WHAT TRUE LOVE LOOKS LIKE

I'd been sick all day. In fact, I'd been sick all week, and all month. Withdrawing cold turkey from fifteen years of valium use was knocking the breath right out of me. I'd never been this sick in my life. When I wasn't in bed I was in the bathroom. I went through three months of this. One morning at 3AM I headed to the bathroom. There, on hands and knees, my husband scrubbed the floor. He said it was the only time he could clean it without disturbing me. Those three months Jay did everything for me. Everything. Even if he had to get up at 3AM to do it.

He continues to love me in that deep and abiding way five years later. Last spring I made the mistake of eating too much fresh pineapple at a wedding in another town. On our way home the next morning my husband and I stopped at a thrift store where I lost all bowel control. I didn't make it to the bathroom in time so I was a mess. My husband insisted on coming into the restroom with me (it was a single stall room) so he could help me get out of my clothes, clean me up, and run to the car to get me a clean outfit. He also rinsed my soiled clothes in the sink. He did all this quickly, efficiently, and without complaint. His biggest concern was that I might be getting sick again, but I assured him it was just the pineapple I ate the night before. 

True love is not always best illustrated by flowers and candlelight, chocolates and poetry.  True love shows up especially brilliantly in illness and adversity.   I'm so blessed to have a husband who does not think it a burden to take care of me. In fact, he considers it a privilege. Perhaps it's because he's almost lost me twice that he holds to me so dearly. Whatever the reason, this anniversary I'm grateful for 23 years with such a man in my life.

Jay & I in August, 2013

MY VETRAN'S DAY HERO

My dad was born March 10, 1923 on a farm in rural Montana with eight brothers and sisters during the Great Depression. At 15 (1938) he worked in a CCC camp because there was no food or jobs at home. At 17 years my dad lied about his age in order to get into the U.S. Army Air Corp to fight in World War II. (After 1942 it would be called the Air Force.) It was his dream to get out of Montana, and fly in a plane. On his test flight he puked his guts out, but begged the officer to let him stay in the Air Corp which he did. My dad would fly 30 missions over Nazi occupied territory as a tail-gunner in the famous B-24's. Stephen E. Ambrose wrote an excellent book called, "The Wild Blue" which is about the men and boys who flew these “tin coffins” over enemy occupied territory. 

Because of the poverty he experienced in his youth my dad seldom took things for granted, either material possessions or relationships. He always appreciated a good meal, a roof over his head and the few clothes he owned. He married my mother at the age of 30, and had his three girls relatively late in life. Which made his family all the more important to my dad. He loved his family above all else although he never expressed that love with hugs and kisses. It just wasn't in his nature. But we all knew we were loved beyond measure. 

It was also late in life that my dad gave his life to the Lord. He served God at 45 years of age along with his family. We never went without. Our needs came before his own. He barely finished high school, but he loved to learn, always had a job, and didn't believe in sitting around doing nothing. After 20 years serving in the military he worked 15 more years in the post office before retiring. After retirement he bought, then refinished and sold antiques so he always had money to spend on others, and hooked huge "personal history" rugs as family heirlooms. 

People always came before things, and that's what I admired most about him. Tonight I’m thankful for this man who fought for our country and our freedom; the man who was my dad. He passed away four years ago, but my memories are as strong as ever. 

Dad (standing far right) in England just before a mission during WWII.

A PRECIOUS PORTRAIT

The mother on the other end of the line was clearly in distress.  Her teenage son was graduating from high school, but he hated having his photo taken.  He made it clear to his mother that he would agree to maybe a few photos, but that was it.  And he wasn’t taking his hat off.  Period.  And he wasn’t going to smile either, or dress up in some fancy outfit.  After explaining all this the mom asked if I would be willing to “take on” her son, and his senior photo session.

It was the late 90’s, and my portrait business was in full swing.  I kept busy with weddings and families, but my favorite clients were seniors.  They enjoyed trying new things, and breaking out of the traditional.  Seniors always challenged my skills and my creativity.  They kept me on my photographic toes so to speak! 

