Every once in a while our own mortality is brought uncomfortably close to the surface. Sometimes it is from a loved one passing away, but more often it is from someone we know with whom we have a lot in common dying unexpectedly. You can’t help but think that it could have been you. And sometimes – just sometimes – it is from a completely unexpected source. I had just such an experience last night.

I’ve been going to a digital photography competition site called dpchallenge for several years (my profile is here). It is unlike any site I’ve ever been involved with in that it has the strongest sense of community of any virtual group I’ve seen. I’ve seen the group come together and collect donations to finance a cross country trip for a member whole adult daughter was in the hospital on the opposite coast. I’ve seen them start an impromptu contest with an entry fee (there normally is none) with all the proceeds going to replace a camera that had been stolen from one of the members. I’ve seen members pool frequent flier miles to get a mother who was in bad financial shape to her daughter’s wedding. There have been many other similar instances. In every case more funds were raised than was needed. It is just that tight of a group.

Life has been busy for the last several months so I’ve not been on there much before last night, so it was with much sadness that I learned one of the members had died unexpectedly. His name was Sean Matos and he went by JawnyRico on the site. He was an amazing photographer but, more importantly, a great guy. I was caught by an unexpected wave of emotion on reading that he’d died. It was made worse by the fact that he was only 27.

I’m not sure why it affected me as strongly it did because I didn’t know him personally. I really only knew about him from discussion threads in which he has participated and photos he has entered in various contests but I had seen enough to know that he was a good guy and was well liked. So I went on to read the thread discussing his passing. The outpouring of grief from people who had never met him in person was touching and was frankly getting to me when a post stopped me cold. His wife, who wasn’t involved in the site, logged into his account and posted to the thread. Even in her obvious grief she’d taken the time to come there to thank everyone for their support and condolences. It was touching beyond words. Here is her post:

This is Melissa, Sean’s wife. Wow. I am so amazed to see what all of you thought of his beautiful photographs. I always knew how talented and special Sean was, and how his gifts could touch people’s lives. It truly takes my breath away to see how much he meant to so many of you. The latest challenge “The Cowboy” being in honor of my husband, means so much to me. He loved photography. It was such a passion of his. We spent hours together working on these photos and traveling to different places to take them. I will miss that. Thank you so much for all your love and support through this time. It is a huge loss in my life. The love of my life, and my forever best friend is no longer here. I pray that I get through this with the support of my family here and the wonderful support from all of you. Thank you so much for helping Sean and honoring him now.

I love you all!!

I went from choked up to tearful then I read on. As the thread unfolded the site admins made his profile a permanent page as a memorial and his wife returned to say that she was taking up photography as her way of staying connected with her late husband. She created her own profile and for a user name chose “Luvagirl”, a nickname her husband had given her back when they were just dating which was evidently when they were 15 or 16. I’m can’t find the words to express how moved I was. I then went to his profile page to look at some of his work. I’d always liked his stuff but hadn’t really looked at it as a single body of work before. Before I ever got to the photos I made the mistake of reading his profile. In part it read:

Love two things, my wife Melissa, and photography. Found this site and it rocks with all the talent, info, learning, and incredible photographers of all types. Hope to learn lots with editing and improving my people shots. Always remember to never take life to seriously, nobody gets out alive anyway. Thanks for stopping by, and we hope you shop with us again soon.

Signature – Last night I lay in bed looking up at the stars in the sky and I thought to myself, where the heck is the ceiling.

How prophetic and how terribly sad. I was far from together after reading all of that but then I noticed the user status on the profile. Every profile shows the same line but I never thought much about it until this time. It read:

Status: User is currently offline

I don’t ever recall something so innocuous eliciting the emotional reaction that single line did. It connected with me somewhere deep within and left me completely wrung out. I feel more like I’ve lost a family member than someone I knew of online. And I keep thinking that, but by the grace of God that could be me. As I sit here in need of a tissue I find that I cannot fathom what his wife must have had to endure. My heart goes out to her. I’ve included a few of his pictures below as my own little tribute to him but it hardly seems enough. Perhaps the bigger tribute is in taking his advice: never take life to seriously, nobody gets out alive anyway.

/g

Click on the images to see the originals complete with his commentary.

