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The Falling Man – Tom Junod – 9/11 Suicide Photograph – Esquire

The Falling Man – Tom Junod – 9/11 Suicide Photograph – Esquire

At fifteen seconds after 9:41 a.m., on September 11, 2001, a photographer named Richard Drew took a picture of a man falling through the sky – falling through time as well as through space. The picture went all around the world, and then disappeared, as if we willed it away. One of the most famous photographs in human history became an unmarked grave, and the man buried inside its frame – the Falling Man – became the Unknown Soldier in a war whose end we have not yet seen.

I’m way late too the game in posting this one but I was going through my Instapaper backlog today and came across this. 

This is the most wonderfully written journalistic prose I ever remember reading. Real, tragic, heartbreaking – yet beautiful and deeply personal. What it says about us all is just as important as what it says about the people and the events at hand. That, in our efforts to “never forget”, we have chosen to only selectively remember, because the truth is just too hard to bare.

Tom Junod has set a bar here that all writers, especially those in the business of recording our history, should aspire to meet or exceed.

Your daily life is your temple and your religion. When you enter into it take with you your all.

Kahlil Gibran

Me, Twenty-Five Years Ago

Twenty-five years ago, my Grandmother took this picture. She was likely excited, though not in the least bit surprised, that I was wearing my Dillard University shirt — having been accepted for attendance the coming Fall. Dillard was our family school. Located just blocks from our family home in New Orleans, LA. My attendance marked five generations of our family having attended the school. My Grandmother was not only an alumni but also on the Board of Trustees and a major donor. My acceptance was certainly less due to my academic performance as it was simply a matter of birthright.

The summer that stood between this picture and my leaving for NOLA (the local term of endearment for the city) was what I still consider to be the best of my life. Everyday of this time was both routine and full of surprise and wonder.

That summer, I would awake, dress, and head almost immediately over to my friend Derek’s house a leisurely walk away. We would hang out from late morning until early evening. Lifting weights in his basement, jamming to the latest music (some solidified classics as well), driving his Trans-Am to the liquor store to buy a case or two of Miller High Life for the night ahead, being thankful that we were so well recognized that our fake IDs would not be subject to further scrutiny, and generally having as few cares as one does as that age.

Come evening, other friends would show up, their cars pulling up in front as we sat on the front porch tipping back a few. Derek was one of those guys that knew everyone. Every school has that guy who everyone loves and is the center of the social. As such, he would have the line on the parties, band jams, gatherings, and places to be for the evening. We would pile into vehicles and head out, not missing a single one. Derek would have them all memorized by cross streets and we generally, perhaps not mistakenly, believed that the party would not really start until our arrival.

For the first time in my life, I forgot how skinny and awkward I was. I forgot my natural introversion. I forgot my true and natural place in this teenaged society. I was one of the cool kids. I knew the parties would one day end. At some point, the Fall would come, I would leave, and the social capital I had right then would mean nothing where I was going. To me it seemed twenty-five years away. All that really mattered was the night and trying to make it last just one more day.

Inventing a Planet » Socio-Economic Caste Systems

Inventing a Planet » Socio-Economic Caste Systems

“Classes” are the the “castes” of democracy. Put it this way: democracy is a “wiki-caste” system by which we categorize and define each other collectively in economic, racial and other various terms. The result is a social hierarchy that we can claim is not a caste system because it lacks formal designation or enforcement.

A single quote of this essay, no matter how brilliant, is no where near the brilliance of the whole. A must read. (and bookmark the entire site while you are there).

Wearing & Tearing « A Continuous Lean.

Wearing & Tearing « A Continuous Lean.

GAP says the denim is “Japanese” which I suspect to mean Japanese inspired, but made in China. Not that it really matters in this care, nor do I care. This was an experiment. Besides, those French jeans are made in Macao and cost $140. The point was: “Were the $300 jeans I am buying that much better? Could a $54 pair from a huge chain wear-in and look good?” I brought the jeans home, tried them on and then proceeded to wear them everyday for about 11 months straight. Those GAP jeans wore in amazingly.

I own a pair of these and can second this assessment. These are my favorite pair.

… it was as if he had filled a water balloon liquid nitrogen and decided that everybody needed to know how serious he was about his interpretive dance routine.

Wait, What? – One of my new favorite things.

Jen Spencer on Curation

Jen Spencer on Curation

You can’t automate great curation. The Industrial Revolution automated production, and the technological age automated just about everything else in our lives. But factories and technology can’t automate creativity, imagination and instinct. If you want to make yourself irreplaceable, start getting creative.

Nice piece on the responsibility we all have to be great curators. (thx MiGrant)