Tag: 2013

• December 31, 2013

  Lucky Thirteen

  

  When I eventually retell the story of my life, I think that I’ll say that 2013 was the year that everything changed. The funny thing about stories is how the details vary with the telling. The exact words are misquoted, the specifics are glossed over, timelines are stretched or squeezed and the wrinkles in the narrative arc are smoothed out. The truth is, many of our stories end up being a hybrid of fiction and reality.

  The past is always changing. Histories are built upon fragile memories. That idea might scare some, but I think it gives each one of us power over our lives. We can take a painful experience and turn it into a moral fable. We can take liberties with the specifics of our stories; we can make ourselves quicker on our feet, faster with a clever quip, more daring. The past is written by those of us in the present.

  So, when I look back on the passing of another year, I can choose to see it as a mishmash of disparate experiences or I can see it as the year I moved across the country for love. This was the year two sets of my good friends found out they were having their first child (and one baby arrived before the end of the year). It was the year I visited both the Canadian and Mexican borders. This was the year I wrote a novella, the first year I got a paying writing gig outside of college and the year I left a place I loved for a new adventure. I never could have imagined being here a year ago.

  Soon, 2013 will only be a memory. In ten or twenty years, the story may not reflect the reality of what I see, feel and believe today, but that’s okay. My present is only the first draft of the future’s story, to be shaped by the course of my life. And when I tell the story of 2013, I’ll be sure to mention that it was one of the best years yet.

  

  — 30 —

  I’ll be back here in 2014 with more stories that may or may not have happened. In the meantime, you can find me counting down the hours until 2014 on Twitter. Thanks for reading and I wish you a joyful new year.

  Related Posts:
  The Year in Focus
  A Year Like Any Other: 2011 In Retrospect
  A Farewell to Flagstaff
• December 12, 2013

  The Existential Millennial

  

  I passed a dead raven on the walk from my day job to the Starbucks where I write my freelance articles. The raven was lying on its back under a tree by the side of the road; wings spread and legs in the air. It had apparently frozen to death in the icy spell of Arctic weather that entombed the Puget Sound in a layer of frost this week.

  Passing the corpse of the unfortunate bird inevitably got me thinking about life. Death does that to a guy.

  In less than a month, I’ll be starting my twenty-fourth turn around the Sun, which makes me a member of the Millennial Generation — the children of the Baby Boomers. As a consequence of having grown up alongside the Internet, there is a lot of market research done to convert us into spreadsheets and then into money. Everywhere I turn, I am bombarded with a glut of new research about my generation. According to dozens of studies and articles, I’m supposed to be obsessed with video games, living at home with my parents, struggling with critical thinking, unwilling to work hard at my job and suffering from a technologically shortened attention span. I’m also at a competitive disadvantage thanks to the recession and economists predict I will never enjoy the same standard of living as my parents.

  It’s a pretty grim picture.

  But when I look at the data, I don’t see a picture that looks like me. I may work two jobs (and still can’t keep my apartment warm), but I’m self-sufficient and I work hard to stay that way. I’ve never owned a video game console and while I can be a little scattered sometimes, I like nothing more than to sit down with a good book or have a deep, challenging conversation.

  It can be difficult to have faith in people during hard times. Maybe our best days are behind us. I honestly don’t know. The economy and rising sea levels may swallow me and there’s a distinct possibility that there’s nothing I can do to change it. All I can control are my own actions. I may be a Millennial, but I still know how to get things done. I think we can still fix the problems that are plaguing the world, if we decide we want to put in the effort.

  Call me idealistic, but I’m going to make a difference somehow, even in a small way. Not because I’m sure it will do anything, but because I have the will to act. And maybe to prove the critics of my “lazy” generation wrong. I will not let this raven die in vain.

  — 30 —

  Jonny Eberle is a writer in Tacoma, WA, where he probably thinks too much about the mysteries of life and death. As he searches for his purpose, you can follow him on Twitter.
• December 2, 2013

  Salmon’s Run

  

  Ten adult salmon wait patiently in five inches of water. A foot above them, a culvert spills cold fresh water into the bay. All around them lie the scattered corpses of others who didn’t make it, pecked on by ravenous seagulls. It is low tide and the fish are temporarily trapped on their long trek upriver.