The title of this shot is “Forever Best Friends”. The same term his wife used to describe their relationship. How poignant.

I’d never given much thought to how I portrayed myself to others online, I was just me. To be honest, it just never occurred to me to wonder how I might be perceived so I never gave it much thought. At least, until a few nights ago I hadn’t. I was chatting with an online friend who I’ve never met in real life. Let’s call her ‘C’ for simplicity here. As is often the case my wife, Christy, was sitting with me and could see the conversation. To be honest, I don’t even recall what we were chatting about. Out of the blue Christy asked me something to the effect of “Goodness, honey, did you also tell her about your blue spandex suit with the red cape and big ‘S’ on the chest?” After shuddering at the thought of myself in a full-body spandex suit of any color I told her that I had not, of course, mentioned any such suit but I think I might have dropped a few hints about the Bat Cave. Then I asked her what the heck she was talking about.

In answer, she pointed out that I might be painting a bigger than life portrait of myself for my friend. Over the past few months I’ve talked to Christy about many of the conversations C and I have had and I guess she had, without really thinking about it, been compiling a mental list. She started to tick off a list of the things she knew I’d talked about. In my many chats online I’ve mentioned to C that, among other things, I am: 6′7″, a pilot (who has crashed and walked away unscathed, no less), a scuba diver, a white water rafter, a caver, into martial arts, a security expert who speaks at conferences and whose job involves peripheral involvement with the FBI, a world traveler, a photographer and photography instructor, a God fearing, church going, loving husband and father who adores his wife, dotes on his kids and even cooks. I may, in fact, even be the world’s coolest dad since I went to great lengths to take my teenage daughter to a Coldplay concert and with amazing seats at that. And those are just the facts that sprang to mind immediately. I’m sure that, given a few minutes to think, I could double or triple the list.

It isn’t that I set out to portray myself in that light at all but I am an adventure junkie and, over the course of 40 years I’ve managed to do a number of interesting things. And, let’s be honest, those things are the ones that you tend to remember and, hence, talk about in the course of general conversation. All of those things are absolutely true but aggregately they paint an unrealistic picture. Especially when you factor in that some of them are strictly sporadic pursuits. I’ve only been in a few wild caves and only white water raft once or twice every couple of years. I haven’t been scuba diving in six years, and haven’t set foot in a dojo since I don’t know when. A very long time, to be sure. My crash wasn’t of the lawn dart like variety that springs to mind when one hears “plane crash.” Rather, it was a belly landing forced by a landing gear failure. Yes, it was a crash and yes, I did slide a couple thousand feet down a concrete runway with the metal belly of the plane acting as a poor substitute for wheels, and yes, it was both very exciting and terrifying and could have ended very differently, but it isn’t necessarily what it sounds like just the same.

Add to that the fact that people don’t tend to talk about their faults online. Heck, I don’t find many people eager to talk about them in real life either for that matter, and I’m no exception. But at least in real life you have the chance to observe them first hand and generally tend to pick up on the bad and good together over time. Rarely does the fact that you like kicking puppies pop up in the course of a normal conversation online. I’m not saying I like to kick puppies; I rather like puppies. I’m only trying to say that, if I did, it isn’t the sort of thing I’m likely to mention. If you were with me in person you would at least have a chance of seeing me do it. That’s all I’m sayin’.

Take the case of this particular friend. C has no way of knowing how I tend to leave stuff laying around and how, many times, I take an awfully long time to finish a project around the house and how completely nuts both of those things make my wife. She doesn’t see me on those days when work was rotten, bringing me home in a less than good mood and I am less involved or more terse with the kids that I otherwise would and should be. She doesn’t get to see the times when, in a disagreement, I respond to Christy sarcastically rather than maturely. She has no way of knowing that I am terminally afraid of doing things I am not good at, especially in front of other people. She doesn’t get the chance to see any of those oh so very fallible moments in my life that my other friends do.

She has no way of knowing that her dedication and devotion to her walk with God makes me feel more than a little ashamed of the level of dedication I’ve exhibited lately. She has no clue of the regrets I have over the missed opportunities to step up and be a truly good father or husband; those times when I was too busy or too tired or too self absorbed to pay the attention that I should have.

