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Leaving the place better than we found it
Seeing with my eyes closed
Thomas Jefferson on gun control
How to lie convincingly
Our hardy heartland
Breaking the cycle
How to catch the sun's comings and goings
Thoughts from the inside
Leveraging the internet to build our walls
Twitters from the past
You are on this page
Without ego projection
Yet another gift of the road
The charming side of obstinance
The creative part of photography
A movie critic looks in the mirror
We are not alone
As part of the system
Mastering your master
The end of Kumbaya
The wanderer's poet
Running out of dirt
Striking a balance
The Bay of Fundy, where the sea breathes
How to photograph them with anything, even your cellphone
A simple question we get every day
We may be failing to fail
And why no one should hesitate to examine them
Becoming a hero in one's own life story
A writing assignment
A new discovery of something old
Finding new eyes to see old landscapes
Hick humor
Toys for photographing wild places
Experiencing life with God
A radical thought about our radicals
Redemption with style
Hidden heroes among us
Resetting our parallel processor
A village with heart
A lesson from the road
The bullet dodged
A soul sparkles
Isolation in style
Painless ways to lose your virginity : 11/12/15
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And the invincibility of youth

At the tender age of 8, I was holding my own against my dad at a game of lawn darts, that is, until my dad sent me to pick up the stray red darts. Standing right over them, I couldn't find them. At first, my dad thought I was just being my usual troublesome self, but the next day, the optometrist gave him the bad news.

"I'm sorry, but your son is color blind."

My parents dissolved into tears, and I did my best to comfort them. They thought of all the things I would never be able to do. I thought of all the things I had already done and how much I still had to do. I told them I was the same kid from the day before.

As grownups, they had already been confronted by many things they had come to realize they could never do. As an 8-year-old, anything I couldn't do was just a matter of getting a bit older.

My first observation related to the flash cards with the colored dots that the optometrist showed me. I wasn't very interested in the number he could see that I couldn't. I was much more interested in the number I could see that he couldn't. I had discovered that I was a member of a secret society.

Had I been older and wiser, I might have bought into my disability, but a kid is not that prone to listen to his elders. Of course I was reminded of my limitations, but at that age, it was fun to yell throughout our house, "I need a colored person" when I was matching socks. I liked the attention.

My greatest disappointment related to all this was when I was told by the US Navy that I couldn't enlist as a fighter pilot. Of course that may have kept me from taking a dirt nap in Vietnam.

I've learned to compensate, such as approaching traffic intersections carefully, ready for one of the "white" lights to turn yellow. But I've also grown convinced that I can see more shades of blue and yellow than "colored" people, particularly at the hour before sunset.

You may have noticed my post-processing choices diverting into strange regions as I pursue photographs that look good to my eyes. But with all the weird effects out there, I have somehow found mine.

Had I learned that I was color blind as a grown up, I would've been sensible enough never to pick up a camera.

So, the next time you're faced with an insurmountable obstacle, ask your kid what to do.

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Nebraska has a lot of this

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Lines meet at the horizon

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Toadstool Geological Park

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A big toadstool

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Yes, that bug on the right is my RV

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Rock mushrooms

For more pictures of Nebraska, click here.

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