Thoughts
My photography motto has always been “shoot for self.” Photograph who and what you love. Love cats, photograph cats. Love cats and milk, photograph cats drinking milk from a saucer. Love yourself, make a selfie. Selfies get a bad rap, I blame Instagram. Selfies are a record in time, a record of yourself. Being that I’m the documentarian in the family, rarely are there photos of me.
So here I am.
Look at that pandemic ‘fro.
I’m still processing it all. It’s been a lot to absorb over the last few weeks. Within the viewfinder I find peace, we all deal with things in our own ways. Pressing the shutter, expressing my thoughts via keystrokes, no matter how scattered. Took the dog for a walk, camera around my neck, this is what I saw.
I try to keep it light here, but my heart is heavy. I took our son downtown yesterday because I wanted to see the destruction firsthand. As we sat at a light on 5th and Pine my son asked “why are all these people cleaning up, what happened, why are the windows broken daddy?” My eyes watering, I told him about Mr. George Floyd and that people wanted to be heard and sometimes things like this happen. He replied back, “Can I get out and help clean up?” Man, if only it were that simple.
5th & Pine. I can’t breathe.
5th and Pike. The community shows up to clean up downtown.
We then headed to our spot on the sound where he gleefully ran barefoot on the beach while it rained. Not a care in the world. I wish I could give him that joy, that peace, that protection for the rest of his life. I’m taking solace in our children, that’s all we got.
One love.
To the two or three people that may read this blog, thanks! While it’s mainly been photo centeric, I’ve been all over the place since starting this blog almost ten years ago. I’m working to post more, at the end of the day this is my space on the web to stretch my creative legs. I’ll be sharing a lot more, what that looks like, who knows?
At the playground with my son and looked up and saw this. The Pacific Northwest is a beautiful place. Never in a million years would I have thought I’d be living here, glad I do.
I’m 42. I don’t feel 42. But just because you don’t feel it doesn’t mean “it” isn’t happening, whatever “it'“ is. Last month I’ve been adulting real hard. Getting a home remodel kicked off and affairs in order like life insurance in case I kick the bucket my son will be taken care of. After a two year hiatus from going to the doctor, I finally went for my annual, ah scratch that, semi-annual check up. These need to be annual or my wife will kill me and these check ups would be all for not.
My father has had three bouts with cancer, dude has nine lives. While he’s still around it’s been touch and go. My grandfather died of prostate cancer. This could’ve been treated but he didn’t want to go to the doctor, this is problematic among black men. Don’t be stupid, go to the doctor, get checked out and handle your business.
For me, all systems are go.
Nothing like looking at your son in the face to realize your legacy.
This is 42.
Swedish Medical Center before I dropped trousers…