A passing ...

A former colleague, a friend of mine, died last Friday. He had been ill with pneumonia. I hadn't seen him in years, but I kept track of him and his wonderful photography work on - where else - Facebook, as did thousands of his other "friends."

I liked seeing the frequent postings of photos, old and new, that were all available for purchase. Already the owner of one of his photographs, I mused about buying more and even talked to him, via FB msgs, about possibly buying another one this past year. 

But a couple of weeks ago, the photos were replaced with postings about his illness, even a couple of selfies of him in the hospital looking alaramingly ill. I was happy to see a post last week that said he was at home and looking forward to a full recovery. Then, just a couple of days later, the weekend FB feed showed an outpouring of grief over his death Friday.

I was stunned and saddened by the loss of a nice, talented man who seemed definitely too young (53) to die. I thought of how vibrant his life seemed in San Antonio, how he was loved and admired.

Then, selfishly, I thought about how I was about the same age and how terrible it would be, to me, to die right now! Seems there are so many things to do - write that book, get to know my biological family better, lose those 10 pounds, find a place in the country.

So I came back here today to this blog to get back into its purpose, to write about the precious moments we are given during this brief stay on Earth.

I think Rick Hunter must have used his time right. I met him back around 1995 when I first started working for the San Antonio Express-News. He was a good-looking photographer who was into his work. I can remember asking him about the barbed-wire tattoo he had around the base of his (marriage) ring finger. It's a reminder, he said. What a rogue, I thought, in a nice way.

But I always admired his work and I wondered if he ever settled down. Seems he did, sort of. The obituary talked his partner of 17 years, a beautiful woman who said she loved him with all her heart, even though it was very hard to sometimes. Her comment made me think of the tattoo - and how agonizing it can be sometimes to love a man. I guess that's what happens when you happen onto such an emotional bond.

RIP Rick Hunter. I am sorry you had to leave so early. Below is a photo by Rick and a poem by his partner, Shelbi Lyn. 

Waiting for it ...

Much of the time, and I'm not the first to say this, Houstonians are either slogging through summer, dreading for it come or praying for it to end. Then there are days like today, when we cannot remember what heat and humidity mean. It's clear, it's a tiny bit cold. It's bliss. I snapped this shot of the UH campus on a quiet Friday afternoon. I had stepped outside, trying to shake off the thoughts that were bugging me. It worked. Thanks Houston. And yes, I will soon forget I ever said or thought this!  

Garden as art

It's been a long time since I posted anything on this blog. Christmas in Ely, England. New Year's out in Fayetteville. Both trips went unnoticed in this blog but not by me. Time to start posting again. It has been really lovely weather lately in Houston - many sunny days, nice rains, cool evenings. Soon enough it will be like the surface of Venus, but it is nice for now. Enjoy it. Planted a spring garden recently - tomatoes, green beans, black-eyed peas, herbs, cucumbers and lettuces. Cross your fingers. After we finished planting, I looked around the community garden and found this divine allotment. It is art itself.

Thanksgiving

It's the first day of the Thanksgiving holiday week. I really love Thanksgiving. So no whining in this post. First, I just love the food - you don't get a turkey like that any other time of the year it seems. (sorry vegetarians.) As a journalist, I usually had to make the choice of going home to New Mexico at Thanksgiving or Christmas. I usually chose Christmas, so I was often a Thanksgiving orphan. But I always found a great home for the holiday, thanks to knowing some truly terrific people. Work no longer keeps me from traveling for the Thanksgiving holiday. But this year, I am staying in Houston and we will celebrate at the home of some treasured friends. So I am truly thankful for my place in this world right now. I am. This week, I am thinking of all of the good things. Today, it's morning glorys. I planted morning glory seeds earlier this year along a fence and they have been blooming like crazy this month. Every morning, I walk out and see them in their full glory. It makes me smile. I've included a couple of shots of them. Tonight I go shopping for Thanksgiving groceries!

Lost in place ...

I wanted to add a comment to this blog that my friend Jenny sent to me via FB but couldn't post.)
Before the (insert life change here), I would have told my child that place doesn't matter. That you are you and the place you stand is just a changing backdrop, irrelevant to what you become. But now, every time, I run through downtown Cedar Rapids, drive over the river (so tame this year because of the drought), I know that is not true. I know that place leaves an imprint. Being from somewhere gives you a place to stand on, and run from or back to as 

Off to Waco

Joe and I are headed to Waco where he is having a signing for his new book, "Slingin Sam: The Life and Times of the Greatest Quarterback to Ever Play the Game."  Joe is from Waco and I suspect a lot of his old friends from school will be at the signing. He stays in touch with many people from his past, I think he likes maintaining that connection to his youth. I do as well, but I'm not quite as drawn to it as him. He connects more through the retelling of old stories, talking about sports, etc. Maybe it was easier to form those bonds then and so those are the bonds he keeps. I admire Joe for keeping up with these folks and it makes me smile to hear about them, well for the most part anyway. But it's also sort of surreal, even difficult, to deal with this whole world of his that I played no part in. When you love someone, when you want them as your partner, you regret missing the major events of their life. Or at least I do. And at our ages, Joe and I have missed significant chunks. How do oldsters like us make up for those missing memories, those shared experiences that make couples stronger? It's a question I struggle with.

So tomorrow I will venture back to Joe's hometown. Perhaps I will get a glimpse of that old life of his. I hope so. Wish me luck.

Here is a link to his book:

http://www.utexas.edu/utpress/books/holsli.html

Waiting for fall

I think a lot about renewal and about my place in this world.

I was in the garden this Sunday trying to plant my first fall garden. I took this photo below of a fellow gardener's glorious sunflower. I thought about fall and new beginnings. I thought about the excitement I felt returning to school each year after a long summer, wondering who and what I was going to encounter in the new semester.

Now, I search for new beginnings in the dirt of my garden, in the hearts and minds of those I love and in my own soul.