Where I Get My Ideas

Many of the friends that read my column say, “How do you ever think of these things and write about them?” and “Where do you get your ideas for writing?” I’ve asked the same questions of people like Wendy Wasserstein and David Sedaris as they signed copies of their plays and books. The questions don’t have a consistent answer because each and every “creator” has their own way of arriving at the answer and producing a work of art. I certainly don’t have any definite answers to these questions but I do have a story.

Several years ago my daughter and I received digital cameras, and we began taking walks around Oberlin to see what we could capture on film. During these walks, we’d talk about things – the subject matter varied from the sublime to the ridiculous. We would often pause our conversations when we’d happen upon something that caught our eye. Oftentimes we would see the same subject matter, but we’d choose to photograph it in a totally different way.

Allison was fascinated with architecture, while I pointed my lens at a myriad of benches. The smallest things were captured during our walks, buckeyes coming out of their prickly shells, a decaying leaf disappearing into the sidewalk, the tiniest wing on the tiniest bug, and one shoe left by the side of the road. With each walk we took, we learned to see more of the beauty we had passed only days before. We got up early to catch the light, and we pushed our cameras beyond dusk until even our spare batteries ran out.

And we talked. I gave advice. She gave advice. Sometimes we didn’t like what was given and sometimes it saved our lives. The journey we took to photograph the beauty of Oberlin and Lorain County turned into something else. We shared more than our love of photography.

The changing seasons couldn’t stop us. We burned stacks of CD’s with images of ice-crusted branches, melting snowmen and frozen tombstones. Allison even photographed the elusive albino squirrel that haunts Oberlin, precariously balanced on our winter bird feeder. Spring arrived and we scrunched over the signs of life pushing through the soil. And all the while we walked and talked. We opened each other’s eyes to overlooked beauty.

Allison and I now have new jobs. Hers is in another city. We’ve had to limit our walks, but the talks continue. We carry our cameras with us in hopes of discovering hidden beauty. It is everywhere, just like ideas for plays and books and newspaper columns. As a society, we do SEE a lot. WE HEAR a lot. But a lot of the “wondering” is gone. We need to ask questions and reflect on the answers. The “What if…” needs to be dusted off and used, written and spoken about, campaigned and voted for, preserved and handed down. We need a little less rushing and a little more slowing down.