I thought it was interesting that the theme for Photo Friday was “Fear.” Even if Friday hadn’t been the eighth anniversary of the terrorist attacks, I still would have thought first of tall buildings. During my twenty years in Houston, I’ve worked in skyscrapers downtown and in the Greenway Plaza and Galleria areas. (In fact, it’s been my plan for a while to go around Houston and photograph the many buildings I’ve worked in.) Before that day, I liked the views that being on high floors offered, because Houston has so many different skylines and its flatness makes them visible from great distances.
As it happened, most of the corporations I worked with prior to September 11, 2001, were severely impacted by that event, as well as the subsequent economic woes of Compaq, Enron, and Continental Airlines. As a contract employee, my work went away. It was probably for the best, as images from that day were so burned into my brain that just getting into an elevator made me break into a cold sweat. I’m not sure I could have handled ten hours a day twenty or more stories above ground.
The second thing “Fear” brought to mind was jets. I was never a good flier to begin with, and September 11 pretty much sealed the deal. Of course, I’ve flown again–including to Manhattan three weeks after the attacks, and as I’ve mentioned on here before, when Tom and I walked into the terminal at IAH and I saw the National Guard standing inside the door with weapons, I burst into tears. And, sadly, I then started profiling all my fellow travelers. I’m a flawed human. Regarding jets, however, the only photos I might be able to get would be of jets landing or taking off, and I actually love those two sights–as long as I’m not on the jet–so shots of that wouldn’t speak to my fear of flying.
Fear… I thought of sharks and cemeteries, but since I don’t actually have any photos of sharks, and cemeteries don’t really scare me–unless maybe I was trapped in one after dark, and I’m not in a horror movie or a gothic novel, so that isn’t likely–I tried to think of something else. One of my worst fears is losing anyone else I love to AIDS, but any photos I have related to AIDS are either sad or hauntingly beautiful–not the same as “Fear.”
I was talking to Lynne on Friday, trying to decide what to shoot, and she told me I could take pictures from the twentieth floor of her building. That would work, because looking straight down really does scare me. Then Tim came over, and since he and I share many of the same fears, he’d been thinking of buildings, too, only he wanted to shoot them from outside looking up. Off we went, and he took some amazing shots of the building I insist on calling Transco Tower, even though it’s actually Williams Tower now. If you haven’t seen the one he picked for Photo Friday, check it out here, because I’m all kinds of awed and envious. Great photo.
I got some good shots from inside Lynne’s building, but not exactly what I wanted. Still, I got to see Lynne, so no complaints. After coming home and starting dinner, I went out to shoot the American General Center. In spite of its tallness, I appreciate that building and the flag on top of it because whenever I’m out wandering and lose my way, it’s my landmark to get home. When I saw that its flag was at half mast, I knew I had the photo I wanted.
All these years later, my memories of September 11 still evoke so many emotions–fear and horror, of course, but also pride and compassion–and especially hope, because my family got a new baby on that day in 2001. Steven has always helped me look toward the future, as do all the beautiful children in my family.
On a lighter note, I could have used this photo–little sea creatures laughing at me as ONCE AGAIN I vow to conquer Moby Dick. I’ve gotten further into it than I ever did on previous attempts, but Ishmael still makes me laugh, and I still wonder if the novel’s supposed to be funny or if I’m just strange. It still rocks my world that I got A grades on every essay question I ever answered on the book, or every paper in which I referenced it, in spite of the fact that I didn’t read it. Students, this is what LISTENING to your teachers and developing your WRITING skills will do for you–turn you into a CHAMPION bullshitter with the pen. I may be afraid of tall buildings and jets and sharks and palmetto bugs and dogs I don’t know and people who text and drive or talk on their cell phones and drive or hell, just drive–have you been in Houston?–and I’ll probably end up afraid of white whales, but when it comes to writing a literary essay, I am FEARLESS.
I’m still pondering Photo Friday. I’m not sure how to take a picture of what it is that scares me the most. I used to be terrified of heights, so I forced myself to go bungee-jumping and skydiving. Now it doesn’t bother me so much, though you still won’t see me leaning out over a balcony.
