A day like any other. And like no other.

It's an interesting day in Levyland. My wife already wrote about my latest revolution of the sun (here), so I'll save y'all the annoyance of hearing any more about me. I'd rather talk about her.

I was privileged to be there when we welcomed our eldest son into the world, and again when his younger sister and brother joined the family. I watched Debbie go from friend to girlfriend to wife to mom. I watched her come alive when a squirming ball of joy known as Zach was first placed in her arms. She was always destined to be a parent, a natural in figuring out what our munchkins needed, what they didn't and how we both needed to navigate whatever it was that they chose to throw at us.

She's my parental GPS, my guide, my force of gravity. Not a day goes by that I don't wonder how she keeps all of our family's balls in the air. Were our roles reversed, I'd be dropping pretty much everything.

Yet she somehow does it without looking like it's difficult. Things Just Get Done. I'll never know her secret, but I'll always be thankful it was her path I crossed, and it was me who she chose.

Happy Mother's Day, sweets. May every other day of the year* be as richly filled with goodness as today promises to be.

Your turn: What is is about moms that makes them so...treasured?

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* Tangent alert: Mother's Day is, like so many other days on the calendar, a manufactured holiday, a cheap marketing ploy designed to sell more stuff. I'm not against the concept of valuing mothers (or dads, or love, or even the jolly red guy and the egg-dropping rabbit, if they float your boat), but I do feel somewhat uncomfortable when quite legitimate sentiments are force-fed to us in the interest of filling more boats with inventory and more cash registers with plasticized cash.

From where I sit, this regularly scheduled commercial imperative takes the focus off of the thing that matters and instead puts it squarely on the gift, the thing you buy, the guilt that wraps around you if you don't. And what of the other 364 days? Well, Mother's Day coverage doesn't deal with those: all that matters is today.

Not in my world. Every day matters. And while it's nice to have one day where you make a special effort to remember, it's even nicer to find small ways to deliver the same message every other day of the year. Because if you save it up for this one day, you're kinda missing the point.

Flyboy

Seated for launch
London, ON, April 2011

About this photo: Thematic Photographic. Please be seated. You know the rest. Go here. Please. Thank you.

Being seated doesn't universally align with doing nothing. In Noah's case, he'll peg the energy needle no matter how his body is oriented. It's who he is, and it's a joy to watch and absorb - as I so often do when the weather's just right and we hit the park for some well-deserved runaround time.

I remember being similarly boundless when I was his age (oops, that both dates and ages me), and I wish I could teach him to hold onto that attitude as he leaves childhood behind and becomes the man he's destined to become. My word choice - specifically, "attitude" - is deliberate. He can just as easily find himself swinging for the sky when he's a grown man as he is right here. But only if he allows himself to not be dragged down by the shackles of adulthood that so often hold us back from exuberance as we get older.

I believe you can grow up and still keep your child's soul. But you've got to work at it. And you've got to learn to ignore the voices of others that suggest otherwise. May he always know to follow his own voice. And to reach for the sky.

Your turn: Following your own voice. How?

Wondering what will be

Where do you want to go today?
Toronto, ON, December 2010
[Please click here for more window-themed Thematic]

Our kids like to look out the window whenever we travel. And when they do, I like to hang back and watch them take it all in. They're pensive, thoughtful individuals, just like my wife, so while I stand there I can almost see the wheels churning as they wonder about where we're going, what will be when we get there, and what adventures we'll encounter along the way.

On this morning, as I watched Noah observe the endless flow at Toronto's Pearson International Airport, I knew his wheels were spinning, and I knew we'd have lots to talk about in the days to come.

Your turn: So, where do you want to go today? Why?

Full of ship

Cargo
Delray Beach, FL, January 2011

About this photo: It's Thematic's "By land, sea or air" week, and we're asking everyone - including you - to share whatever comes to mind. The fun starts here.

My daughter always spots them first. Dots on the horizon, slowly crossing the shipping lanes than run north-south just off Florida's coast. Where they're going is a mystery to us, as is their cargo. But for a moment on a sunny, sandy beach, I get to stand with her and wonder what is and what might be.

