City Driving

Daily Commute: GWB
Originally uploaded by walterhertman.

I've recently been inspired by New York-based photographer Clay Enos, by way of an interview he did for Studiolighting.net which was made into a podcast.

Clay makes very compelling images, whether he's shooting people, places, or more mundane subject matter.

You can also view Clay's blogHERE.

Sixteen Candles

Ive always suspected myself of being a dork. Now it's confirmed.

No matter how many times I see it, or even portions of it, usually at some odd hour in the middle of the night, Sixteen Candles teleports me instantly back to that most special of decades -- The 80's.

I don't know what it is about those years that seems so idealized in my present-day memory, but even way back then, I knew that the era would always hold a special place in my heart.

It must be that we all have a particular part of our lives which, at least for our own selves and for whatever reasons, are more special than the others. Perhaps these were times when we were the happiest, or the most optimistic, or at the height of our youthful powers.

I can't say for certain.

Nevertheless, the people, the places, and all the various parts of my life in the 80's suddenly rush back like a soccer-mom running late to practice, whenever this movie finds its way into my local cable t.v. schedule.

The funny thing is, it all seemed so awkward and angst-filled, and insecure in those "deified" days. The pressure to do well in school, fit in with the "cool" crowd, and to be otherwise socially acceptable (which meant different things, depending on which crowd you hun out with: The Rockers, The Guidos, The Jocks, The Weirdos, or The Nerds) was enough to make anybody second-guess their very existence, let alone try to be cool.

Oh, but how I tried.

Maybe that's what I miss the most -- I was cool. Believe it or not, ALL the band geeks were the coolest kids in school. Clearly, we lived in some experimental, underground, super-secret society of Artsy-Fartsy Band Dorks.

Youth is not wasted on the young, it just fits them better.

Oh yeah, and Molly Ringwald is still hot. I know, I know -- but all the other guys in my band class think so, too.

The Joys of Job-Hunting

It comes down to this: I need a day gig!

Sure, it was all fun and games on the road. Not much to worry about except whether or not the next city had decent sushi, whether your hotel room was a suite or a double, and "how late does room service deliver?" After the end of my tour, unemployment insurance actually provided more cash than a 40-hour-per-week day gig, so why bother, right?

Well, friends, the last of the insurance money has been spent. Room service is now a short stroll into the kitchen, where I become my own "help." And there are no mints to be found anywhere near my pillow, let alone turn-down service (which takes on a completely different meaning these days.)

I want to see the manager, dammit!

So I hit the streets wide-eyed and optimistic. "Day gigs" [Read: Full-time job] are a musician's necessary evil; between gigs, the rent still needs to get paid. I rejoice because most of the newspaper ads say, "Apply in person," and I'm phenomenal face-to-face. It all made me very happy.

That is, until I figured out that when the ad says "Apply in person," what they really mean is:

"Please waste your precious (and expensive) fuel by driving many miles out of the way, to our difficult-to-find location, so you can meet our attitude-laden, minimum-wage-earning secretary, who will then give you our standard application to fill out. When you're done, drop it in the box with all the others, most of which we'll never even look at. Oh yeah, and, um . . . don't call us, we'll call you. Have a nice day!"

Actually, they don't really ever vocalize that last part about having a nice day, but in my heart I know they want to. In reality it's more of an apathetic grunt. Which, I suppose, is better than saying nothing.

Well, maybe not.

Fortunately, I have yet to become desperate enough to peddle any body parts -- it would be too disheartening to find out the real market value, piece-by-piece, of an entire human body on the open market.

So, I'll continue to play the game, traipsing from place to place, appearing in person, if only to leave behind resumes that could have been mailed on the cheap. I think, "Maybe I'll get some face time, maybe not." Either way, it makes for adventure.

Oh yeah, I'm livin' the dream!

The Greatest American

"They that can give up essential liberty to obtain a little temporary safety deserve neither liberty nor safety." - Benjamin Franklin

Happy Birthday, Dr. King

It was in the summer of 2003 when I first visited the tomb of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., and the historic Ebenezer Baptist Church (where Kings Jr. & Sr. preached) in Atlanta, GA.

Sadly, I didn't know much about the man, beyond what the textbook entries describe. But that would all change with my visit. It was one of the most powerful experiences of my life.

My friends and I set off on foot that sweltering afternoon from our midtown hotel. We were to first visit Atlanta City Hall to pay our respects to another great Atlantan, Maynard Jackson, the first African American mayor of that city. Then, we would walk to Dr. King's tomb making visits to Ebenezer, the MLK Center, and his boyhood home, all located within a few blocks from each other.

The walk turned out to be much longer than we anticipated, but we endured anyway, sensing the importance of learning more about this man, and also about Atlanta.

I can't say for certain that any one aspect of our day trip was the trigger for my intensely emotional experience; Maybe it was the long walk, en masse, in the southern heat of summer, as Dr. King had done in so many cities (even under threats of violence and death);
Maybe it was the impact of the stately funeral for Atlanta's landmark statesman;
Maybe it was seeing firsthand, the run-down homes and shops of Atlanta's poorest neighborhood;
Maybe it was just being inside the church where a truly great man inspired a nation.

Maybe it was all those and more.

No matter. I learned more than I expected to that day. I learned more about Dr. King, more about the idea of "America, " more about our humanity and inhumanity, and much, much more about myself.

I also learned just how far we have come, and how far we have yet to go.

The Night Tripper

For those of you who may not know about Dr. John, The Night Tripper, here's a little musical morsel to feast on. Just thought I'd share what I've been listening to lately. Enjoy!

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Hidden Talents

Your Hidden Talent

You have the power to persuade and influence others. You're the type of person who can turn a whole room around. The potential for great leadership is there, as long as you don't abuse it. Always remember, you have a lot more power over people than you might think!

What's Your Hidden Talent?

Everyone Loves A Wedding

Down The Aisle
Originally uploaded by walterhertman.

I was recently the "official" photogapher for my cousin Amy's wedding. It was a bit nerve-wracking, but also a lot of fun.

Here is the blushing bride with her Dad, as he walks her down the aisle. Yeah, the event was slightly un-traditional. How 'bout that hair?

One For Pineapple

Walter & Stephanie
Originally uploaded by walterhertman.

At the request of my longtime (and dear) friend, Tara (aka Pineapple), here is a recent photo of me, taken at my cousin Amy's wedding reception. The lovely lady on my arm is Stephanie -- a beautiful woman who digs photographers =)

You see, Tara and I have been friends since our junior high school days, waaaay back in 1981. I always had a crush on her, but didn't get up the nerve to actually ask her out until we were just starting high school. Ah, the innocence of youth. . .

We lost contact with each other as the years rolled on, only to reconnect this past summer via the internet, when I found her blog. As a result she has inspired me to write more frequently in mine.

Thanks, Tara.

Ladies and Gentlemen, The President of the United States of America . . .

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Is Pat Robertson Nuts?

Either he's losing his marbles, or he's sly like a fox. Maybe a little of both . . .