My 2024 Year in Review (According to LinkedIn)

Above is my "2024 LinkedIn Rewind," and following is the accompanying text written/produced by Coauthor (a new AI tool... although, honestly, I'm pretty sure I posted there more than 20 times 🙂):

In 2024, I discovered that storytelling happens in many languages - through corporate communications, community service, poetry, and increasingly, through the lens of my camera.

This year brought opportunities to share stories across different mediums. My church photography series found a home at the Middletown Arts Center, while my written work appeared in the New Jersey Bards Poetry Review. Behind the lens at the Al Smith Dinner, I witnessed how photography can capture moments of community service that words alone cannot express.

Three posts that captured this journey of integrated storytelling:

"Four of my NJ church photos are on display this month at Middletown Arts Center"
On how visual storytelling through community spaces creates lasting connections
https://lnkd.in/etidDGwr

"Three highlights from a memorable March..."
Where corporate expertise and creative expression meet to serve communities
https://lnkd.in/eDC7Z3GC

"Our announcement today about the Mother Cabrini Health Foundation's support"
How institutional support transforms communities across New York State
https://lnkd.in/e3KVRyCT

Looking ahead to 2025: I'm focused on deepening the connection between professional communications and creative storytelling, particularly through visual media and community narratives. Because sometimes the most powerful stories are told without words.

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Get your own 2024 "LinkedIn Rewind" by going to coauthor.studio in your browser... and, PS, the "Jim" referenced in the graphic is the one-and-only Jim Gerace (who always encouraged me to explore new tech).

Images and Haikus

Recently, every Monday, I've begun posting my photos, using original haikus as captions. Here are a few examples.

If you want to follow along, check out my Instagram or Bluesky (new) feeds. I'll follow you back there.

You attract full moons
My center of gravity
You cause the sunrise

This haiku, for you.
A memory at Christmas.
Music in the air.

(In front of Irving Berlin's former residence in NYC)

Wizards are sleeping
Emerald City at dawn
There’s no place like home

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PS... An Abecedarian Haiku (first letter of each line in alphabetical order), with an image from London, posted at year-end.

Another year gone

But I offer hope: this poem

Creates a new world

Two Upcoming Events Celebrating Bergen County History

The Lustron Home in Closter

1. Tour a Porcelain-Enameled Steel Lustron Home in Closter, June 2

This event posted on Craigslist looks interesting enough on its own:

"Why did the NY Times call Haworth a "concrete town" in 1907? Learn the answer on a historical house tour sponsored by the Friends of the Haworth Library, Sunday, June 2, 1-5 PM...featuring 6 of Haworth's early "concrete houses, PLUS the all-metal Lustron house in Closter."

Wait. "The all-metal Lustron house in Closter"?

I couldn't wait. So I ventured to Closter on a recent Saturday, and caretaker Mike Pisano was kind enough to give me a tour and let me take these photos.

You can read all about the history of the Lustron home at this Closter Historic Preservation Commission page, so I'll let these images speak for themselves. The house, located at 421 Durie Ave., has a Bergen County Historical Society marker out front that states:

"To ease post WWII housing shortages, the Lustron Corp. of Ohio made a unique house of all pre-fabricated steel parts on an assembly line basis and shipped them directly to owners' lots. Harold Hess purchased a Westchester Deluxe model with attached garage from an NJ dealer and assembled it on this site in 1950. All walls, roof and chimney are porcelain-enameled steel panels. Between 1948 and 1950, Lustron made 2,498 homes."

Only nine such houses survive throughout New Jersey.

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2. Honoring Jack Antonoff and Ruth Beiner in New Milford, June 7

This Facebook post from the New Milford Historic Preservation Commission is promoting its June 7 Hall of Fame dinner at the local/historic/nostalgic Athletic Club.

Of particular interest, the post references an eclectic mix of famous people who at one time or another lived in New Milford (aka, "The Birthplace of Bergen County").

This local Hall of Fame includes The Fontane Sisters (who often sang with Perry Como); Joe Regalbuto (the actor who portrayed Frank Fontana on "Murphy Brown"); two-time Tony Award nominee Rob McClure; football star and actor Ed Marinaro; and Jack Antonoff, the Grammy winning producer who has worked with Taylor Swift, Lana Del Rey, Lorde, and Bruce Springsteen.