It's another one of those small slices of parenthood that make me glad I became a parent in the first place, because it shows me just how wide her eyes are, and how far she's learned to cast her gaze.

Your turn: Looking far. Why does that matter?

Playing in another world

Beach kids
Delray Beach, FL, December 2010
[Please click here for more far from home Thematic]

We seem to have made it a family habit to go to the beach on the last day of the year. It didn't evolve deliberately. Rather, it's one of those little life events that seem to play out according to an unseen script. We turn around on December 31st and, somehow, we're watching our kids frolic in the surf.

However they got here on this day, it was clear to anyone who saw them that they came from somewhere that may as well be on another planet. While most everyone else hung back from the water because it wasn't quite warm enough, our intrepid kids dove right in and stayed in, afraid to miss so much as an extra minute of playtime in the surf.

Two weeks before I tripped the shutter on this moment, they had been battling snowdrifts that cast shadows above their heads. Playing outside meant pulling on multiple layers of winter clothes, then sitting around the kitchen table when they were done as my wife made them hot chocolate. For the record, there was no hot chocolate in the cooler on this day.

I stood further up the beach watching them play for what seemed like an age. I waited for them to get tired, to slow down, to want to come back to our seats and take a break. Hours later, I was still waiting. I guess all that living in a snowbound land made it that much more urgent for them to cram in as much beach time as they could. Because in just a few hours the year would be over. And not long after that they'd have to head back home.

The hot chocolate, as always, would be waiting for them. Wherever they ever call home, they know mom will never let them down.

Your turn: Rituals of childhood. Got one to share?

Jagged little tree

Reflections
Laval, QC, November 2010

I originally wanted to share this photo as part of last week's "wet" theme. But in the middle of the wild week we had, it ended up getting lost in the drafts pile. So I'm calling it a far from home pic. Here's why:

I took this photo around the same time that I shot this one. The light was fading, and I was walking, quickly and alone, along the shore of the near-silent tributary, looking for inspiration before night closed in for good.

I had come here to visit a childhood friend who had just lost his mom. I was staying with my own mom. Since she and my father moved here, I often walked these grounds, using the precious "alone time" to put our visits in perspective. Family can often be hard, so little breaks like this had become part of my away-from-home routine.

Now that my father's gone, these solitary walks by the water have taken on a different tone. He loved this place, and saw it as his mission to get all of his friends to move nearby. He loved these grounds, and always talked about what was going on here. To anyone else, it was an unremarkable stretch of land by the water. To him, it was a kingdom, with a narrative that unfolded every time he felt well enough to get on the phone.

So on this evening, I walked silently and thought about journeys - mine since childhood, my friend's after losing his last parent, my mother's now that she looks out her window at scenes like this, alone. I felt very separated from the things most precious to me - my wife and our kids - and felt a sudden chill at the prospect of being this far from them. I guess I needed a hug.

I couldn't come up with any bright-minded solution to banish any of the dark themes that now clouded my thoughts, but I thought this disjointed reflection on the water's surface summarized my feelings quite nicely.

Your turn: Where do you find quiet time? Why does it matter?

Tracked changes

Go via rail
Toronto, ON, March 2009

About this photo: Thematic Photographic is exploring "far from home" this week. Please click here to share your own far from home experience.

One of the reasons why I chose this week's theme is that I've spent much of my adult life trying to figure out how to use technology to make far seem a little less so. For example, we live about a two-hour drive outside Toronto, and I periodically end up in Canada's largest city to visit clients and do the reconnecting things a writer/media/geek/wonk needs to do. You can only be virtual and remote for so long, after all.

Sometimes I take the car, but on this trip I decided to take the train. And since Via Rail was kind enough to get me there a couple of hours early, I dawdled a little after I got off the train. In a pattern that's now become pretty standard whenever I go to Toronto for the day for work, I took pictures and sent a few home to my wife and kids via my BlackBerry. Later, I used IM to chat with Debbie as I walked from one meeting to another. (Sorry to the really tall dude in a suit who almost wore my nose print on his shoulder. I'll watch where I'm going next time.)

