my buddy Jack and I headed out to a field next to my house to fly our kites. I had an extremely large roll of twine and my black bat kite. The kite was in the shape of a triangle, colored black, and had two enormous eyes underneath. These eyes looked at you as the kite flew above. Jack and I walked about ¼ mile from my house on a windy March day. Emerging from its winter nap, the grass had just began growing, so it was very low and was more brown than green. We found our perspective spots, tied the strings on our kites and let the wind do its thing. Within seconds the kite was at 10 feet, then 20 feet, then 100 f

I began what I hope was a new tradition last Sunday. It was my first time doing this and time will tell if it will continue. One of my Dad’s sisters (Sharon) had two kids. Michelle or Mickie/Mick, as we call her, is my age and her brother Chad (2 years younger) is my sister’s age. As kids, we spent a lot of time together. I almost felt like we were brothers and sisters to each other. As each of grew up we all got married, some had kids and started careers. Naturally we drifted apart. Things changed in 2007. May 2007 (my sister’s birthday actually) my dad was diagnosed with lung cancer. December of that year he passed away from it. My Aunt Sharon battled cancer as well and passed away on January 22, 2010. My Uncle Charles (Sonny) was next on January 30, 2013, then finally Mom on June 10, 2020. At that time of Mom’s visitation/funeral someone stated that my sister and I were orphans, like my cousins Chad and Mickie. I borrowed an idea from a friend Laurie and tried a monthly Zoom call wi

Photo found on Google As a child, the world was a lot safer, and I could explore my neighborhood for hours without supervision. Weekends and summers began early and ended late into the night. My transportation was my purple three-speed bike with a white banana seat. I visited a well know place and will now tell you about an experience I had there. Waverly Hills was a tuberculosis hospital from 1910 to 1961. It was then turned into a geriatric facility in 1962-1981. I visited this place when it was a geriatric facility, but most of my visits happened after 1981. Roughly 7 miles from my childhood home sits this multi-story gothic-style building. A doctor bought this in the early 80s and left it open to kids like me to go explore. This was not his intent, but what happened. Waverly could hold over 400 patients at one time. It had elevator shafts, wide stairwells and a “death chute”. More on that soon. There was a morgue, and the place was littered with hospital beds, wheelchairs and vario

This is part two of my certification dive in Florida during March 1993. I suggest you read part one if you had not done so yet. The boat motors slowed and stopped. The momentum carried us a few more yards than the captain came out of his cabin and told us that this would be our last dive of the day. I looked and Gilligan (1 st mate reference) grabbed the anchor, no mask and a rope. He winked at me, did a sailor dive off the side and disappeared in the water. The captain never broke stride in his conversation and didn’t even turn around to see Gilligan (behind him) leap off the side. “You are going to a sunken military vessel about 80 feet below us. The visibility is much better here and remember if you leave your buddy, I may leave you our here. It is 1.5 mile swim back in. Remember that!” We paired up, and the captain pointed to each pair to signal each of us to go. Back flipping into the water, I learned my lesson from last time. My vest was barley pumped up, and I was kicking to s

In February on 1993 I began a lengthy course comprising many weeks in order to become a certified open water scuba diver. I took this course with my lifelong friend Shawn. This is a memory I will probably never forget. The course comprised practice diving in a pool, course work, and a written exam. All must be passed and approved by the scuba instructor. I completed all successfully with Shawn, but the last test was two open water dives. These were to take place in Florida. The class packed up and headed to Florida for our dive. My buddy and partner could not go because of illness, but I was determined. Our destination was Clearwater, Florida. We were told to meet at the boat dock at 8am. The gear would be there and we were to not be late. I as usual arrive early, boarded, put on my wetsuit and found my seat. Soon the rest of the class arrived and were greeted by the ship’s captain and 1 st mate. The boat was one similar to the one Quinn had in the movie Jaws, (just without the large