Four Years Ago Today

The little boy in the photo is the light of my life.

Four years and one day ago I could never have imagined that anyone could capture my heart the way he has.

On December 9, 2005, we arranged for a family dinner--Farida, Jason, Nasreen along with Sunny and Eddie, Jason's mom and stepdad. Farida was to be on her way to the hospital later that evening, with Hunter scheduled to be born the next day. This was to be a last get-together before the Blessed Event.

Nasreen and I went on ahead to BJ's Brewhouse in Irvine to await the arrival of the others. We ordered Cokes and waited. And waited.

Hunter has always marched to a different drummer, so enroute to dinner that night, he decided to change his parents' plans.

"Let me try to call Jason," Nas offered. "No answer," she said, after the phone went to voicemail. Still we waited, figuring they'd gotten caught in Friday night traffic. She tried again; still no response.

Suddenly Jason rushed into the restaurant.

"Don't you people ever leave your phones on? Farida's water broke, and we're on the way to the hospital."

Why we hadn't received his call, I don't know, but that was before the days when my cell phone became my primary means of communication. I probably didn't have it on. In any case, we scouted out our server, let her know we wouldn't be dining that evening and let her know why. As I recall, she even comped us our drinks. Obviously she didn't want to delay us any further.

She needn't have worried. Hunter decided he wouldn't be born immediately. About 10:30 that evening Jason suggested that we might all want to go home to get some sleep, and he'd call us with any news. It made sense to us since it looked like Hunter wasn't going to make his appearance anytime soon.

At a little after 7:00 am the next morning, Jason called.

"You have a grandson."

Whoohoooo!!! I couldn't wait to see the little dark-haired, brown-eyed boy we'd been expecting. After all, how else could he be with a Pakistani grandfather and a half-Pakistani mother with beautiful olive skin and big brown eyes?

Once again Hunter had us fooled. What hair he had was blonde, his eyes were clear sky-blue, and his complexion was fairer than mine. Needless to say, he was gorgeous--and he looked exactly like his father.

He still does.

These photos are the latest I've taken of Hunter, shot on Saturday, December 4, as we had breakfast at Pete's.

The eyes are still blue, the hair still blond and spiky, like his father's. He has a sense of humor and makes me laugh every time I'm with him.

And he's still the most gorgeous little boy I've ever seen in my life.

BEFORE

Here it is! Proof positive that I would never, ever want to be Santa Claus. Can you see the fear? The abject terror? The glassy-eyed stare?

Not on Hunter . . . on Santa!

Probably it isn't quite as bad as it seems, because I honestly don't remember other kids freaking out the way Hunter did--but it could be that the others paled in comparison to Hunter's reaction.

Today will tell the tale.

Is Santa still the bogey-man?

Will Santa need recuperation time at the funny farm?

Will Hunter need cough drops and a soothing gargle after it's all over?

Time will tell.

This reporter will update all very, very soon.

Stay tuned!

Breakfast with Santa

This morning I'm giving thanks for a phone call.

Farida rang me up yesterday to invite me to breakfast with Santa on Friday morning. There are certainly those who are convinced I'm slipping back into childhood more each day, but this post isn't a function of that.

Those of us who've been associated with Hunter Jackson Wilks over the nearly four years of his life know that Santa has been the bane of Hunter's existence. Farida and Jason have faithfully taken their son to meet Santa each year (except his first, I think, when he was less than a month old). It's always been an ordeal. Our boy's Christmas portaits feature him bawling his head off--and Santa looking around wondering how he can apply for combat pay.

That's why the call was somewhat of a surprise.

"Um, Farida, does this invitation include Hunter?"

"Yes."

"Does Hunter KNOW he's going to see Santa?"

"Yes."

"Is Hunter okay with that?"

Instead of answering, she turned away from the phone and addressed the young man in question.

"Hunter, do you know who Santa is?"

"Yes."  I could hear his voice in the distance.

"Do you want to see Santa?" she asked him.

"Yes."

Hmmmmm, what a difference a year--and preschool--make.

