The Arizona Justice League of Photographers Ride

The Arizona Justice League of Photographers embarked on its inagaural mission to Prescott, Arizona on Saturday July 18, 2009.

Isn't this slick? I got a shot of Fellow Justice League member, Eric taking a picture in the Prescott town square.

I happen to be a member of the newly created Arizona Justice League of Photographers. We were inspired by the Bryan Frank and the original Justice League of Photographers in Los Angeles. My photographey background begins and ends with the photography class I took as a freshman in high school.

The five members of the Justice League stopped for lunch at the Palace Bar on Whiskey Row.

The building burned to the ground in the Whiskey Row fire of 1900. The bar you see above was saved. Patrons disassembled the bar and reasssembled it across the street in the town square. The bartenders continued serving drinks as the Palace went up in flames.

Junior Bonner with Steve McuQueen was filmed in Prescott in the early seventies. One of the major scenes was shot in the Palace Bar.

The newspaper clipping above is located in the men's restroom. That's Steve MccQueen without the shirt. The girl is his costar Barbra Leigh. I think it's a cool photo. Sorry about the weak photography on my part.

I snapped this photo because they were advertising $8.50 Budweiser draft beers. I went with a glass of water. If I want to pay $8.50 for a beer I'll go to an professional baseball game.

I had a Rueben sandwich and corn chowder. It wasn't bad.

How about a cheesy dog photo?

Fellow blogger, Blues Frau in Germany takes fantastic Bicycle photos. Thought I'd try my hand.

Here's a shot of a couple of Justice League photgraphers. That's Rick the I.T. Guy down low and his brother, Clif The Lawyer up high. They actually knew what they were doing.

This is Matt's Saloon on Whiskey Row. Legend has it that Bruce Springsteen rolled up on his Harley one night in 1989. Locals say he bellied up to the bar, had a couple of cold ones and proceeded to play a set with the house band.

Here's a photo of the Boss and the E Street Band, not Matt's House Band.

You never know who you're going to run into on Whiskey Row. Here's a shot of Kris Kristopherson. Pretty cool, huh. Bryan Frank and the original Justice League of photograhers got a shot of Shugg Knight of Death Row Records in Hollywood a couple of weeks ago. I think Kris Kristopherson trumps Shugg Knight. OK this isn't Kris Kristopherson. It's actually Wild Bill Kathan, but he looks a heckuva lot like Kris Kristopherson. He's planning on breaking the world pushup record next month. The standing record is 1,400 pushups in an hour. Good luck, Wild Bill.

This is Wild Bill's car.

And here's a shot of your's truly rifding in the back seat of Wild Bill's car.

The first potography excursion of the Arizona Justice League was a success. We plan to meet again in a month or so. The real photographers are going to send me some photos and I'll post them as soon as possible.

Bryan Frank and the original Justice League of Photographers, thanks for the inspiration.

TEECHUR JOURNAL - September 28, 1988

I have been keeping a teaching journal as long as I’ve been teaching. Here is a 21 year-old entry. If my arithmetic serves me correctly - and it always does, I was 28 years old and in my third year of teaching.

Bethune Junior High School, South Central Los Angeles
September 28, 1988 – Wednesday (Hump Day)

The American Basketball team was defeated by the Soviets last night. I didn’t see the game. I really hate painting. Always have. I’m not even finished- will have to go back tonight.

I feel buried. I’ve got too many projects going with the classes I’m teaching, the classes I’m taking at Cal State Dominguez Hills, the house I’m preparing to rent out, and the greeting card company I’m trying to get off the ground.

Screw it; I’m going to tell you about Randy Watkins. Randy’s an eighth grader. He goes about 4’8 and about seventy pounds. This kid is in high gear all day long – and he never stops smiling. Randy is in my fifth period reading class. Class always begins with 20 minutes of silent sustained reading. My boy, Randy was reading the Guinness Book of World Records. He kept sharing things like, “Oooh, did you guys know there’s a man that weighs 1,400 pounds?” I kept telling him to knock it off and he kept saying, “I’m sorry Mr. Snyder, but this is the kind of stuff people got to know. This went on the entire reading period. What a riot.

