Rambler

I got my start doing 'serious' photography, as opposed to not-serious photography which always seemed a whole lot more fun to me but that's another story.
In any event a fellow at work discovered that I was into photography and would I be interested in coming along and shooting him at a local competition.

Sure why not. It would be an adventure.

It was. Didn't matter what you set up in front of me, I was game to make an image of it.

It was an adventure then, and is one now.

I'm up in Oakland on a Saturday night
Lord, I said I just didn't feel right
Goodnight, ladies all around
But the right one hadn't found me such a bad night
I didn't feel right
Then a friend came over 'fore it got too late
Asked me if I'd like you as a double date
My stars above, I fell in love
With the queen of the roller derby

Today it is April 7, 2011. It was the first spring-like day downtown. Many of the regulars were out at their posts.

When I was young, it was more important
Pain more painful
Laughter much louder
Yeah, when I was young

When we were children we lived in the lovely level subdivision of Don Mills, Ontario, Canada. I say level because anything upright, growing, or not of potential value to the developer was bulldozed before our homes were erected. My mother, who had a knack for such things, referred to our blessed neighbourhood as 'Sun Baked Acres.' I have thought of it by no other name since I was a child.

Every home got a wee sapling on the front lawn. Some folks seemed to get a maple-leafy affair, others got something aspen-y, and still others received a cherry blossom sapling.

The subdivision was soon filled with instant semi-detached homes, rolls of turf, and the necessary connections to power, phone, and television (antenna). There was no fencing initially, imagine that? There were no fences between the properties of various homeowners. That was looked after in short order. The local working-class English and Scottish residents formed an ad-hoc committee and had the fences up very quickly.

Right turn, enough background:

The forward thinking familes began to take steps immediately to finish the basements of their homes. Forward thinking would mean families who had 3 or 4 or 5 kids, just babies now, but not for very long.

This meant that along with tiny, closet-sized bedrooms ("at least it's MINE" would chant the so-blessed child) there would be a 'rec room.'

When we all hit puberty, and we did, with a fucking vengeance, did the spawn of that first gen, we needed somewhere to go so we could grope and neck and do all those other things that children do when the need is upon them.

The nicest and most reasonable parents let us have our 'parties' in their rec rooms. Some even provided snacks and pop. Wow. The occasional Italian family who moved in at this point didn't get this concept (truly pioneers amongst all the rest of us). Momma would send the kids to the party with a pan or two of lasagna.

Here we all are posing for a team shot in someone's basement (I think I know whose basement it is) before we got down to the business at hand.

Slow dancing was how we came to understand and know how we felt and moved and smelled in each others arms. It was intoxicating. I learned that girls were far more delicate than boys, generally speaking, and that many of them smelled so good it was enough to make my knees buckle . . . .