None of this was particularly earth-shattering. The pictures could have waited till I got home that evening and my wife could have lived without a blow-by-blow account of the directionally challenged taxi driver who blocked a good chunk of the intersection with an ill-advised and badly executed three-point turn.

But the neat thing was that I had the ability to bridge the distance, to make the experience a little more real for her and our kids. I doubt they looked up from their homework or video games to notice the freaky pic I sent of the CN Tower. But that wasn't the point. I was far away, but somehow I wasn't.

After growing up in an era where long distance phone calls were an expensive and rare luxury, and travel typically meant little to no contact for extended periods of time, being able to easily reach across distance and connect in this way is something of a revelation to me. It'll never get old.

Your turn: How do you stay connected when you're away?

A day at the beach

Laying it down
Deerfield Beach, FL, December 2010
[Please click here to contribute to the latest Thematic theme, wet]

I had come here with our eldest son and daughter on a cool, windy afternoon to walk along the ocean's edge and record it for posterity. Each of us had a camera, and we just wanted to drink in the uncharacteristically quiet beach and see if it offered up any interesting scenes. Nothing more involved than that.

It didn't take long for all of us to realize we had picked a great day for a shoot. I watched them slowly walk onto the beach, scanning thoughtfully. Our daughter found a spot to lay out her towel, sit down and figure out her next move. She remained there for a bit, saying nothing, watching the waves roll in. I hung back and let them figure out where they wanted to go, how they wanted to get there and what they wanted to do along the way.

It was quite a switch from my usual role. The dad in me has long thought parenting was all about doing stuff for your kids. And for much of their young life, it's played out exactly like that. But as they move through their teen years - just saying the word makes me realize how fast time has flown - I'm slowly learning that as they take on greater day-to-day responsibilities, the heavy parental lifting of making and doing begins its inevitable shift to guiding and facilitating.

So instead of placing the cameras in their hands, working the dials and controls for them and telling them where to go and what to capture, I let them figure it all out for themselves. It made for a great, memorable afternoon for us all.

Your turn: Letting go. Please discuss.

One more thing: This is the final entry in our wet theme (see here to squeeze one in under the wire.) We'll launch a new Thematic theme, far from home, later today (Thursday) at 7:00 p.m. Eastern.

I'm giving you A finger, not THE finger

Me and my sister
Deerfield Beach, FL, December 2010
Photo by Noah Levy
Please see here for more water-themed insanity

For the record, that's our munchkin's pinkie - (before the injury.) And despite our little mishap with the waterproof-camera-that-wasn't, we still managed to get some neat pics from the day: The one above being among my favorites.

Noah has a spirit that I can only describe as infectious. Everyone who knows him loves him, and everyone who spends any time with him can't help but have a little of him rub off on them. He probably gets under big sister Dahlia's skin more efficiently and quickly than anyone on the planet, but he's also probably her biggest fan, too. And she's one of his biggest heroes.

I could watch both of them play all day. And on this day, I was privileged to do just that.

Your turn: How do you make people around you smile?

Thumbs up

Forgive the picture. It's the best my BlackBerry could do with the available fluorescent light, and after the day that Noah had just had, I wasn't about to get hung up on the finer points of photography.

Long story short, little man jammed his thumb while playing basketball at school. I fetched him and, after a false start at a closed-early-by-budget-cuts urgent care centre, we ended up across town at the ER.

Noah was his usual stoic, balanced little self, taking in the sights - a deathly ill-looking, wheelchair-bound woman smoking in a deepening snowdrift, a little girl around his age using a walker to get around - with the eye and demeanor of someone much older. He answered every question from the doctors and nurses with the kind of politeness that reminded me of my wife.

As we waited and waited, he hung out on the examining room bed, listening to kids who whined too much and parents who should have needed a license to procreate, smiling quietly at the circus but refusing to let it bother him. At one point, his lip quivered and tears began to fall: he was hungry. In the rush to get here, he hadn't had a chance to eat anything and it was now past suppertime. A promise to pick something up afterward stemmed the tears.

