date stamp: earth day 2009, 3pm gmt

Date stampers from around the world came together on April 22, 2009 at 3pm gmt to commemorate Earth Day. Following are photos of what each was doing when the time came to snap.

Interesting how each was able to bring their image back around, no matter how mundane, to tie it in with the day's theme. Just goes to show how important the Earth is, this place we call home. How central it is to our everyday existence.

No long introduction to this date stamp as I thought the following verse from Anthony Newley's and Leslie Bricusse's "Feelin' Good" (made popular by Rat Packer Sammy Davis, Jr.) sums things up best:

Birds flying high, you know how I feel
Sun in the sky, you know how I feel
Reeds driftin' on by, you know how I feel
It's a new dawn
It's a new day
It's a new life for me
And I'm feeling good.


Featured Photo
The Earth gets the honor this time around, natch. Who better besides?

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London, England
GMT
(3 p.m., local time)

As it's Earth Day, I thought it appropriate to visit a garden centre. This is one of a dozen that line a country road, close to where I live. I was on the look-out for an olive tree for a birthday gift, but got side-tracked by this colourful display in one of the glasshouses.

The English have been regarded as a nation of gardeners, and we certainly enjoy terra-forming our own patches of earth!

— Kathryn Radmall

Screenwriter

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London, England
United Kingdom
GMT
(3 p.m. local time)

The view from just outside my writing shed. Looks like we're set for a warm April...

— Elinor Perry-Smith
Screenwriter, Blogger

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Dorset, England
United Kingdom
GMT
(3 p.m. local time)

Family cat Twinkle wondering here if he left the gas on... All our cats have stories attached on how they came to be with us; Twinkle's works like this. Friend of the family gets female cat from a charity; I say to her: "That cat's pregnant." "No it's not..." She replies breezily... Four weeks later, kittens are exploding out of said charity cat, Friend rings in a frenzy: "Take one, will you?" "I already have a cat." I say. "Take it or I'm putting it in the nearest well!" hysterical friend replies... A couple of weeks later, Twinkle arrives. Turns out he's misogynistic and hates women. Sigh.

— Lucy V. Hay
Screenwriter, Blogger

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Edinburgh, Scotland
United Kingdom
GMT
(2 p.m. local time)

With Earth Day and the new UK Budget the hot topics of the day, a photo of new green shoots in my little indoor garden seemed appropriate.

— Laura Anderson
Freelance Writer and Filmmaker

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Toronto, Ontario
Canada
GMT -5
(10 a.m. local time)

So with the best laid plans I set out to take my date stamp photograph on Earth Day 2009, casually stepping into my condo elevator. A beautiful urban park awaits where I intend to contrast the curves and soft edges of nature against the cold jagged lines of the cityscape...

THUNK... the elevator stops! There's power, but the damn thing just isn't moving.

Not to panic, just a temporary glitch is all. I mean when was the last time someone was trapped in one of these things?

The seconds turn into minutes and the minutes start to pile up. I press the emergency call button, but it does nothing.

As the Jeopardy theme song starts to play over and over in my head, thoughts of all the bad things that could happen creep into my brain.

10 minutes have elapsed. A very long time when left alone with your irrational thoughts.

I press every button on the panel, which does nothing other than make me feel even less in control.

Just as I start looking for a hatch in the roof, the things starts up again!

Wait... this is it... this is my earth day!

I snap the shot, and whether it be the glass and chrome messing with the exposure or the aura of my shot nerves, it pretty well represents where my head is at.

Down to the front desk where I find out a fuse has blown, and then back up 14 flights of stairs...

— Svet Rouskov
Screenwriter

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New York, New York
United States
GMT - 5
(10 a.m. local time)

I had a couple of things to choose from, as I snapped pictures whilst walking to the subway to work, but I figured I'd go with this one. I was really hoping to get a shot of a tree-lined block with the large, clear plastic recycling full of stuff next to them. Sort of a nature and people in harmony pic, but of course, the bags were gone, come morning, so I thought I'd capture this instead. There is hope for us!

— Mrinalini Kamath
Playwright, Filmmaker

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Raleigh, North Carolina
United States
GMT - 5
(10 a.m. local time)

Partly cloudy, windy, and a tad chilly. A Canadian goose calmly cruises a small pond surrounded by green budding trees, beautiful flowers, and croaking frogs and I have stepped back in time 100 years. Then I turn, face reality -- a gaggle of cars floats on a sea of asphalt and I realize – I was born 100 years too late.

