The Farm

The little boy was leaning nonchalantly  against the door, with one hand on the door knob and when we jumped out of the van he said into the cold wind that whipped at our faces, sounding more like an adult than a child,“Welcome to our farm. Come on in.”

I smiled to myself at the sound of such serious, grown up words coming from someone so young and thanked him for the greeting. We stepped into a small, dark room filled almost completely by a large metal container, pipes running along the ceiling and walls, and a deep, metal sink at the back of the room. A small fluorescent light barely lit the room but a small window provided a little daylight.

I had started a personal photography project and series about small, family farms in Bradford County, Pa. and this was the first farm I had visited. The boy, wearing a winter coat and a knitted winter hat down over his ears, launched immediately into a tour of the barn, starting by showing my 11-year old son the nozzle where the milk truck driver would put the hose to siphon the farm’s milk collection from the refrigerated container into the milk truck. He motioned his hand up in the air along the path of the pipe system, showing us where the milk comes into the room and travels down into a clear sphere and then down another pipe and into the main collection vat.

Next he motioned us toward a door to our left and into the barn where he said his dad was feeding the cows. Cows were lined up in two rows, each in their own stall, ready to be fed and milked. They turned to watch us walk in and almost seemed to be listening to our young tour guide.

Before I could ask the boy his name or how old he was, he had a handful of the cow’s feed in his hand and began telling us it was made up of ground corn and hay and other nutrients. A man with salt and pepper hair and mustache, wearing a pair of faded blue overalls, pushed a wheelbarrow full of feed toward us and smiled at the boy and us. “He’s giving you the tour, huh?” He asked.

I said he was and doing a good job.

I finally was able to slip in between his explaining how the farm works to ask him how old he was and his name. His name was Parker, he said, and was six. When I asked how he knew all about the feed and the barn and the cows and milk, he said “I just do.”

Of course I know why he knows all he does. He is the son and grandson of farmers. Each day he watches the men who have shaped who he is and who he will become work hard for the life they want and they life they need. They work not only to survive, but to thrive.

His grandfather and dad milk the cows, care for the cows, feed the cows and they run the tractors, cut the hay, grind the corn and clean the barn. He is a boy being taught that to get what you want in life, whether that be a peaceful life on a small farm in rural Pennsylvania, or a life full of adventure and thrill, there must be some blood, sweat and tears shed. To reach a goal you work and you work hard.

It’s something his dad Mark knows a lot about. He thought he’d find his dream at college, but it was there he realized he had been living his dream all along on his family’s farm, right where he grew up. After he earned a degree he returned to the farm, the quiet, the tough life but the rewarding one that maybe he thought he never needed or wanted. Isn’t that how it is for a lot of us? We think we want something different from where we are and what we have when really, all we ever needed could be found right where we’d always been and among what we’d always had.

And sometimes we realize that what we want to do in life isn’t what will bring us monetary riches, but will bring us riches of the soul.

“Honestly, it is a labor of love,” Mark Bradley said. “I love working with the cows, and I love working the land.  It is not a job. It’s a lifestyle. There are always bad days, but I can’t see myself doing anything else.”

It’s not a job.

It’s a lifestyle.

It’s a labor love.

So much of what we do that really matters is just that – a labor of love – work that might not light up our pocketbook but will light a spark in our spirit. And from that spark will come a fire that will burn through all the distractions of life and leave for us a clear picture of what is good and right and perfect about this thing we call living.

Tell me more about … Mark Bradley, dairy farmer, Sayre, Pa.

We were in the midst of an arctic cold snap back in January when a friend of mine shared a post on Facebook about farming written by a farmer friend of hers. The post ended up going a bit viral. I contacted  the author, second generation dairy farmer Mark Bradley, of Sayre, Pa., as soon as I saw the post and asked him if I could come photograph him at the farm one day. He kindly agreed.  This is the post that caught the attention of me and others:

I stepped outside this morning to be greeted by negative whatever it is, plus a vicious wind. I knew before even stepping in the barn that it was going to be a rough one. It was a nice 34 degrees in the middle of the barn, but colder along the northwest corner. We got the cows all fed, I thawed out a couple water bowls, then started milking.   As I was putting a milker on Hershey, this cow Candy turned around and put her soft warm muzzle alongside my cheek and in my neck. She loves to give kisses and get hugs, and she knew I needed a hug now more than ever.

 photo by Mark Bradley photo by Mark Bradley  Photo by Mark Bradley Photo by Mark Bradley

