As you know, last year I didn't want to go to my niece's wedding in western Iowa near to Omaha. I made the excuse that it's dangerous for me to fly. Truth is flying just isn't any fun anymore. And planes and people are actually gross. But my family accepted my excuse without any argument. And for reasons of their own, reasons of completeness, I suppose, they really wanted me to be there so my younger brother in California changed his plans for his whole family to fly to Denver instead of flying to Omaha, rent a van in Denver, pick me up, and drive the rest of the way past Omaha to Iowa. And then back.
Damn.
Then I was forced to go. Emotional pressure, innit.
They could have these weddings without me. I wouldn't be missed.
I liked the drive. I liked getting to know my brother's family more intimately. I like my two new nephews. I liked staying at the hotel. And I liked attending the wedding and the reception. And I liked the drive back. I liked all the stops, all the restaurants. I liked the whole experience. And I thoroughly enjoyed all the associated side activities in Denver.
I took hundreds of photos with my Nikon and with my Galaxy phone.
They're very good pictures. If I may say so.
I showed some of them here.
Use that Blogger search box up there ↖︎ [Iowa] if you care to see them.
Now a year has gone by and I see these photo in Photobucket and in Flickr and I think such a shame for them to sit there seen only by me, and unseen by the people who might like them even more than I do.
We share these photos electronically then poof they're gone.
There really is something of value in holding physical copies. Those photo albums really do have their own value. The value of tangible photographs is very real.
That bit at the restaurant will never be re-lived. Truly, that's a once-in-a-lifetime thing. The boy wanted me to play tic-tac-toe, the stupidest game on earth with finite possibilities. I will win every time. I tell the boy he cannot beat me and I will have no mercy just because he's a boy. He will lose every single time. "Come on, Uncle Bo, play with me. Here." He's a persistent little bastard. He shoves the paper my direction and offers a crayon.
"Okay. But every time you lose you have to do ten jumping jacks and repeat, "I'm a little dummkopf, I lose again."
[I wish I had thought of something more positive, but that was spur of the moment.]
The boy lost then flew out of his chair and took position at the side of the table and looking directly at me and laughing, he joyfully performed ten jumping jacks and repeated the phrase with glowing pleasure.
We played again. He lost again. Flew out of the chair again, performed ten jumping jacks again and repeated the assigned phrase again with the precise same glee that he did the first.
We played again. He lost again. Flew out of the ....
We played again. He lost aga ....
We played ....
We ....
We ....
We ...
That kid had me cracking up so hard it was unbelievable. It was simply the most enjoyable thing ever. There was absolutely nothing negative about losing to tic-tac-toe. The game was just a vehicle for him to play with me and to expend energy.
"Hey! You have to do your jumping jacks properly. No sloppy jumping jacks allowed."
He cleaned up his jumping jacks form. He loved doing jumping jacks and repeating the "I'm a loser" phrase that I assigned him. It was all a great game. There was no losing to it. No losing in tic-tac-toe and no losing to jumping and repeating a "I'm a loser" phrase. There was simply no connection to losing.
You know how kids run around a restaurant expending their limitless energy. This boy's energy is expended right there at our table, right there for me. He didn't bother anyone, yet he fully expended his energy. He was entertaining me. And he was hilarious. I hadn't laughed that hard the whole trip. Pure joy.
Real joy.
And that will never happen again.
He'll never be that age again. He'll never be that non-caring about losing. He'll never be that young, that energetic, that eager, that free of the concept of losing, that free period. Truly, something to lock into memory.
And I have the photographs that bring all that back to mind.
They're blurred.
Oh man, I love these photographs blurred. That's perfect.
So I thought, you know what, I actually have two sets of photographs that two sets of people might really appreciate having.
I leaned how fast, how inexpensive, and how easy this is.
I went through the photographs and pulled out all the photos that would interest my brother and his wife and their two kids.
I ran them through Photoshop to correct their tones and saturation, highlights, shadows and the like. I examined them for cropping.
Uploaded to Walmart photo service.
They allow enlargements of two sizes.
The cost is ridiculously low.
Had them sent to my brother's wife.
(because I want her to feel special)
Chose an album from Amazon.
That was the most difficult part because there are a million different album types.
I imagined them owning the album, I visualized them putting it together. I tried to see them inviting their children to help assemble the book. That's how I chose the album book to send them.
I sent the album book to my brother.
See? They're husband and wife, they have to put the two things together.
They were thrilled with the photos and with the album. I made very good choices all around. I did very well with the enlargements. I had enlarged the very photos they would pick themselves to enlarge. They were very pleased to have the photos. And the photos caused them to recall specific incidents they had forgotten.
We did a lot of things together. Things we wouldn't want to forget. For example, I coaxed the boys to cross a road and climb up a tree at a rest stop to get the boys out of the shop and away from my brother so he could rest for an hour. The photos of the two boys in a tree are a treasure. His wife with me thinking that's a good idea is also a treasure.
They climbed at Red Rocks directly behind a sign that read "no climbing on the rocks"
Come on! That's an amazing photograph.
Dinosaur ridge.
The monkey bars at Washington Park.
The acorn war at Red Oak rest stop. These boys in motion are poetry. And I have the photographs that show it.
The whole family was on the phone telling me how excited they were to have these photographs.
Win.
That whole thing came out much better than I expected.
And I couldn't believe how cheap the whole thing was.
100 headshots in b/w when I was modeling thirty years ago were much more expensive than this. The cost of photographs has gone way down over the decades. Way way down. Now you can get them in all kinds of forms, as posters, on canvas in all sizes, on glass, as puzzles, shower curtains, pillows, t-shirts, on cups, you name it. It's ridiculously inexpensive.
So now a second set of photographs is being printed right now for the wedding itself for my niece. And the same kind of photo album. Different photographs from the same set but centering more on her family, her parents, (my sister), her brothers, their participation in her wedding, the church, the reception, all the people who I don't know that she invited. I don't expect the same reaction from her, but I'm certain she'll be happy to see them suddenly appear in her mailbox from out of the blue. Something to hold in her hands for the rest of her life, that means more to her than it does to me.
8 comments:
This leaves me wondering this: Who has given what to whom?
You are a good egg, Chip.
It also explains why your family went out of their way to get you.
Trapped
Kids running around in restaurants:
Do I kill their parents or kill myself?
The human condition: which is worse:
To be spectator or participants?
Depends on the restaurant, and the kids, and the parents. These nephews seem cute enough to pull it off, even in the fanciest venue.
The worst is being trapped on an airplane near, or especially in the seat ahead of, a rude loud kid ... or a rude loud adult for that matter.
And for reasons of their own, reasons of completeness, I suppose...
Would it be too far-fetched to consider Love as a credible reason? (Evi lands on "a good egg" which seems kind of bland (like milk) but fitting for a discerning cow.)
And if love as a reason for detouring (or on the other side of the coin, going to the work of taking and sending photos) seems too awkward or unbelievable without further testing, how about walking to the edge of "like" and wondering if actually enjoying, appreciating or valuing a brother, sister, uncle or niece for one or more of the attributes or points of connection listed below might have been involved?
uniqueness
humor
outlook
insight
strength
shared history/life story
character
creativity or
courage
Since photographs are a pictorial record of the "more" that has transpired--similar to hieroglyphics and hand signs as a way to support, convey and enhance communication; what matters even more than the actual "in your hand" images, is the shared story and real-life experiences of connection and mattering they represent.
On the release of energy in public places: From the time we were able to walk, my brothers, sister and I sat with our parents in a church pew once a week, learning to stay relatively quiet through an hour long service which included some standing up and singing, after which the younger kids would tear around outside in good weather playing tag.
When we car traveled long distance with the SonsM we stopped at rest stops for walks, runs and physical play, with stories read aloud and games played in the car. We had very few problems with pent up energy or meltdowns.
It is not a hardship for children to learn appropriate boundaries and limits as well as appropriate ways to release energy and have fun. It does require planning and consistent care and engagement on the part of the adults. As mentioned by others here before, it's similar to training a dog through the use of approval, clear direction, repetition, and correction; no shaming required, and no "I'm a loser" tactics (even in jest) employed.
After beating someone mercilessly at Tic, Tac, Toe letting them in on power of the V-pattern is a wonderful way to pass on the torch.
I tried . I tried to to teach him to see the next move but all strategy was impossible. To him tic-tac-toe is simply putting a mark on the paper and that's it. To him it's all random. There is no pattern possible. He could not process what I was saying. There is no, if you go here, then I go there to counter. There is no thinking of the next move. All that exists is try to get three in a row. By random chance. Spot the possibility when it arises with no sense of creating it.
And then I thought, man, this kid is really f'k'n dumb.
And then I thought, no, he's five. He lives in the now. And that's what makes him pure joy.
My dogs had more strategy to them than this boy does. But that was only that moment. Now he's a year older and that way that he was is now gone. Forever. And that's why those particular photographs are so special.
His brother came into the scene, then the pictures changed to the young boy hugging his brother. After the jumping jacks his attention turned to his brother. The energy changed from the boy entertaining me to joint energy, drawing energy from his brother. Two boys doing jumping jacks. The whole set of photos is fabulous. Blurred because the restaurant is a bit dark, no flash, and the boys are always in motion.
And the restaurant we were at was further proof that in America's heartland, the breadbasket of the nation, it's quite impossible to get a simple tossed green salad such as I can easily get across the street in a sandwich shop, or in a nearby pizza place, or half a block away at any of three Mexican restaurants .I swear, the people of our heartland are all positively antisaladites, and thin people are quite rare.
Most of all, love each other as if your life depended on it. Love makes up for practically anything.
From the apostle Peter, who experienced this first hand--the hard way, the best way, the most life-affecting way possible.
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