Archive for the ‘Uncategorized’ Category
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Chinatown, New York City.
A little splish, A little splash
Babies are born with swimming abilities and can naturally hold their breath. However, they quickly lose this instinct.
This was so apparent while watching Camden in the water. She would have, without resistance, put her chubby face under the water a million times if permitted. No fear of or awareness of its ability to harm her. In such situations, YOU (me, her mom, grandmother, etc.) are completely responsible for keeping her out of harm’s way.
It’s terrifying and honoring at the same time. I’ve worked with and for so many families and it always feels like a tremendous privilege to be trusted with their first (second, third … currently, sixth) -born. And when you think about it, we’re all entrusted with so much wherever we are. We have been put there to, figuratively and sometimes quite literally, keep someone’s head above water.
Boss, salesman, household manager, mom, counselor, unemployed father, student, wife, saleslady of fancy cupcakes. Whatever our role, we have been placed there divinely to carry out a very specific purpose. To love, to hold, to listen, to cry with, to hope for. And the funny thing is that this is true even when we find ourselves in a job that isn’t ultimately what we want to be doing. Maybe it’s temporary. Maybe it’s all you could find. Maybe it was what you thought you wanted, but you’ve come to realize that the opposite is true. Or maybe it’s where you are and where you’ve been for decades, whether you’ve liked those years or not.
Regardless, you are equally important in your role. It’s no mistake you’re there and I’m quite confident that someone is touched by your presence.
As the season of giving approaches (er, I suppose it’s here!) I pray that you feel the power you have to touch those around you. I’m sure it sounds incredibly cheesy coming from me, and I cringe a bit as I type this, but it’s true. I believe it. And I know that too often I forget the power I have to really make a splish and a splash in the lives’ around me because of the God who splishes and splashes incessantly in my heart. As I look at these pictures of Camden and think of the power I have to shape and influence this little person, I’m reminded that the same is true for the older and wrinklier warm-blooded bodies around me.
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I witnessed and felt the first gentle caress of New York snow flurries this evening as I left the Brooklyn Museum of Art. It was magical, as most snowfall tends to be to us veteran Southerners who aren’t so sure what to do with it. It’s going to be a wonderful Christmas this year.
A good friend of mine shared her thoughts on this Christmas season:
…The Christmas season has taken over in my heart. It’s as if I feel it more this year than ever before. And I love it. I’m reveling in its joyousness and relishing its goodness. Christmas songs are no longer my adversary, but unabashedly welcome in my car and apartment. “Accompany me!,” I say. It’s a lovely feeling, really. It’s like for so long Christmas, the holidays, had been such a dreaded aspect of the calendar. But slowly, I see how God has peeled away those layers of hurt; exposing a woman (and child)- a girl- who very much loves Christmas: all that it stands for, its significance, unifying spirit, peace. its magic. It really is a wonderful place to be; enjoying God. Enjoying Christ and learning what that really means.”
Peace to you, friends… from a bathtub, a museum, an email, and my desk, which has been overrun by an army of snotty tissues.
Goodbye for now. I love you, through and through.
Bubble boy – bubble + opposite of boy =
Girl.
A sick girl who needs a bubble so as to not infect everyone around her, especially young everyones.
Since I moved to New York, I’ve been looking forward to going home for Thanksgiving. I love Thanksgiving. It’s so much better than Christmas and I’m not even really sure why. I love the food. I love the crunching leaves outside. I love that it’s often the first time the fireplace is used for the season. I love that over-zealous neighbors begin mounting Christmas lights on rooftops. And that you can take walks on the crunching leaves while smelling first fireplace fires and watching said over-zealous neighbors with their lights.
This is all assuming you’re healthy enough to eat the wonderful Thanksgiving turkey and trimmings. Healthy enough to walk outside for fresh (chimney-filled) air. Healthy enough to have the desire to watch crazy neighbors tackle ridiculous holiday projects.
But what happens if you’re deathly ill during the days of your favorite holiday? What happens if you happen to catch SWINE FLU OF ALL THINGS in the airport ON THE WAY to visit family? What happens if you are struck down to die 48 hours after exposure to said pig virus, which also happens to be the very beginning of Thanksgiving vacation?