I wrapped my arms around her soft head and with tears in my eyes, gave her a big hug. Sometimes it just hits you…the reality of the responsibility of being a farmer. It doesn’t matter how cold it is, how crappy it is, how sick you are, or how tired you are.  Good day or bad, our cows count on us to take care of them, and we do whatever it takes to keep them happy. Dad and I milk around 50 cows, and have another 50 or so of youngstock. So over 100 animals ranging in age from a few hours old ( yes I had one born last night) to over 9 years old count on us everyday. Just dad and I. No hired hands, no substitutes…

I’m not complaining, I’m not looking for sympathy or a pat on the back… I’m just trying to help people understand the commitment that farmers have to the animals they love.  Buy milk, buy cheese, buy yogurt, buy anything dairy… if your kids don’t like white milk, buy chocolate. It’s still better for them than soda or sports drinks…stay warm. I’ll be outside thawing out the frost free waterer that is not supposed to freeze.”

Thank you to Mark for letting my kids and I visit his farm and for answering some questions about his lifestyle and dairy farming in Bradford County, Pa.  He has also been gracious enough to agree to be part of my personal photo project focusing on dairy farms in Bradford County. If you are a farmer, or know someone who is, and would like to be part of this series, aimed at bringing awareness and appreciative attention to farmers in our communities, please contact me via my contact form on this site or at lisahoweler@gmail.com


Tell us a little about yourself… where your from originally, your family, hobbies, etc.

“I was born in Sayre and raised on the farm that my father and I operate. My parents bought the farm in 1979 (a year before I was born), so I am the second generation to run the farm. My father’s grandfather had a small dairy farm just up the road from where he grew up a few miles from our farm, so his interest in farming was gained at a young age. My wife Nichole and I have been married 12 years, and together we have a 6 year old son (Parker) and 3 year old daughter (Lexi) who both love the farm. In my spare time I enjoy taking Parker hunting, fishing, woodworking, and fixing old tractors. “

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DSC_5843-Edit-2How long have you been farming? How did you become involved in it?

“I’ve been involved with the farm my whole life. From a young age I would help out with whatever chores I could. I’ve always loved being around the cows, and as I got a little older I was able to drive tractors and run the machinery helping out with the field work. I didn’t always see myself coming back to the farm… after high school I went to college with the intention of becoming a teacher. It was the first time I had ever really been away from the farm.

I came home every weekend to work on the farm, and I dreaded going back to college every Sunday night. Just over a year into college I began to realize that my heart was in farming, and that’s what I wanted to do. I changed my major from secondary education and finished in 4 years with degrees in physics and geology. After graduating, Dad and I formed a formal partnership, and this spring will be 15 years operating together.

What is the main focus of your farm?  

Dairy is the main focus of our farm. We milk around 50 cows which produce about 200 gallons of milk a day. We raise all our heifer (female) calves, so we have around 100 total. We grow and harvest almost all our feed on 225 owned and rented acres.

Considering the hardships farmers face in the United States especially, what keeps you from giving up on farming?

Honestly, it is a labor of love. I love working with the cows, and I love working the land.  It is not a job, it’s a lifestyle. There are always bad days, but I can’t see myself doing anything else.

 

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What do you think the future holds for farming in the United States? 

The future of dairy farming in this country is worrisome.  Small family farms like ours are disappearing at an alarming rate. Farms are becoming bigger with more cows, and are run like a factory with many employees and shifts. They are still producing good quality milk, but the cozy small farm where the cows have names and the farmers care for them and know them like pets is going by the wayside.

What is the best part of your farming life? 

The absolute best part is sharing the farm life with my kids. They see what I do and are eager to help. They understand where their milk and meat come from and they know how hard we work to put it on the table. My heart melts when they go on and on at the dinner table about how good their milk is, and talk about which cow it might have come from.
Aside from raising our kids on the farm, my other favorite thing is working so closely with nature. There is something so amazing about helping a calf to be born, then raising that calf into mature milking cow. The same can be said for planting seeds and harvesting the crops.

What is the hardest part of your farming life? 

This is a tough one to answer… I would have to say the disappointments.  I had an old farmer tell me one time that it’s human nature to want to be in control, but it’s God that is in control, and we have to trust in him. I tell myself that whenever something happens that is out of my control.

You can put your heart and soul into getting a crop planted, only to have a drought or have a torrential rain that ruins it. Your favorite cow can get sick and despite your best efforts you may lose her. Machinery breaks at times when you need it the most. Cows go into labor at the most inconvenient times.  Dinners are missed because something requires immediate attention. When I get sick, no matter how bad I feel, I still have to get up and get the work done because all the cows are counting on me.

Anything you would like to add?

