April 4th came and went this year ... and it amazes me how little was said about it. I asked my class why the date of April 4, 1968 was important. No response. In some ways I wasn't surprised - and in others, I was mortified.

Here's something to think about - a Canadian that can recite the date of Martin Luther King's assassination - and why we all should care.

It befuddles me how this can be so far removed from the national psyche. King - perhaps the greatest civil rights leader of our time, the man who forged the speech from August 28, 1963 containing the stark lines "I have a dream", words that could speak to so many across all racial borders - forgotten?

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If you were to ask any of the people I've known over the years, they would probably tell you that I am goal-oriented. I enjoy the focus that comes with having a task, setting a plan, being passionate about the process, and heading towards the goal. Sometimes that may be a totally single-minded flurry of activity to get there ... and in others, it's a methodical stepwise process to inch steadily towards the destination.

I used to think it was all about the goal - and attaining it.

In recent times, I have discovered that it is truly all about the process ... and though goals do help to define the road we're on, they are not the "be all and end all" in the mix. Life involves growth, and within that growth lies the opportunity for evolving focus, process, perspective, and how we define ourselves.

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Photojournalists are an amazing breed. The ability to catch a moment in time - perfectly - on film - is an incredible skill. For the photographer, it's all about being in the right place at the right time - and yes, timing (and location!) IS everything. Photojournalism - or photography in general - is always something I have held in very high esteem. The ability to compose an image in the space of the viewfinder, and to do it "on the fly" (or perhaps under intense pressure or extreme circumstances) - now that is a skill to behold.

This was almost my chosen profession.

I had a camera in my hands from my earliest memories. My father was a photographer - a hobbyist, and certainly not a photojournalist - but he exposed me to the world of photography at an early age. I can remember my first Instamatic ... and then my first 35mm camera (an Olympus OM-10 that my father had won in a contest). I was hooked. Eventually, I took photos for the school yearbook. I developed an admiration of the skill required to take a good photo ... and the difference between a good photo and a great one.

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This would have to be my word for the week:

"Incomprehensible:
–adjective: impossible to understand or comprehend; unintelligible; impossible to know or fathom.
-synonyms: baffling, bewildering, obscure."

I guess it all started off with the slayings at Virginia Tech. An event like this is simply not within our comprehension. There aren't many people that can say that they truly understand the magnitude of the suffering, anguish, or horror. As I've heard said before - "not until you've walked a day in my mocassins".

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