Insane Earthlings

I have had enough of Donald Trump’s attacks on American journalists.   Labeling members of the press as enemies of the people is simply unacceptable and false. Journalists are heroes. I should know, my father was a photojournalist. Many of our friends are journalists. Many of my relatives are journalists.   For those of us close to people in the business, the President’s claims of fake news regarding well-established legitimate news organizations is head-scratchingly absurd. At first, I thought that this would just pass. I thought that the American people would push back against this crazy talk. I thought that people would not trust the words of a man who states that The National Enquirer has credibility. Donald Trump disparages real newspapers across this country daily. He treats the reporters with contempt publicly. My father worked his whole life as a news photographer.   Our city had two newspapers with large regional readerships.   The Charlott...

Is Melania’s jacket important? In case you have been on a desert island, let me explain. Melania Trump, broke with protocol and left the White House yesterday. The rarely seen first lady apparently decided that she needed to get out. She needed some fresh air. But what does a reclusive former soft porn star do when she gets bored hanging out at The White House?   Well, she could go visit those poor immigrant kids that Donald keeps whining about. Donald has been sulking around saying that no one will pay attention to his great accomplishments because of those sobbing child actors down at the border. So, Melania decides that she will just hop on down to Texas and get this issue fixed, so that Donald can get back to complaining about Mueller and praising ruthless dictators. That’s the Donald she loves. As a former (ahem…cough,cough) fashion model, Melania must make sure that she picks just the right outfit for the day’s outing. If only Michelle Obama had worn clot...

I loved watching my dad switch into photographer mode. He knew a great shot the instant he saw it. We could be anywhere when he might suddenly spot a scene that called out to him that it needed to be photographed. He would stomp on the brakes and cause lenses and film canisters to come rolling out from under the seat of the car. His camera was always close by. He might use his shirt to give the lens a quick dusting. In an instant, he would change from Dad to Spot News Tom. He would approach the subject with confidence. He somehow conveyed, without words, that he was supposed to be doing exactly what he was doing; taking pictures of a random stranger. He might snap a few quick shots before the subject stopped doing whatever it was that my father saw a great feature picture in.   Then he would put out his hand, smiling all the way, and say, “How ya’ doin’? Tom Franklin, The Charlotte Observer.” I loved that part. He said it with real authority, but in a warm voice. ...