Bolivar on Horseback

It's strange how life leads you back to forgotten images. Today's photo was taken last May when I was introducing New York City -- and at this moment, Central Park -- to my sister for the first time.

In response to the news of Venezuela President Hugo Chávez's death, The Washington Post reporter Clinton Yates in his "Lunchline" newsletter today pointed readers to an old Christopher Hitchens' column  that recounts the writer's first encounter with Chávez during a 2008 visit to Venezuela.

Apparently, Chávez was obsessed with Simón Bolívar, the man depicted in this statue located near Central Park. Chávez went to great lengths to associate himself with Bolivar's legacy, even drawing the connection that he was the reincarnation of  legendary revolutionary. Strange behavior for a very strange, polarizing man.

For those unfamiliar with South American history, Simón Bolívar (1783-1830) was born in Venezuela in 1783 and became one of the continent’s greatest generals before he died in 1830. Known as El Liberator,  his victories over Spaniards won independence for Bolivia (the country was named in his honor), Panama, Colombia, Ecuador, Peru and Venezuela.

The sculpture, which stands 15 feet tall on a 16 foot pedestal, depicts Bolívar sitting resolutely on his horse. The bronze coats-of-arms on the pedestal represent all of the South American countries for which he helped win independence. This is one of a trio of bronze equestrian sculptures representing Latin-American leaders located at entrances of Central Park.

Honoring Latin American Leaders in Central Park

At the Artists' Gate entrance to Central Park located near 59th Street and Avenue of the Americas, there is a series of bronze equestrian sculptures of great Latin-American leaders. The trio join the more than 50 fountains, monuments and sculptures honoring notable historic and literary figures from around the world.

This image captures the sculpture of Jose de San Martin, an Argentine general, who helped Argentina, Chile and Peru gain independence from Spain. It is a smaller-scale replica of the original monument located in Buenos Aires, Argentina depicting the Argentine general leading his armed forces into battle.

Like many of the public artwork on display throughout Central Park, this statue was a gift from the City of Buenos Aires to the City of New York.

Roots and Wings

If I could design a logo to represent children, I would design an image of a bird sitting on a tree branch. It would remind us of one of my favorite quotations regarding the best gifts we should give children:

There are two gifts we should give our children: one is roots and the other is wings.

Like birds living in trees, we must help children build a home and life to dwell and grow. At the same time, we need to teach them how to fly like birds, to be bold, fearless dreamers who are not limited by life's conventions or even the Earth's gravity.

Angel of the Waters

The Angel of the Waters sits on top of one of the most photographed and filmed fountains in the world -- the Bethesda Fountain located in Central Park's Bethesda Terrace.

Frequently seen in movies and television shows filmed in Central Park, the angelic figure was designed by Emma Stebbins, the first woman to receive a public commission for a major work of art in NYC. The fountain's sculpture beneath the angel was designed by other Central Park architects.

Each time I visit Central Park, I'm drawn back to Bethesda Terrace and this magnificent fountain. I love how the bronze angel appears as if she is just landing where the water sprouts on top of the fountain. She seems as if she's just hovering, barely touching the water.

Creating a Childhood Wonderland

One of the most common stories I heard at the mental health consumer conference I attended this week was the story of childhood trauma. After suffering many years of mental illness and/or addition to cope with these unfortunate experiences, these brave people are working daily to face their past and continue on the path of long-term recovery. Every day, they work to be people who break the cycle of trauma in their families and communities.

While no one's childhood can be blemish-free -- a perfect childhood just isn't possible -- every adult, whether they have children of their own or not, should strive to create communities where children can live safely without fear of abuse and trauma.

Childhood is just so precious. We adults too often forget that truth and instead litter children's development years with the garbage of neglect, abuse and other preventable traumas. We owe it to the children in our lives to be more aware of our actions and words and save them the heartache and self-abuse that follows childhood trauma into adulthood.

If we too are victims of trauma, we must commit to take the steps necessary to recover from our own past traumatic experiences in order to be better parents and role models and break the cycle of trauma in our families and communities. This is not an easy or pain-free journey, but perhaps we all should be as self-reflective as the amazing people I met this week and confront the past in order to bring ourselves and children in our lives into a happier, healthier future.

