I’ve been messing around with some old lighting equipment lately. As a life-long photographer, it’s fun learning new tricks. This old dog can be taught. For portraits or events — situations where I have the time to prepare — I usually haul out my big, clunky White Lightning flash units, set up the stands, plug ’em in and test fire them to get my settings right. But there are times when I’d rather be more nimble, travel lightly (read: being lazy).
I think it was right about the time the cat jumped through the flaming fire hoop that I realized this place wasn’t quite like any other. We were closer to Cuba than we were to the mainland US of A, but it didn’t feel any more like Cuba than it did our own country. Welcome to Key West.
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.
I was never really a fan of fictional mysteries. When I was growing up, they always seemed more suited to my parents or grandparents. Agatha Christie felt old and dated. Murder She Wrote always seemed to be a show for senior citizens sitting at their TV trays. The closest I got was probably that big old set of Hardy Boys books my brothers left in the attic when they abandoned them in the 1960s.