  Every year in the late-autumn, the rivers of Western Washington swell with salmon who have come to spawn and die. After up to five years at sea, instinct and a keen sense of smell bring the salmon back to the very mountain streams where they were born to give birth to the next generation of their species. Some of these powerful creatures swim hundreds of miles upriver, some all the way to the rocky interior of Idaho to lay their eggs.

  

  It is one of nature’s most incredible sights to see these large fish charge their way against the current to find little sandy pools where their young will be safe. They thrash and jump, splashing their way past rocks and each other in a desperate struggle to get home. Some have traveled thousands of miles from the salty waters of the North Pacific and navigated the Puget Sound’s extensive network of inlets and channels to reach these creeks.

  This has been a dry year in the lowlands of the South Sound. Some the streams are barely flowing at all. Every so often, a silvery salmon can be found on a gravelly beach, where it drowned in the air before completing the journey.

  

  As I watched those fish fight their way to their birthplace, I was struck by how little we have in common. Aside from the obvious physical differences, humans don’t really have that innate drive to return home. Or do we?

  There are those who live close to the land, refusing to move from their family’s plot of earth. Even among the wandering travelers, we all feel relief upon returning to familiar surroundings. Around the holidays, it’s hard to deny a tiny instinctual tug in the direction of home and family.

  I guess what makes us different from the salmon is our ability to choose. Where they are bound to a single stream, we can choose a new stream. While humans always feel an attachment to far away places they used to live, we are also capable to spreading out and domesticating strange places. I’ll always miss the streams I used to call home, but this new stream can be home, too.

  

  — 30 —

  Jonny Eberle is not a fish. He is a human being who lives in Tacoma, WA. He waxes philosophic here and in the streams of Twitter.
• November 22, 2013

  JFK: The Creation of an American Myth

  

  When a bullet (or two, depending on what theory you subscribe to) hit President John F. Kennedy on a crisp autumn morning, America gained a whole new mythology. Regardless of who JFK was that morning when he started along the parade route, he would leave a martyr.

  Every culture has a key mythology that shapes its identity. These stories enshrine important values and hold up great heroes. The Anglo-Saxons had the tale of Beowulf, a mighty warrior. The Tlingit of the Alaskan interior had the Raven. The ancient Romans had the mythical twin founders of Rome, Romulus and Remus. Over time, even historical events are folded into the myth.

  In America, we have the apocryphal tale of George Washington and the Cherry Tree, which teaches us the value of honesty by using a prominent figure from our nation’s past. We have stories about Pilgrims founding a colony in Massachusetts to gain their independence, another value Americans hold sacred.

  But most important of all are the martyrs. Every great national myth requires sacrificial figures who die for the sake of liberty. Abraham Lincoln is elevated to a level of reverence as a father-like figure who held a broken nation together. While was surely a great man, would he have risen so high in the popular imagination if he’d survived the turmoil of the Civil War and its immediate aftermath and just died of old age?

  So, too, John Kennedy has been placed on the pedestal of American myth. With Kennedy, it is his unfulfilled promise that captures our attention. He is remembered because of his youth and charisma, as well as for his larger-than-life persona. I think a lot of his mythic status is due to the fact that he died just before some of the most traumatic events of the late-20th century in this country: the Vietnam War and the Civil Rights Movement.

  I think the reason Kennedy stands out more than William McKinley (who was also killed in office) is the nagging idea that perhaps he could’ve spared us the growing pains that America suffered in the decade after his untimely death. Unrealized greatness is a powerful narrative.

  The mystery surrounding his assassination also makes him larger than life. Tiny doubts about the circumstances of his murder let us craft a broader story with multiple villains and powers of darkness that sought to slay the young, popular president. You can add your own ending to suit the moral you want to teach, be it the evils of Communism, the human desire to thirst for power or instilling a distrust of government.

  If Kennedy had died of food poisoning or had lasted long enough to make the mistakes that so often tarnish a leader’s legacy, perhaps we would not remember him so fondly. But the innate hunger for a national mythology, a story that defines us, has transformed John F. Kennedy from a man to a legend.

  

  — 30 —

  Jonny Eberle is a writer and student of history and politics. You can follow his musings on the Twitter machine, where those in the know call him @jonnyeberle. Thanks for reading.
• November 20, 2013

  An Open Letter to the Doctor

  Dear Doctor,

  You are a man of many faces who has lived many lifetimes. For over a thousand years, you’ve been traveling through time and space in a ship disguised as a blue police box. But I’ve only been following your exploits for the past year or so. I first met you in your Ninth incarnation, when you were guilt-stricken with blood on your hands. It was clear to me that you were a great man, even if you didn’t know it yourself.

