"Pictures and Photos Also Tell Stories"

 This essay was suggested by a friend and former high school classmate who is a skilled amateur photographer – a written essay that tries to convey the idea that stories can be told through pictures and photographs.

 

Sydney M. Williams

 

More Essays from Essex

“Pictures and Photos Also Tell Stories”

June 11, 2025

 

“The drawing shows me at one glance what might be spread over ten pages in a book.”

                                                                                                                                   Ivan Turgenev (1818-1883)

                                                                                                                                   Fathers and Sons, 1862

 

Drawings predate writing by almost 40,000 years. Among the earliest cave drawings are those in the Leang Tedongnge cave in a remote Indonesian valley. One drawing of a wild pig is estimated to be 45,000 years old. In contrast, the earliest known example of writing, on a tablet found in the Sumerian city of Kish, has been dated 3,500 BCE. The well-known Lascaux network of caves in the Dordogne region of southwest France, dating to 17,000-15,000 BCE, show elaborate hunting scenes. 

 

Johannes Gutenberg’s press was invented in the mid 15^th Century, which allowed words to be put on paper, so stories and histories could be readily passed on. But pictures remained a meaningful way of expressing a story. Leonardo’s da Vinci’s Last Supper was finished in 1498 and tells that story better than words could express. Tintoretto’s massive depiction of the Crucifixion, painted 70 years later, is mesmerizing in its sad tale of Jesus’ death.

 

The invention of photography – literally “drawing with light” –revolutionized the telling of stories with pictures. The photos of Matthew Brady, the father of photo journalism, along with the drawings of Thomas Nast, speak to the horrors of the Civil War. Erich Maria Remarque’s story of the brutality of World War One’s trench warfare in All Quiet on the Western Front is matched by the photographs of Ernest Brooks and William Rider-Rider.

 

John Steinbeck’s Grapes of Wrath brought the Depression to millions of readers, but Dorothea Lange’s haunting 1936 photograph of “migrant Mother” is remembered as well. World War II was brought into homes through the radio broadcasts of Edward R. Murrow, but also by way of the photographs of Margaret Bourke-White and Robert Capa in Life, and the cartoons of Bill Mauldin in Stars and Stripes.

 

Ansel Adams brought the U.S.A. to millions through his landscape views of the American west, photos that contributed to later conservation efforts. More recently, the TV series “A Day in the Life,” allowed millions of Americans to be a fly-on-the-wall observing distinctive individuals go about their daily lives. Drawings and photos of family and friends, of clouds and rock-outcroppings, of the flora and fauna that surround where we live bring a sense of security and joy to our lives. On my walls and tables are dozens of photographs that bring back to life the lives of those who have passed on.

 

Paintings, photographs, architecture, even movies, are not a substitute for the written word, but all artists are observers, and they catch what they eye does not read. One cannot enter a cathedral or temple without thinking of the stories of those who preached and prayed there, as well as of those – frequently slaves – who built it. Artists, photographers and artisans speak to our visual senses in a way words cannot.

"Books - Censorship, or Choice?"

 Fifty years ago today, the last U.S. combat troops left Vietnam. It hardly seems possible that so much time has gone by. Troops that were not honored then should be remembered today with thanks and appreciation.

 

Sydney M. Williams

www.swtotd.blogspot.com

 

Thought of the Day

“Books – Censorship, or Choice?”

March 29, 2023

 

“Restriction of free thought and free speech is the most dangerous of all

subversions. It is the one un-American act that could most easily defeat us.

                                                                                                                             Justice William O. Douglas

                                                                                                                             Speech, Author’s Guild Council, NYC

                                                                                                                             December 3, 1952

 

The Left has the annoying habit of blaming the right for transgressions of which they are guilty, from weaponizing government to tabling stories that put them in a bad light, like Hunter Biden’s laptop. Cloaked in bogus virtue, with mainstream media in their corner, they leave no doubt as to the righteousness of their positions. They profess concern for the aged yet are unwilling to address the impending financial collapse of Social Security, Medicare, and Medicaid – virtually a certainty in the next ten to fifteen years, unless action is taken. They claim to represent the poor yet propose and implement inflationary policies whose victims are the lowest income families.

 

The Left complains about censorship from the right, while they intimidate conservative college speakers, like commentator Charlie Kirk at the University of California Davis, Judge Kyle Duncan at Stanford Law School and causing Mary Eberstadt, author of Primal Screams, to cancel this week’s talk at Furman University. In 2016, public figures as diverse as Barack Obama, Clarence Thomas, and Michael Bloomberg warned about political correctness gone awry. The Foundation for Individual Rights in Education (FIRE) agreed: “One worrisome trend undermining open discourse in the academy is the increased push by some students and faculty to ‘disinvite’ speakers with whom they disagree from campus appearances.” Seven years later, the situation has worsened. People have the right to protest, but school and college administrators should promote diversity in speakers and in books, not cling to a partisan political ideology.