You can be sure I'll be there with bells on--and with a camera around my neck--to record the event for posterity.

Wish Santa luck.

Focus, focus, focus

It isn't often that I set out with the express intention of taking photographs. A period set aside for picture-taking. Friday was that day.

Of course in a determined effort to make every moment count, Carol and I included a trip to Fresno. We started off with a car wash at our favorite Chevron station at Blackstone and Minarets (or thereabouts . . .). They do a great pre-wash with soapy water and a brush, and they always do it with a smile. Then a claustrophobic ride through pink suds and hot air, emerging into the sunlight sparkling like the showroom floor.

We continued on to breakfast at Mimi's, figuring we'd be seated right away since it was nearly 10:00 a.m. No such luck. We still had to wait. As we sat, two ladies asked if they could join us.

"Sure, please do" we said, and they pulled up chairs.

They proceeded to introduce themselves and told us they'd just returned from a short vacation to Mt. Shasta. That certainly broke the ice since Mt. Shasta is something Carol saw often during her years of driving to and from her home in Brookings, OR, and I fell in love with the peak during driving trips to Oregon and Washington with Shevy. This trend toward instantaneous friendships seems to be a hallmark of my "new life," boosted by my volunteer time at Yosemite Sierra Visitors' Bureau. This previously-shy individual now doesn't hesitate to talk to people, whether on the trail or in a restaurant. Somehow that must show on my face or in my demeanor, as people approach me, as these ladies did. Bless you, Shevy, for teaching me there are no strangers.

After a quick stop at Cost Plus to barter for a bargain end table, Carol and I headed up the mountain to Shaver and Huntington Lakes. Carol had never been there, and it had been years for me. Carol recently acquired a new camera (a Panasonic Lumix DMC-FZ28S), based on recommendations from Carol's photographer friend Miguel. When Carol told me what she was thinking, I thought of the marvelous photos my friend Kaye Duncan of Portland takes with her Panasonic. Kaye's photos shared via Flickr always inspire me. The Panasonic, considered a high-end member of the point-and-shoot category, takes photos every bit as as detailed and sharp as my DSLR--just doesn't have the removable lenses. If I were going to go for a point-and-shoot, that'd be the one, and if it weren't for Kaye, I'd never have known about it.

My self-stated intent for the photo shoot was to learn to use my camera's focusing apparatus. Farida and Jason, ever my teachers, showed me how to set individual focus points with my Rebel Xs, so I figured I'd try it out. Bingo! Success! A couple of my better results are shown on my photoblog, Nature's Heart entry for September 11.

The composition may not rival Ansel Adams', but you should be able to tell where my focal point is. Probably 90 per cent of the photos taken that day showed that I'd gotten the idea.

The "fisherpeople" picture was taken with friend Kaye in mind. Her photographs capture lines, angles, perspective and colors and always make me want to see ordinary things (like farmers' markets) in the extraordinary manner she manages to memorialize. Check her out. She's known as ohkayeor on Flickr.

Kaye and I met at ECCO's first Artists' Creative Weekend last Thanksgiving, and I've had the pleasure of following her photos ever since.

***

Flushed with triumph, I was thrilled when grandson Hunter actually was willing to pose for me on Saturday. With three photographers in the family (four counting him), he sometimes gets a little tired of being our favorite subject, so when he's willing, I'm there.

My vision of becoming the next Annie Lebowitz went down the drain as soon as I downloaded the first batch. They were all blown-out, out of focus, backlit and miserable. Sometimes all in the same picture.

Back to the drawing board.

By the time the afternoon ended, I'd amassed some semi-acceptable Hunter renderings, a few with focus softer than Farida probably would accept--but I think they show a softer side of Hunter himself. 

One of my favorites is shown here. Others are posted at Nature's Heart. I like the bokay, the colors both in the face and the tee shirt, the pensive expression. It's far from perfect . . . but it makes me happy, as does the subject himself.

The best part of a photography passion is that there's always tomorrow, always a next shoot, changing subjects. It also causes you to look at everything through a photographer's lens, observing life in terms of light, color, texture and flow.