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Making an Exception for Tradition…

This is my extended family. Every year we all meet at my Grandparents’ home in Carbondale, Illinois. This year for our family portrait, I wanted to emphasize how far we all travel in order to continue our Christmas family traditions. And to summarize for you: the total number of the miles traveled by all of my 17 relatives and their spouses in order to get to Carbondale, Illinois is: 31,327 miles (32,025 if you count the dogs’ journey) and 64,050 for a round trip.

Those are a lot of miles and that is a huge carbon footprint… and that doesn’t include all of the presents, and wrapping paper, and trips to the mall.

Being a person who cares a great deal about the environment… the crazy amounts of consumption that occurs in one week is embarrassing… but at the same time… I feel incredibly lucky. I feel lucky because:

  • I have an amazing family, and we have wonderfully bizarre family traditions that we have carried out for as many years as I can remember…
  • I know not many people have such a strong extended family, especially one that is so spread apart…
  • and because I know that these traditions will not last forever, so I better enjoy them while I have them.

So, for the spirit of Christmas and for the love of family, I try and contain my environmental gripes, and I wholeheartedly throw myself into the crazy seasonal consumerism as much as possible. But I still do little things to try and make myself feel a little better, such as shopping at the local Carbondale stores, instead of the big box stores and chains, and wrapping all my presents in newspaper and reused paper, and preventing my paper-plate-loving relatives from adding to the overcrowded landfills, just because they do not want to do dishes.

And in the end… traditions make it all worth while. Thank you Grandma and Grandpa for bringing us all together for all these years, and for teaching us the value of family. I wouldn’t want it any other way.

My heart hurts today…

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On November 4th, 2008, Californians voted not to allow people of the same sex to get married, even though the California Supreme Court ruled that it was unconstitutional to prevent humans of their basic right to marry the person they love.

My fiancé, Arann and I were at the Westin Hotel in San Francisco on election night, with our dear friends who worked so hard on the No on 8 campaign to protect equality for all. The huge ball room was packed with couples who were so nervous that their right to marry the person, who they loved most in the world, would be taken away. The room was thick with emotions, as we all waited and waited and waited. The numbers coming in were not good. And eventually, they told everyone to go home because we wouldn’t have an answer until the morning… but we all knew.

And today my heart hurts.

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Arann and I are supposed to get married on April 4, 2009. But I called him from the airport today and said I didn’t think we should get married. And he said he was thinking the same thing.

When we first got engaged, I wasn’t so sure about the idea of having a wedding. But slowly the idea grew on us and we started to understand the importance. A wedding is not a marriage, but it is a ceremony that brings together all the love and support of everyone in your community, as you take this huge step forward.

So, the more we thought about the meaning of our big step forward, the more we felt it was important to have our community with us, as we vow to care for each other for the rest of our lives. It is especially important to us that my grandparents, who will celebrate their 65 wedding anniversary next year, are there to pass on their advice and inspiration to us.

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So, we picked a day and we started making plans. A hike, followed by a ceremony, followed by a reception with a collective art show, with the theme: Advice, followed by good food and dancing. We thought that would be the perfect way to enter into the next stage of our lives as a married couple.

But as we stood there election night, surrounded by people whose hearts were breaking as they were told their marriages would no longer be accepted… we started to question why we should have the right to marry, when other people don’t, just because their body parts are the same.

It doesn’t make any sense to me. In a world of such hatred and fighting, why wouldn’t we want to encourage and support people who want to build their community? Why don’t we want to encourage people to promise to love and care for each other for the rest of their lives? If it is about God, I was taught that we are not supposed to judge, so… then let God judge, if that is what you believe.

Same sex marriages will not hurt you.

The pesticides people spray on their lawns that washes into the storm drains, and into the rivers, and pollutes the water, and kills the fish, and breaks down the food chain… will hurt you. The SUV’s people drive that consume a lot of gas and spit out a lot of carbon dioxide that heats up the planet, and melts the glaciers, and raises the sea levels… will hurt you. But allowing people to love the person they choose to love in their own homes… will not hurt you.

So, Arann and I would like to get married. We want the love and support of our community, but we don’t want to get married until everyone can. And so today, my heart hurts and my eyes are sore from crying because I have a better understanding of what it feels like not to be able to marry the person you love.

If you believe in equality for all, please take a moment and sign this petition:

http://www.petitiononline.com/seg5130/petition.html

Thank you for your support.

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Bathing Beauties…

The photo above is my absolute favorite photo, maybe ever, but that’s because it is of my family.

The elegant bathing beauty is my grandmother, facing her is my grandfather, and to the left is my mom. And I need to do my research, but I’d like to believe they are at the same beach we all still go to every year, but I am not sure.