While Jack can't attend the June 7 dinner because he's on tour, this event is an opportunity to honor some current great (and locally famous) contributors to the community, such as Ruth Beiner, a teacher at New Milford High School who has produced its spring musical for two decades.

The deadline for reserving tickets is end-of-day tomorrow, Friday, May 31. One interesting give-away will be "New Jersey Go Fish!" -- a card game designed by Alex Flannery in partnership with Jersey Collective. To find out more about the imagery chosen for the cards, visit https://www.jerseycollective.org/gofish

Meanwhile, I hear there's a bowling alley and wood-paneled bar at the unassuming-on-the-outside Athletic Club on Boulevard, so you know where I'll be on the 7th!

Middletown NJ Photography Exhibit: My Reflections

Below are my four contributions to the photography exhibit hosted by the mighty Black Glass Gallery on the theme of "reflections." The opening reception (which is always fun) is Friday, Nov. 3, from 6-9 p.m. at the Middletown Arts Center, and the exhibit will be on display until after Thanksgiving. Hope to see you there! (I'll be arriving a little later, because "traffic to the shore on Friday night" is always traffic to the shore on Friday night... even in November.)

Captions in haiku.

One Vanderbilt

Mirrors in the sky.

Crowds multiplied, divided,

rarified, alone.

Trump World Tower

Vanishing fortress,

haunted by neighboring clouds,

surrounded by ghosts.

Museum of Modern Art

Visiting MOMA,

two lovers reimagine

Rene Magritte’s kiss.

Jersey City

I’m head over heels.

You turn my world upside down.

I never forget.

Here are four others on the same theme, not on display in Middletown but (of course) on my Instagram accounts: @bvarphotos and @foundinnj 🙂

The Evolution of a Saturday

Posting here about an ordinary Saturday, which began when I noticed a Rambler Rose blooming on a vine that my wife and I feared had died over the past winter.

Later, we traveled to Queens to see the New York Mets -- who lost. It was cold and windy where we sat. The day before, the temperature had reached 90. The scoreboard said the temperature was 63 at game time, and it never changed, but it seemed much colder in the wind.

At the end of our row of seats sat a couple with a baby. A man sitting next to me with his son returned from a food run in the early innings with a wool Mets hat he had purchased for the couple's baby. They were strangers when the game began; they left as friends.

At the end of the game, Mets relief pitcher Adam Ottavino (an excellent photographer who, like me, grew up a Yankees fan) talked to the New York Post about his time with the Mets and Yankees. He said the modern Yankees fan has "a little bit more of an expectation of perfect play and an All-Star at every position. Whereas I think the Mets fan, the expectation isn't quite as high. It's more of a level of hope."

Hope is a journey where great things are possible but not expected. I prefer this approach to life: the unexpected act of kindness, the unexpected rose.

While we were at the game, my daughter stopped by our house to feed the cats. She texted photos of post-prandial Batman, illustrating an essential lesson in portrait photography: the angles make all the difference. 🙂

Before returning home, we stopped for a Guinness and a Harp at a favorite Irish bar -- The Cottage in Teaneck, NJ. The bartender there reminded my wife of her late brother, who lived a kind, too-short life. We toasted him.

The place was filled with laughter. Small groups of friends were competing in a trivia contest, and one woman wore a black sweatshirt proclaiming, "Pigeons Are Liars." On one of the TV screens above the bar, I watched Aaron Judge -- my favorite baseball player even though he's a Yankee -- crash through the rightfield bullpen gate at Dodger Stadium to rob J.D. Martinez of at least a double.

On the journey home, I stopped to take a photo of St. Mark's Episcopal Church. Every Sunday, I post images of churches in New Jersey on one of my Instagram accounts.

It's an odd hobby, but it often fills me with hope.

Haiku at Sandy Hook

Emerald City.

I can see it from Jersey.

There is no wizard.

It's no secret: I love New York's skyline, and I often write haikus about the city: Exhibit 1 and Exhibit 2.

The view above is an edited version of what you'd see about 20 miles away from the northernmost point of Sandy Hook Reservation in New Jersey.

In un-filtered real life, you can even pan right to see the Parachute Jump, the iconic, now-dormant ride at Coney Island:

I visited Sandy Hook last weekend with photography friends from Black Glass Gallery.

These next few days are an ideal time to visit for yourself. Sandy Hook is part of Gateway National Recreation Area. If you get there before Memorial Day, there is no entrance fee and no charge for parking. It's a wonderful place to explore, with plenty of room to avoid crowds.

