A Diary of Small Things

In everyone's life, even in the darkest places, there is something that brings them happiness. My name is Cliff Cumber, and this is my attempt to find those moments and catalog them day-by-day with a photo, a drawing, a line or two.

If you feel inspired, I hope you'll join me. One moment of joy, every day.

Feb 8
67 // via Samsung Instinct M800: Radio Gaga I confess. I am a fan of the radio. Not the whining, all-you-can-repeat music radio that’s homogenized the airwaves. Erg. No thanks. I mean National Public Radio radio. Well, at least, I listen to that when I’m in the car because it’ll tide me over ‘til I can get home and listen to the real heavy stuff. Oh yeah, that’s what I’m talking about. My favorite, absolute favorite thing to do is to listen via the Interwebs to BBC Radio 4. Radio 4 sprawls across topics like an aging society dame on an Ottoman and the discussions inevitably fall on the intellectually weighty side. (For example, a rousing discussion of the morals behind one of the week’s big issues, or on the development of the lesbian novel.) I like listening to the programs (programmes?) if only to feel bright for a while, even though I know I don’t get half of what’s being talked about.

67 // via Samsung Instinct M800: Radio Gaga

I confess. I am a fan of the radio. Not the whining, all-you-can-repeat music radio that’s homogenized the airwaves. Erg. No thanks.

I mean National Public Radio radio. Well, at least, I listen to that when I’m in the car because it’ll tide me over ‘til I can get home and listen to the real heavy stuff.

Oh yeah, that’s what I’m talking about. My favorite, absolute favorite thing to do is to listen via the Interwebs to BBC Radio 4.

Radio 4 sprawls across topics like an aging society dame on an Ottoman and the discussions inevitably fall on the intellectually weighty side. (For example, a rousing discussion of the morals behind one of the week’s big issues, or on the development of the lesbian novel.)

I like listening to the programs (programmes?) if only to feel bright for a while, even though I know I don’t get half of what’s being talked about.
Posted at 7:21pm

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Feb 5

66 // via Strange Neural Pathways: Bucketlist

I recently confessed on local radio (WFMD) during a discussion about New Year’s resolutions that I had entered my 40th year.

This is somewhat astounding to me. I’ve done a lot, and achieved some things, and even incrementally grown as a person. I have a full life. Really, if I get taken tomorrow, I can’t complain (not that I’m advocating that. Universe, are you listening?).

But four decades, whether I like it or not, as forced some self evaluation, some stark reflection, some philosophical macromicrointrospection. In short, as good as life has been to me, I have a couple of to dos. OK, more than a couple.

A few months ago I started writing a bucket list, that is, a list of all the things I’d like to do before I kick the water pail. And this year, damn it, I’m going to tick two of those off that list. And the next year, and the next year. These are things that I want to do for me. They won’t supersede the important stuff, like family. But I will elbow aside a few of the more minor things to make time.

So, when the radio show host asked me what was on my New Year’s resolution list, I had a ready answer.

I’m going to write and draw a comic. That’s the first one. None of your super hero stuff; I’ll leave that to the experts. But it will be a story that has meaning for me, that I’ve wanted to write for some time.

And come Dec. 31, I want to have accumulated a book’s worth of poetry. I know. Poetry. If you know me, you probably won’t believe I’m a poetry appreciator. But there you have it. I may not be deep, but I am broad. Never mind the quality. Feel the width.

I don’t ever mean to publish the book. I just want to have it. In that regard, I’d like to share an entry now and again, if I may, and if you’ll indulge me. This is called … Ah. I got stuck here. Nerves. Performance anxiety. Which one, which one? Now I intend to reveal one to the world, none of them seem good enough. My poetry, like the human condition, is a work in progress.

Take a breath.

All right. No one’s reading this anyway.

Speaking of depth, this poem is called “I am not deep.” It’s among the first I wrote, but still a favorite.

I am not deep.

Depth takes time

I do not have

For attendant thought, reflection,

or a period of calm,

To consider, to contemplate,

To move and swell in the tides of consciousness.

Instead I chart slate waves,

Tack crashing water

That threatens to sink my boat,

drown my sails and

show my keel to the stars.

Maybe one day

The sea will calm at sunset,

revealing the world’s curve.

Then I will scupper my vessel

and sew myself

into my white sail.

(The formatting is a bit off, but it’s supposed to have three line stanzas.)

Posted at 11:11pm

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Nov 23
65 // via Samsung Instinct M800: Inside leg I’ve realized what’s better than shopping for new pants when you’ve lost weight. It’s finding old ones that you threw out three or four months ago because you’d given up on ever wearing them again, because you’d given up on losing that couple of extra inches, because you’d given up on yourself. Sorry Goodwill. I’m keeping these.

65 // via Samsung Instinct M800: Inside leg

I’ve realized what’s better than shopping for new pants when you’ve lost weight. It’s finding old ones that you threw out three or four months ago because you’d given up on ever wearing them again, because you’d given up on losing that couple of extra inches, because you’d given up on yourself.