  You are unlike any hero I have ever known. In our early travels through space and time, you were a guilty man who doubted himself. You saved entire worlds, but preferred to live in the shadows. You brought out the best qualities of your companions. In your eyes, there were no insignificant people. You reminded me to have a brave heart, even when all looked lost.

  You are quick on your feet, eccentric, brilliant and unlike so many of the figures of your genre, you’re quick to show mercy. In a violent universe, you refuse to carry a weapon. You face armies with only your wits and a screwdriver. You were exactly the kind of hero I would’ve idolized in my youth.

  

  You and I have something in common — we’ve both been running our entire lives. What you’re on the run from is a mystery, as you madly dash (allons-y!) from adventure to adventure, saving planets from the Daleks or the Cybermen or the Weeping Angels. Like me, you are plagued by demons and tempted by the darker side of your soul, but you refuse to give in. It gives me courage to fight my own darkness.

  I don’t know who you are. You are a Time Lord whose name and past are shrouded in the veil of the time vortex and the ancient history of a forsaken world. You are a madman with a box, but you are also me. You are the highest hopes of what humanity could be. You are hope personified, Doctor. And as you and the TARDIS fly off to face the greatest dangers in the universe, that’s something I’ll keep with me, across all of space and time.

  Yours truly,
  Jonny Eberle

  — 30 —

  Jonny Eberle is a writer, Doctor Who fan and all around Anglophile living in Tacoma, WA. When he isn’t dreaming about the stars, he’s writing about going to them or on Twitter. Thanks for reading!
• November 15, 2013

  Is the NSA Spying on Me?

  I was just starting to write freelance articles on foreign affairs and conflict areas when the full scope of the NSA’s domestic spying program came to light. We learned that the government is tapping into smartphone data, breaking online encryption and gathering data from emails, phone calls and financial transactions. The NSA effectively has all of us under surveillance. You never know who might be listening in on your phone call or reading your email. Each new leak gave me pause.

  I worried that I might be under the microscope because of what I was writing. My articles cover the restless areas of the world that are so crucial to United States foreign policy, including detailed reports on the Syrian civil war, drone strikes in Afghanistan and Pakistan, the Egyptian coup and terrorism in North Africa. My articles are strictly news — not manifestos or opinions — and I stand by my words as a journalist. I report facts, using the best news sources as my guide. But even so, I couldn’t help but wonder if my work had attracted attention because of the subject matter.

  We live in the age of Big Data, where the little snippets of information (from cell phone conversations, Google searches and email exchanges) add up to form a complete picture of our views, our habits and our preferences. No one can escape the net our governments are casting.

  

  This has caused a lot of concern in the writing community. According to the PEN American Center, 73% of writing professionals surveyed said they had “never been as worried about privacy rights and freedom of the press as they are today.” Significant numbers had curtailed their activities on social media or avoided discussing certain topics on the phone or via email. Sixteen percent said they had even avoided writing or speaking about a certain topic.

  When surveillance is so widespread, it is easy to fall into self-censorship. We want to fly under the radar rather than challenge the infringement on our rights. The framers of the Constitution knew how important a free press was to a democracy — so important, they protected it in the First Amendment. But now, I feel that freedom eroding away.

  Censorship is subtle, beginning with the smallest of ideas: That you’re being watched. That worries me, because we need the freedom to write. We need the freedom to report the truth and encourage civil discourse on controversial issues.

  I’ve started to carefully consider what I say in emails and text messages and questioned the security of my cloud storage since I heard about the Snowden leaks. I will not be deterred from writing. I hope journalists and editors everywhere will not be deterred from providing their vital service to the public. And I hope normal citizens will not be scared into silence.

  — 30 —

  Jonny Eberle is a writer in Tacoma, WA. He writes on foreign relations for Grey Cell. You can follow him on Twitter, but kindly requests that you don’t spy on his email correspondence.