— Michael Scherer
Screenwriter

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Louisville, Kentucky
United States
GMT - 5
(10 a.m. local time)

This Earth Day at the appointed hour I was on the phone with my mother, who is 80 and recently widowed. I could not in conscience cut the conversation short, as she is living in a new apartment, having recently lost my Dad, and having just sold the farm where she had lived with him for 40 years. But afterwards I rummaged for pictures of the old place to scan and share.

In 1970, John and Alice moved Upstate, with their four teenaged children, from Westchester County outside of New York City. My father’s elfish smile and salute in this picture is characteristic: he felt free. At 43 he had left the corporate world to live “off the land.” For forty years, he and my mother enjoyed long thaws, late springs and short growing seasons—that is, a vitality and happiness that seemed connected to a friendship they cultivated with the earth. So on this Earth Day I wish to salute them with a scrapbook shot. My hope is that we all find our parcel of earth to befriend.

— Jeanne Hammond
Screenwriter

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Westlake Village, California
United States
GMT - 8
(7 a.m. local time)

Finally a date stamp in which the sun makes an appearance.

This is the view from your bedroom window, what you wake up to every morning: the trees that boarder your property just a few feet from where the Santa Monica Mountains begin their 12-mile bump and grind — sporadic undulations that somehow manage to look elegant, effortless as they tumble into the Pacific Ocean; the egg yolk sunshine that spills over into a plate of blue sky; the trees that serve as the hummingbirds' embarcadero from which they can determine their next moves.

The morning is alive, vibrant, a perfect start to Earth Day. As the hours unwind, your mind is never far from what it is you're marking today, and you feel safe, and comforted, and well taken care of. She may be ailing, your Mother Earth, infected by greed and ignorance, but on a day like today, you cannot but believe that she will make a full recovery. Under the ministries of those who have a finger on her pulse, who can tell when her temperature's running too high and her resources too thin, and who are willing to do what it takes to nurse her back to health, you believe she'll be around, alive and kicking, for a good long time to come.

— Pamela Schott
Author, Screenwriter

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Beijing, China
GMT + 8
(11 p.m. local time)

My 4 year-old came home from preschool today wearing this paper medallion around his neck. I ask him what it is for. He says, "Earth Day." I then ask what Earth Day is about. "We have to do nice things for the earth," he says.
"Like what?"
He replies, "Like planting vegetables. I planted chives in school with Jamie."
"What other nice things do we do for the earth?" I prompt.
"I know, we recycle!" he exclaims. He adds, "We do nice things cause the earth gives us everything we need."

I hope it's an idea that he'll carry with him always and act on accordingly.

— Ginley Regencia

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Royal Ville
Singapore
GMT + 8
(11 p.m. local time)

Here I was ready to climb into my comfortable bed for a quick Vanity Fair read before sleep and what do I find? My magazine hijacked by my cat...who happens to think he owns the bed AND my magazine! Or is it the image of Gisele Bundchen on the cover that's got him all cosy and purring so loudly that the whole room seems to reverberate? If only everyone in the world could be and feel as content as this creature...

— Sonia Marzuki
Freelance Writer, PR Consultant

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Tikrit, Iraq
GMT + 3
(6 p.m. local time)

The walls.

— Art La Flamme
Blogger/Army Serviceman

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Elsewhere in the world:

Panama Canal, Panama
United States
GMT - 8
(7 a.m. local time)

Australian Station
Antarctica
GMT + 4
(7 p.m. local time)

Abbey Road
London, England
United Kingdom
GMT
(3 p.m. local time)

Venice Grand Canal, Italy

GMT +1
(4 p.m. local time)

Paris, France
GMT + 1
(4 p.m. local time)

I. they. we.

I woke up about two weeks ago with an epiphany, the sort of long-time-coming realization that alerted me to the fact that the inevitable was taking place under my watch. That time was marching forward with a slow but steady, relentless, ruthless determination, and taking my children with it.

They were eagerly looking forward to spring break, worn out as they were from the day-to-day demands and dramas of school and homework and dance class and performance rehearsal. So they would have settled for our usual spring break fare of staying up late and sleeping in late, would have been as content as kittens to let the days unfold in no particular order.