Last Friday I mentioned that I had an awful lot of papers to grade over the weekend. When the passing bell rang Randy offered to come home with me for the weekend and help me grade papers.

1988

Bull Durham came out in 1988.

Ronnie Regan was serving the last year of his presidency.

Steven Hawking published A Brief History of Time.

The L.A. Lakers defeated the Detroit Pistons to become the NBA champions.

Thriller was released in 1988.

"Lee Harvey Oswald (1963)"

An exept from The Eight Fingered Criminal's Son
“Lee Harvey Oswald (1963)"
by W.Z Snyder
© 2006 William Snyder


It was 1963 and I was in a Sears’ department store elevator with my grandmother. The doors slid silently open. An enormous black woman filled the doorway. Her face was soaked with tears. “They killed Kennedy!” I looked up to my grandmother and she was crying too. Scanning the towering occupants of the elevator, I could see thatthey were all weeping and things seemed out of control. Although I hadn’t the slightest understanding of what was happening, I was scared to death.

My memory jump cuts to the dinner table at my grandparents’ home. We were having Jell-O. Tiny chunks of pears, peaches and bananas bounced around inside the cubes. My grandfather, who had been eating in silence, suddenly slammed his great lumberman’s fist on the table, “Goddamit! I knew they’d never let a Catholic run this country!” My Jell-O reverberated wildly in the glass bowl. On the wall behind my grandfather hung a picture of JFK and another of the blonde, blue-eyed surfer version of Jesus Christ.

My memory jump cuts again. Sitting with my my legs crossed, Indian style on the giant oval rug in front of my grandparents’ black and white television set, I watch a scene that I have already carefully observed at least a dozen times. Lee Harvey Oswald’s hands are cuffed as he rounds the corner in the underground parking structure. Dwarfed by giant gray men in cowboy hats, he wears a five o’clock shadow and looks like one if the guys who work on their cars behind my apartment building. I hate him because he is the man who killed the Catholic president. A man appears from nowhere, his broad back to the camera. I know that his name is Jack Ruby. He bum-rushes Oswald as the towering cowboy policemen stand by - useless. There is the muffled sound of gunshots. Oswald’s face looks almost funny. His eyes are shut and he looks as though he is trying very hard to whistle. This incredibly chaotic, enigmatic scene is cemented into the foundations of the husband, father, and teacher I have since become.

Society has Lost it's Finesse

My wife and I took the kids to the bargain matinee Friday. Unlike many adults, my children, aged six, eight, and eleven demonstrated the ability to quietly watch a movie without disturbing others. We saw Imagine That with Eddie Murphy. It was a decent little movie - as kids movies go. But the real show was in the theater. The last thing I want to do is sound like some kind of curmudgeon, but I’m telling you the screw balls were out in force. About ten minutes into the movie a woman four rows up from me started texting. Fighting off the urge to yell at her or throw something at her, I tried to focus on the movie.

It wasn’t long before my attention was diverted to a whining kid up front in the center row. Someone told the kid to shut up so the woman picked the kid up and wandered to the back of the theater and stood, where else, right next to yours truly. The little brat continued to whine. I looked at the woman. She looked at me. Nothing. The rotten kid kept right on whining. How stupid was this broad? I finally whispered, “Come on, lady” prompting her to move to a spot directly behind a senior citizen. By now I and forgotten about the movie. The old lady turned around and shushed the kid. She woman shushed the old lady back.

My attention was sucked away from the shushing duel when a rather large woman slammed into the back of my seat and sat directly behind me. She proceeded to make grunting noises, pop her gum and kick my seat, and hack away with horrific phlegm filled cough for the duration of the movie. Not wanting to blow my top in front of my kids I kept it in, just ate the anger. What’s wrong with people? I mean is it just me or are there not an inordinate number of nincompoops running around loose out there? It’s getting worse. I’m stealing a line from the movie, Duets when I tell you I’m afraid society has lost its finesse.