My grandparents are now 84 years old and still want to go swimming in the ocean… although they are frustrated because they can’t get in and out as easily as they used to. For the rest of us it means we all come together and work as a group to get them through the rough waves and out past the breakers. It definitely was a little scary, but we made it through, together, every time. And as a result that experience is one of Arann and my favorite memories of the trip.

And for all my fellow photo nerds who are wondering how I got these photos… very nervously while holding my Rollei over my head and jumping very very very high when the waves came… I do NOT recommend it! As soon as I was out in the middle of it all I realized what a bad idea it was, but I figured I should at least try since there was no way of getting out quickly.

The Rollei seemed to weather the adventure just fine, but my light meter, the same one that went swimming in the Byrnes High School toilet last summer, did not live to see another photo shoot. It seems it was a fresh water meter only. RIP dear meter, you served me well.

At first I was bummed about the fuzziness of the photos, but I think it is appropriate and I like how it somewhat matches the old photo.

But the photo below… is my new favorite favorite… not planned, or staged, just a real moment (told to wait for a minute while I run and get my camera) on the way to the beach.

My two favorite boys, I mean, men.

My Favorite Part of the Summer… every year…

Putt-putt at Ocean Isle Beach in North Carolina with my whole family and the same decrepit safari animals that are older than I am.

These are my cousins…. they were featured here last year as well, and now it seems photographing them with our favorite fiberglass animals has become as much a tradition as anything else.

And appropriately, the 2008 series is definitely my favorite thus far.

This is my color version of Richard Avedon’s Dovima with Elephants. It was a happy coincidence.

I knew my cousin Riane was planning to wear her red dress, and I knew the elephant would be there, but it wasn’t until we were all standing next to each other that I saw the opportunity, and I was super super excited… I think the golf club is a fantastic touch.

And just like Avedon’s, my masterpiece has a flaw as well… I chopped the poor elephant’s trunk off. I would say, “There’s always next year, to try again,” except next year we are going on a special trip for my grandparents’ 65th wedding anniversary. And, who knows how long our poor elephant will be allowed to roam the Earth, since Ocean Isle has been trying to spruce itself up lately. So there is a strong probability that he may not be here the next time we return, and therefore this masterpiece will have to be complete as is.

the family beach trip to ocean isle, nc

every year we say “this will probably be the last year”

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the last year of putt-putt (miniature golf) with the dilapidated safari animals and smurf-blue water.

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the last year of standing outside restaurants waiting hours for really bad fried seafood, which no one orders anyway since the majority of our group does not eat seafood (but we do regretfully eat the hush-puppies with honey butter by the dozens which inevitably gives us an overfull feeling as we drive out of the parking lot.)

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the last year of my grandfather making at least one grocery trip a day to ensure that the kitchen is stocked with as much junk food and sodas as we can possibly consume.

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the last year of at least one person playing solitaire at any given time

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the last year of silently reading and rocking back and forth on the porch through thousands of words together

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the last year of swimming in the ocean that on most days, feels like a lukewarm bath tub with waves that are almost too small to be called waves but are still too much work for my 83 year old grandparents, my grandparents who keep these 30 year old traditions alive, the traditions that we travel thousands of miles for and that we simultaneously complain about and secretly relish.

486 Bomb Group

Perfect timing….my family decides to come over in the middle of the end of term two. So all the papers and projects that are due have to be put on hold as we go to Sudbury, England for my Grandfather’s WWII reunion for the 486th Bomb Group. No stress.

Because many of the men are in their 80’s and this was most likely going to be their last return to Sudbury where they were stationed, I felt it was a worthy excuse to add extra stress to my rapidly approaching deadlines. This trip meant a lot to my grandfather and it was really nice to be able to share it with him, which I would not have been able to do had I not been conveniently studying in London this year.

I used the trip as an excuse to practice with medium format as a reportage tool and for portraits. The reportage was slow…and some of my focusing was off….and the portraits would have been better if I used a tripod….but I really enjoyed using a new camera (many thanks to Ed Thompson who let me borrow his 6×6) and I discovered I like the square format, and I like the waist level view finder….important to know as I am on the hunt for my perfect medium format camera.

Here are a few….

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It was my first British festival….I loved the obsessions people had….like minature tractors of course.

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I discovered dogs are hard to photograph with a medium format camera….but easier with fat bulldogs.

Portraits:

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My wonderful grandparents Bob and Sally Harper.

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My favorite veteran to photograph.

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For this portrait I learned not to assume….I assumed they were a couple….so I had them hold hands in the front for one pose…they were a little awkward getting into the pose and admitted they probably didn’t hold hands like that often, which made sense when I learned at dinner they were father and daughter…..opps.

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One of the best aspects of the weekend was meeting the children who grew up in Sudbury and who spent time at the air field helping the soldiers and watching the planes fly to and from their missions in Germany. They came to share their memories with the veterans. The lady on the right was one of those children. She told us about a plane she built herself and how she believes it flew more missions than any of the planes these men flew.

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