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I was getting ready to get in the shower this evening at the end of a long hot unproductive day. My door bell rings. I grab my bathrobe and answer the door doing my best Tony Soprano imitation. A small older man says he came about the photos. Still in character I grumble, growl, figuring that he is gone in the face of the unpleasant greeting and the visual. He says he is Bob G and wonders if I can give him the images he had emailed me about? I suddenly remember the email from a Bob G about his concern that he wasn’t able to order the images online because his internet was wonky and he was worried that we would delete them. He mentioned that the images were of his daughter and he wanted to make sure he could get them. The images were of his suddenly deceased 44 year old daughter, I remembered, who had run Butte 2014. Bob and his wife lost a daughter, the kids lost their mom and his son in law lost his wife. Bob G wanted to make sure he had those images. I invited him in and I was able to give him the images while we talked about his service in Korea and Vietnam. Invisible on any street in America, Bob G is a genuine American article who has done his best to do right. I was touched by his stamina and grace. He left, we shook hands and agreed to see each other at the races. A belated birthday gift to this sometimes broke down old shooter. Despite the circumstances of our meeting, a found moment that made what I do of value to someone who needed something to break his way. Grateful that I was home tonight. Gonna rest easier on my pillow come nightfall.

Photo Credit

Photo by Michael Lebowitz. All rights reserved.

In the shifting greys of a gun smoke colored morning, it came to me that the past week has been the week when it seemed as if l was living inside Dylan’s description of modern life, where “everything is broken” was precise and right on target, and it kept on coming like a summer storm out in the Gulf heading towards the coast. I had just withdrawn from a photo shoot at the last minute, 4:00am today, the morning of the shoot. I seriously hate that. A six-day migraine was not letting go. As I lay the shoot down and chalked it up to another loss among many others this past year, I checked into the Jacqueline Du Pré video link above. Me, I like classical cello music, seriously, really I do. Many people may not but for me, Jacqueline Du Pré played the Cello like few others ever have. She died in 1982 of Multiple Sclerosis and gave up playing years earlier circa 1973 as her fingers lost their sensitivity. This stuff is gorgeous to the ear, or at least it is to mine. Some may think it sentimental and they might be right. My day is picking up but it is still grey and cold; the unmistakable presence of Fall inside a summer’s day. The migraine has left town for the moment. Talked with old friends from when we were young. All in all not a bad way to go. Will probably call it Tarmac Meditations – A Song Without Words.

Photo Credit

Photo by Michael Lebowitz. All rights reserved.

At the end of June I will be shooting a series of images for Richard Brown, a well known running coach and author, whose latest book is being published by Human Kinetics. Richard or “Dick Brown” as he is commonly known, is 76 and in his 4th year of recovery from Acute Myeloid Leukemia. He is a soft spoken guy whose wife of many years, Barbara, adores him. The two of them have smiles to light up the room like a double sunrise .

He and I met to discuss the shoot and while we were talking I took this shot. He had just shown me a picture of himself when he was at the naval academy – he bore a strong resemblance to George Reeves of Superman fame in both his good looks and his hellacious athlete’s body. When I left the house, I felt better about things than I have for months. My friend Joe Henderson, he of many books said to me when I answered his phone call that I sounded happier than I had in a long while. I said I had just met with Richard. “That explains it” said he. All I could say in response was to smile.

A guy who loves it is my photo editor. Proof of the old Texas expression that the sun will shine on every Old Dog’s butt from time to time. This kind of thing makes me happy.

 Photo Credit

Photo by Michael Lebowitz. All rights reserved.

This morning I went into my office to upload these images only to find that my internet was down. I used the opportunity to restock the bathroom with TP, just in case, and thence to clean the floor. I went to the storage closet to get the TP and two large rolls of paper towels – recycled to be sure. In the storage closet I knocked over the paper towels in their large plastic wrapped container. On their way to the floor they caught the edge of large box containing a year’s supply of packing popcorn which in its fall to earth managed to spread the contents all over the floor. This required a delicate cleanup process since the door no longer opened fully due to a myriad of door stops in its way. After a time, I retrieved all the popcorn. I stepped backward into the closet whereupon I dislodged a stored painting and watched while its broken glass, following the dictates of gravity, shattered on the floor. Found my inner Gandhi, cleaned up the shattered glass, during which process I murmured a short, string of profanity, several MF’s followed by several emphatic CS’s. I went back inside at peace, fixed the internet and uploaded these two images.

Without art, life can be a series of unconnected meaningless small tragedies, no?

Photo Credits

Photos by Michael Lebowitz. All rights reserved.