I hope that the young girl in today's photograph sitting with a statue of Alice in Wonderland in Central Park is living a childhood filled with love and support and that trauma is missing from her life experiences so far. If this isn't the case, then I hope there is some adult in her life who observes the signs of trauma, mental health and substance use challenges early and provides her the recovery support and resources she needs to start healing before adulthood.

Unlike in Alice's fictional Wonderland, we don't have magic pills or cake to fix all of our problems. Instead, we must band together as a community consciously raise the next generation of young people to be loving, happy and resilient by being an example.

The Thinking Shakespeare

More and more cities are placing public art displays through out downtown and business areas to draw visitors and beautify neighborhoods. People, especially tourists love photographing them.

When photographing sculptures, don't just focus on the front of the statue. Instead, walk around the piece while looking through your camera's lens and/or viewfinder  to discover new and interesting compositions. Those perspectives may be from behind, to the side or even from below the piece.

Creative positioning of your camera can result in unique views of a familiar sculpture, such as this statue of William Shakespeare in Central Park in NYC. Taking this photograph from behind the sculpture emphasizes the artist's depiction of Shakespeare in deep contemplation.

Perhaps Shakespeare is thinking of the next play he will write, or just wondering how he was going to settle his debts and support his family in Stratford-upon-Avon. I don't know. It's a mystery.

I'm Hans Christian Andersen

I've always been a lover of fairy tales. I inhaled them as a child, and now as an adult, I'm drawn to television shows and films based on those familiar stories. While the Grimm Brothers fairy tales were king in many households including mine, we also loved Hans Christian Andersen, a Danish author of such tales as "The Little Mermaid," "The Snow Queen," and my favorite of his tales, "The Ugly Duckling."

To be honest, my love of Anderson's stories is due to my love of another person -- the actor, singer, dancer and comedian Danny Kaye. My sister and I watched any movie starring Danny Kaye. We just loved his silliness and effervescence. Watching him perform always made us feel happier and more joyful.

Kaye starred with Bing Crosby in our Christmas favorite, "White Christmas," but it was his turn as Hans Christian Anderson in the 1952 fairy tale musical of Andersen's stories that stayed with me. Whenever I think of Andersen's story of "The Ugly Duckling," I always hear Kaye singing the song of that story from the film in my head. Decades later, I can still here the melody, lyrics and Kaye's voice in my memory. It's remarkable.

So when my sister and I came across this sculpture of Andersen and the Ugly Duckling in Central Park,  I needed to stop. As I photographed the statue, I reminisced about the author and his imaginative tales, but also replayed my childhood friend, Danny Kaye, singing that beloved song to a self-conscious little boy. "There once was an ugly duckling ..."

Learning A New Language

This week, I've been immersed in a new language and it's riveting. I'm not talking about a foreign language like Spanish or French, but a cultural language of shared experience.

For the past few days, I've met and learned from the most fascinating people -- persons with lived experience with mental health and substance use challenges.

They are not only consumers: they are also advocates who have revolutionized the way the world perceives -- and how health professionals treat -- people with these challenges.

Like any other fighters for civil rights, they have fought for their right to direct their own care and be a decision-maker regarding their treatment and recovery.

These inspirational people have taught me many lessons so far, as well as a new concept -- sustainable hope. Their stories and resilience reminded me that we should not just strive for flashes of hope, but make choices that sustains hope to make it last longer in our lives.

What Are You Looking At?

During photo excursions, I take a lot of photographs. And when photo trips take place during busy periods in my life, I rarely find the time to review and edit photos. As a result, I frequently forget what I've taken.

When looking through my May NYC trip photographs, I was delighted when I rediscovered this gem.

I've blogged in the past about how challenging wildlife photography can be, so when I discover that I've taken a cool portrait of an animal in the wild -- or in this case Central Park -- I was thrilled!

This "What you talkin' 'bout Willis?" look this NYC squirrel gave to the camera in this moment was priceless.   I'm happy to find it and share it with you. While it may not be award worthy, it's definitely a sign I'm making progress on learning how to time when to push the shutter button and capture animals in the wild.