 

………………………………………………………..

 

Roughly 200,000 books are published in the United States each year. The Library of Congress holds approximately 50 million titles. The average public library contains about a million titles. According to a January 2022 survey from the Pew Research Center, 75% of American adults said they read at least one book in the past year. The average person, according to that study, reads twelve books a year. While women read about 50% more books than men, they cannot come close to reading everything published. Choices must be made. 

 

According to an article in last Friday’s The Wall Street Journal, the American Library Association (ALA) claimed that attempts to ban books in 2022 nearly doubled from a year earlier: “The organization found 2,571 titles were under scrutiny – most focused on or written by LGBT individuals and people of color.” On a positive note, according to an ABC news report on January 12, 2023, the ALA also said, “most book challenges fail to remove books from classroom or library shelves completely.” Censorship or efforts to ban books from the Left merits less attention. The same ABC report, which consisted of 1165 words, devoted 63 words to Progressive’s efforts to ban books, like Harper Lee’s To Kill a Mockingbird, John Steinbeck’s Of Mice and Men, Mark Twain’s Huckleberry Finn, and several Dr. Seuss titles, all “in the name of anti-racism or progressive ideals,” books that not too long ago were considered classics of their genre.

 

It is the Left, which purports to be respectful, tolerant, and wise, that has purged “offensive” language from novels by Agatha Christie, Ian Fleming, and others. Such actions raise questions. Will the Bible be re-written to accord with woke sensitivities? Will Shakespeare, Milton, or Locke? Are “drag queen” story hours appropriate for elementary grade school students? Does the altering of words and/or the rephrasing of sentences by “sensitivity readers” and “inclusion ambassadors” provide a more honest rendering of our history? How deep and wide will political correctness take us? Is not our past part of who we are?  

 

When the ALA released their data last week, the Associated Press reported the story, with the headline “Record book ban attempts in 2022.” They wrote of a shift from individuals to conservative organized groups, “targeting a wide swath of books that don’t align with their political, religious or moral views.” Only The Wall Street Journal, of the papers I read, interviewed the co-founders of Moms for Liberty, one of the groups: “We say – write the book, print the book, sell the book; but if it does not have age-appropriate material for school children, don’t put it in school.” That seems a reasonable request. Is that logic present among those who would like to ban books that have been classics for generations? 

 

Censorship, in any form, is bad. Political propaganda should not substitute for literature in schools. Books that serve to divide should be considered carefully, especially among young readers. Books assigned in schools should be age appropriate but, most important, those selected should promote a love for reading. Not all will agree as to age appropriateness, and it will vary from one child to the next. But parents should be involved along with teachers. We make choices throughout our lives, and education should be aimed at helping people make better choices for themselves, their families, their communities, and their country.

 

In books, we have more choices than in most aspects of our lives. I consider myself relatively well-read and have kept track of books read for over twenty years – almost equally divided between fiction and non-fiction. As a general rule, I prefer dead authors of fiction and living writers of non-fiction. However, during those twenty years, three or four million books have been published, on top of the many millions of books already published; so, barely a dent has been made in what was and is available. Nevertheless, we read to learn, and we read to be entertained. The choices we make are important.

 

Perhaps these competing claims are part of a bigger problem – the United States appears to be pulling back from core values that once defined it. A recent poll conducted by the Wall Street Journal-National Opinion Research Center (NORC) revealed that tolerance for others, which four years ago was deemed “very important” by 80% of Americans, had fallen to 58 percent.  As for books, people’s tastes vary; what I read may not appeal to you. You should be able to read Maia Kobabe’s Gender Queer, and I should be able to read Steinbeck’s Of Mice and Men. It is important to have choices; what is more important is that we read.

"Travels with George," by Nathaniel Philbrick

 

Sydney M. Williams

 

Burrowing into Book

Travels with George, Nathaniel Philbrick

November 14, 2021

 

“But as anyone who knew Washington understood, his only interest was in

establishing a federal government that was strong enough to survive without him.”

                                                                                                                                                Travels with George, 2021

                                                                                                                                                Nathaniel Philbrick (1956-)

 

In 1789, newly inaugurated as the country’s first President, George Washington recognized that for the nation to endure the individual states had to be united in a common bond, based on principles of self-government, individual liberty and the rule of law. He knew there were challenges. The industrialized north and the agrarian south were different. The country’s citizens had come from multiple European countries and spoke several languages. It was populated with men and women with differing dreams, aspirations and talents. And he knew that he was uniquely situated to help foster that unity.