When I tell people I’m a farmer, most will respond with “that’s a hard life”.  They are right. But it’s a good life. There is nothing more satisfying to me than being able to do what I love day in and day out.  At the end of the road, it’s not about how much money you made, but about the quality of life you lived. I am so blessed.

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Tell Me More About … Debby Frisk, Mom and homeschooling parent

Debby Frisk is a homeschooling mom from Athens, Pa. She is also simply a mom who cares about her children. She encourages other parents who want to homeschool their children, for various reasons, but don’t believe they can.  I asked her if she would tell my readers a little about her journey in homeschooling and offer some advice for parents who might be considering  this style of schooling for their children.


 Photos by Lisa R. Howeler
Photos by Lisa R. Howeler

Tell us a little bit about yourself, where you are from, your family, your interests.
My name is Deb Frisk, married to Tim Frisk for 25 years, with 2 daughters, Elizabeth age 19, and Leah age 16.  I’m originally from Ellwood City, PA.  We moved to Bradford County upon finishing college.  I enjoy reading, puzzles and games of all varieties, watching musicals, going on walks, cats, and spending time with my family.

What careers have you held or do you hold now?
I was hired by Towanda Area School district in 1992 to teach math and work with the deaf and hard of hearing students in the district.  I worked there for 6 years before starting our family.  Since then I’ve mainly been raising our children and homeschooling, but have worked for short times as a sign language instructor and for Early Intervention. 

You are a homeschooling mom. How did you get involved in homeschooling?
Homeschooling was always on our radar as an educational option even before we had kids.  Because I have a teaching degree, I was asked to perform homeschool evaluations for a few homeschooling friends of ours.  I was impressed with the quality curricula that is available to homeschoolers and with the character and academic excellence I saw in the homeschooled children that I met. 

When our first child was diagnosed with autism, we were strongly encouraged to enroll her in school to help with socialization.  We listened to the experts and put her in a year of private preschool and a year of public school for K-4.  Although she had fabulous teachers and aides in both places, it was obvious to us and her teachers that school was not a suitable environment for her to learn, so the decision was made to bring her home for kindergarten. 

We first enrolled her in a cyber charter school, which is public school done in the comfort of your own home.  This worked well for us for several years, but whens he reached middle school, it became cumbersome to jump through all of the hoops that the school set before us and the decision was made to begin pure homeschooling. 

What is your advice to parents who are considering homeschooling?
I have a lot to say to people who are considering homeschooling.  The first thing is that you CAN do it.  You do not need a teaching degree to be a good teacher to your own children.  Research has shown that parents without a teaching degree are just as successful as those with one. 
The next important thing to know is that there is no one right way to homeschool.  It looks different for every family.  Sometimes it takes a year or two (or three) to figure out what works and doesn’t work for your family.  It’s good to talk to other families and see what they like and what works for them, but trying to copy others will likely make you unhappy.  Do what’s best for your family. 
Next I’d suggest that you try to connect with other homeschoolers.  Some people desire a lot of support others do it all on their own.  There’s no right or wrong amount of connection either, but initially it’s good to talk to others to get ideas and to look at curriculum.  Pennsylvania has an amazing homeschool convention in early June in Lancaster that I strongly recommend. 

It’s a good place to attend seminars on homeschooling, pickup curriculum and examine it, possibly purchase some materials, and begin to network with others who’ve been-there-done-that. 
My personal preference on curriculum is to buy used, sell used.  This keeps cost to a minimum for us.  There are several different places where you can do this — used curriculum sales in your area and online sales being the main ways. 

Do you have suggestions for resources or web sites where parents can learn more about homeschooling?
For PA residents, my favorite resource is askpauline.com
For anyone in the United States, I’d recommend hslda.org
These 2 resources are great for telling you your state’s requirements for getting started and other required record-keeping. 

Many use ebay for curriculum shopping, but my favorite is homeschoolclassifieds.com.  I also use the Facebook group Homeschool Curriculum Marketplace. 

There are probably hundreds or thousands of other quality websites to learn about homeschooling.  I just don’t have specific recommendations.

What does homeschooling look like at your house?
Homeschooling looks different for every family.  Some people do school at home, copying what they’ve experienced in the classroom.  Some people use a variety of materials including textbooks, workbooks, instructional DVDs, computer programs, field trips, hands-on projects and experiments, etc.  While still others  throw out conventional methods of learning and just follow their child(ren)’s interests and explore the world with them.
One thing that we always say about our schooling is that the only subject that’s ever done at a desk or table is handwriting.  Often you’ll find us curled up on the couch or in a bed reading together or alone.  We use clipboards a lot when writing needs to be done. 

