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My year.
I know I haven't been updating this journal, but I still wanted to post my 52 favorite photos (or moments) of the year.
Every year I do this, I can tell a lot about my life by the photos I took. The usual characters are still here, doing the same thing they do around me - smile, act like goofballs, and stare at turtles. But this year there is something that is in the photos more than usual - me. And I think that speaks to what was important to me this year. I needed to be selfish. I needed to be seen. I have a bad memory and these photos help me remember what I did, what I saw and what I found.
If I never make a career of photography, I will always be shooting to remember and help others do the same.
Nothing beats a good photo. Enjoy.
This photo was taken by Robbie a few days before Sal flew to France, Miles flew to New Zealand and I flew to Spain.
Us explaining where our destinations were on the map to a curious grandmother.
Another year, another soldier.
I was shooting the "Blessing of the Bikes" event for the Herald. The name was misleading, because you could have anything blessed. People brought motorcylces, unicycles, ATVs, scooters and one toy tractor. You got a card with a prayer and a little cross, which this kid is trying to show me. I got a kick out of it and considered printing in the paper, but didn't. Good story.
Robbed.
Taken by Babes. I forget where and why.
If you can believe it, one of those is Tim Dixon and the other is Radar.
For graduation, the Herald typically photographs the exchange students for the paper. They were told to meet me outside. I lined them up haphazardly (as you can see) and took a few shots. I was actually at my desk editing the photo when I got a call from the school asking if I had photographed a student named Santiago Huerta, an exchange student from Mexico. I answered that I had (He is the one with the goofy grin in the back-left) and the teacher informed me that he's not from Mexico, his name is Robert and he is in big trouble. I had to drive back to the school and take the shot again. And these kids knew it the whole time...punks. I printed this for them as a graduation present.
Sometimes news happens right outside your front door.
Another angle.
After a night of drinking, arm wrestling and Dicecapades, the only sober person, Kayla, went home only to return shortlythereafter (notaword) claiming that there was something that looked like a body on the road. We immediately investigated and found....a Taun Taun sleeping bag. Pretty badass...if you're eight and it wasn't found on the road. Amanda still has it - insisting she is going to sell it on Ebay. "Those things are, like, a hundred bucks." Takers? I'll throw in my R2D2 cooler.
I had a hard time preparing this one, because I was laughing so hard.
I'd probably put this is in my top ten of the year. Maybe five.
Dan Akroyd signing everything thrown in front of him...except my record.
Same Babes, Different Seasons...and hats.
A big story this year was the demolition of the Roaring Spring Elementary School. Before and after.
On my last day of work, I put in a special request that my good buddy, Rich, would wear his dinner plate-sized belt buckle for me. I better not say nothing.
So, I've had this post prepared for days, thinking about what I was going to say about my time in Spain and Portugal. While I feel I've said so little about it, I imagine those close to me are jaded by me saying, "That reminds me of this time in Spain..."
The experience means so much to me and I want so badly to be able to share it, but I can't. I will never be able to explain and none of you will care enough to make it mutual. It was spiritual. It was a dream. It was emotional. I don't remember crying so much. I'm crying as I'm writing this sentence, thinking of the moments between the split-seconds these photos were taken. How can I possibly explain that? I feel like I did for two months - unable to speak the language.
A sample of the much larger Spanish entourage I walked my final week with.
Marta, Fernando, Iban, Karmele and Javi.
I suppose I should mention Fernando is Portuguese.
On the Camino, you typically sleep in hostels specific to the trail. To prove that you are a pellegrino authentico, you have to stamp your pilgrim passport every day. Attero (I think) and I enjoyed getting as many as possible. He is from Belgium.
Georgia and I were considered a Camino Couple, because we were always together. We walked together for most of the month. She's a world-traveler from Australia. So were able to speak fluidly and make jokes...like that outfit. This is my favorite photo of her.
"...At the top, I hugged the foundation stone while Maria said a prayer. I have no idea what she said, but I felt it was from the both of us. The area was ethereal, like a million wishes had been made there and they were silently echoing from the surrounding mountains years later. There wasn't another person in the entire world..."
Santiago. The end of the Camino. I've never felt the way I did in that city.
Before the discovery of America, Finisterre was believed to be the end of the world. Pilgrims traditionally threw their boots into the ocean - an offering. Nowadays, it's more common to burn a piece of cloth or paper with a wish, thanks or prayer on it. The Peace Pole is one of 180,000 in the world. Strange how such a simple sentence can mean so much.
The day after the end of the world, I continued to Portugal alone. I remember wishing I had just gone home. I wasn't having a bad time, but September was such a perfect lifetime. October I often felt like a spirit wandering the earth waiting to go home. Luckily, I had made some good friends who opened their homes to me.
In Lisboa, Portugal, Fernando showed me how beautiful the country was and took me to my first soccer game. If it was not for him, I wouldn't have as fond of memories of Portugal as I do.
I flew to Madrid to be with Maria for a few weeks. Felt like a couple, with her taking care of me, trying to keep me entertained, and constantly asking me to shave. I wish you could all meet her. She's the kind of person you are glad exists. She's on a higher level, although she'd never be so egotistical as to agree.
On November first, I woke up at the Pittsburgh Airport, not sure how long I had been asleep. I remembered something I said about another experience - I feel as though I've lived a dream and left with no words to describe it.
It took me three hours to finish the Spain section and it still doesn't feel right.
The first and last photos are from Spain, too.
More of my favorites are at my day journal.
I took this leaving Williamsburg's graduation. We weren't able to print it, but I've always loved it.
Uncle Bob raises one Mung Mungy.
It's hard to see, but the wind is blowing at 160 mph.
2010 was the first year I really sat down a shot a gun. Something I've always wanted to give a try.
I was fortunate to do a story on a local gunsmith, who took me shooting as a thanks for the story.
I don't like guns, but I felt comfortable with him. He was very professional.
And then there are Radar and Tim Dixon...
If any of you know Corey Raible's dad, this photo will make sense to you.
As ends every year post - my favorite photo of myself. Taken by Georgia
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Carlos el americano...
Everyday.
P.S. My apologies to Ahndo. Guess we should hang out more this year.