Eventually, the doc with a kind heart I wish we could both bottle and clone appeared and quickly diagnosed strained ligaments. Nothing broken, thank goodness. A splint for 5 days and pain reliever and ice. Back into the snowy night we went, picking our way to the open house at his school that he so very much didn't want to miss.

And his empty tummy? A Mars bar from the vending machine was all he wanted. And he got to eat it in my car, the one I always said would be a meal-free zone. It was a very special day, I said with a wink, so we could easily make an exception for him.

About halfway there, he sighed happily from the back seat and said this had been a great adventure for us. Despite the pain he still felt and the tough day he'd just experienced, our wise little guy somehow managed to see the big picture from inside our darkened car. I blinked back the tears and continued driving through the blinding snow.

Your turn: How do you find the good in something that isn't?

Wet shoe diary

Droplets
Deerfield Beach, FL, December 2010
[Click here to share something wet]

After my daughter accidentally dripped on my shoe as she stepped out of the pool, she apologized. I stopped for a moment and considered why she'd even apologize in the first place.

I told her three things:

1. It's a boat shoe. So no worries: These things are designed to get wet. Even if it isn't waterproof, who really cares? It's just a shoe.
   
2. That's a neat set of droplets on it, don't you think?
3. I should be thanking you for creating this too-cool visual.

So I did. And then pulled the camera out and pointed it down. Once again, I had been inspired by one of our kids. I don't think my work - in words or in pictures - would be anywhere near as much fun if I didn't have them.

Your turn: How do others inspire you to create?

Just ducky

Wavy vision
Deerfield Beach, FL, December 2010
Click photo to embiggen

About this photo: Thematic Photographic explores water this week. Click here if you're in the mood to get a little wet.

#1 rule of photography: There are no rules.
#2 rule of photography: See #1 rule.

Despite this, I've developed a few, um, quirks over the years that have resulted in some surprisingly different deposits on film and, more recently, memory cards. The one that stands out is this:

Return often to the same scene. Shoot the same thing over and over until you get something you like.

This isn't so much a rule as it is as truth. The world around us changes constantly. So the way a particular scene or subject looks today may very well change radically when you return tomorrow.

Of course, you can come back tomorrow and it'll still be exactly the same. But what about the next day? Or the next? You'll never know if you aren't there. And if you've been using "been there, done that" as an excuse to not return to a specific place or topic, I humbly suggest reconsidering. Because there's no such thing as a done deal in photography.

This is my lame-oid way of explaining how I ended up standing on the edge of the same swimming pool, pointing my camera down at the overflow gutters. I assumed this stance at least once per day, hoping to capture some neat reflections as the shallow surface waves washed over the brightly painted concrete. Every day I'd return, wait for the moment of brightest sun, then shoot downward as total strangers whispered among themselves.

My kids pretended they didn't know me. Come to think of it, so did my wife. But I hung around and kept at it.

And then this duck showed up. Sometimes, patience is a good thing, even if your kids think you're insane.

Your turn: What does persistence mean to you?

Stumbling upon a space shuttle

Where journeys begin
Cape Canaveral, FL
December 2010
Photo by Zach Levy

About this photo: It's a wet week in Thematic-land. If any of this confuses you - no worries, it's the story of my life - please click here to share your own wet perspective.

You're looking at the Kennedy Space Center, shot by our son from our plane as we began our descent into Miami. The thing in the middle is the Vehicle Assembly Building, where space shuttles - for now, anyway - are stacked and prepped for launch. To the upper left is launchpad 39B, which is in the process of having all its shuttle-related fixins removed. 39A is to its right, and as we flew over, Discovery was undergoing a tanking test in advance of its next launch, currently scheduled for February. The Shuttle Landing Facility's runway is peeking in on the left.

As ever, this photo has a bit of a back story. Zach had been shooting randomly out the window and noticed these neat forms on the ground. He grabbed a few frames before I peeked over his shoulder and had a mild-but-happy freakout.