I’m done with movie theaters for a while.

STEVE MCQUEEN NEWS

A biographical film based on the life of Steve McQueen is in the works. Brad Pitt is under consideration to play the King of Cool.

Speaking of Brad Pitt, I finally got the chance to rent the film, Benjamin Button. Everything I heard about the film was bad. More than anything people said it was just too long. I thought it was a cool movie. Not only was it poignant and quirky, but it was funny. The film left me with two important lessons. First, we don’t get back the time we waste and second, there is no right or wrong way to live our lives. The film is Based on a short story by F. Scott Fitzgerald; I thought it was interesting that the main character’s love interest is named Daisy. Good movie. Thumbs up, baby.

The Three Stooges, Sarah Palin, and a Good Book

Sean Penn is out as Larry in the Three Stooges Movie. Anybody surprised? Penn’s a talented guy. I’ll give him that. But he ain’t funny. You have got to be funny if You’re going to be one of the Three Stooges, baby.

Word on the street is Paul Giamanni may be the new Larry. I can dig that. Paul Giamanni is a funny guy. Our tentative line up of stooges includes Jim Carry as Curly, Benicio Del Torro as Mo, and Paul Giamanni as Larry.

Paul Giamanni, mind you, is not officially in. If Paul doesn’t work out, I have a nomination. It turns out the Alaska fishermen were kidding about Sarah Palin making the buddy picture with Jack Black. This means she’s wide open if the price is right. I’m telling you, Sarah Palin just might be our Stooge.

THE THINGS THEY CARRIED

Tim O’Brien’s The Things They Carried is a profound book about the Vietnam War. The book is also about writing, truth, and reality. The stories are based are based on the author’s experiences as a soldier in Vietnam.

O’Brien points out that writing is a form of dreaming. Ain’t that the truth? And when you get right down to it, we are creating our own stories when we dream, aren’t we? The author also blew me away with the concept that writing about the dead allows them to live again.

O’Brien writes “...the story-truth is truer sometimes than happening-truth.” I love this concept. The longer it takes to write the story down, the more ambiguous the truth becomes. Do you remember James Frey’s book, A Million Tiny Pieces? It’s a riviting story of a man’s experiences in a drug rehabilitation center. Oprah Winfrey promoted the book on her show and Frey sold millions of copies. When it was discovered that after marketing the book as a memoir, the author had stretched the truth from time to time, Oprah lambasted the guy on network television for lying. It worked out OK for Frey; the ass chewing prompted millions of readers to buy his second book. But dog gone it, Frey should have told Oprah, “You simply don’t understand writing, lady. As Tim Obrien aid, the story truth is truer sometimes than the happening truth.

Sorry about the digression. Tim Obrien’s The Things They Carried is one of the best, most unique, and quite possibly the truest books I’ve read.

WRITING REPORT

The John Wayne story is finished At 3,400 words. The story entails John Wayne showing up at my house Christmas night asking for a drink. The two of us end up playing a grueling one on one basketball game that lasts until dawn. I seem to have this thing about putting myself in my stories. Wish I knew why I wrote the thing. Sigmund Freud would have his hands full figuring out why the hell I wrote this thing.

The problem is I haven’t been able to sit down at the computer for more than a couple of hours at a pop. I can’t seem to establish any kind of rhythm. The summer production stands at three stories and 8,500 words. I'll keep slugging.

SARAH PALIN TO SHOOT BUDDY PICTURE WITH JACK BLACK

You heard it here first; Sarah Palin has signed a lucrative deal to shoot a buddy picture with Jack Black. How do I know this? Let’s just say I have a connection with a few Alaska Salmon fishermen.



Writing Report

I was able to bang out 1,400 words of a new short story. In this one John Wayne shows up at my house on Christmas night to drink Scotch and talk wax philosophical.

I still haven’t been able to hit my stride and I do turn into a pumpkin in two weeks when I report back to school.