As Friend ChatGPT tells me, the park is named after the Sandy Hook Peninsula, which is a narrow strip of land that extends for several miles into the Atlantic Ocean. One of the main features of the park is the Sandy Hook Lighthouse, built in 1764 and one of the oldest lighthouses in the U.S. Visitors can climb to the top for panoramic views.

Another popular attraction at Sandy Hook is Fort Hancock, is a former military base that was active from the late 1800s until the mid-20th century. Visitors can tour the old barracks, gun batteries, and other historic structures at the fort.

Still, for me, it's the view from this platform, looking about 20 miles to the north, that's the biggest highlight:

I can't help myself. Just yesterday, Google Photos randomly sent me this video compilation of the New York City skyline photos from my photo cloud -- many taken from the back of a NJ Transit bus commuting to or from work. Google randomly chose a great Tears for Fears song as a soundtrack too (and assures me it is not a copyright violation :)

I love New York, even if there is no wizard there.

January’s Poems: Devastation, Gorilla Monsoon, and Groundhog Day

Images generated by DALL-E 2

I’m writing poems based on prompts every Sunday from New Jersey poet Dimitri Reyes. Although I’ve taken some liberties with the prompts, I hope to continue this throughout 2023 and post these poems monthly. I’ve already posted my first and second poems here. Following are the other poems during this five-Sunday month.

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The prompt: Write about something you’ve been devastated about.

POEM 3: Diary of a Sociopath

 

I’m a boy playing minigolf

in rural New Jersey along Route 46.

It’s the site of a strip mall now.

 

My playmates, young Sheryl and Eddie,

were neighbors then.

Their house, a used car lot now.

 

It was Mother’s Day then.

 

Tires screech.

A car horn blares.

A sudden, sickening thud of metal on metal.

A woman screams.

 

I miss my short putt.

 

Minutes pass,

and we witness her death.

The children in her car are silent.

Her dog wails.

 

Sheryl and Eddie are speechless.

I grow restless.

I rearrange my stance over a bright yellow, dimpled ball

and aim for the mouth of a clown.

 

Can I have a do-over, I ask?

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The prompt: Write a poem using these words: mule; monsoon; traveled.

POEM 4: Ode to Gorilla Monsoon

 

We traveled through seven man-made holes

in the mountains of Pennsylvania.

Heading west, Dad squinted behind Saratoga Ray Bans:

The last cold warrior, the Republican JFK.

 

Dad was behind the wheel of our black Chevy Impala,

his hands recklessly at 12 and 6.

He said it gave him more control,

as Hank Williams crackled “I Saw the Light” across WINB AM.

 

Beads of sweat formed on Dad’s clean-shaven cheek,

releasing the incense of Old Spice.

Our car leaked smoke from his Micronite-filtered Kents

rising from a half-inch crack in the driver’s side window.

 

Arriving from New Jersey at dusk,

we parked in front of a modest house atop Mount Pleasant,

and my uncle rushed to place cinder blocks

behind our low-slung wheels.

 

The next morning, amid cornstalks on a hillside,

my cousin and I wrestled, diurnal primates at play.

His hero was Bruno Sammartino,

and I was a poor substitute for Gorilla Monsoon.

 

I am not a fighter.

I ate a mule kick on my cousin’s follow-through,

as Dad watched in the distance.

He flicked his cigarette to his feet and turned his back on me.

 

I was always a sucker for a sucker punch.

I woke this morning

threescore years and precisely 338 miles away,

with a phantom pain in my side.

 

I am the Survivor Series antihero.

And I remember everything.

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The prompt: With Groundhog Day upon us, read this poem by Len Lawson and write your own poem where the speaker repeats the same day over and over again.

 

POEM 5: Groundhog Day in Ramsdale

 

In the month of January,

I wrote a poem every week.

 

Prompted by a poet,

each day I wrote more words for you,

but I have not gotten anywhere yet.

 

In the month of February,

I will wait for your return:

I’m still in love with you.

 

I’m still in love with you.

I’m still in love with you.

I’m still in love with you.

I’m still in love with you.

 

I’m still in love with you.

I’m still in love with you.

I’m still in love with you.

I’m still in love with you.

 

Repeat, editor, till the month is full.

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PS: Here's a visual poem — "Groundhog Day 2023" — with images of the NYC skyline from the Lincoln Tunnel helix on my morning commute via bus during January: