October 5, 1998

: As you can tell by the sparse number of journal entries for the month of September, and the fact that I haven't written here since September 21st, life has been more than just busy. It has been a storm. But regardless of how things may be going right now, I will not let today pass without writing a journal entry. Today, it's special.

My daughter, Bethany, is two years old. Almost to the hour.

This weekend, we had our party for her at home. Joe and Patti Skorupa came over for dinner, and brought the new ten-week old puppy with them. Geoff Thompson joined us, and Kim and Alyssa asked Heather to come over too. Paul could not make it from Phoenix; he was working. The dining room was full, and everyone filled up on lasagna, spaghetti and Baskin & Robbins ice cream cake, with Big Bird on the top, before adjourning to the family room to watch little one rip open her packages.

Self-portrait with daughter and Italian cooking
Saturday, October 3rd, 1998

Oh, remember that Teletubbies VHS tape that I mentioned in the last journal, the one the 25-year-old graphic artists keep playing over and over at work? Well, Patti got the tape along with Teletubbie Laa-Laa for Bethany's birthday present. Now we can watch it at home! And on the same week that I move out of that department and into another part of the company, out of ear-shot of the Teletubbie's tape. Fortune, or fate?

Chrisse, Kim, Alyssa, Heather, Geoff, Patti and Joe

It was a good, filling evening, and we all slept as late as possible on Sunday until it was time to get up and take Alyssa to one of her volleyball tournament games.

As I write this, unable to do anything else right now because my office is being moved from one part of the building to another, and my desktop systems are all disassembled and on carts, and I have no Net access and a few minutes to spend in thought, it's about forty-five minutes until the exact time that she was born two years ago on Saturday afternoon, October 5th, 1996.


Her entry in the world gave rise to one of the few markers that define the timeline of my life, among them these: my mother's death, my father's death, my wedding day, my daughter's birth. What draws these markers onto common ground is that they all happened in 1996: February 28th, May 4th, July 13th, October 5th.

It was a hell of a year.

Bethany's birth marked a chance for me to begin my life all over again, along with her. That's one of the many things that I've been trying to do for the last twenty-four months, to become who it is that I want to be. But I'm not there yet, and I don't know if I ever will be. In some respects, I may have moved even farther away from who I want to be by continuing to be who I am. I assume that, short of a some kind of additional miracle, all I can continue to do is to keep trying.

Bethany, hungry, and Chrisse

Some might remember the pictures and story of her birth here, in the incarnation of the journal that preceded this one. Maybe each year on her birthday I should temporarily re-post those photos and pages, just as a comparison. To see how she has changed. To see if I have changed. For the better, that is.

Bethany is also partially responsible for my return to photography. There was never a better reason for breaking out the gear than her smiling face and amazing sense of humor and timing. It might be that my cameras would have remained untouched for a lot longer than they did without the excuse of photographing her. My real cameras, that is. Not the "happy snap" that we use all the time for everything else.

Reaching for the stars... er, the candles

No one else in the family wants to be photographed. They always make those faces, or turn away, or hold their hands up over their noses. So I trick them by using extra wide angle lenses. They don't even know they are in the picture. But not Bethany. She stands, and poses, and senses when I'm the least ready - then she zaps me! It's always a game for us.

There are some things that Bethany has been constant about: being my reason for going on, the object of my unending love and affection - even when she wears me out to the bone - and a source of joy and cheer in my life. Last night, when she was almost asleep, she came out of her blanket cocoon and crawled over and gave me a big hug, putting her nose against my nose and making that little snort noise of hers that substitutes for "I love you."


When that happens, nothing else matters. Nothing. Everything else washes away in that moment, and it's these moments that I tend to remember and pleasantly dwell upon, not the other times.

Tonight, on the way home from work, I'm stopping at Toys R' Us to pick up fifty pound bags of sand to fill Bethany's new sand box with. Yes, this will be a mess in progress. There's a birthday party for her this afternoon at the child care provider's house, but I won't be able to get there in time due to the office, the screwed up day, and traffic. I'm glad we had our party over the weekend instead.

The pure joy of childhood glee: Opening presents
Holding up new clothes sent by Aunt Betty
(The portable cage in the background was for the puppy)

 


It's not just the location of my desk that is in transition, but there are a lot of other changes taking place, and a lot more that probably need to take place. I guess only the passing of time will reveal what is supposed to happen. I'm finished with the online version of my photographic portfolio, and very nearly finished with print version of the portfolio that will make up the laminated book. Maybe next weekend, while Chrisse is with her mother in New York, I can take a few hours and work on the QuarkXPress file that is the book, printing out page proofs and sending them to Paul in Phoenix for review, a few weeks in advance of the printing trip to his house. Maybe I should make an Acrobat .pdf file and eMail it to him? Use the available technology? Naw. I'll kill off a few more trees. It's a book, right? That's the spirit.

I didn't photograph the 49er's versus Falcons game as planned. Instead, I've been scheduled to shoot the 49er's versus Colts game. That's okay. The day of the first game, it was overcast and cloudy and dark and the color would have been really poor. I'm holding out for a bright day, with diffused light, and maximum color saturation! Picky, picky, picky.

Only nineteen days until the National Press Photographers' Association Flying Short Course stop in San Jose, when I get to see a whole handful of my old friends. I wish I had the book to pass around on that day, but that's not going to happen. There are just not enough hours in the day. Most of the recent ones seem to be pretty much like today: screwed up. But not as screwed up as they have been for Mark in Charlotte. I told him not to move there...

October 5, 1998

Donald Winslow


 

earlier journal home later journal
Donald Winslow
< donw@nmnp.org>
Photojournalist
Director of Photography for CNET: The Computer Network
Other journals by Donald Winslow
323 September 28, 1999 What goes into a photojournalism portfolio?
305 July 20, 1999 The Kennedys and me
236 February 24, 1999 She wore a Red Ribbon
233 February 23, 1999 Well, that's just great. So now what?
230 February 18, 1999 The Future of Photojournalism
173 November 8, 1998 I'm always touched by how quickly people can lose their lives, lose everything, of how a lifetime can just gone in a flash. And then how it's just a note in the next day's newspaper, and then gone from our thoughts forever.
160 October 20, 1998 But you NEVER really know until the film is there before you, on the light table.
 
Contributor since 1998
 
   


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