One Wolf

Anybody here remember Lenny, from the old TV series, Laverne and Shirley? Lenny wore a jacket that was supposed to say "lone wolf" on the back, but the first L was missing, so instead it said "one wolf." I've always identified with that. That's me, that One Wolf, walking through this world alone, feet happily in sync with the different drummer that nobody else seems capable of hearing. Like the lone pigeon sitting by himself on that bottom wire, separated from a crowd of his peers, I'm a solitary sort. As a teenager, it bothered me. No teenager wants to feel any more alienated than the rites of passage into adulthood render absolutely necessary. As a young adult, I reveled in it. The world was cracked wide open before me, and I wanted it all: so much I wanted to do, so many places I wanted to go, so many things I wanted to create, and I did it. I did it all by myself.

But now, as an adult in my fifties, I've come pretty much full circle. I no longer revel in constant solitude. Don't get me wrong; I'll never be a party animal. I'd rather have my fingertips gnawed off by rats than have to pretend to be sociable in a group of people I barely know when all I want to do is go home, slide into a tub full of hot water and bubbles, and spend the next two hours reading a good book. But there are times when I wouldn't mind a little more human companionship, a chance to explore shared interests, the opportunity to toss out ideas and opinions and then chew on them like dogs with a bone. That's one of the things I like about the Internet: the ability to connect with other people without having to undergo the social phobia brought about by face-to-face interaction.

I love photography, and I love sharing my photos and seeing those of other obsessed enthusiastic photographers. This is why I joined Flickr and quickly became addicted. This blog is my attempt reach out to my fellow humans and say, "Hey. Come on over. Sit a spell. Talk to me."