Photo Booth

I think photo booths are one of the best inventions on the planet. It is impossible to not have fun in a photo booth. And, when you have unlimited access to one for a great cause, it’s even more fantastic.

Photo Booth Set 1

There used to be a shop in New York City’s Greenwich Village that had a black-and-white photo booth (my favorite). I always made time to visit and, on the rare occasion it wasn’t working, I would be crushed. I will search for some old strips in my scrapbooks. But, in the meantime, here are some picks from the ACLU’s The Art of Expression party last week.

Photo Booth Set 2

Photo Booth Set 3

Next time you have a chance to jump in a photo booth – do it! I promise it will put a smile on your face.

Casey

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Rare Behavior

Casey and I look at so many things in the course of our work. Things. Stuff. And lots of it….

Casey and I look at so many things in the course of our work. Things. Stuff. And lots of it. We meet with artists and view their pieces. We look at catalogues. We look at websites. We get PILES of mail every day with beautiful photos of lovely things. Lovely things I’d love to own and also share with our customers. That’s how being a retailer works: you like it, you offer it to others.

Amazing EarringsWhen I saw these in Town & Country magazine my heart zinged. So many things about these amazing earrings stand in direct opposition to my “personal purchasing restrictions”. Like I have never heard of this artist. And I’m pretty sure the pieces are produced in quantities of more than one (and I am a one-of-a-kind girl). Plus, I’m a “clip” girl and these reek of “pierced”.

But I may exhibit rare behavior and hunt these suckers down and see just what I can’t afford!!

Sloane

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Simple

Statue of Liberty
Taking my daughter to see the Statue of Libertyfor the first time in 2009.

I have been thinking a lot about freedom lately. I am struck with how it complicates our world, our lives, and our beliefs.

For the last couple of weeks, freedom has been on my mind. I volunteered to work on an event for the American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU) called The Art of Expression. I mean, what could be simpler for me than celebrating the right to create art? Look at what I do for a living, how I live, who I choose to have in my life…simple right? Not so much.

It – freedom, that is – kept popping up everywhere I turned. It’s like that old phenomenon that when you buy a red car all of sudden you see a million red cars on the road. I chose to work on an event about freedom, and – presto – freedom is all over my roads.

It was on Facebook when I logged on each morning, a constant feed of posts about anything and everything people wanted to voice. It was at breakfast, lunch and dinner conversations. It was at the baseball game. It was at a bar when a guy talking to me got mad and stomped off because he found out I didn’t share his political views. It was at a party with girlfriends where we talked about kids, love, life, sex and our bodies.

I spent a bunch of time thinking about people that use hatred to spread propaganda and resort to violence and killing. I was shamed to realize how often I was willing to jeopardize my own freedom in wanting my government to control and stop these people.

Freedom wasn’t letting me get much sleep.

I thought about being a woman in America in 2011. Boy howdy, that got the freedom ball rolling.

It’s everywhere – freedom, lack of freedom, struggles for freedom, and limits on freedom. Make it stop. My mind was racing, my passion was running hot, John Lennon was rockin’ my iPod, my soap box was getting a new coat of paint. I am woman, hear me roar!

And then, last night, I stoked up my first fall fire in my fire pit. I sat for hours mesmerized by the flame. I fell into a fire trance. And there was freedom, dancing around my mind again. But, somewhere in that hour and burning in those flames, the realization that freedom isn’t the least bit complicated came to me. Freedom – itself – is as simple as simple gets.

When I wake in the morning, my eyes open as simply and naturally as our bodies were designed to work. It is the steps I make after leaving my bed that complicate everything.

Freedom is designed to open simply and naturally. It’s the steps we choose to take with it that makes it so damned complicated.

Casey

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Raging Feminism

First, a few statistics. I am 45 years old. I have been married to the same man for 24 years. I have one child. I own my home. I co-own a small business with my sister. I am Caucasian. I finished “some college” but did not obtain a degree. I am an active community volunteer and currently serve on several governing and advisory boards. I am happy.

I sat in a public auditorium the other evening and, after arriving late, tried to settle in after a long and varied day to absorb four women’s words. They all chose great stories to share, and their answers during the Q&A were heartfelt and well received.

But I found myself making notes on paper – a questionnaire I had been handed upon arrival became my notebook – about what had brought me to that room. These women spoke eloquently and from many perspectives that were different from my own. In the end, the questionnaire was not fit to be turned in. This morning I re-visited my notes and noticed that my emotions ran to thankfulness to the woman who was older than me for forging a path, to hopefulness because the woman who was younger than me had much to teach me, and I delight that the women who were right near my age were finding themselves coming into their own.

The symposium was an intergenerational conversation about work and life. It was presented by Women, Girls, Ladies in conjunction with the UMKC Women’s Center and the UMKC Women’s Council. I figured it would be worth my time, given that I was a woman, a girl, and a lady, and I had a life and I

Raging Feminists
My niece and my mom several years ago. Both are raging feminists.

worked. Perfect fit, right?

More than perfect. My time in the auditorium reminded me that I had been raised by a woman – my mother – who is a raging feminist and that I had been deeply molded by two women – my grandmothers – who would have never admitted to being feminists in any form. These women gave me their best and let me catch glimpses of their worst. What shakes me to my core is that I never think about being a feminist myself because I really don’t have to very much. It is ingrained in me to believe that women can do anything and be anything. I have visual memories of the comics at the back of Ms Magazine that reminded me as a teenager to make more of myself than the boys around me and to insist on more than 69 cents to their dollar earned. I have been a hand in raising a child whose biggest argument at school to date – including middle school!! – is the one he waged about there not being “boy colors” or “girl colors” in art class when he was ribbed for pink being a favorite color that he used without fear in his work.

The phrase “Been there, have the T-shirt” could not be truer about my feminism. My family has recycled through two generations the NARAL T-shirts, the National Women’s Political Caucus T-shirts, and the Planned Parenthood T-shirts, and we have all treasured the posters, magnets and bumper stickers from the past. They remind us that “A woman’s place is in the house … and the senate”; that “War is not healthy for children and other living things” and that a female newborn is a “baby woman”.

This week I am co-chairing an event for the American Civil Liberties Union in my hometown. It’s going to be a wondrous evening full of amazing art and talented people. The ACLU will always need funding to continue their work protecting all of our civil liberties. I don’t work in those trenches every day, but I am thankful for those that do. Every issue women face – every obstacle they overcome – was and is a civil liberty issue. It wasn’t very long ago that women couldn’t vote, that women couldn’t own property, and that women had very little control over their bodies and its intended freedoms.

If you asked me if I was feminist, I wouldn’t deny it, nor would I immediately embrace it. To me, the true feminists are those women who changed the world as we know it in the 1970s, not me. I can vote, own things, and speak openly with my doctor. I just get to be me … a raging feminist.

Sloane

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Copyright Casey Simmons and S. Sloane Simmons. People who steal other people's words & thoughts are asshats. Don't be an asshat.