who am I?

To the blogger- I'm the editor and chief
To my mom- her son

But in the grander scheme of things.....


what kind of footprint am I leaving?

sacrifice

Is that word in our vocabulary? When we give from our abundance and don't notice the lack? When we give expecting something back? Perhaps another favor? Maybe a tax receipt?

What are you willing to die for?

what do you see?

I ask and ask that question as a professor. I encourage my photo students to "see" the image before making it.


In a matter of weeks I'll be where this was taken... what will I see then?

Reflections tell more than they seem...

It seems only yesterday, the man in the mirror was staring over my shoulder. Curious. Wide-eyed.

How many times a father's pride is seen in the image reflected?

Are sons reflections of their fathers?

What do they tell us about who we are?

a jigsaw puzzle

Sometimes I photograph jigsaw puzzle pictures. Not intentionally. Nice places to be. To get lost in.

I wonder if the pieces are all there? I wonder if I'll ever finish it.

Sometimes my life seems like a collection of jigsaw puzzles that are all mixed together in the same box- no pictures, just pieces.

It's no wonder...

How does the time pass so quickly?

When do the moments change to memories?

Interesting how the memories come to life and create the same tears of joy that trace the paths down our cheeks as before...

When do the memories come to life?

For me, each time I'm with her.

I love being a Granddad

being temporary

I don't feel insignificant. Nor do I feel old. Just no longer immortal. Somehow, I crossed a bridge today. Not really sure when or how. I couldn't cry. I stood partway on a bridge- looked out a window and realized I was leaving something behind.

Something's changed. I wish that all these thoughts would peel back their leathery skins and reveal the meaning that lies beneath.

It's almost like being a condemned criminal that's innocent. Walking from the cell to the executioner's block. Why so dark?

if we keep love letters in a cigarbox and are no longer in love; are they still love letters?

why keep love letters in a cigar box? The size? Privacy? Convenience? Is it because we treasure the aroma of a good letter and the feeling it gives us?

when do love letters lose their potency? when the person is no longer the object of our affection and the letters only cause ill feelings of distrust and abandonment? or do they remind us of a more romantic time when time did not cage in our passions but allowed us the freedom to express our deepest emotions?

yes- love letters are eternally love letters; only we can bring them to life again from the cold, dark, emptiness of their current dungeon.

my question now is – do we dare unwrap the power held inside each envelope? scribbled on the back of the crumpled postcard or hall pass?

advice on romance

love. what a funny subject. it entangles you in jr high, burns and tears in high school, sets you dreaming in college and is your basis and bedrock in life.

rest in peace

a body at rest . timeless reminder of our frailty . timeless reminder of the other worldly.

a headstone reminds us the loved ones departed . but when the person is forgotten . no longer remembered by anyone

names that erode away . memories that fade

finally at rest . unbothered by the constraints of time and duties . peace.

advice on romance

I've seen Juliet's balcony. Tragedy.

So what is romance anyway? The gentle tucking away of pain, inconveniences, responsibilities and distractions in order to spend time with that special someone. - and; to let them know how special you are to them.

Spend time. Treat the other as number one. Listen.

weeds and thistles

It's easy to claim that weeds are flowers in the wrong place... we pluck them, spray them, burn them and do our best to control them... hmmm I wonder if they IEP's and we just didn't read them

... my castle wall

what does it take to build a castle wall? where will you post your tower guards? what do you have that's so precious you must have it surrounded and made access to only by a gate?

once the wall is breached - everything changes.

on the edge of war...

sometimes peace is interrupted by bait on a hook, but what's the bait? temptation for power? unmet desires? unfulfilled needs?

so when we're drawn to the bait are we wise enough to avoid the hook?

does every farmer think of the harvest when they plant?

a kernel falls to the ground. the shell decays. but tucked deep within are more kernels. waiting. we watch with anticipation the seeding to appear. seeking light and nutrition by which it will grow.

harvest for the teacher comes in the springtime

just my imagination

from the oracle at Delphi