We were accustomed to approaching spring break in this way, preferring to save the trips for summer vacation, when we could anticipate and savor and rest and recover without the buffer of school obligations behind and in front of us, leaving us feeling as though our break was nothing more than a parenthetical breath-catching before we took the next obligatory plunge.

*

I wanted this spring break to be special, to give them something other than what they were used to, to show them how to savor not just a chunk of time, but the morsel-size moments that it consists of, like tucking into a tremendous meal, one silver spoonful at a time.

They staggered into spring break bleary-eyed and exhausted, hungry first for sleep, the basics. 10 days yawned before them, and they were anxious to find a patch of restorative sunlight on the floor by the window to curl up in, to doze and dream and forget in, to slowly, leisurely reclaim what Obligation had taken from them.

We planned it all out in advance. Each night at dinner, one girl would draw a slip of paper from a basket, on which would be written the next day's activity, culminating in a short trip to Santa Barbara — a thick, fine bow to put on what we hoped would be a worthy spring break.

*

I had been mentally preparing a week's worth of girl dates, changing out one idea for a better one, hoping to strike a balance between mere consumption and active participation, knowing that they, like every kid out there who feeds at their country's trough of plenty, need to learn how to slow down. Observe. Appreciate. Savor.

They embraced the idea, thrilled (relieved?) at the thought of only knowing what was coming the next day, that they, like recovering addicts, were only required to take it in one day at a time, to deal with the day on its own terms, safe in the knowledge that they would be taken care of.

We started out with manicures and mini-massages at the nail salon, washed down with frappuccinos from Peet's Coffee. Nothing extravagant or earth shattering. But later, at dinner, as the girls recalled for Dad the day's outing, we were delighted to hear that this spring break had already been judged The Best Spring Break Ever.

*

I read recently that the average American child receives 70 toys a year (a statistic from 2005). Which means that some, obviously, receive much less, but others, much, much more. Where we live, we witness the much, much more factor on a daily basis. How do you stem that tide? How do you express the value of things earned and anticipated — or given from out of the blue, with no expectation, no demand? How do you communicate to your child her worth without the assist of empty props, when all around her she sees stuff paraded and then tossed aside in favor of newer, better, and is told that her good comes from these goods?

They passed the week in a state of dizzy expectation and fat-cat satiation, one 24-hour period at a time. After the manicures, there was a picnic and a trip to the bookstore, and frozen yogurt and a trip to the mall to window shop for graduation ideas, and yoga class (to balance things out) and fruit smoothies. The day before our trip to Santa Barbara, their task was to plan, shop for, and prepare dinner and dessert for Dad who would be taking a rare, three-day weekend to catch the last of the spring break fun.

We sat down that night to a homemade pizza (what else would he have wanted?), piled ridiculously high with squash and tomatoes and chicken carmelized with apples and red onion, plus mushrooms and sausage and garlic — and cheese. Lots of cheese. Two pieces of our monsterpiece, and even Josie (aka "The Stomach") had called it quits. So it was nothing short of heroic — a miracle, even — when we all polished off a piece of pudding pie.

*

I enjoy the quiet when they're gone, but I know that soon enough, I'll have more quiet on my hands than I'll know what to do with. Or maybe not. Maybe that Other Life, the life I've been weaving and wondering about since forever will start to unfold, to fill the space left when they have moved on. But it's days like this, with childhood making a break for it, that I wish we could have more of spring break, or that summer would hurry up and get here, already.

They are back into their routine, with final school projects and rehearsals, and then dress rehearsals, and performances all looming large. This is their busiest time, these last five weeks before school lets out. But they're ready for it, up for the challenge. The break was a good one.

We learned something over the past 10 days, something about slowing down and looking up, about tasting and anticipating, something about smelling roses along the way.

I hope it stays with them.

They do, too.

We all want this kind of spring in our step to last, after all.

---

Spring Break Photos
Santa Barbara, California
April 17, 2009

At a cafe.

Off State Street, a block from the ocean. The stories this door could tell.

Carpinteria, just down the freeway from Santa Barbara. The sun was so bright that day that it washed the color out of the sky. Or that's what you'd think, looking at this picture. Actually, it was true blue. My camera just wasn't up to snuff.

24h world: the march video edition now online

We combined March date stamps to create an awesome retrospective video for 24h World, complete with photos, voiceover, original music courtesy of this guy, and ticker-tape headlines from around the globe.

It's included in the blog entries for the March 21 date stamp (scroll down till you see the video), and you can check it here.

Next date stamp to be announced soon.