I started this blog in late 2012, when I was 48, so the title was a somewhat tongue-in-cheek reference to being middle-aged, and being half-way (more than half way) down the journey of life, God-willing. One of the first blog entries had to do with major changes in my life, my family's life: our older son graduating from High School and going off into college, and our first family dog passing away while we were on vacation. The next several blogs were mostly about sharing some of my photos, though every now and then a bit of introspection emerged. I think I want more of the latter on my blog posts, especially as there are many life stage changes occurring: my older son has gone back to college, my younger son is entering high school and is away for a week for marching band camp, his first time away from us for this stretch of time, and my mom was recently diagnosed with Stage IV pancreatic cancer. Lots to reflect on, and it's funny how my recent photographs manifest whatever I am feeling deep down about these events.
My wife and I took our older son back to college for his second year; more precisely, we drove up part of the "stuff" he brought back with him; he drove himself up with the rest of his possessions. He had worked hard this summer, and earned enough money (and respect from my wife and I) to pay for part of a used car, his first car, a Subaru Outback we now call Sherman (since my son's pet name for himself is Lt. Tank, but that's another story). My wife and I decided to avoid the Sunday return traffic to New Jersey, so we stayed overnight in Worcester, Mass., and visited a couple of really interesting parks in that worn-down industrial town. One, Greenhill Park, also had the Massachusetts Vietnam Veterans Memorial in it. We got there late in the afternoon, and I wandered around a bit and just started taking all sorts of photos of the trees, the hills, the sky. In the middle of taking one of the photos I just became more aware of the underlying motivation, the "trigger", for my desire to capture an image. I have always had a fascination for trees, their texture, their overall shape, their majesty and sereneness, their sometimes weather-beaten and well-worn countenance that speaks volumes about their many, many experiences. On that Sunday evening, I was focusing on one particular tree, framing it against a background of distant woods, when I noticed the softness of the light that illuminated some of the tree trunks in the shadows. They looked like silent spirits in the distance, waiting for the tree in the foreground to join them.
The tree in the foreground could represent any of us as we make our way to join the elders who have gone before us, and are now faint figures in the shadowy realm that is the next world. The tree could be my Mom, continuing to live life to the full in spite of her illness, basking in the wonderful glow of a setting sun, happy in the knowledge that, all things considered, she has led a good life full of great experiences, wonderful friends, and loving family. In the distant tree trunks I can sense my grandparents, her Nanay and Tatay, who were very kind and loving to me and the rest of their grandkids; I can also sense my aunt and uncles, her sister and brothers, who had gone before her, one from the same pancreatic cancer that now eats at my mother's insides. Oddly enough, this was a comforting and calming sight, and looking at the photo of that scene puts me at peace.
After taking the photo above, I turned around and saw various figures silhouetted against the sky with various trees. The photos below show a number of variations; upon processing them on Lightroom last night, I realized each represented many of my underlying thoughts and emotions over the past few weeks.
This photo shows a little girl and her father walking along the crestline; it could represent me and my Mom, or me and my Dad (almost 10 years passed away now), but I'd like to think it shows my Mom and her Tatay, my grandfather. From the stories she tells, and the way I remember my grandparents interacting with her, she was very close to her Tatay. One of the best stories I heard was how my Mom discovered my grandfather reading up on how to do an appendectomy the night before he was to remove her appendix (he was a country doctor and surgeon); it freaked her out, but I am sure he wanted to be doubly sure he had the procedure down before operating on his own child. My grandfather was a very funny guy, and I have many, many fond memories of him and my grandma, my Nanay. Maybe the trees are both of my grandparents watching over my Mom and me as we walk?
I noticed the man on the right running up the hill shortly after I took the photo above, so I got ready for the right moment. It was only when I processed the image that I noticed the figure on the left, standing closer to the top of the hill, perhaps gazing at the running man, maybe surveying the sights below. Regardless, it's a good metaphor of how I feel about my older son after seeing him work so hard and succeed in his summer job. His own adult journey has begun in earnest, and he is now climbing up his own hills, his own mountains as he makes his way to whatever summit he decides to shoot for. Me, I am sort of the man on the left; I am not sure I have conquered all my summits yet, but I sure have done a lot, and am at a good vantage point to survey the road I have taken to get to where I am.
This photo is the last in the series of trees and figures I took that evening. A family of four was making their way up the hill, and I have many variations of the image above, but this is the one I like the best. It's of me and my younger son, I think; with my older son in college, my wife and I have bonded more with his brother. I am truly enjoying his company, and he is still at the age where he is happy to hang out with me every now and then, so we go for walks or runs together, and we are oftentimes just plain silly together. He is a smart, hard-working, funny kid, just like his older brother, but in a different way. I am looking forward to more walks together.
That's my shadow in the lower center of the image above; I was close to the top of the hill, and loved the juxtaposition of the single cloud in the sky, the lone tree, the way the shadows and the light of the setting sun were cast on the grass and the tree trunk. That's me thinking about how serenely beautiful and yet alone life can be, how we have to be accountable for ourselves and our own journey as we make our way towards life's inevitable end. No matter how many relationships we have, with family, spouse, children, siblings, friends, we all ultimately face life essentially alone, as individuals. And so we have to make sense of it, and make peace with whatever we have done and not done, said and not said, loved and not loved, pursued and not pursued, and be accountable and responsible for how ever many years on this earth we are given.
All images taken with the Fuji X-10, processed on LR4.4.