What do you mean I’m totally delaying the inevitable last day before vacation? Hush.
I can give you a big list of things to be afraid of if you want me to. Because I give and I give… 😉
Fear
“The only thing we have to fear is, … (wait for it… wait for it…) … fear itself!”
’tis the only thing I can come up with along these lines for photo Friday.
Nice tower pics… I’ve been thinking about doing a set of similar pics in the past, but none of that relates to fear.
Re: Fear
Most of the stuff I’m afraid of I wouldn’t photograph, because I wouldn’t put myself in the position of being vulnerable to it.
Did you ever watch a movie that really scared you?
Re: Fear
I think that would be one of the early, early 80’s Alien movies when I was less than 10 years old.
I was thinking what the world would be like with no music and no chocolate.
I had to take a seminar in Poe, Melville and Hawthorne in grad school. Lord, it ’bout killed me.
Gah! I was a history grad student. Let me guess: they expected you to read Moby Dick in less than a week and be able to talk intelligently about it and remember everything that happened in the novel.
I spend a lot of my time reading, but I’m usually not a fast reader. I don’t know about your experiences, but the amount of reading the expected us history grad students to get through was just nuts. I ended up not reading a lot of it.
I was a literature grad student. I discovered Moby Dick was not the only lonnnng, tedious novel Melville wrote.
I’m an American lit scholar. I love it all*, from our first writers on (yep, including the fiery sermons from those New Englanders). There’s NO excuse whatsoever for my not having read Moby Dick, because I honestly don’t find it boring. I don’t get why I always avoid reading it.
*Full disclosure: All does not include Faulkner, which makes me a bad student AND a bad Southerner.
I prefer Faulkner’s short stories to his novels, myself. I don’t think it was so much that I found Melville boring as it was that I could not “breeze” through his work, I had to take my time with it. I rather enjoyed Billy Budd, in fact.
I always sneaked and took more lit classes every semester than I was supposed to. This meant I’d have maybe four classes with anywhere from eight to twelve novels each to read. It was pretty much expected that a student would blow off a couple of novels a class, and that’s how I dodged Moby Dick. I did, however, read Billy Budd and Redburn and don’t remember a thing about either one of them. It’s been a loooooong time.
Ha! That’s the same edition of “Moby Dick” — Signet, 95 cents? —
I read in 10 Grade Honors English.
I have a horrible fear of heights, but not of flying. And all the
security, etc. — I lived in England and Ireland in the 1970’s
during the IRA bombing campaigns, so seeing soldiers with automatic
weapons everywhere — airports, train stations, even department
stores — got to be “normal.” I was on a bus in Northern Ireland
when we were stopped and everyone was searched — this was just
a small country bus, full of women, children, elderly people —
and a couple of clueless American students, but I had a gun
pointed in my face by a British soldier and my backpack gone
through. Now THAT is fucking scary!
I had a gun pointed in my face by a British soldier and my backpack gone through. Now THAT is fucking scary!
I’d probably pass out on the spot and get hauled away for just SEEMING guilty of something.
Based
I lived in England (in Warrington –that’s right between Manchester and Liverpool) on an Army base, as a child. The big events were the quarterly “peace campers” (even in the dead of winter) protesting my existence (as a child). When the base was finally closed, less than a few days later, the IRA bombed Warrington Town Center, right in front of Boots and across the sidewalk from its first McDonnalds. I hoped that taught all those Warrington-I don’t like you because you’re different from us-types a lesson. When I returned there to visit old school friends, the town was much smaller and those that remained scowled at me for still being American. But, if you step outside their “cosy” little world, England can be a much happier place.
I think you’re all kinds of fearless in making a post like this about the things you do fear and how you’ve tried to overcome them. It makes looking at the pictures so much more worhtwhile.
*hangs head* . . . I’ve never managed “Moby Dick” either . . .
Thank you. =)
It’s not too late! You can read it with me! (Isn’t that the most exciting suggestion you’ve ever heard?!?)