How Things Fit Together In Life Is No Accident.

This morning's news announced another curse that came to pass for the  Kennedy Family yesterday. And this one was at  the family compound  in Hyannis Port. The compound is both large and small as the main house is not the only large house on a 6-acre plot. It faces Nantucket Sound. 

I first saw the compound in October of 1975 from Marchant as it makes a turn from Hyannis. It's one of those places that is very visible from the air with that view being the most recognizable. But, coming by land, its one of those places you can easily miss. Never-the-less, having passed it going out and beyond Hyannis Port to Chatham that land view is in my memory forever. That glass gift had come from friends of my then in-laws and it was with them that we stayed while in Chatham.

My oldest son was 5 then. Later on that same trip, he and I would be splashed by a giant wave as we were leaving Ogunquit, Maine. He passed away 22 years later (1998). That year, being two locations where presidents had spent summers and holidays was interesting, but the connection that linked the two  were the most odd of all things. One was a wedding gift that was an enormous piece of glass that raised much discussing as to how that gift would be displayed. The other was a college friend who was from Kennybunk Port, Maine--who also died from  something strange that I cannot recall at the moment but I remember the girl as one of the sweetest human beings that I have known.

Staying in Ogunquit, our place was actually facing the Bush Compound at Walker's Point. George W. and I share the same birthday.  I live only miles from him that can be counted on one hand. It was there that  on our last day there, my son, KP and I got baptized together by that wave that hit that tall stone rock we tried to hide behind. I recently checked out the place where we had stayed in Ogunquit. It had changed don't you know, but it brought back a flood of memories from that trip. That day. It was also there that I had taken a picture that would  one day cause me to do photography as a hobby more than I had done in the past. And that goes back to Junior High days.

Yesterday was the 67th anniversary of my maternal grandfather's passing. The same day that Saoirse Kennedy Hill passed this year (August 1,2019).

Colonial Flag of the original 13 states.

. There are even more stunning comparisons but that would be most revealing so it is most prudent to not list those on the web, given all the breaches of late. But, I find it most interesting now.

Grief Process Takes Time

Many switches are flipped on and off,day in and day out. In the course of a year, reflecting back, one certainly hopes that all the right ones have been turned on or off for this one little individual relay that plays its part in the portion of the universe that we all live. It goes without saying that technology has made life better (for the most part) and it has helped to make work easier (sometimes). For the most part, I try my darnest to enjoy nature, love my family (including my cat) and live out the rest of my life trying to correct all the little short falls that have caused me to stumble. In short, I still want to leave this world better than it was when I arrived.

I still like (in a humorous way) to push a few buttons just to see the reaction. I did that  a couple of the last trips to the cardiologist (sometimes, you have to set the stage first). It must have worked. Not only did I find out he was human,too, but that he had a bit of humor as well. The biggest surprise was that he is a BIG Notre Dame fan and alumni. It was an experiment. It went well. It was a switch that was flipped and helped me as a person in a small way. Sometimes in life, we have to flip our own switch if we expect to make progress. Forward progress is essential Sometimes, as well, forward progress can also be painful and cause us to grieve.

I just read an essay about pain and grief. Although, my agreement with the entire essay isn't in line with the author from start to finish. On the whole, the author made some very good points. The points that he failed to make or from my view  somewhat missed the mark is inexperience in his career. In time, he will either make the points or modify his viewpoints like a jet's contrail in the sky making course adjustments on its route. I can deal with that and not disagree to a point that it starts an argument (like some I have meet along this life's journey).

My photography has been a grief switch for me. I flip it when I have periods of heavy grief about the loss of my son. Heavy grief is when you cry out in pain (why?) (Why did this happen?) Sometimes those creep back into my thoughts. I flip the switch and go to Light Grief Mode. That's how grief should be dealt with. It should be memories of all the fun things,happy things,humorous things that were celebrated.

One example that I rewind and replay a lot is a beautiful October morning in New England. It was a fall when the  fall colors were at their best in many, many years. It was a grief trip that was made to help my mother-in-law through the grieving process in the loss of my father-in-law  a couple of months prior. My son was 5. We loved the Ogunquit rocky shores with waves from the North Atlantic battering those rocks after many many miles of travel. My son would burst into laughter when one of the rocks was smashed by a wave and it sprayed water up and over the rocks in an array of artful beauty in the morning sunlight. The car was packed and my son and I stood on the bluff above the waves looking down at the rocks while the women did a double check that everything had been packed and that nothing was being left behind.

