For My Mom, Whom I Love
Yesterday, Garfield turned 30.
Just a few of the things I love and remember as a kid of the 80s include jellies, neon clothes, rubix cubes, mousse…watching Steven Tyler gyrate down a pole of scarves 5 seconds before my dad turned it off and announced Mtv was banned in our house because ‘you’ll see a lot of things that don’t make any sense’.
But Garfield trumped them all. I remember reading the small, bound, comic strip books walking home from the school bus stop without looking up – using the sidewalk as a guide from meandering into traffic. My room was decorated now and again with his posters. I liked Garfield, but I realize now that as an eight+ year old, I didn’t really GET him.
But mom? She did. She LOVES Garfield. Mom can still quote him at the drop of a hat, and I’m pretty sure she’s got at least a few of all those postcards, coffee cups, and t-shirts we gave her throughout the years. The car window cling was by far my favorite. Garfield replaced her yellow “Cocker Spaniel on Board” right after the day she was driving me home from a hair perm, and two teenage girls pulled up beside us to ask if I was the dog.
I think I just figured out what I’m gettng her for Christmas this year…
Heads, Hands, Hearts
Loren Blanton Bentley, 1943-2008
Out of the five rolls of film I shot in Albuquerque last year, not a single image captured what I wanted. Instead, they captured what was really there: a total blur.
Who's a Pepper?
Hanging out on the porch after Garry’s funeral, my nephews do what kids do best.
They go on.
Albuquerque, October 2007