  Related Posts:
  Stop the Presses: Is This The End of the Daily Newspaper?
  An Examined Life: In Memory of Dr. Joel Olson
  Censorship Kills: Banned Books Week
• June 23, 2013

  Solstice Filming

  

  Filmmaking is often a fast-paced process. You have to be ready to hit record at a moment’s notice and then run off to set up your next shot. Actors have tight schedules (even more so when you’re not able to pay them). Lighting conditions are in flux. It is constant movement; constant anticipation; constant, simmering chaos.

  Except when it’s not. Rarely, a filmmaker has an opportunity to relax while working. While filming my latest project with Obscure Studios — Poverty With a View, a satirical look at life after college in the recession — I decided to grab an iconic shot. In Flagstaff, the most recognizable feature of the landscape are the San Francisco Peaks.

  The Peaks are actually one mountain, one huge volcano rising over 12,000 feet into the sky. The dominate the northern horizon and can be seen from almost anywhere in town. So, if I was going to make a web series set in Flag, the Peaks had to be in it.

  

  I decided to film a sunset on the night of the summer Solstice. I staked out a clear spot in Buffalo Park and waited. Just waited. Once I had framed the mountain and hit record, there was nothing left to do but wait for the sunset. That was the strangest part. Filmmaking for me is such an involved process — there are so many variables to control and monitor — that to sit by idly for an extended period of time felt wrong. But after fidgeting for half an hour, I finally allowed myself time to enjoy the sunset.

  And it was beautiful. The way the golden light paints the dead grass on the mesa; the way a violet shadow grows over the face of the mountain; and the gathering burnt orange glow around the sun. It actually made me stop thinking about the technical aspects of what I was doing and forced me to soak in the grandeur of the world.

  I think we all need that from time to time. We get so wrapped up on our own little problems that we forget how small they are.

  — 30 —

  Jonny Eberle is a writer, photographer and filmmaker in Flagstaff, AZ, which was almost the town in the Eagles’ hit “Take It Easy.” Sadly, Winslow won out and ruined a lot of great marketing opportunities. Please feel free to comment or follow me on Twitter: @jonnyeberle.

  Related Posts:
  Paying My Dues
  Turning a Lens On Antelope Canyon
  Waitin’ On a Train
• February 12, 2013

  Flash Fiction: Year of the Snake

  

  Cameron wipes down the stove top. The sponge returns with a layer of grease and spaghetti sauce. It’s Chinese New Year, but he’s not Chinese. The Huffington Post told him that it was traditional to cleanse the household to remove remaining bad luck from the previous year and make way for new good luck to occupy the home and it seemed like a good idea.

  Snow falls outside. Silent. Obscures the dark of the new moon. Stir fry soy sauce coagulates on the plate in the sink. He washes that, too, hoping for a fresh start that’s more than metaphorical.

  Wikipedia says that this is the Year of the Snake. He doesn’t know what that means, but he was born in the Year of the Snake three cycles ago, so he thinks it’s significant. Maybe this is his year. That would be a first.

  His father is a Horse, stamping out snakes in the grass. Cameron spends his life slithering into dark corners, unnoticed, dodging hooves. The two don’t talk anymore; it’s better that way. He notices that the grout between the white counter tiles needs cleaning; hopes he won’t attract too much bad luck by ignoring it.

  The dishes are clean and he’s sweeping the floor. The broom bristles probe under the lips of the cabinets, the stove, the refrigerator, until there’s a neat pile of crumbs on the linoleum. He doesn’t know if it will truly bring good luck, but he feels better already. In control for once. Small accomplishments add up.

  He is not Chinese, but he likes the way they think. Or, at least, he likes the way the culture is presented on the screen of his iPad. Valuing family above all else is good in theory, but how could Horses and Snakes live together? Wikipedia can’t tell him, but refers him to an article on Confucius. Huffington Post just wants him to see a cat teleport across a room.

  He scoops the crumbs into the trash, ties off the bag and carries out into the snow. The sharp edges of the world are softened. Small icicle saplings grow in the lid of the garbage can.

  Cameron taps his feet against the door frame to knock off the snow as he steps back inside the house. His cell phone, resting on the kitchen counter, rings.

  — 30 —

  Jonny Eberle is a writer and snow shoveler in Flagstaff, AZ. He blogs here and tweets here and would love it if you followed him. If you do, he’ll try to resist the urge to tweet pictures of his lunch (but he isn’t promising anything).