 My son wanted to go down to the beach level below and  put his hand in the ocean one last time. I took him down the sandy wooden stairs from the cottage to beach level. He was so happy. After splashing his hands in the soft beach waves for a few minutes I looked up just in time to see about a three foot wave rolling toward the beach a bit faster than the others. Soon, I realized that this wave would require me picking up my son and lifting him about the wave line on the beach. The wave grew and grew. With my son in my arms, I quickly backed up and ducked behind a rock that was about 8 to 10 feet high at sea level. The thinking was that a few water sprays would be quicker to dry out than being totally wet.

The wave had been misjudged. The wave hit another rock from a slightly different angle.It sent a heavy spray of water at such an angle, it doused my son and myself to a point that complete changes of cloths would be a must topside. I remember the cold shock of the water hitting us both. I remember my son shaking from the shock of it and then looking at me for reassurance that we had both gotten wet and it was fine and okay, but most of all funny, as he broke out in a laugh that I can still hear in my head today. That is the kind of grief that helps one heal, although, the pain never fully goes away.

There is no rushing the grief process. Every one has their own speed in which they heal. Don't worry that a year has come and gone and you are  still grieving. It's been a dozen plus years for me. I'm still grieving. It's a better understanding today. Sure, I was angry at first. Most everyone is. Striking out is a part of the process also. Coming on down the line eventually comes acceptance. That's a hard one to deal with. Guilt comes into play and even drives a rekindle of the anger sometimes. Working your way though it will bring a resolution eventually. I wrote a poem to my son. It was a part of the acceptance. It got published several years ago.

Looking back to that morning again and again, I seldom see the unpacking of the car, getting dry cloths and delaying the start of our homeward-bound journey. It's the laughs that are recalled most clearly.It's that extra little time in a moment of time that was captured for a reason at that moment, unrevealed. It all fits into an image that was inscribed on my brain for a reason. That reason lights up every time I flip the switch and  it brings peace and comfort and love in never-ending quantem theory little packets of energy and light.

Today, I look for images that "speak out to me" in some way that continues to push the grieving process forward with a lesser degree of pain. Sometimes, I just pass on the shot.even putting the camera down and wrap the memory of the shot around my heart. I've heard many  more angles singing on those days for some reason. I leave that switch alone.

The dedication of the new Budah temple

Stacks of Beauty

 

In Great Admiration and Respect

Today, in the warmth of a delightful fall afternoon, I started out in search of that one fall splash of color that say, "here, it's not New England but it can be from time to time almost as perfect." Last year, I found it in a patch of woods beneath the dam at White Rock  in the old fish hatchery stands. It was every bit as pretty as I've seen in New England, which is hard to wrap my mind around while remembering that while there are stands of maple trees in Texas, they are many,many miles away from the Dallas area. But every fall, I begin the annual search.

My mother, as a little girl, had grown up with some pretty famous names in baseball coming around. She was nearly 80 before I was able to find out that she had been a Dodgers fan and even rooted for the Yankees a few times. On the other hand, I had grown up on the St. Louis Cardinals and later the Detroit Tigers, but I did know the big names of the day even if they played for the opposing teams. Thinking back now, I had shoe boxes of baseball cards. and mom was hard to beat in answering questions about facts printed on the cards. This really was a side of my mom that I wish that I had understood more then than I do today, but thankful I heard her tell some of the stories when she was growing up.

Yet, when I start out on a shooting trip, the trips are pretty much routed out in a circuit and it follows the events and on-going construction, openings, discoveries of new projects starting or seasonal event. The shoot schedule isn't that large of a schedule but it does have to consider car or train, walks or doctor's appointments , shopping or living in general. The price of gas has cut down on a lot of travel by car and the trains have been a good back-up, but  sometimes, there is that magnetic-like pull that causes you to follow your instincts. Today, although it didn't start out that way, ended up that way and I'm happy that it did.  Mom was a rather self-contained person that would be like an earthquake that she knew or even had a friendship with some people. But, the proof was in the pudding as they say and she usually came out on top in that department. Yet, even today, I pay respect  to the dearly departed  when I can. After paying tribute to one of mom's -never-would-have-guessed friends, I decided that I would go in search of one of my boyhood idols that was in the same cemetery and not very far from where I stood while visiting one of mom's friends.



The plaques on the crypts of Mickey Mantle and his wife.
The two boys are in crypts below their dad.

Note the rows of copper (pennies) stacked up from visitors to the crypt. The two that I found most interesting were the stone and the bent nail. Stones are usually a Jewish tradition left after a visit. The bend nail, I am not sure, but it has it's significances most certainly.

The American Flag stands in the corner of the private crypt area where Mickey is entombed.

It is with much respect and admiration that I post these images in the love for the sport, the players, the institution that baseball is to so many. Mickey, you were my hero in baseball.