Me: "Do you know what those are?"
Zach: "No. They just looked cool."
Me: "OMG, that's the space shuttle! You're looking down on their launch pads...Discovery is Right There." I punctuated that with a finger poke of the dirty plastic window. I may or may not have hyperventilated a little.
Zach: "Gee, I hope it doesn't launch while we're here."

I think we were the only ones who noticed, as the other passengers were either snoozing or watching their seatback screens. So he grabbed as many pictures as he could before it slipped out of view. We chattered about it for the rest of the flight, excited that he happened to be looking out the window at just the right moment.

I know that airplanes fly over this place every day. But not our airplane. Not when I'm sitting there with my kid. And in the context of our family's world, it was another neat event on a journey that had barely gotten underway.

Your turn: A moment you've shared with your kid. Please discuss.

My future's so bright...

Spun light
Deerfield Beach, FL, January 2011

Technically, this doesn't qualify as a favorite-of-2010 photo because it was taken just after midnight (12:10 a.m., if we're being precise.) But it's close enough that I'll let it squeeze in under the wire*.

The story behind this bright scene is a simple one: My wife has always believed in making even the smallest events in our kids' lives special, and tonight was no different. She had picked up party hats, horns and sparklers for the big celebration at her parents' place, and after the ball dropped we went outside to create some light of our own. I figured some fingers-crossed long exposures would capture the feeling of the moment.

Your turn: How do you make small moments memorable?

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*Please go here if you want to squeeze in one last one of your own, as we're moving on to the next Thematic theme, wet, tomorrow (Thursday) at 7:00 p.m. Eastern.

Back on terra firma

Catharthic
Deerfield Beach, FL, December 2010

This morning we drove through rush-hour traffic on roads lined with palm trees. The windows were down as the Miami-region FM morning hosts bantered in our ears. Late this afternoon and half a continent away, we drove through blinding snow under a darkening sky, our headlights barely cutting through the murk as Toronto-area news anchors updated traffic conditions on Canada's largest highway. No palm trees in sight.

We'd been away for a bit, spending some much-needed quiet time among family. I was about as far off the grid as I've ever been. No data on the BlackBerry, only occasional checks of e-mail to make sure nothing was burning down back home. The blog magically updated itself with scheduled posts, and assigned articles were still written to deadline. The difference is they were written poolside, using whatever WiFi signal I could scavenge. I kept the netbook on battery power to ensure I wrote quickly.

As much as I wanted to keep us all there for much longer, life awaited us back home. Vacations are wonderful things, opportunities to slow things down and remind ourselves why we all matter so much to each other. Why the quiet moments matter as much as the momentous ones. But like a good dessert, it doesn't taste quite as special if that's all there is.

As you may have imagined, I took a lot of pictures and I'll be sharing some of them in the days and weeks to come. I wanted to start with this one because it reinforces my belief that southern light is entirely different than northern light. And sometimes you need to go far from home to see things from a new perspective.

Your turn: Did you change gears a bit over the holiday season? What did you learn along the way?

Here at the Palasad

Well waxed
London, ON, July 2010

About this photo: We're sharing our favorite photos of the year, thanks to an extended Thematic Photographic theme. You can, too, by simply clicking here.

First off, if you're celebrating Christmas, I hope the day has dawned merry and happy for you and your family. I hope the spirit of this holiday lasts well into 2011, and that you always look back at this day with a smile.

Second, I've posted this particular picture because the colors sorta reflect the day, and I've loved the warmth of this scene since I first shot it last summer.

It was our youngest son's birthday party, and he had decided to hold it at the Palasad. Our kids love this place, a restaurant/bar/bowling alley/pool hall/party place. Remarkably, it serves its multiple audiences without any overlap. Happy hour takes place right alongside a bunch of 10-year-olds shnarfing birthday cake in between frames. If you ever watched 'Ed', the comfy vibe of this place might seem vaguely familiar.

As the kids did their thing, I wandered around the periphery and looked for opportunities in the dimly lit corners. I didn't have to try too hard to find inspiration. I could probably spend days here finding similar moments (wait, maybe I have.)

Your turn: If the folks who've walked this floor for so many years could talk, what would they be saying?

