I surfed this morning at the Fernandina Beach Pier. I had all I could take. I came home threw my camera in the car and headed to the North end of the beach. I stumbled on to an East Coast Surfing contest. I had a good time taking photos.
When this grom took off I knew it was going to be good. Good wave Gage.
I will be busy editing and I will post my other photos soon.
Who is my family? I would have to say everyone.
Having answered that, seemingly, “out of the blue” question to myself, I have to smile.
I’m sure this guy is my brother and I don’t know his last name. I don’t have to.
I first saw this photo years ago at my Aunt’s house. She is someone I saw only a few times in my life. But, I had an admiration for her, which has grown through the years. She passed away recently, the last of these family members to die. I had visited her because I wanted her to tell me about my father.
I never really knew him. My parents were not separated. They lived together until my father’s death at the age of 54.
I can’t remember ever having a conversation with him~because we never had one.
My Dad is the younger boy on the left.
This picture haunts me.
I want to tell their story. The best that I can anyway. I was raised on stories of my father’s life.
One day I will.
No Prom Queen 
I have this picture in my mind ~ as I lay in my bed of comfort.
Like a soldier -years gone by – the war is over.
What happened to Vietnam? Where are all of the naked babies, covered in flies?
Where are the dead bodies, scattered, limbs askew?
Where are the exploding buildings, silent, in flames?
Did Saigon fall hard like a rock into a pool of charm and drift like an empty raft on to a shore of safety?
Or did it run away in Nikes?
Fights*Battles*Fought*Lost
LOST LOST LOST
Snapping peas in harmony
long rows of squash
walking lines of berries and straw
life was good
Growing balanced watermelons
under the waves of clothes
they baked
dry in the sun
life was good
Now I have an orchard
I reap and I sow
here a while~there a while
life is good
THANK YOU MAMA
Radar could hear the choppers delivering the wounded to the MASH Unit in the Korean War. He had that sense.
Old timers on the trail west could put their ear to the ground and hear the hooves of approaching horses, be them friend or foe.
What do I hear?
I hear the chatter of distant cyber antics. I hear the past and the present. I mean the future. I mean the present. Those two just won’t stay still.
I also hear the fan running.
With patience-and coffee-I possess my soul.
Hhm…. That sounds conflicting.
Such is life and airline delays.
pura vida
I went to the beach yesterday, with my camera. The waves had died down and there was a chill in the air. Not my favorite conditions. But I was glad I was there to capture this image.
This little one was spending the day at the beach with Mom, Dad and her brother and sister. What a life.
This is a journal. I’m not trying to sell anyone anything or trying to convince anyone of anything. I don’t have a focus, other than my life and my thoughts.
If I have to claim a point of view ~ It’s about becoming a better person and service to others.
Would that mean that doubt and negativity never exist?
Friend or Foe
I was walking along the bank of the Jacksonville River, taking random pictures, when I saw this man. He was outstanding; the pink shirt, his dreads and the grey in his hair; a striking individual.
I asked him about taking his picture and I was taken back by his voice and diction. I was expecting a James Brownish type voice. His voice was clear and educated. It so, didn’t match his exterior; in my judgement.
I’m glad I took this picture that day.
It’s like writing this blog.
It hands me back my soul-when I think I’ve lost it.
I woke up this morning calling on a mantra, to heal my monkey mind. I miss Costa Rica. I miss my garden and the family that lives with me down there.
I miss the love.
I browsed through my photos and one of my Nicaraguan adventures caught my eye. I went as a photographer on a Christian mission trip into three areas; Manchester, Tipi Tapa and the La Chureca dump. (if you can, please read the link on La Chureca for the facts) I hid behind the camera at times to hide my breaking heart. It was an overwhelming experience.
These two live at the dump. A shanty town has developed there, housing the families that have come there seeking work. They go through the waste and recycle what’s there. I don’t know the exact facts, but it looked like a lot of other country’s excesses, such as old computers, are sent here because of their danger to the environment. The workers are hard at it in the day, earning a few pennies to support their families.
I elbowed my way around to make sure this woman, got these shoes. I wanted her and no one else to have them. As I watched her, throughout the day, she was quiet and reserved. In this picture, her eyes seem to tell a story~a book perhaps. Those discarded flip-flops became very important to me. A person needs shoes you know. And a little color and style never hurt anyone!
This little girl chased the bus as we were leaving. She seemed so happy!
I love this photo and the girl’s shirt. Her eyes are as bright and full of life, as her shirt is dingy. It’s a positive thought/that we can change the world with our imaginations.
I know that as I sit here, in my room, in a place that I find myself not wanting to be, that these people are still at the dump. They have little food. And what they do have is what is brought into them by missionaries ~ a lot of rice and beans.
I’m glad I have these pictures to reflect on. I don’t pity these people. That day, yes, I saw poverty. And when I left, I thought, now I know what dirt poor really is. But I also saw happiness and love amongst these people. One that I don’t see around me here in the middle of all of this decadence. Maybe I need to open my eyes.
I’m going to use my imagination and look to the best of the best of what God has given me in my life and move on.
Why not ~ it’s the better choice.
I think my mantra worked.