Sorry Goodwill. I’m keeping these.
Posted at 12:08pm

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Nov 12
64 // via screengrab: Early delivery I love ordering things online. There’s something about the anticipation of getting a parcel in the mail, then getting it. And with online tracking, it’s even more fun. I recently bought an overcoat from Target. The estimated delivery time was next week. So, I logged in today to see which exotic part of the country it was flying through next. Turns out it’s probably sitting on my doorstep. And just in time for the really cold weather. Sweet.

64 // via screengrab: Early delivery

I love ordering things online. There’s something about the anticipation of getting a parcel in the mail, then getting it. And with online tracking, it’s even more fun.

I recently bought an overcoat from Target. The estimated delivery time was next week. So, I logged in today to see which exotic part of the country it was flying through next.

Turns out it’s probably sitting on my doorstep. And just in time for the really cold weather. Sweet.
Posted at 3:57pm

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Nov 11

63 // via Flip UltraHD, Samsung Instinct M800: The Flip Off

Sprint PictureMail

This one speaks for itself.

Posted at 10:49am

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Nov 3
62 // via http://mk2weddings.blogspot.com: Genius I’ve had two epiphanies in my life this year: One was during a white chocolate ganache dessert at Volt, a restaurant hear in Frederick. The other was this morning while looking at photos by Mary Kate McKenna, a local photographer. These moments are hard to describe, being a sort of emotional reaction. How shall I couch this? I’m a cynic, a realist pretty much convinced that if we can’t experience something in some way, it doesn’t really exist. I thought food, for example, is just nature’s way of maintaining our bodies. There is nothing special or extra-sensory about it. You eat. You go. That’s all. Then I ate at Volt. The food was good, sure. Bryan Voltaggio’s proved he’s a world-class chef from his time on Top Chef. Then I ate dessert. I was no longer there, in the conversation. I wasn’t present in the restaurant. It was just me, this taste and … well, I guess I entered a state of what Zen masters call “no mind.” Now, that’s genius. The epiphnay was understanding, experiencing, what all these obnoxious food critics go on about. (If you’ve ever seen “Ratatouille,” you’ll remember the scene where the food critic is instantaneously transported back to his childhood by a single taste of ratatouille). Food, I believed, couldn’t possibly do that. I believed the same thing of pictures. What can a static image teach us about ourselves? Looking at the photographs taken by Mary Kate, I experienced something profoundly different, but every bit as much a moment of enlightenment. Mary Kate and my family spent about an hour on Carroll Creek for a photo session that I wanted to give my wife for her birthday. Mary Kate sent through a link to the photos today. Here’s the thing, they are awesome. Philosophers, mainly of the Continental school, have this concept called authenticity. It’s kind of a subjective term, but it’s to do with capturing the truth of something, and in doing so, making it subjectively genuine. The photographs I saw had that authenticity. The pictures of my children made me see them as I always see them. That may sound common or garden, but in reality it is not. Pictures don’t capture the truth of what we see everyday. They are, supposedly, a moment in time, divorced from all the preceding and antecedent moments. But these still moments of my children held in them the absolute and authentic timeless essence of my kids. That is to say, they captured something eternal. In 20 years, in 50 years, I will be able to look back on these photographs and say with absolute certainty, “This is my son and this is my daughter, and this is how they were in this moment, and countless other moments like them. this is them in a moment of truth.” It takes a true artist to be able to give the experience of authenticity. It takes a true artist to provide us with a transcendence that allows us to touch on a thing greater than ourselves, something immutable and eternal.

62 // via http://mk2weddings.blogspot.com: Genius

I’ve had two epiphanies in my life this year: One was during a white chocolate ganache dessert at Volt, a restaurant hear in Frederick. The other was this morning while looking at photos by Mary Kate McKenna, a local photographer.

These moments are hard to describe, being a sort of emotional reaction. How shall I couch this? I’m a cynic, a realist pretty much convinced that if we can’t experience something in some way, it doesn’t really exist.

I thought food, for example, is just nature’s way of maintaining our bodies. There is nothing special or extra-sensory about it. You eat. You go. That’s all. Then I ate at Volt. The food was good, sure. Bryan Voltaggio’s proved he’s a world-class chef from his time on Top Chef.

Then I ate dessert. I was no longer there, in the conversation. I wasn’t present in the restaurant. It was just me, this taste and … well, I guess I entered a state of what Zen masters call “no mind.”

Now, that’s genius. The epiphnay was understanding, experiencing, what all these obnoxious food critics go on about. (If you’ve ever seen “Ratatouille,” you’ll remember the scene where the food critic is instantaneously transported back to his childhood by a single taste of ratatouille). Food, I believed, couldn’t possibly do that.

I believed the same thing of pictures. What can a static image teach us about ourselves?

Looking at the photographs taken by Mary Kate, I experienced something profoundly different, but every bit as much a moment of enlightenment. Mary Kate and my family spent about an hour on Carroll Creek for a photo session that I wanted to give my wife for her birthday.