We’re pretty eclectic meaning that we use a wide variety of resources for our learning.  I prefer literature based curriculum.  Usually whatever books the girls are reading for literature is related to the same topics they’re reading about in history.  For some subjects my girls rely pretty heavily on traditional textbooks.  In recent years we’ve moved towards instructional DVDs for some high school topics like chemistry and writing.  They’ve both used computer programs for learning foreign languages. 

I have one child who enjoys art, drama, and dance and we use a lot of outside lessons to provide instruction in those areas since that is not my area of strength.  I also should add that what works for one child often is not appropriate for another.  My girls have very different learning styles and strengths.  I’ve often used totally different curriculum to cover the same subject material for them. 

Some people have found that having a schedule is necessary for school work to be completed in their home. We’ve found that our girls work best when they can choose the order of their subjects and when they work on them.  My only rule is that the assigned work needs to get done each day (though exceptions to the rule do happen).  The girls have learned very good time management and planning skills.  For example they’ve learned that it’s not wise to save their hardest subject for late in the day.  One of my children likes to get up and get all of her work done as quickly as possible in order to be free for the rest of the day.  This works really well for her.  My other child does a subject and takes a break, does another, then takes a break.  School takes her all day, but the result is the same at the end of the day and Mom is happy. 

What do you like most and what’s the hardest part about homeschooling?

The answer to these questions is the same —  Time spent with my children.  I love the amount of time that I get to spend with my kids.  I know them inside and out because we spend so much time together.  I love being part of what they’re learning.  We tried public school for a year or two with each of my girls and I really hated not being involved in what they were learning.  I love being able to tie what they’re learning into everyday life, but if you don’t know what they’re learning in school, you’re not able to do that.  I think my absolute favorite part of homeschooling ever was teaching them to read. 
I will be honest though.  As much as I love spending time with my kids, there is never a break.  When they were younger, sometimes they would be the only people I’d see for days at a time.  It’s easier when they’re older and do activities on their own and aren’t always in the house, but the younger years were sometimes tough, but just sometimes.  Mostly the time is a gift and I try to enjoy every moment of it. 
Oh, another perk for us is taking family vacations during the off-season.  The crowds at most places are lowest in September right after all the kids go back to school.  It’s the perfect time for us to hit the road.  The same is true for any kind of activity or field trip.  My kids have never been to Chuck E Cheese on a weekend. 

What misconceptions do you think people have about homeschooling?
The most common thing I hear when I tell someone that we homeschool — “Oh, I’m not against homeschooling or anything, but I just worry about socialization.”
There are always exceptions, but I think it’s fair to say that most homeschoolers are better socialized then their public school counterparts.  Most homeschoolers joke that we don’t know why it’s called home schooling because it sometimes feels like we’re never home.  First of all, because we spend so much time with our kids, homeschool parents have lots of opportunities to train them on how to interact with people.  Homeschooled kids as a group are extremely respectful and courteous.  We attend a lot of group events (like roller skating, bowling, play practice, science fairs, and field trips) with other homeschoolers. 

This gives our kids a chance to interact with other kids, but not just their age peers; they become comfortable with kids of all ages.  Our kids spend more time in their communities than their public school peers.  They go with their parents EVERYWHERE.  They go shopping with us, to the dentist, to the post office, the gas station, you name it.  They become very proficient and comfortable interacting with adults, not just other children at a young age.  And like public school kids, you’ll find us participating in other things in our communities such as soccer, swimming, Little League, dance class, art class, piano lessons and recitals, etc.

A loss is a loss no matter how “small”

The ultrasound technician told me he couldn’t see a baby, a heartbeat, anything that should have been there at 12 weeks gestation. I didn’t know what this meant, imagining that somehow we had been off on our dates and it was too early to see anything in an ultrasound, but then again, I knew we couldn’t be that far off our dates.

The midwife told me I had a blighted ovum, or an empty gestational sac, which happens when a pregnancy doesn’t progress beyond the formation of the egg and it attaching to the uterus. A positive pregnancy test shows a pregnancy is underway but often a woman will not get any of the pregnancy symptoms a woman would if the pregnancy was viable. Sometimes, though, she’ll still get these symptoms and it isn’t until the ultrasound that she knows there is no baby and there will won’t be a baby.

No one seems to know why this happens but, from what I’ve read and been told, it is a fairly common occurrence and women should have no problem getting pregnant after a blighted ovum.