A Trip to the Movies

In an effort to escape the 107 degree heat I took my girls to see 17 Again with the kid from the High School Musical movies. The flick held my attention and my girls seemed to enjoy themselves. It was a little mature for kids and a little dopey for adults; I guess it was geared toward teeny boppers. The adult stuff blew right past my girls so I guess nobody will be psychologically scarred for life.


Commander McBragg?

Blues Frau of Germany asked the following question: who is Commander McBragg?

Well here goes, Blues Frau. Commander McBragg was a 1960s cartoon about an old blow hard British guy. He hung out at some elitist club telling whoever he could corner about his daring exploits in history. It was pretty funny. If my memory serves me correctly, Commander McBragg usually aired with The Rocky and Bullwinkle show and Tennessee Tuxedo. By the way, I can sound exactly like Bullwinkle the Moose.

You can see Commander McBragg cartoons on You Tube.

Pixar's Partly Cloudy

Pixar’s latest short animated film is called Partly Cloudy and they’re packaging it with their hit feature, Up.

Whoooah.

I hadn’t heard anything about the short. In fact, I thought I was watching the beginning of Up. Partly Cloudy absolutely knocked me on my can. I’ve never seen anything like it. The animation is breathtaking. The story is pure magic. It’s laugh out loud funny too.

Nice goin’, Pixar.

WRITING REPORT

My writing goal for last week was 10,000 words and five stories. I ended up hitting almost 5,000 words and finishing just one story. The second story, a high school memoir, is almost there. Hopefully, I can pick it up this week. I’m setting a goal of 15,000 words.

INDEPENDENCE DAY

The family and I celebrated Independence day with a trip to the movies, a swim, steaks, hot dogs and potato salad, a swim, and a couple of fireworks shows. The first pyrotechnical display was presented by my neighbor, Joe. The festivities were cut short when his roof caught fire. Don’t worry he was able to put the thing out in no time with his handy garden hose. We took the kids to the park to watch the city of Chandler’s half hour long fireworks display.

"Mrs. Reagan's Holy Water (1991)"

A Short Story from Dart Safety and the Purple Bikini
“Mrs. Reagan's Holy Water(1991)"
by W.Z Snyder
© 2006 William Snyder

My eighth grade science students were busy copying diagrams of mitosis and meiosis from their textbooks into their science journals. I assigned heaps of science diagrams that year. They looked good hanging on the classroom walls. Very colorful. I had no business teaching science to these students whose working class parents were paying 125 dollars a month to insure their children a superior Catholic school education. I was certified to teach English. Mrs. Chun taught English next door. She was certified to teach Math and I don’t know what the math teacher was certified to teach. I guess these parents got a better deal than my mother received when she sent me to Catholic school in the 1960’s. Nuns provided my elementary education and I'm quite certain they weren’t certified to teach anything. There was only one nun left at Saint Agnes. Her name was Sister Rose. She was very old and quiet and sweet. I never saw her beat the devil out of anyone’s knuckles with a ruler. Perhaps she had mellowed with age. The odds are old Sister Rose had whacked a few knuckles in her day. She was a nun. Chickens cluck and nuns beat on the knuckles of grade school children with twelve inch rulers; it's the law of the Catholic school jungle baby.

Joe Tinsley walked purposefully to the front of the room to pick up some colored pencils. I was standing, leaning on an old wooden podium. I could feel his presence lingering behind me.
“What are you doing back there Joe?”

“I’m checking to see if your bald spot got any bigger.”

“No respect. I get no respect,” I said.

“This is a science class. I’m observing data.”

“Glad I can help. I do what I can.”

“How old are you, Mr. Snyder?”

“I’m thirty-one, Joe.”

He walked back to his desk and did some button punching on his calculator.

“By my calculations, you will be completely bald by the time you’re forty.”

I want to point out that at the time of this writing, I am forty-five years of age and I am not completely bald.