Mary Kate sent through a link to the photos today. Here’s the thing, they are awesome. Philosophers, mainly of the Continental school, have this concept called authenticity. It’s kind of a subjective term, but it’s to do with capturing the truth of something, and in doing so, making it subjectively genuine.

The photographs I saw had that authenticity. The pictures of my children made me see them as I always see them. That may sound common or garden, but in reality it is not. Pictures don’t capture the truth of what we see everyday. They are, supposedly, a moment in time, divorced from all the preceding and antecedent moments. But these still moments of my children held in them the absolute and authentic timeless essence of my kids.

That is to say, they captured something eternal. In 20 years, in 50 years, I will be able to look back on these photographs and say with absolute certainty, “This is my son and this is my daughter, and this is how they were in this moment, and countless other moments like them. this is them in a moment of truth.”

It takes a true artist to be able to give the experience of authenticity. It takes a true artist to provide us with a transcendence that allows us to touch on a thing greater than ourselves, something immutable and eternal.
Posted at 7:43pm

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Jun 28
61 // via Nikon Coolpix L12: The Icing on the Cake For the first time ever, I iced a cake. Two, in fact, one for my son’s birthday, one for my daughter’s. Mickey Mouse, and some sort of Cars scene. It was frustrating, but fun, and the cakes turned out to be more icing than sponge. A cake’s progress:

61 // via Nikon Coolpix L12: The Icing on the Cake

For the first time ever, I iced a cake. Two, in fact, one for my son’s birthday, one for my daughter’s. Mickey Mouse, and some sort of Cars scene. It was frustrating, but fun, and the cakes turned out to be more icing than sponge.

A cake’s progress:

Photobucket

Photobucket

Photobucket
Posted at 10:19pm

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Jun 19
59 // via Free Clip Art Junction: Happy Birthday, Bug! My son is 3 years old today and lights me up. Nuff said.

59 // via Free Clip Art Junction: Happy Birthday, Bug!

My son is 3 years old today and lights me up. Nuff said.
Posted at 4:35pm

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60 // via drawing and Samsung Instinct M800: Out of the Box Here’s to dreaming a big dream. I’ve had an idea, and who knows if it’s going to work out. Maybe it won’t. Maybe I’ll never get to the point where it’s anything but words on paper. But I’m crazy passionate about it. I can’t say what it is right now, obviously. I don’t want to give it the kiss of death. But at least I want to throw a nod its way, let it know that I haven’t forgotten it, that incrementally I’m building toward it. The foundations are dug. Soon, the bricks will go in. Here’s to dreaming a big dream. Here’s to those crazy dreamers who dream them.

60 // via drawing and Samsung Instinct M800: Out of the Box

Here’s to dreaming a big dream. I’ve had an idea, and who knows if it’s going to work out. Maybe it won’t. Maybe I’ll never get to the point where it’s anything but words on paper.

But I’m crazy passionate about it. I can’t say what it is right now, obviously. I don’t want to give it the kiss of death.

But at least I want to throw a nod its way, let it know that I haven’t forgotten it, that incrementally I’m building toward it. The foundations are dug. Soon, the bricks will go in.

Here’s to dreaming a big dream. Here’s to those crazy dreamers who dream them.
Posted at 4:28pm

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Jun 17
58 // via Fuji FinePix F480: Handbags in waiting Alligators. Vicious bastards, alligators. And that’s why they’re cool. If you want to see ‘em up close and personal in the wild, although at a convenient more-than-arm’s-length, there’s a spot along the famous Alligator Alley that runs east to west connecting Miami to Naples. We took the kids there, first time for my son, second time for my daughter (she was really too young to appreciate it the first time). It’s a short boardwalk, maybe 70 yards long, that sits above a long canal next to a gravel road. (People actually live along it, amazingly enough.) Alligators just gather there and slumber right alongside turtles and other wildlife. Tons of them, lurking in the brackish green water. With teeth. Big teeth. Here’s a map. If you’re ever in south Florida, you can go see for yourself. It’s about halfway across. View Alligators on view in a larger map

58 // via Fuji FinePix F480: Handbags in waiting

Alligators. Vicious bastards, alligators. And that’s why they’re cool.

If you want to see ‘em up close and personal in the wild, although at a convenient more-than-arm’s-length, there’s a spot along the famous Alligator Alley that runs east to west connecting Miami to Naples.

We took the kids there, first time for my son, second time for my daughter (she was really too young to appreciate it the first time).

It’s a short boardwalk, maybe 70 yards long, that sits above a long canal next to a gravel road. (People actually live along it, amazingly enough.)

Alligators just gather there and slumber right alongside turtles and other wildlife. Tons of them, lurking in the brackish green water. With teeth. Big teeth.

Here’s a map. If you’re ever in south Florida, you can go see for yourself. It’s about halfway across.


View Alligators on view in a larger map
Posted at 5:11pm

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