It was a wait and see game after that first ultrasound but I was told by the midwife that most likely I would begin to miscarry in a few days. It was about two days after the ultrasound when my body spontaneously began to miscarry. I was one of the lucky ones. Many women have to undergo a procedure where the contents of their uturus are surgically removed. I was relieved when the miscarriage started naturally. The entire situation was so surreal I’m not even sure I can say I was upset by any of it. In the months before I had been under tremendous stress from a family situation and by this point my brain seemed to have gone into a protective lock down mode. I felt emotionally numb by the time the bleeding began.

Since my experience I’ve read many stories about women with either a blighted ovum or very early miscarriages and many times these women seem unsure they have the right to grieve, since their baby never fully formed or passed away at such an early part of the pregnancy. Because I had the same internal dialogue, I can very much relate to this line of thinking.

It wasn’t lost on me at the time that I had suffered some sort of loss but it wasn’t until recently I began to deal with some of the feelings from that time, maybe because I became pregnant three months after my miscarriage with a little girl who is now asleep next to me for her afternoon nap. I was caught up in the fallout from a marriage crisis, the pregnancy and birth of a baby and then the adjustment of having a baby and 8-year old at home. Life rushed by and I never thought much about that previous loss until a couple of months ago when I paused and reflected on how numb I had felt that weekend I miscarried at home and never really let myself think about what could have been. There could have been five of us instead of four or maybe there never would have been because our youngest would simply be a few months older than she is now.

And then I thought about how I never gave myself time to grieve over the loss, which was devastating for our then 7-year old who had waited so long for a sibling. I cried some but never really gave myself time to feel sad.

I told myself the early miscarriage wasn’t worth being sad about. I had two friends at the time who had recently suffered late term losses and I knew that must be much more devastating to cope with. I had no right to cry when they had suffered so much more.

My mom and I both had children eight years apart, with a loss in between, and we both had our son first and daughter second.  I know she knew what it was to lose, but I still felt my early loss wasn’t as serious. My mom had suffered a loss at seven months. She’d had toxemia and the baby was delivered prematurely, at a time when very little could be done to help babies delivered that early.

Then my Mom reminded me one day that our early miscarriage was a real loss because it was the loss of hope and the idea of what was going to be but then never was. And that’s what a pregnancy loss, no matter how early, is. And it isn’t only the loss of a pregnancy –  it is the loss of an expected life.

Grieving this loss, even a very early one, is important. Make sure, no matter what, you find a way to let yourself grieve. I don’t mean you have to grieve publicly, wail in the streets or make all your friends listen to every detail while you sob into their shoulder, but find some way to grieve – either in the quiet of your room or the pages of your journal or sharing with a friend. Grieve in a way that makes you feel comfortable but grieve.

Don’t be afraid to show others that you hurt, for as long as you need. If people truly love you they’ll let you grieve and support you as long as you need them to. They’ll recognize that this is how you’re working through your thoughts and feelings about this season in your life. Those feelings are going to range from deep sadness to anger and denial to eventual acceptance. There may be times you aren’t even sure how you feel and maybe you’ll even feel nothing, like I did, for a very long time.

That’s ok and it’s normal and don’t let anyone tell you different. There is hope and healing, but it takes time, not a definitive amount, but a different amount for each person. Recognize and honor your own time table and accept that it may not be the same as someone else’s but also recognize and remember you are not alone, that there are so many other women who know what you’re going through.

Hotheads, homicidal lunatics, forgotten souls and gun toting rednecks: Or the 13 years I worked as a small town newspaper reporter Part I

The back door to the office was made of metal and when his fists hit the door that night they sounded like gunshots. Back then the door was never locked so in a few moments the door to the newsroom was open and in stomped a man I can only describe looking like a cross between the Grinch and Ebeneezer Scrooge.

He was holding a small pamphlet and waving it wildly in front of him.

“Look at this crap!” He shouted, now standing next to the editor’s desk, which he slapped the pamphlet down on with force. He didn’t say, “crap,” honestly, but to protect sensitive ears from the harsher word he used, we will say he did. “Just look at this! I found this ‘bull crap’ on the windshield of my car when I came out of church! This anti-abortion crap on my windshield! I’m in Mass! I don’t need to have some political agenda shoved down my throat while in Mass! What the hell?! You need to write something about these religious fanatics!”

He stomped back out again , cursing down the hallway to the door and out into the night. The door slammed shut and silence followed. The editor, sitting at his desk, hadn’t said a word to the visitor and had barely looked up from his desk. He and the reporters around me continued to type away as if nothing had happened.

I’d only been employed by this paper for about a week, after working a few years with it’s competitor paper 15 miles away, and it was the first time I’d watched someone simply walk into a newsroom, rant about a random issue and walk back out again. The keys of the computers clicked around me and since no one was offering an explanation of what that particular circus side show had been about, I finally asked.