You can read the rest of this story in Dart Safety and the Purple Bikini. Check current postings to learn how to purchase Dart Safety and the Purple Bikini.

The First Story of the Summer

I knocked out my first story of the summer today – first draft complete at 2,800 words. Writing has been a challenge at la casa de Snyder. Today my granddaughter knocked a speaker onto my grandson’s head. I picked my grandson up, bounced the crying boy on my knee and kept on writing. No retreat, baby. No surrender. The story is pretty out there. The eighteen year-old me has a beer with the forty-eight year-old me and God. I’ve been reading Zora Neal Hurston’s Moses, Man of the Mountain and I’m thinking Zora had something to do with the plot. The story is going to need plenty of work but it felt good to get the first one under my belt. Fourteen more to go.

Yogi Bear is smarter than the average bear,

Yogi Bear is always in the ranger's hair.

At a picnic table you will find him there

Stuffing down more goodies than the average bear.

He will sleep till noon but before it's dark,

He'll have every picnic basket that's in Jellystone Park.

Yogi has it better than a millionaire

That's becasue he's smarter than the average bear.

Commander McBragg, Roller Skating, Writing and a Texting First

It’s been a fast three weeks – too fast. My summer school students were pretty good pranksters. The highlight of the three week session came when I ran to the office to make copies and returned to find they had moved my desk out into the hallway. Crazy darned kids.

My goal is to write fifteen short stories by the time school resumes in three weeks. At 1,500 words into the first story, I’m finding it hard to get the creative juices flowing.

Yesterday we celebrated my daughter’s eleventh birthday at the skating rink yesterday. I laced up the skates for the first time in a solid decade and showed the kids a few old school moves. All I can say is falling is bigger deal now than it was ten years ago. I’m moving a little slow today.

I finally broke down and sent my first text message yesterday. My daughter will be attending school in California next year and I realize I’m going to have to text her if I want to communicate with her.

You might be wondering why I included the picture of Commander McBragg. No reason...

Summer School, Michael Jackson, Steve McQueen and Dirty Harry

There was a half hour left to go. One of my summer school students stood at the front of the room delivering a presentation on a book by Chuck Palahniuk. We were all out of gas. It’s been a helluva long two weeks and four days. One of the girls pointed at her high dollar texting gizmo and shouted that Michael Jackson was dead. I asked her if she knew who Michael Jacks was. Before she could answer someone else said he was in the hospital. I dropped my head to my desk as just about all of my students pulled out their gizmos to find out whether Michael Jackson was dead or in the hospital. A lanky kid in a Black Sabbath shirt said he wondered if people holding tickets for Jackson’s upcoming tour would get their money back. Everyone soon agreed that Jackson was dead and not in the hospital. The kid up front went back to his Chuck Palahniuk presentation.


Steve McQueen turned down the role of Dirty Harry.

Time Flies, Baby

I’m baaaaack…

Hello. Just thought I’d drop a quick post to let you know I’m still kicking. The last month has been intense – like the circus fire.

There were the study sessions and final exams. My daughter graduated from high school. My other daughter turned eleven. Hard to believe how fast time goes. I almost forgot my wife’s birthday. And then there’s summer school; I spent a couple of weeks preparing to teach senior English. Things changed and the summer school bosses asked me to teach PE. Sounded good to me. Sounded easy - and quite frankly, I’m OK with easy. Then at the last minute the bosses asked me to teach sophomore English. I had 48 hours to plan the sophomore English summer school course.

A full year of English in three weeks is an interesting endeavor. Lucky for me, my students are nice. The highlight of the first two weeks came when I returned to the classroom after a trip to the restroom. I opened the door to find a wall of books and desks; the kids had effectively walled me out. That’s funny stuff.
And then there was the kid who wouldn’t smile. Finally got him on the ninth day – with this Chuck Norris joke: The Boogey Man checks his closet at night for Chuck Norris.

One more week of summer school to go. I hope to get back on the writing track.
I’ll post another story from The Eight Fingered Criminal’s Son next week.