Morning rituals

Comfort
London, ON, October 2010

About this photo: We're sharing our favorite photos of the year as part of a very special Thematic. Please click here to participate.

To some, it's just a mug of coffee. To me, it's coffee that my wife made. Which makes it uniquely special, because to me, at least, it's far more than percolated beans with a bit of milk and sugar.

It's a little thing that connects us, a moment between sleep-time and our pedal-to-the-metal day that reminds us why our family matters as much as it does. Because before we had kids, before we needed to shuttle them around town, before we tended to their every need before we tended to our own, we sat together over mugs of coffee or tea at our quiet kitchen table.

Even if not a word was said, the conversation was always glorious. Still is.

Your turn: What's your morning ritual? Why does it matter to you?

Annals of parenthood: Eclipse edition

Waking up your kids at 4:30 a.m.: Free.

Watching the lunar eclipse with them before shuffling them back to bed: Priceless.

So I'm apparently a bad dad because I woke the munchkins up in the middle of the night so they could see the lunar eclipse. Make that two of our kids, as our daughter quite clearly did not want to be moved. But the boys trundled out front and saw the spectacle with me.

The wakeup call cut into their sleep and made for some additional grumpiness around the breakfast table. But I think they're glad they made the short trip with me. Somehow, I hope they remember that life's made up of the small moments that you strive to hold onto. Because simply letting them slip by unnoticed seems like a wasted opportunity.

Your turn: Holding onto the small moments. Please discuss.

The fringes of our lives

Hanging around
London, ON, September 2010
[Please click here for more Thematic favorite photos of the year]

Visitors to a synagogue may notice the prayer shawls, known as tallit, that most folks wear here. I've had my own since I was a kid, and the one I now wear my wife bought for me when we got married. There's a huge amount of tradition wrapped up in these otherwise unassuming fabric creations.

My favorite memory? When I was a munchkin attending services with my dad, I'd stand beside him, too short to see over the crowds. It was very claustrophobic down there, and also kinda of boring for a little guy. No Nintendo DS to pass the time.

So I played with the fringes on my father's tallit. I'd wind them between my fingers, playing quietly with them to keep from bothering him. He never told me to stop, and every once in a while he'd look down and smile, so I'm sure he liked it. Our daughter is now 13, and earlier this year she received tallit of her own to mark her Bat Mitzvah. As much of a young lady as she's become, we both still have recent memories of her playing with my fringes to pass the time, occasionally looking up at me to make sure it was still OK. And I'd smile back at her to let her know it absolutely was.

After all, if it connects our generations together, it must be a good thing.

Your turn: What does "from generation to generation" mean to you?

Offspring

We made them
London, ON, October 2010

I thought I'd wind down this week's "family" theme (go here if you want to squeeze in a last-minute pic of your own) by closing the loop a bit. We started the theme with the five of us, and I'll end it with the three folks we've been busy raising for 16, 13 and 10 years, respectively.

Not a day goes by that I don't shake my head at some point and wonder how we ended up being the parents of three intensely uniquem bright and engaging children. Once upon a time, they didn't exist, and now, an entire world, our world, revolves around them.

It's a world that gives me slivers of grey hair, tiny-but-growing wrinkles at the corners of my eyes and a general feeling of fatigue that never seems to go away. But I wouldn't trade it for anything. Because of the three mini-Levys in this picture, our family's life has taken on a life of its own. They define who we are, challenge us right up to - and beyond - our perceived limits and never let us forget how much they matter.

Watching them interact with others and with each other is a joy to behold, and I'm glad we've been blessed with the opportunity not just to be parents, but to be their parents.

This is what family means to me, and it's been a privilege to explore it with you all this past week.

Your turn: How do you define the word "family"?

One more thing: Our new Thematic Photographic theme launches tonight - 7:00 p.m. Eastern, so I hope you'll come on back and make this next theme one to remember. What is that theme? Ooh, I suspect you'll like it:

Favorite photos of the year

Even better, we'll be exploring this theme for three consecutive weeks (!) So start churning some ideas around what you'd like to share, and pop back in after 7 tonight to start sharing. This is going to be fun.