“Oh, that’s Andy. He does that all the time,” the editor said. “He’s harmless. We just let him go off for awhile and then he leaves. Happens all the time.”

Andy was also the former mayor of the village next to where the paper was located, though actually three municipalities blend together where we live, so to call it a separate town can be confusing to visitors. Two of the “towns” are actually called boroughs and are in Pennsylvania and Andy’s “town” is really a village and located in New York State. 

To this day, I remain confused what “religious fanatics” he was talking about since he’d been in Mass at the local Catholic Church when this happened and I’d imagined it was the people sitting in the pews next to him who had put the pamphlets on his windshield, considering the Catholic Church does have a pro-life stance. I mentioned this to my co-workers who agreed with my logic but said Andy didn’t always subscribe to “logic,” and that it was possible he’d been sipping from his private stash before he had stomped by, as he has had done a few times before village board meetings.  

“Harmless Andy” was only one of many interesting characters I encountered while working for three of the four small town newspapers in the county during my 13 year career as a reporter. One of those other characters was a fellow reporter named Lon, who sat at a cluttered desk across from me, often talked to himself in the third person and spent the majority of his shift swearing at his computer.

He was Vietnam vet who we were told had been a sniper with the Green Berets and sometimes suffered from flash backs. One evening I was alone with him and another reporter and we were typing our stories for that evening’s paper (later the paper fell in with the modern newspaper trend of being a morning newspaper). All we could hear were the sound of the computer keys clicking until Lon stretched open a paper clip, looked at me and said “did you know there are 100 ways you can kill a man with a paper clip?”

I wasn’t exactly sure how to respond. I looked at the other reporter and we locked eyes briefly, with him giving me a wide eyed warning that seemed to suggest the question should remain rhetorical. I didn’t listen.  I cleared my throat. “Ummmm… no. I -uh – didn’t know that.” I said slowly.

Lon was standing at that point, grinned at me and put the paper clip back on the top of the desk.

“One of the ways involves shoving it straight up his nose into his brain,” he said and stood there with his upper lip turned up on the edges like The Joker. He just stared at me for a few moments with that creepy grin, his gray eyes, which I imagine were once steely blue, focused on me, but not really seeing me, as if he’d been mentally transported somewhere else.

He was a tall, lanky man with sunken eyes and cheeks and reminded me of a mummy unwrapped from its ancient bandages. He hunched his shoulders a little, dropped his head down slightly and said “I gotta take a crap.”

He turned abruptly and headed toward the men’s bathroom behind my desk. But then he stopped, turned abruptly again and said “did you know when a man dies he craps himself? Just completely loses control of his bowels.”

He didn’t wait for a response. He just turned on his heel and shuffled into the bathroom.

When the door closed I slowly looked at the other reporter. He shrugged. “Eh, it’s Lon. He says stuff like that all the time. He’s harmless.”

And he was harmless, never hurting anyone physically, except himself by smoking a couple packs of cigarettes a day. He lived alone in a tiny apartment, spent most of his life at the paper, and eventually was forced into retirement as he became more and more agitated at sources and forgetful with the facts of stories. Municipal officials started asking the editor not to send him to meetings anymore. I’ll never forget the day the editor told him I’d be taking over the coverage of a municipality he’d been covering for probably 30 years. His expression was a mix of pissed off and dejected and I felt like I’d just kicked a puppy in some ways, even though the decision hadn’t been mine. 

I wish I could say I kept in touch with Lon after he retired, but I didn’t. I visited him once in his small apartment on the top floor of an assisted living building. The stench of cigarettes filled my nose and gave me a headache and he declined to let me come in, saying it was too dirty and smokey inside. We stood in the fluorescent lit hallway and talked with the apartment door part way open to a dark room with an old couch and I think maybe a table and chair.

He was hooked up to oxygen and I didn’t think he could look anymore dead than he already had when we were working together but he did, his skin now even more of ashen gray than before. He thanked me for coming, said none of his other former co-workers ever visited or called, and with a pleading look in his eyes asked me to stop again. 

I never did. 

I don’t know why. Maybe it was that life got busy after I had my son, and then I  left newspapers all together and never wanted to look back. Maybe it was that it was hard to watch a man slowly waste away before my eyes. Whatever the reasons, I was wrong, I was selfish and I will forever regret it. 

He had no family, only a ex-wife he told us hated him and I heard maybe a step daughter. He was one of the forgotten ones – a forgotten newspaper reporter, a forgotten veteran, a forgotten soul.  