You sleep and drink Gatorade (although not this kind, as of this week. Eesh.) and stay holed up in your room. You don’t touch your precious niece that you’ve been waiting to squeeze for months on end. Zzzzzz. You don’t eat all the turkey and trimmings, though you try and find the taste buds just aren’t working properly. Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. You whine and ask for back rubs and water and…
My family was wonderful to me, despite the sickness. I’m convinced my sweet 9 month old niece thinks I have some great aversion to touching her, as the whole time I just ooohed and awwwed ten feet away from her. She’ll talk to her friends about having one normal aunt and the other one. You know, the one with-personal-space-issues-who-looked-like-death-at-Thanksgiving.
This first time Aunt thing is already going well.
I’m hoping redemption will come at Christmas. Lots of eating. Much bear hugging and baby squeezing. Many friends. No girls in bubbles keeping illness in and people out.
Camden (my niece) is the cutest thing to ever walk (well, not quite yet, but soon!) the earth. So much cute wrapped up into such a little nugget. Her whole world is so small and yet her ability to make my family smile goes unmatched. She makes each of us melt at the sight of her smiles and giggles. It hit that, as a family, we’ve entered a new chapter as we all take on new roles with this new little person in our territory. It’s funky and fresh and I can’t wait for Christmas at the Rollins house.
For all of you who’ve experienced swine flu, I feel for you. For the others, avoid airports. If you’re planning to fly home for Christmas, I think the safest option is walking. Let’s see, it’s December 3rd. You’ve got 22 days. Better put those comfy tenny’s on now, and go…
I haven’t quite recovered, but am trying. I had a fashion shoot at the studio with Mary Ellen on Monday for this woman, and entertained Michael Richards at the studio on Tuesday. It was the first time I’d seen him since Oaxaca and we enjoyed catching up on life/photography since 2008. He continues to put the Kramer in eccentric, but was very kind and at ease with us in MEM’s studio.
It’s a small small world we live in.
Goodswine for now. I love you.
A boy and his dog
A politician lives behind us. He’s apparently well-known in NY, but completely unknown by his curious female neighbor. I’m just as curious about the old man who occupies the small, tidy apartment to his left and loves to feed squirrels. He’s feeding squirrels when I wake up. Feeding squirrels when the sun is burning the very top of my head midday. Feeding squirrels when I look at my comfortable bed at 3 and fight everything in me not to lay down for just a sec. Feeding squirrels when I’m feeding myself as the sun inches quietly below the soil.
I’ve never seen a man so contented by feeding squirrels. It makes me wonder if he has anyone else, and I sure hope the answer is yes. Some days, I love that he’s feeding the squirrels. Other days, I find it terribly sad because I go down the lonely rabbit trail of questions, wondering who he has to love him in return. And is he as kind to individuals as he is to the animals? Is he an enjoyable person outside of the 6 X 12 ft. window?
Sardines in one shared Manhattcan. That’s what we are here.
Does he have anyone else?
Who’s she talking to on the phone that makes her laugh that hard in bed? A sister? Brother? Lover?
A dinner party. Does he even like those people? Is he waiting for them to leave so he can be alone?
Why that painting on the wall? It’s fabulous. So perfect with his colors.
And so on.
There’s the squirrel feeder. And the housecleaner who lives on the top floor. And the important politician. And white-sheets-early-bedtime lady. And phone woman. I’ve never seen someone laugh so hard on the phone. She talks at the same time each night and I’m convinced it’s a lover in a far away land who commits to calling at the same time each evening.
And so on.
Home. A place where people return to unwind and turn off. Instantly, in that space, it doesn’t matter who each person is or isn’t in society. They are all the same when viewed through a window.
The politician, to me, is a boy with his dog.
Wag
wag wag wag
wagwagwagwagwagwagwagwagwagwagwag. Important politician Boy is home. It’s the only time of day Old Yeller gets this excited. Boy puts his things upstairs in his room. Boy return to the living room to work on his blackberry sit with his dog at his feet. Dog licks boy’s toes. Boy pets dog. Dog rests his head upon boy’s lap. Boy lets him. And they sit, night after night, alone together.
Goodbye for now. I love view.
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SoHo, NY.
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Alki Beach, Seattle, WA.
