It’s pretty crazy how far we’ve come in technological advances in just a few hundred years. Today, we can pick up the phone and call someone halfway and the world. Or better yet, we could just log in to an online messaging system and talk over the web. In the past, we would have no idea what was going on in the next town.
The great level of communication and interconnectedness between people amazes me. The fact that you and another person can be separated by oceans and lands, and still be able to talk and exchange ideas as if you were standing side by side. I think I take a lot of technological advances for granted. My access to a cell phone and the Internet has become a part of everyday life. If I didn’t have either, I would feel like I was missing something.
I guess in some ways, all of technology’s great advances have also eliminated some of the unknown out there. At any instant, I can pick up my phone to contact someone. If I have a question, I can call an acquaintance for a quick answer. If I’m lost, I can call a friend for directions. This safety net is assuring, yet in a way handicaps us as well. What would we do without the ability to call someone?
Of course, we would try to figure it out with whatever resources we have at the time. But how would we go about it? Would we be able to learn more, about both our surroundings and ourselves? It would definitely involve stepping outside of our comfort zones.
For context, this is a photograph of a boy saving a few books from the rubble of his home, a six-story apartment building which was bombed by the Israeli air force. The building was in the middle of a densely populated area in the city of Tyre. Three casualties were reported.
(Photo by Jeroen Oerlemans/Panos Pictures )
‘Dutch photojournalist Jeroen Oerlemans took this picture while reporting from Tyre, in southern Lebanon, during the 34-day summer war with Israel. “I was just returning from shooting the arrival of some humanitarian aid to the besieged town,” he recalls, “when, right in front of me, a five- or six-story building went up in smoke.” Oerlemans ran toward the wrecked building, where, he says, “I witnessed the first casualties being carried away from the scene. In the smoldering ruins, dazed people were stumbling around, some trying to get themselves together, others frantically pulling others from underneath the rubble.” An air alarm went off, indicating the Israeli bombers might return. “Everyone fled,” Oerlemans says. But this boy remained, “stoically” wandering through the smoke. “We never spoke,” the photographer recalls. “I’m not sure why he was picking up those books.”‘
I think this is a very powerful picture. It illustrates how, even in a war zone, a person (and in this case, a child) can brush away all the chaos to focus on what is really important to them personally. To the boy, the destruction seems distant in his mind. Amidst the rubble, all he can think about are those books.
I got this image from Foreign Policy’s collection of work by the world’s most acclaimed conflict photographers.
Jason McElwain is a young man who didn’t let autism stop him from his high school dream.
Jason was diagnosed with autism at a young age, but always had a passion for playing basketball. Though he didn’t make the team, he was appointed team manager for Greece Athena High School in New York. He accepted his role on the team, setting up practice, getting water at games, and being enthusiastic. In three years, he only missed one game.
On February 15, 2006, coach Jim Johnson decided to put Jason on the team roster, so he could be given a jersey and sit on the bench for the team’s final home game of the season. Even though he was a senior, Jason never thought he would get the chance to actually play. But with four minutes left in the game, Athena Greece had opened up a big lead, and Johnson called for #52 off the end of the bench to play the end of the game.
His teammates desperately wanted him to score a basket and kept passing him the ball. Initially, Jason missed his first two shots pretty badly. But then J-Mac, as his teammates called him, got “hotter than a pistol”, making six three-pointers and another shot, before the game ended. When he hit his first shot, the crowd erupted and his teammates went crazy jumping up and down. Shot after shot kept going in and J-Mac was unstoppable for that moment in time. As soon as the final buzzer rang, fans from the stands stormed the court in celebration.
To his teammates, Jason McElwain was always one of them. Not a team manager, but a teammate. His 20 points on senior night were simply magical. A dream come true.
In life after high school, McElwain has completed his GED courses and plans to go to college. At his job at a grocery market, customers occasionally recognize him and ask for his autograph. He also travels across the United States to help raise funds for autism research.
Want to know if someone’s smile is genuine? Just look into their eyes.
It is very hard to truly fake emotion. It might be easy to fake the mouth part, but somewhere there will be a crack where your feelings peek out. Unconsciously, your body has a hard time matching up your facial expression to your mind if they are conflicting.
I think for this reason, posing for pictures feels weird. The smiles and emotions are forced, and don’t actually represent what you’re feeling at the moment.
The next time someone smiles at you, look into their eyes. The eyes give you a glimpse into what they’re really thinking. If you see soft eyes, you’ll know it’s for real. That’s something you can’t pretend.
Just a few hours ago, I got back from Camp Kesem Berkeley’s Counselor Retreat. We had rented out a huge house in Pacifica and 47 of us (with three bathrooms, mind you) stayed there for the weekend. The theme was Survivor, and we were separated into five tribes to compete in various counselor training and bonding activities. Most of us didn’t know each other very well, if at all, at the start of retreat, but staying in a single house for a few days brought us all together into a tight-knit group. I had so much fun singing tons of camp songs, playing games, hanging out on the beach, and just talking in general.
Last night, all of the new counselors got their camp names. We use camp names at the summer camp and getting a name symbolizes a sort of crossing over. It was great to see so many new faces excited and passionate about a cause that I am passionate about as well.
Following camp names, our final activity was cabin chat. All of us sat down in a circle and each had some time to answer one question: What is your connection to Camp Kesem? It was one of the most powerful and emotional things I have ever been apart of. Though some people are more directly linked to cancer than others, each individual had a personal story to tell about why Camp Kesem means a lot to them. Hearing everyone, it was really tough to keep the waterworks from flowing.
I think the main reason I love Kesem so much is that it is a place where others understand or try their best to understand with an open heart. At cabin chat, I talked about things in my life that I’ve never really shared with anyone else. In our circle, I just felt really comfortable expressing my emotions and feelings. Some of these people I had just met the day before, but even then, I knew no one would laugh, no one would pity me. All of us have gone through a similar circumstance and know firsthand how it feels. That empathy is powerful.
I always feel really fortunate that I found Kesem and have been able to be apart of an organization with so many amazing people and a touching cause. Camp Kesem certainly brings out the best in me.