I felt honored she would ask me to take on this challenging task.  It meant so much to her, and yet so little to him.  She went on to say she had heard I was really good with teenagers, and had a reputation for making senior portraits a fun time for them.    She had two specific requests; could I try and get one photo without his baseball cap, and one shot of him smiling.  Assuring her I would do my best we picked out a day and time.  

The out of doors is always my preference for portraits.  Natural light can’t be surpassed, but nature also puts folks at ease.  It’s so much harder to get people to relax in a studio setting.  And the teens in our area almost always prefer the outdoors for their sessions, especially guys.  I knew immediately that Riverside Park would be the best choice for this young man.  Fall colors were in full swing, and it was a short drive from the studio.  

I encouraged teens to bring one or more friends to their sitting.  It helped relax them, and made it more fun for all of us.  They would help me with the reflector, and watching for stray hairs and other details I might miss.  I asked mom if he would like to bring a friend to the sitting, but quickly replied he was a loner and would be coming by himself.  So I decided to ask my husband to be my assistant on this challenging sitting.  He has a great sense of humor, and could lighten up the mood.  I knew that would be paramount for getting some really good photographs of this young man.

The afternoon arrived, and the senior met us at Riverside Park by himself in his beat up pickup truck.  He had on broken-in jeans, an old t-shirt with a hole in it, and a well worn baseball cap.  I asked him if he brought any other shirts and the curt answer was no.  He was all business, and had an “I want to get this over with” attitude.  As I got the equipment ready Jay went to work doing his magic.  My husband is a college geology professor who is loved for his down-to-earth, and fun loving approach to teaching.  He used his sense of humor to begin softening the mood.

I decided to not let the hole in his t-shirt ruin my determination to get a great portrait.  I hid the hole by poses with his arms crossed in front of him, or with a branch, or some other technic.  And when all else failed I could always have the distraction retouched out of the picture.  The important thing was to not let it frustrate me.  I moved quickly, not spending a lot of time fussing, or posing, or arranging.  “Keep it light”, I kept telling myself!  This is not a time for micro-managing.

Before long this fellow responded beautifully to our team approach of keeping it moving, and keeping it light!  Jay would crack a joke like, “That one’s a GQ shot.” or “All your girlfriends are going to want that photo”, or “I hear Hollywood calling”.   He coaxed the smiles, while I kept my finger on the trigger, ready to capture that moment each time it happened.  Pretty soon our senior was suggesting a pose he thought would look cool with his truck!  At one point he said, “My mom would probably like me to take my hat off for some photos.”  So for the remainder of the session he kept his baseball cap in the cab of the pickup.  I was on cloud nine with the way this session flowed that afternoon!  After about an hour and a half of taking photos we headed our separate ways.

Mom was thrilled with the results of the portrait session.  Her expectations had not only been met, but exceeded.  There was her son in numerous photos looking relaxed and completely himself, smiling and hatless.  “How did you do it?”, she asked.  I responded, “Trade secret!”, and winked.

A couple of years passed when I received another phone call from mom.  She apologized for such short notice, but she needed some 8x10’s from her son’s senior session.  “We would like to display them at his memorial service this Friday.  He took his life last week.  Those are the best photos we have of him.  We are so grateful we have those photographs.”

I attended his memorial service; half a dozen framed 8X10’s placed among the various floral arraignments at the front of the room.  Smiling.  Hatless.  And young.  So young.

I value photographs highly.  More then most perhaps.  Not a single negative has been tossed or destroyed out of the tens of thousands of negatives I’ve created with film cameras.  Numerous times I’ve been contacted for prints or negatives of loved ones I photographed who have passed.  It’s always a privilege to be able to provide those things.  It’s my way of  cherishing life.  If portraiture can be a “calling” I’d like to think this is mine.  It’s a privilege to record a person’s life, even if it’s only one hour of one afternoon during their last year of high school.

This photo is in memory of Sarah Evans (the little girl) 

who passed away much too soon in 2005.