 

As commanding officer of the army that had defeated the British empire, he had traveled to most parts of the country. Now, he felt it imperative, as President, that he visit each of the thirteen states that had ratified the Constitution and imbue the nation’s citizens with a sense of unity and national pride. 

 

Between October 1789 and July 1791, President Washington devoted 16 weeks to traveling as far north as Portsmouth, New Hampshire and as far south as Savannah, Georgia. Nathaniel Philbrick, in his informative and readable history, Travels with George, recounts those trips. In the fall of 2018, prompted by John Steinbeck’s Travels with Charlie, Mr. Philbrick, his wife Melissa and dog Dora started out on their own trip, following, as best he could, in the footsteps of George Washington. His purpose in writing this book: “More than ever before, Americans need to know what our first president did, at the very beginning, to bring this nation together.” We follow Washington along rutted dirt roads (with Philbrick in his air-conditioned Honda), to New England villages and factories, through longleaf pine forests in the Carolinas, to rice plantations in Georgia. As for security on Washington’s trip across unpopulated sections of the country, “…the affection of his fellow citizens was all the guard he wanted.”

 

Philbrick’s own journey, which he shares with the reader, followed Washington’s as closely as possible. In doing so, he makes us realize the tremendous growth the country has experienced. In a time of bifurcated political feelings, the author ponders as to whether Washington’s legacy is worth preserving. His conclusion is, yes. He writes as to how catastrophes are always around the corner, but this time it feels different: “The sinews of this country have been stretched to what feels like the breaking point,” but if the sinews should break, “it won’t be Washington’s and Jefferson’s fault…The fault will lie with ourselves.”

 

Mr. Philbrick devotes a lot of time to the subject of slavery, an evil practice, which was common at the time among land-owning southerners, while less common, though not unheard of, in the north. The practice bothered Washington who knew it was wrong, but felt trapped in its grip, as slaves represented a large portion of his wealth and were critical to the economics of his Virginia plantation. We follow Mr. Philbrick as he leads us through the evolution of Washington’s thoughts on slavery. According to the terms of his will, his slaves were set free after his death. 

 

In writing through the lens of today’s moral values, Mr. Philbrick comes across as a bit of a scold, more interested in flouting his woke credentials than in enlightening the reader as to values of yesterday. For example, he writes approvingly of crowds pulling down statues of Confederates: “History isn’t being lost when a statue is toppled to the ground. History is being made.” George Washington, in contrast, condemned those who destroyed a statue of King George III in New York in 1776. Who was the more magnanimous? 

 

Two hundred and thirty-two years have passed since George Washington took to the road to help unify the newly-free country. That this nation, against all odds, still stands as a beacon to the world that self-government can succeed among myriad peoples, we owe, in large part, to our first President. Washington was sensitive to regional differences and the wide diversity of the American people. Yet he recognized that united the nation would succeed; divided it would fall. Today, politicians and the media encourage polarization, sensing it brings out the vote and sells more ads. The people, in my opinion, are wiser. They recognize we will never settle all differences, but, so long as opinions can be freely expressed, we will be fine. In yesterday’s The Wall Street Journal, Christopher DeMuth wrote: “Citizens understand that their security and freedoms depend on their nation and its imperfect institutions – that their fortunes are linked for better or worse to those of their disparate compatriots.” What was true in Washington’s time is true today. We have differences. We are linked as Americans. United, we thrive. Divided, we fail.

 

This is a light but informative read. One finishes the story recognizing the importance of Washington’s trip, knowing more about our country then and now, and liking Nathaniel Philbrick, his wife and his dog.

"Summer Days"

 

Sydney M. Williams

 

Essay from Essex

“Summer Days”

June 19, 2021

 

“In the trees the night wind stirs, bringing the leaves to life,

endowing them with speech; the electric lights illuminate the green

branches from the underside, translating them into s new language.”

                                                                                                            E.B. White (1899-1985)

                                                                                                            Here is New York, 1949

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                   Written, as White notes in his foreword,

                                                                                                           “…in the summer of 1948 during a hot spell.” 

 

On the eve of the summer solstice, June 21, 2008 Caroline and I, as guests of a friend, attended a black-tie benefit at the Hermitage in Saint Petersburg, one of the world’s most beautiful museums. At 58.8 degrees north, there were only six hours of night, a strange sensation for someone living in Connecticut, 1300 miles south and 4,000 miles west.

