Insane Earthlings

Like most people I know, we go on a family vacation every summer.   Usually we visit a coastal area. Mostly we have spent our vacations on the east coast somewhere between Nags Head, NC and Daytona Beach, FL. However, my oldest brother and his family had been going to Siesta Key on the gulf coast of Florida during spring break for years. Several years ago, we took the kids to Disney during spring break and drove the couple of hours to see my brother and family at Siesta Key.   We fell in love with the white sand that stayed cool to the touch. We were amazed at the clear blue water. We liked the calmness of the Gulf. So, we began making the trek to Siesta Key every other year or so for our vacation. We had never been morning people, so we never really witnessed the sunrise over the Atlantic.   But, I will never forget the first evening we watched the sun descend into the Gulf as we watched it set and disappear. For me it was a spiritual phenomenon that fi...

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...

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. D...