Jul
20
The sun sets from my vantage point perched atop a mountain on Tortola in the British Virgin Islands.
May
15
My daughter, Taylor, alternates with me between napping and driving across The Great Plains.
We just passed a shrink-wrapped boat. What it’s doing in the middle of Nebraska, I have no idea. But there seems to be all manner of transport along this flat, gray, rainy Pony Express trail.
My daughter sits next to me napping on her “Hug this pillow until you can hug me” fluffiness, given to her by her new hubby. It’s sweet. Even though we’re traveling at a pretty steady clip, we’re not taking great pains as we drive across The Great Plains. Destination: Cheyenne, Wyoming and her next three years. Why oming? Her Air Force husband just re-upped for duty and she’s got a job working with older folks at the Veterans Administration. Her new life awaits her.Read More
May
04
Mom and Dad sat for one of my early portrait sessions back in the mid-1980s.
So I’m hanging out, chatting with my wife and daughter after running some errands, having a salty snack — the usual slow afternoon things — when KABLOOEY, it hits me; I’ve outlived my father.
May
23
Combining family photography and baby photography
Here’s a quick answer to a question I get all the time. A query comes in from Google with the search baby photographers near me. Short answer, I love photographing babies and have been doing it for 30 years, even before my wife and I had babies to photograph of our own. Read More
Aug
20
Can you hear that?
A deep, loud, echoing, quiet resounds through the house. My baby daughter — the one who was so small, she used to sleep sideways on the pillow next to me during naps — has up and gone away to college.
When our kids were younger, we used to play a memory game in the car to occupy their time. We’d start out by saying, “In my grandmother’s attic I found …” then each person would go around thinking of something new, in alphabetical order, repeating all the previous items. You’ve probably played versions of it yourself. It’s silly, but it went something like, “In my grandmother’s attic I found; an Arthur, a bongo board, chopsticks, a Democratic canvasser, etc.”
Strangely enough, all those things have actually been found in my grandmother’s attic. Though to be fair, it wasn’t an attic per say, but a cupboard or closet of her senior living facility out in Arizona.
Dec
01
The house has grown quieter throughout the day. A Sunday night after the holiday hears no more loud simultaneous conversations in bedrooms, kitchens, living rooms — all of which happen, inexplicably, on floors. My daughter’s friends seem to find our floors more appealing, more to their liking than our soft, comfy furniture.
One daughter is back at school, many states away. Next fall, the other will follow her sister West, just not as far. A loud, roaring quiet echoes through the emptying nest. One bedroom is now closed, vents shut, conserving the household heat. Soon we’ll have, what, three guest rooms. Come visit us; bring your friends, plenty of floor space.
Our dogs sense the silence and sporadically bark at December phantoms. There’s nothing out there, boys, Grinches and ghosts don’t show up till the 24th.
I’m reminded by a comforting wife that Christmastime will bring her parents, other relatives, our daughter back from the western prairie and until then we still get at least one lovely teen, her boyfriend and their entourage. And thinking about it reminds me that I’ve actually bought chestnuts to roast over an open Kenmore.
For now I’ll do my best not to act like the bears (grizzly, not Chicago) and hibernate.
When one of the Admissions Counselors at my daughter’s college asked her to write a letter to a prospective student — who was also a zombie aficionado — this is what she came up with. Yes, the counselor let her send it.
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Our friend Julie paused as she was walking up the stands to the school pool. She asked how things were going after both her son and our daughter took off to college. I said Skye was doing fine, adjusting to everything, having a blast in her new home.
“It’s not Skye I’m worried about; it’s you,” Read More
Apr
06
For our friends vacationing in Florida or Mexico or even Des Moines, we imagine the mercury is higher. But blue sky and rain tag-team each other all day, waiting scant minutes between showers and soaking sunshine. We’re told some here even feel responsible for the weather, one embracing the wetness so much that she feels better in Portland than back home in LA. The moisture encourages roofs to be overrun in moss, yet beautiful daffodils, forsythia and cherry blossoms already are out and shining. Those in Michigan still lag within the safety of their buds.