This only goes to reinforce the point I made in my very first post on this blog that in most cases you don’t really know the people you meet online. You see what they allow you to see and no more. It is a bit like a product demo. You only see the features of a product that the person demonstrating it chooses to show you, and they are only going to show the very best features. You don’t learn about the bugs and deficiencies that would drive you nuts unless you actually buy the product. Though in that original post I had intentional deception more in mind and, though this is nothing of the sort, the same supposition holds true to some degree.

Given enough time most people can discern character beyond what is overtly presented and I think C is certainly smart enough and a good enough read of people to at least suspect that I am not actually perfect. Yeah, I’m afraid its true. And, to be fair, I have told her things about me that aren’t part of an idealized tale of my life. I’ve told her some things about my first marriage and how badly it ended and I’ve talked a bit about my misspent youth. I’ve shared stray facts like that, but almost certainly less than I should have. When you get down to it I don’t know how well she truly knows the real me so, how can I expect her to have any idea. And that probably cuts both ways.

She and I have had a number of conversations around what constitutes true friendship and rather we qualify. We’ve discussed rather or not the time we’ve spent chatting is all wasted effort, running toward a dead end. My personal take is that it isn’t. I’ve mentally stopped making the distinction between her and ‘real life’ friends, rather the difference is on-line as opposed to off-line. Both are real life for me. I’m not sure what exactly comprises friendship because it isn’t something I decide intellectually or consciously, but I feel like I have found it in this instance. But, then, I have always been exceptionally good at reading people. I’ve met very, very few people that I didn’t have a distinct opinion of in the first five minutes of conversation and there have only been a couple of people ever to prove that initial opinion wrong. I’ve learned to trust my gut. How and why C arrives at a conclusion will only be revealed with time and even then, perhaps not to me. Either way, I consider her a friend, lack of details and all.

In the few days since I started writing this post I heard a quote about friendship that I especially liked. But more than that it amused me when I thought about it in the context of this post. The quote was “True friends are like angels; you don’t have to see them to know they are there.” I can’t help but wonder if that extends to those friends you’ve never actually seen at all. I mean, I’ve never seen my angels either. At least, not that I know of.

So I’m left to sit here and ponder the imponderable and will probably never get any closer to a conclusion than I am right now. Given that I have no choice in the matter I guess that I will just have to live with it. In the mean time, I’ll make an effort to share more of the real me, not just with C but with my off-line friends as well. In short, I will find a hanger and an open spot in my closet for the outfit with the cape. I think in the end it will work out better that way, and I suspect that I will feel better either way. Not being able to fly anymore is gonna take some getting used to, though. C’est la vie.

/g

If you’ve not done Thanksgiving or Christmas in Florida you should give it a try. I highly recommend it. We are down to see Christy’s family for the week and I am starting to wonder why we moved away from here. OK, not really. I wouldn’t trade where I live for Florida, but it really does have its advantages over the majority of the country this time of year. It was a sunny 75° F and the pool felt great. But that was only a small part of an exceptional day. A picture is worth a thousand words, or so they say, and, as much as I hate pictures of me, I think the only way to really give you a taste of the day is in pictures. So, here goes nothing:

I got to play water taxi to the kids for a stroll into the deep end. Since Justin tried to drown himself in my sister’s pool last year he has been a little freaked out and clingy around the water but today was digging it. Hopefully we are past that.

For the second time today Justin decided he wanted to take off and swim on his on. Far be it from me to interfere. In fact, I felt obligated to provide a little motivation by chasing them.

After swimming and a brief rest we went over to the great grandparent’s house to visit. Courtney spanked me at Chutes and Ladders. Stupid long slide….

Around 5:30 a professional swing/ragtime band set up by the community pool that is directly out the back door and started playing. This was shot standing in the back door. We opened up all the windows on the sunroom in the back and got a free concert. I have video too that I’ll put up later.

While they were playing we had to suffer through this sunset…

…while the house was filled with the aroma of this cooking. I made a 7 layer lasagna that was criminally good. It will be even better tomorrow and the day after. yay! This shot is scratch-and-sniff. Give it a go.