The day I saw his obit I cried and was filled with remorse, shame and regret. The write up was brief, maybe a paragraph, to the point, didn’t speak much about who he really was as a person, didn’t name any survivors, and said there would be no services at his request. In some ways it was like he had never really existed. 

His spirit faded away like the smoke on the end of the cigarettes he had smoked and I had forgotten  him, just like everyone else. It’s something I’ve truly never forgiven myself for and not sure I ever well. 

The star

They carried the star up the steep, snow covered hill because the truck’s tires spun and sent the hunk of metal skittering sideways toward the old dirt road. In the end they left the truck in the field and slid the star, made of wood and strands of Christmas lights off the roof. Their breath steamed patterns out in front of them as they walked and the sun, a misleading sign of the outside temperature, cast long shadows onto the untouched surface of the snow that fell the day before.

Ropes were looped and tied and hooked on a pulley, the ladder was climbed and the star was hoisted with a couple reminders from father-in-law to son-in-law to “be careful of the lights! You’re hitting the lights on the tree!” But finally it was high enough and nails were hammered in to hold it in place.

Dad built the star several years ago and put it at the edge of the woods, at the top of the field and where people driving by on Route 220, across the Valley could see it. It has become a beacon, you could say. A beacon of good will, or peace, or joy or whatever it represents for each person who sees it. It can mean a lot of things for a lot of people but for Dad it is a sign of hope and the real reason behind Christmas. After all – isn’t that what the birth of Jesus was all about? Bringing hope to a hurting, fallen world?

So on this little hill, in the middle of nowhere Pennsylvania my dad hangs his homemade, 50-some pound star, and with it hangs a little bit of hope – hope for health, for peace, for love for all, hope for the broken, the weary, the shattered souls.  And it reminds us who is the hope of the world.

Isaiah 9:6-7

6 For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders. And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. 

7 Of the greatness of his government and peace there will be no end. He will reign on David’s throne and over his kingdom, establishing and upholding it with justice and righteousness from that time on and forever. The zeal of the LORD Almighty will accomplish this.

December 10 on 10: Winter Woes

I’m tired of winter and it’s barely begun.

I hate the gray days, the lack of sun, and the cold.

It has me completely unmotivated to take photographs and if I do take them I really have no desire to share them.

But, for the sake of consistency and for my own sanity during these winter months, I have been taking photographs.

The 10 on 10 is part of a blog circle and to continue the circle you can click on the link at the bottom of the page.

 

To continue the circle visit Caroline’s blog! And if you have a blog and want to join us, please do. You can find us on Facebook and join us in January!

Find time for your soul

There is usually at least one big blow up from me at bedtime on school nights and it’s usually directed at the 3-year old who thinks bedtime is playtime. I know it’s my own fault for trying to put two children with an eight year age gap to bed at the same time. I know it’s my fault for not remembering she’s three and that winding down to the point of relaxation can be hard for a toddler.

And I know it’s also my fault for not finding a little more free time for myself where my soul can be still and listen to my heart. 

After I’ve stomped away to pout and decompress in the bathroom on those crazy nights, I usually remind myself of all these things I should remember.

She’s exhausting and frustrating but I would never give up the playful moments we share between somewhat tired and incredibly exhausted nor the quiet moments when she finally gives in. I love to hear her and her brother’s giggles and watch her jump “jus’ one more time,” for the tenth time.

I love to feel her body tiny, warm, solid and completely surrendered to relaxation and rest against me. The moment I look down and see her eyes closed and her face relaxed is  full of internal elation because once she’s asleep I can have a little bit of free time for myself, if I’m not too tired.

Many times the free time I do find myself with is so short I try to do too much – watch a show, edit photos and write a blog post all at the same time. In the end I often find I have accomplished very little and my head is a jumbled mess of thoughts and sheer panic that I won’t have time to do all I need or want to do.

My goal this next year is to choose one task I want to finish in that golden hour between when the two of them fall asleep and my eyelids won’t stay open anymore.

Today I chose blogging during her nap. At bedtime it may be catching up on a favorite show (of which I have only a few) or reading a chapter in a book or listening to a podcast. Whatever I choose I am grateful for those little moments of mental rest when my soul gets some much needed attention.

How do you step away to recharge your soul?

Or do you?

If not, make that your goal this week. Find time to make space for your thoughts, your feelings and for your soul to breathe.

Photography tips: Never be afraid to raise your ISO to get the shot you want

I recently joined a Facebook documentary group and right before I joined they had a challenge to capture scenes in the evening, after the sun set, at a higher ISO. For non-photographers, taking photos at a higher “film speed” (ISO comes from the day when photographers used film) can create a lot of grain, dots and pixels in an image, so it is often avoided, unless a photographer really needs to set their camera at a high ISO to get the scene before them.

