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It happens all the time. Someone sees a photo I’ve shot that he thinks is good and he says, “Wow. You must have a really great camera.”

Many people believe great photos come from great cameras and that good art of any kind comes from superior tools. I never know quite how to respond to such people, because that attitude reflects a fundamental misunderstanding of the relationship between an artist or craftsman and his tools.

A good photographer can make the most of a cheap camera and an untalented person can make horrible images even with a great camera — but that doesn’t mean a talented photographer doesn’t crave a great camera. And it doesn’t mean he can’t do better work with great equipment.

There’s an old adage that says, “It’s a poor craftsman who blames his tools.” And it’s true.

On the other hand, a good craftsman doesn’t use lousy tools for his work, at least not very long, because he knows the difference. So which matters to doing good work? Is it the artist’s talent or the tool which matters?

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Much of the reaction to Donald Trump’s election can be described only as mass hysteria.

I’m never happy about any president and this one is no exception. I would have been disgusted with either alternative, of course, and I’ve made it clear that I see Trump as especially dangerous. But some people are acting as though the world has ended for them and there’s no future to live for.

This is insane.

I’m seeing a lot of such mass hysteria and I’m appalled at it, because it shows a lack of perspective and a lack of understanding about which things matter most in life.

There are dozens of examples, but a piece in Monday’s Washington Post exemplifies it best. In a personal column called Trump’s election stole my desire to look for a partner — seriously, that’s the headline — a mother of two in Montana says she’s lost interest in finding a romantic partner. She tells of having found a man she was interested in — and who seemed interested in her — but how the election changed everything.

“There is no room for dating in this place of grief,” she concludes. “Dating means hope. I’ve lost that hope in seeing the words ‘President-elect Trump.’”

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I ordered a camera lens Monday night on Amazon.com. It was a pretty standard order. It’s not an expensive item. I didn’t pay a nickel extra for shipping. It’s pretty routine.

But this order reminds me how much our lives have improved — and how much we take those improvements for granted.

I got a shipment notification for the lens Wednesday morning. I had no idea where it was coming from. I didn’t care. But when I clicked a button in my email to track the FedEx package, a light bulb went off for me.

On the tracking page, I noticed the package was picked up by FedEx in Seongnam-si, South Korea — which is a satellite city near Seoul — at the end of the Wednesday business day there. Somehow, it will be delivered to me in Birmingham on Thursday.

An untold number of people are involved in getting my routine order fulfilled from the other side of the world all the way to me — and I never had to give a second thought to how any of it happens.

It’s a modern form of magic we call logistics.

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