My mother-in-law suggested I it would be more honest to post the wider version of that shot. I sorta trashed her kitchen in the process of making it. Luckily she really, really likes my lasagna and all was forgiven. After I cleaned it up, of course…

On a scale of 1 to 10 today would be somewhere around an 11, I guess. I think I’m just gonna skip the rest of the week. It could only be down hill from here.

/g

I was talking to a friend the other day about an upcoming business trip that would start in LA, wind inland through Utah then back to the coast in the Pacific Northwest. She told me that she had been skiing out there and how much fun it had been. I’ve never been skiing and said as much so she suggested I give it a try while I was out there. It sounded like it might be fun so a few days later I looked up some rates for lessons, rentals, lift tickets, etc at various locations along my planned route. The problem was, even as I looked up information, something about it just didn’t feel right which started me wondering why. It didn’t take long to figure out…

Over the years I’ve traveled extensively for work and, like most business travel, it has been a largely solo activity. It has taken me to virtually every spot in the continental US big enough to warrant a Walmart and most of the larger cities many many times as well as to places off continent from Bermuda to Helsinki, Finland and many points between. Initially all the travel was a heady, exciting adventure. In fact, it still excites me on some level, just not like it once did. The whole truth, though, is that it can also be a very lonely existence and not just because I’m alone. Visiting cool new places or experiencing fun new things without someone to share it with is somehow inherently sad for me. I know there are people it doesn’t bother but I am a social creature and crave sharing the experience as much as or more than the experience itself. No matter how wonderful the place or activity I always find myself wishing for the company of a friend.

One of my favorite places in the world is San Francisco and within the San Francisco Bay area my favorite place is the Marin Headlands north of the Golden Gate Bridge. More specifically, the portions overlooking the bridge and, more specifically yet, at night. For me, at least, it is a magical place at night and, if you go late enough you can find spots in which you can be completely alone. Year round it is a little cool and there is almost always a strong breeze tousling your hair. You are nearly as high as the towers on the bridge and looking out through the cable suspension at the entire vista of the San Francisco skyline beyond. The blackness of the Pacific Ocean is felt more than seen as a palpable void to your right. You can’t help but feel the vast emptiness that stretches thousands of miles beyond the horizon. Something about that emptiness combined with the close yet seemingly unreachable companionship of the city gives me a sense of unparalleled solitude and the sheer scale of the entire scene serves as a powerful reminder of just how insignificant I really am.

But the thing is, that solitude extends only as far as earthly company is concerned. For me, at least, that separation from the rest of the world reminds me of how little all of the ’stuff’ really matters and helps me gain perspective on what really does matter. Put another way, if you can’t hear God’s voice there you need to work on your listening skills. I’ve not found another place anywhere on the planet where I feel as at completely alone and completely not at the same time.

I’ve lost count of the number of times I have sat up there alone just looking out over the bridge and the city beyond while the hours rolled past unnoticed. I’ve found myself still sitting there as the sun broke over the Eastern horizon a few times, but I try to be packed up and gone by then as a rule. Something about leaving while it is still dark lets you carry a little of that wonderment away with you in a way you couldn’t by the light of day.

As amazing as that place is and as much as I want (or perhaps need) to be alone there, I still long to share the experience. In the time Christy and I have been together I’ve been there dozens of times without her but not once without wishing she were there beside me. Not once have I left there without a measure of sadness that I couldn’t share the experience with someone I love. The same is true rather I’ve been wandering the streets of Paris or walking a cornfield in Iowa. No matter how fun or amazing the experience, a part of me is left wanting for someone to share it with and saddened that I can’t carry that experience back to those I love.

As an avid photographer I carry my trusty Nikon with me as surrogate companionship. While being able to spend all the time I like trying to get a shot or sitting in one place for an hour waiting for the light to get just right is very nice, it really is a poor substitute for having someone to talk to. And, while I may have excellent shots of the trip years later, they are a poor substitute for being able to sit with someone and say ‘remember when’.

So I find myself wondering what do do now. Christy really isn’t into the whole skiing thing so this would be the perfect time to try it out, but there is just something depressing me about the thought of going it alone. The date for this trip hasn’t been settled so I have some time to decide, but I don’t know if I’ll be better able to decide later than I am now. Oh, well. I’ll let you know how it turns out.

/g