 

Forty-eight years earlier, in the summer of 1960, I had a summer job working with a Canadian mineral exploration company, which was owned by Thayer Lindsley (a friend of my parents) and led by Doug Wilmot, along the South Nahanni River on the border of the Yukon in Canada’s Northwest Territories. We were close to the 61^st Parallel, or about 850 miles north of the U.S.-Canadian border. I recall traipsing up dried-up-river beds, carrying a pick looking for minerals and a rifle, in case of an unfriendly Grizzly. At night, lying in my sleeping bag, I was happy that night creatures had only a few hours to make their rounds. 

 

Two years later, on August 11^th, I was at Fort Dix, beginning eight weeks of basic training. The camp, which no longer functions as an Army training center, sat on 6,500 acres in New Jersey’s Pine Barrens. Fort Dix had been integrated eleven years earlier. By my day all recruits, regardless of race or class, were treated with equal disrespect – a necessary tactic to mold us into the soldiers we were to become. I was assigned to Company A, of the Third Training Regiment, where we were taught to become “the ultimate weapon” – an optimistic goal for a bunch of Army reservists. That summer we marched along hot, dusty roads; crawled under barbwire with machine guns firing live ammunition over our heads; trained with bayonets (which I prayed I would never have to use); bivouacked in fields and crawled through swamps in night-time maneuvers. In my yearbook there is a photo of me with two friends, Jerry (Girard) Stein and Marcel Shwergold. Cigarettes in hand, we are on a ten-minute break.

 

In Travels with Charley, John Steinbeck wrote: “What good is the warmth of summer, without the cold of winter to give it sweetness.” An understandable sentiment for a child who grew up in New Hampshire. In her novel To Catch a Mockingbird, with Scout speaking, Harper Lee wrote: “Summer was on the way; Jem and I awaited it with impatience. Summer was our best season: it was sleeping on the back screened porch in cots, or trying to sleep in the tree house; summer was everything good to eat…” Looking back, my hotly anticipated summer days were full: Summer began with a 4^th of July baseball game in Wellesley where my father grew up, and it ended just before Labor Day with a trip to the East River section of Madison, Connecticut, where my mother grew up. In between, we rode horses through the woods and along dirt roads and sometimes competed in local horseshows. We swam in Nubanusit Lake, Willard Pond, Dublin Lake, but most often in Norway Pond, which is in the center of Hancock village, four miles from our home. In the evenings, we caught fireflies, which “never equal stars in size”[1], and inhaled the soft, sweet smells of New Hampshire’s countryside. We picked blackberries on Cobb’s Hill and highbush blueberries in the “next field.” We ate watermelon in the backyard off a table my father had made with wire mesh, so no need to wipe it clean. Going to bed on the sleeping porch, we witnessed eerie shadows cast by trees, as moonlight fell on the Goat Pasture. In his poem “The House was Quiet and the World was Calm,” Wallace Stevens wrote: “The summer night is like a perfection of thought.”

 

As I grew older, summer jobs consumed much of the daytime – working in gardens, haying, giving riding lessons and working with construction crews. Coming home for summers from boarding school, I felt like Nick Carraway: “And so with the sunshine and the great bursts of leaves growing on the trees…I had that familiar conviction that life was beginning over again with the summer.”[2]  In the evenings, we attended square dances in nearby townhalls and – four times a summer – formal dances at the Dublin Lake Club, with Lester Lanin in attendance, a strange contrast to my mornings working in a hayfield. In my 1947 Ford coupe (owned jointly with my sister), a friend and I would take girls to drive-in movies in Keene.

 

Sunday will be the start of my 81^st summer. Memories run together. In 1995, we left Greenwich for Old Lyme (with a small apartment in New York). Summer weekends were spent sculling the marsh creeks along the Connecticut River’s estuary; swimming, playing “at” golf and tennis and kayaking with grandchildren. We continued to spend August in Rumson, New Jersey where my wife had spent her childhood summers, and I would take the 6:00AM Fast Ferry into New York from the Highlands. June months of twenty-four and twenty-three years ago saw two of our children married, and during the summers of 2000, 2002 and 2008 three of our ten grandchildren were born, including the oldest and the youngest.

 

Looking back on all those summers, I treasure memories of childhood, summer jobs, falling in love, watching our children laugh, play and grow up, and then watch their children do the same. These memories bring wistful smiles on languid summer days when blue skies lure us to the fields and paths that surround where we live. We marvel at the gift nature has wrought – myriad shades of green, and the wildlife that share this precious planet. “Summer specializes in time, slows it down almost to dream.”[3] The days will get shorter as August melds into September. It is preparation for the autumn, which will see much of plant and wildlife take long siestas, storing strength for the long winter and spring’s renewal. In like manner, we store up memories for our fall and winter evenings. But in the meantime, we have the start of summer days.