Since I live in a dark house and in the north of the United States, low light situations and the use of high ISO is often required. It’s something I once lamented, having to push my camera to get a photograph I wanted after dark in my dark home. More and more I now embrace the light and dark and the grain but most of all the creative challenge of   finding the right light and the right position to get the shot despite the less than ideal lighting. 

I didn’t get a chance to submit a photo to the album the other photographers had submitted to in the group, but I  tried the challenge myself one night based on their inspiration. 

My daughter was bouncing on the bed with her brother, procrastinating bed time, and I decided capturing the moment was more important that whatever grain resulted in the final image. After all, the image and memory was ultimately for me, not for a project that required a clear, non-grainy photograph. In the end I’m glad I grabbed the photograph because it was a memory that will mean something to me, even if it doesn’t mean anything for anyone else.

The settings for my image were ISO 8000 (the highest I have ever gone), f2.8 and 1/320.

It was shot on a Nikon d750 with a 50 mm 1.8.

Other photographers in the group submitted their favorites from the challenge with a little information about their settings and what they learned from the experience. I hope you enjoy their images and will even visit their blogs to learn more about their art.

Alicia Thwaites

    This photo is by the amazingly talented Alicia Thwaites. Learn more about her thoughts on the project at  
  This photo is by the amazingly talented Alicia Thwaites. Learn more about her thoughts on the project at  

http://www.aliciatphoto.ca/

 

Jennifer Blake

This was taken at 6:43pm
ISO 3200, f1.4, 1/200
“I learned that artificial light doesn’t always have to be ugly and I can play with it and get an interesting shot. I can give myself permission to shoot in less than ideal situations and not miss out on moments.” 

www.jenniferblakephotography.com/blog

 

Adriana Silva

ISO 4000 1/160 f2.5 at 8:30PM.

“I learned that I could push my ISO much higher than I usually go for. I’m including routines that were missing on my memories. Grain… I love grain anyways!”

www.momentsbyadriana.com

 

Cara Bettcher

 

6:54pm, ISO 3200, f2.0, 1/100

”While I feel fairly confident working with low light situations (thank you birth photography), I sometimes forget that you can make even the lowest light unique and powerful. This challenge forced me to step outside my comfort zone of just getting a “safe shot” when light is lacking and to embrace it and use it to create something unique and fun.”

www.bornebackphotography.com

 

Tara Lynn Geldart 

Iso 10,000 1/320 f3.5 @6pm.

“We waited all day to decorate this tree. I was going to move it into the living room to get better light but it was still too dark. I was pretty bummed and almost didn’t take my camera out because I couldn’t make my “vision” work. Instead I bumped the iso and waited for the shot I wanted!” 

www.Tarageldart.com

 

Kathleen White

 f1.8, 1/160, ISO 3200 7:04pm

“Stalling before bedtime, but I’m in love with those perfect little eyelashes. There is something about this picture that makes me want him to stay little now more than ever before.
Also can I just say how much I loved this challenge. It completely pushed me out of my comfort zone and helped me see light in new ways. And it was nice to have some of these nighttime memories captured even through the chaos, when I wouldn’t normally be taking pictures!”

 

http://kathleenelizabeth-photography.com/

Jessica Hachey

This was shot at 8:18 pm at ISO 12800. F 3.5, SS 1/200

“My take away was…experiment! I tried really slow shutter speeds, shooting all the way open and cranking up my ISO. The challenge forced me out of my comfort zone…and now my comfort zone is a little bit bigger.”

 www.jessicahachey.ca 

Lori  Hancock McCurdy

F1.8 ISO 10,000
Here’s what I shared about this shot…
“When your husband sits down to play the piano and sing and you think it’s still so cool after 26 years. 
And you want to make a picture of it. 
And then your daughter decides to dance. 
But it’s almost completely dark. 
And then he laughs at you trying to make a picture in the dark. 
But in the end you make the picture that means so much to your heart ❤️”
https://www.instagram.com/loriamcc

 

Nikki Gould

 

Taken at 8:54 pm ISO 6400 16 mm f2.8 1/250

I’m not afraid of taking photos in less than ideal lighting. It’s something I’ve been working on, knowing that I do sessions in homes and I’m not always guaranteed outside light coming in through the windows. This challenge certainly helped me push myself and watch for the lighting that I needed to achieve the photos that I took, and to push my camera to the extremes. Luckily my kids provide plenty of entertainment when it comes to getting ready for bed.

www.oliveshoot.com

www.instagram.com/oliveshootphotography