  Related Posts:
  Waitin’ On a Train
  Flash Fiction: Big Easy
  Writing In Thin Air
• January 9, 2013

  The Best Birthday Resolutions Ever

  

  The funny thing about being alive is that your birthdays keep adding up. Today, I’ve been breathing on this planet for 23 years (if I were a dog, I’d be 105). It’s been five years since I became old enough to vote and two since I could legally purchase alcohol. There’s no real milestone for 23, but I still think it’s an occasion to stop and reflect on my life. Where most people make New Year’s resolutions, I make birthday resolutions. As I begin my next turn around the Sun, here’s what I hope to accomplish in the year 2013.

  1) Never Stop Learning

  Last year, I graduated from college. Now, I still don’t know if I want to go back to school. I’ve enjoyed the freedom of the post-grad life. But regardless of whether or not I return to the Ivory Tower, I still crave the dizziness of learning. I don’t want to shut my brain off. I want to learn more about the world. This year, I want to read books that challenge me and talk to people who force me to question my assumptions.

  2) See the World

  As long as I can remember, I have loved to travel (except when I get carsick). I like going new places, experiencing cultures, trying new foods and getting completely lost. Last year, I couldn’t travel very much because of school, but now I’m ready to pack my bags. In my life, I hope to stand on every continent. Why not start now?

  But aside from short excursions from home, a bigger adventure is brewing. I’ve lived in Flagstaff for all of my adolescent and adult life and with each passing year, I find there are fewer things holding me here. My family no longer lives on the mountain and my friends are slowly drifting away. I love Flagstaff, but 2013 may be the year I try something new.

  3) Embrace Failure

  This was the first year that I tried to sell a story for publication…and it didn’t happen. Failure is a part of life and for someone who always excelled academically, it can be difficult to accept. And sometimes, when failure seems to be a real possibility, I prefer not to try at all. I’m a lot less cautious than I used to be and want to continue risking failure. A healthy fear of the unknown can be good, but I don’t want it to hold me back.

  As I enter this next year of my life, I’m ready to leap without taking too long to look at where I’ll land. I may fall flat on my face, but that’s a risk I have to take.

  — 30 —

  Life makes for great tweeting. If you liked this blog, please leave me a comment and follow me on Twitter to see if I can keep my resolutions: @jonnyeberle.

  Bonus post: Still a Work in Progress (my resolutions for 2012)
• December 31, 2012

  The Year In Focus

  

  When you’re developing film by hand, you always print a contact sheet — a single print of all of the negatives on your roll of film. Every shot is laid out in neat rows, side by side for comparison. You can see which photos are correctly exposed, composed and lit and which ones you should throw away.

  When I look back on the year 2012, it’s as if I’m looking at the contact sheet from a roll of 35mm film. Some of the memories are crisp and clear, like the week I spent in Guatemala in March or my work on the Gathering in New Orleans this past July. Some are blurry, like my last semester of college. Some are long exposures that leave long trails of light in their wake where so many images overlap and crowd into the same small space, like the time I’ve spent with my girlfriend, Stephanie.

  Like a roll of film tucked into the dark recesses of a camera, you don’t know how a year will turn out until it’s over. Only in retrospect can we see the obvious — that we ignored an opportunity we should’ve lept at, that we lingered too long, that we didn’t wait long enough. And occasionally (but so rarely), that we were at the exact right angle with exactly the right aperture and exactly the right shutter speed to capture exactly the right shot.

  You never know how things will develop until you’re in the darkroom, long after the moment is captured on tiny grains of silver halide crystal…or after the moment has slipped through your fingers. The exposures on a roll of film are finite, you only get 12 or 24 shots and once you’ve pressed the shutter button, there is no changing them.

  Life is the same way. But that doesn’t mean that you should hoard undeveloped film. You have to risk taking the shot. Maybe it won’t be in focus. That’s okay. You can learn from that. But if you never load the film into the camera, if you never risk a bad photograph or an unpleasant memory, you’ll never have a chance at a beautiful memory.

  I took risks this year and now it’s all coming into focus. I hope you did, too.

  Happy New Year!

  — 30 —

  Thanks for reading this year! I’ll be back in 2013 with more of my signature wit and feats of linguistic prowess. Until then, please comment, share and follow me on Twitter: @jonnyeberle.

  Top Posts of 2012:
  Guatemala Through the Rear View Mirror
  An Examined Life: In Memory of Dr. Joel Olson
  An Open Letter to Sherlock Holmes