AIR JORDAN TRUE FLIGHT GS

No Caption Needed: Iconic Photographs, Public Culture, and Liberal Democracy

In No Caption Needed, Robert Hariman and John Louis Lucaites provide the definitive study of the iconic photograph as a dynamic form of public art. Their critical analyses of nine individual icons explore the photographs themselves and their subsequent circulation through an astonishing array of media, including stamps, posters, billboards, editorial cartoons, TV shows, Web pages, tattoos, and more. Iconic images are revealed as models of visual eloquence, signposts for collective memory, means of persuasion across the political spectrum, and a crucial resource for critical reflection.
Arguing against the conventional belief that visual images short-circuit rational deliberation and radical critique, Hariman and Lucaites make a bold case for the value of visual imagery in a liberal-democratic society. No Caption Needed is a compelling demonstration of photojournalism’s vital contribution to public life.

Okay, so we cut that one far too close.

We have arrived in France, and we are to visit Paris today. We were up early, and we sat like dutiful cows as the ship’s personnel snowed us about why we had to come to a meet-up and stand around for an hour and a half when the ship hadn’t even docked yet.

In essence, the boat docked late due to heavy port traffic, the customs officials took their sweet time about getting onboard, and our tour ended up being late. So . . .

We hit the ground running. Literally. Our guide pointed us to a Metro station, gave us a map, and sent us on our way, with an advisory that we had to be back by 4 PM. It was already nearly noon.

But even tight timelines don’t stand in the way of your very first banana and chocolate crepe in Paris. Oh my goodness, I enjoyed it for all the ladies. And then I rushed to the Metro.

We entered the underground and ran into our first obstacle. We knew the number of the line we were to take, but hadn’t a clue which way to take it. David finally relented and asked for directions. (Parisians are very nice about helping confused tourists, by the way.)

Once we got turned around and headed in the right direction, the rest was fairly easy.

My Flickr friend, Ronald (Humandecoy), has been a great asset to us on this trip. He came through with a couple of great suggestions for things we should do in Paris. And we chose a couple: the ugly skyscraper, the Tour Montparnasse, that you can get a 360 view of the Parisian landscape, and the old cemetery that houses the remains of the late Doors rocker, Jim Morrison, Cimetiere Pere Lachaisse.

Tip: When visiting the Tour Montparnasse building, don’t hang around in the glassed-in area. Go directly to the roof access door. Expect to walk up a few flights of stairs, but it’s well worth the climb.

We finished shooting on the rooftop, and made our way back down into the Metro. Confused again, but yet again, another Parisian we approached helped us out very quickly, and happily.

Rode the subway for a fair distance, transferred at “Nation” and rode some more. Finally, we arrived at the cemetery stop.

We clambered back into the light and beheld a massive stonewall that seemed to extend endlessly down the street. A sign told us we had to walk all the way down the block to gain entrance.
We bought a guide map, and began our search for the late great Jim Morrison’s grave.

#16 the map said, but Cimetiere Pere Lachaisse is like no other cemetery you have been to. It’s filled with many lanes and winding paths. You can get lost here, and that was something we couldn’t risk.

The light was beautiful, Ronald. Truly. Thanks for the tip. It proved to be a great place to shoot. Anyway on with my story.

We finally found the tomb. I am not a fan of Jim's, so much as, I am a fan of fans. I like to see the lengths fans will go to for their adored dead idols. I was not disappointed.

Graffiti, a picture, an empty liquor bottle, and a few sorrowful souls is what you will find at Jim’s tomb.

Advice: Don’t set up your tripod or monopod because the grumpy old guy hired by the city of Paris to guard Jim’s tomb, will scold you. Heck if I know why my monopod was such a concern. But he was certainly miffed. “Nyet, Nyet,” he kept repeating as he jabbed a finger in the direction of the monopod attached to my camera.

Sure buddy, I thought. Don’t have a hissy fit -- no monopod it is. Sheesh.

Time was ticking down but the gorgeous play of light across the tombs, and the captivating textures of the gravestones kept calling to me. Snap here, snap there, and the time ticked down.

David and I kept encouraging each other to keep moving. We had one hour to get back to our tour bus, and we had no idea how we were going to get there. But the beauty of the place continued to call me.

David turned, and said, “Sheree, don’t look up. Just keep your head down, and keep on walking.

We made it back to the Metro. And once again confusion. Which train? The time ticked down. Lost and confused, and slightly tense, we flagged down a likely looking gent. This nice Parisian actually walked us to our train, and indicated the color and number of the next train we would need: Train #6 to Train #1 to the Concord stop. He smiled and sent us on our way. Phew, we were on our way.

I bet you think the story ends there. But it doesn’t.

When we emerged in the square, we congratulated ourselves with a high five; we actually had 20 minutes to spare. Enough time for a parting chocolate and banana crepe. Yum.

Five minutes to four. Time to cross the busy Concord Square and get back to our bus. We reached the other side and stared, aghast. No bus.

David began to amble a little quicker in search of our lost bus.

“I don’t think we were this close to these buildings,” I offered.

One minute to four.

Panic had set in. We did not want to be left behind in Paris. The cost of cabbing it back to the po

Colonel Gregory "Pappy" Boyington, USMC

"Pappy" was born in Coeur D'Alene, Idaho on December 4, 1912 and grew up in Tacoma, Washington. In his early school years he became recognized for his aggressiveness and skill in sports and became intercollegiate wrestling champion while attending college in Washington. His interest in flying and competitive spirit caused him to join the Marine Corps where he became a flight instructor. His desire to fly combat and need to pay off some old debts led him to volunteer for the "Flying Tigers" AVG group in China where the pilots were promised $675 a month plus $500 for every enemy plane they downed. Fighting bugs, scorpions, injuries, P-40 engine problems, bad weather and general Chenault's incompetent staff as well as the Japanese, Boyington claimed to have shot down six Japanese fighters, which would have made him one of the first American aces of the war. From AVG records, which were loosely kept, the most kills that can be confirmed is 3.5. He maintained until his death in 1988 that he did, in fact, have six kills, and the Marine Corps officially credits him with those kills.

He returned to the United States following the disbanding of AVG. When the United States entered the war, he rejoined the Marine Corps in early 1942 and was assigned to the Solomon Islands in the Pacific, and also served in the Bougainville campaign.

Colonel Boyington led one of the most successful squadrons in all of World War II. During his combat career with the Flying Tigers, and the Black Sheep Squadron, he successfully shot down 28 Japanese aircraft. VMF-214, the Black Sheep Squadron, flying the F4U Corsair, shot down 94 enemy fighters and had a total of 203 enemy aircraft either destroyed, probably destroyed, or damaged in only 12 weeks of combat.

The constant stress of the tropical climate and combat took its toll however, and suffering from exhaustion and skin disease Boyington flew his last combat mission on 3 January 1944 during a mission in which he and his wingman, George Ashmun, attacked a flight of 10 Japanese Zero's. After shooting 3 down, the Marine pilots were attacked by 20 more zeros from above. Boyington managed to down another zero trying to defend his wingman but Ashmun crashed and "Pappy" bailed out of his burning F4U with just inches to spare. Four Zeros strafed Boyington in the water for almost 20 minutes before a Japanese submarine picked him up. He was subsequently captured and spent the duration of World War II (over 20 months) as a prisoner of war in Japanese prison camps.

The Black Sheep scoured the skies seeking vengeance for their fallen leader, strafing barges and land targets and checking out any rumors about downed airmen sighted at sea. Nothing turned up, however, and on January 6, the Black Sheep carried out their final mission as a unit. In two six-week combat tours, VMF-214 accumulated a stellar squadron record of 1,776 missions and 168 planes destroyed or damaged, earning eight pilots ace status and the squadron a Presidential Unit Citation.

A few days after the cease fire in 1945 some of his POW mates painted "PAPPY BOYINGTON HERE!" on top of the little tin shack that they were living in. Boyington was rediscovered and in a few days on his way back to the states. Even after enduring near starvation, beatings and dysentary at the hands of his captors he gave the Japanese credit for keeping him sober for 20 months.

Life in the states was not always easy for him as the press frequently criticized him for his excess drinking-but press writers never had to fly 7 tons of metal, fuel and explosives at 400 mph with people shooting real bullets at them and then have to write letters to the families of the pilots who would not return home by the dim light of a kerosene latern. When asked how he accomplished putting together such a good fighting squadron in a short time he commented that he was just a good coach. "My BlackSheep taught me that you get along fine with the American boy if you lead him and show him and do not try to order him or drive him". Something that corporate CEO's and bureaucrats should take to heart. When asked how he felt about being a hero he said " Just name a hero and I'll prove he's a bum".

At the end of the war in August of 1945, after Boyington's release, he was presented the Medal of Honor by President Truman. The MOH had been awarded to him by President Roosevelt while he was listed as MIA. He was promoted to Colonel upon his retirement from the Corps in 1947.

Pappy died January 11, 1988 and is burried in Section 7-A of Arlington National Cemetery.

Portions by: Bruce "BBGunn" Bowen

"I wonder if Judy Blume really knows how many girls' lives she affected. I wonder if she knows that at least one of her books made a grown woman finally feel like she'd been a normal girl all along. . . ."
-- FROM
Everything I Needed to Know About Being a Girl I Learned from
Judy Blume
Whether laughing to tears reading Otherwise Known as Sheila the Great or clamoring for more unmistakable "me too!" moments in Are You There God? It's Me, Margaret, girls all over the world have been touched by Judy Blume's poignant coming-of-age stories. Now, in this anthology of essays, twenty-four notable female authors write straight from the heart about the unforgettable novels that left an indelible mark on their childhoods and still influence them today. After growing up from Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing into Smart Women, these writers pay tribute, through their reflections and most cherished memories, to one of the most beloved authors of all time.