My Aunt Krissie actually lived with us when I was growing up. Even though she is my mom’s sister, she is 17 years younger than Bobbie and only 8 years older than me, so really, she’s more like my big sister than my Auntie.

Krissie and her husband live in a home with tons of west facing windows, the light pours in and I was just having a ball. I was also in a really big B&W mood, and since this was all experimentation, I had a blast.

Krissie’s son Mikey has a train set.  Before we went to Krissie’s home last year, Thomas the Tank Engine has not moved into our home and parked himself in the guest room.  I blame Krissie entirely for my son’s preoccupation with trains.  This really does mark a turning point in his life.  He went from keys and empty milk cartons, to a very real preoccupation to items that had 4 wheels on them.  But Zen looks up to his older cousin Mikey, and Mikey had trains, therefore, trains must be amazing!!!

Zen and Mikey in the bath.  I was supposed to be supervising, but i felt like getting action shots instead, so I will admit now that I absolutely encouraged the two little boys to splash around as much as possible.  I did not admit this at the time the pictures were taken.  Because i am a coward.

My grandma, my mom’s mom.  She turned 80 two days ago, and is the kindest, most loving and generous person in the world.  She has tons of great-grandchildren, but when Zen was born she made a special trip to come and meet him, and that meant so much to me that she would do that.

Grandpa, at the kitchen table explaining his views on why gays and lesbians should not be granted marriage licenses.

Krissie’s husband Mike, listens respectfully, and then tells Grandpa why he thinks its wrong to deny homosexuals the right to marry.  My family has people from every side of the political spectrum, but no matter what the discussion is, everyone is loving and the conversation never degenerates into a shouting match or name-calling.

Zen is the only one who resorted to yelling, but i think it had more to do with the fact he was out of juice than it did his views on gay marriage.

So, a sad thing happened at the graduation.  Zen fell down, and bit his lip pretty severely.  He was not himself for the rest of the day and pretty much zoned out, kept pretty still, and his arms to the sides.  No jumping, no bouncing, no happy dance.  Just… there.

The next morning he was feeling better, and I took this, my favorite image of the entire trip!  The composition of him in the swing was actually quite difficult for me to catch perfectly, but after 20 shots I got it!  That is actually going to go huge on our wall, even with his bloody lip.

This is Krissie!  Amazing auntie and one of the coolest people on the planet.  [She gets all her coolness from my mom.  At least that's what my mom says.]

Grandma and Grandpa with Krissie’s other son Ryan.

Oh that’s adorable!  Remember when Zen wasn’t big enough to get out of the Pop-Up crib?  And he had to stay in it until we decided we wanted to get him out?  Ah, good times…

OK, this is really sad, my cousin Lance has 2 beautiful daughters, and every time i see them I love taking their picture, but right now I cannot remember their names.  I am a terrible cousin.  Nyah and Shayla?  Anyway, they’ve got the gorgeous family genes.

Zen and Mikey sitting down to share some goldfish crackers and compare views on gay marriage.

Thank you for a wonderful weekend, and congratulations Krissie!!!

I mean, there are psychos out there who will see my beautiful son and try to take him!!! [I blame this on paranoid mommy brain]

But as he tried the potty today, it suddenly hit me how quickly he is growing up.  I sat down to write today’s blog post, the only pictures I want to share with you all are the ones of the person who has affected my life more than any other – my son. Tonight, I didn’t want to bring you someone else’s story.  I wanted to tell you mine.  I hope that’s OK, and that you enjoy your Moment of Zen.

This is Zen at 4 months.  I have a perfectly good reason for not taking pictures of him when he was smaller.  When he was first brought home, I was busy taking care of him and I simply forgot that I had a camera.  At about 6 weeks, he turned into a terrifying scaly reptilian monster.  [As I write this, I realize that one day he will read this and be sad, btu I am sorry son.  You looked repulsive.]  At 4 months, he got cute, and i got out my camera.  And no, I am not going to show you my reptile son.  I am going to save those for his wedding day.  And then he will understand how much I love him.

Standing at 4 months!!!  How awesome is that!

My baby at 5 months.  Lifts head and upper body.  Hangs onto shower rod and does chin ups.  No we didn’t take pictures of the chin-ups.  Plausible denial.

Zen at 6 months.  Happy.  Sometimes with really light creepy The Village eyes.  Always adorable.  But sometimes creepy.

Still can’t crawl.  But really cute trying to figure it out.

7 months.  His first pro shoot.  He masters it flawlessly.

Halloween.  I take him back for shots in his costume.  Everything is awesome until we take it off, to discover…

OMG!  He’s growing armpit hair!  Or maybe I just bought him a super cheap costume…

10, look at that!  He only had those 2 front bottom teeth!  He loved having his picture taken, except when we changed into the Santa suit.  He hated the Santa suit…

February 2009.  My son turns one.  And I realize that an entire year has gone by and I have not been as diligent a parent as I should have been when it comes to taking pictures.  So many memories and moments gone, and the worst part is that I have no idea what they are.  So I begin taking lifestyle portraits of him every single Sunday without fail.  If you wonder why he is always in pajamas or running around naked, that’s why.  Sunday morning is a time to relax and be together as a family.  Which means pajamas.  Or, if you’re only one, you can choose clothing optional Sunday.  These images grab me more than the first year did.  This is when my Zen developed a personality.  Looking at the baby pictures now, I feel slightly removed.  I don’t think it just happened, I know that those moments are in the past and I can scarcely remember them.  These new images however, I feel like they must have been shot a month ago, not last year.  In these pictures, I see glimpses of the man that my son is to become, this amazing little person.  I see a person, and I guess that’s the difference.  A baby is completely dependant on me for everything.  A person can decide if they want to eat or not.  If they like pickles and yogurt or not.  [For the record, that is what he likes to eat].  If he wants to go into another room, he just opens the door.  He walks.  He runs.  He feeds himself.  And little by little, I go from being the most important person in his life, to a comforter, a personal chef, and a diaper changer.  And today, he wanted to sit on the toilet.  These pictures were much for difficult to take, because he was almost always in motion.  And if he happened to stop in pretty light, you had to take the picture within 5 seconds, because then he’d be gone.

I never understood it, but Zen had a fetish for Phaedra’s food bowl.  I let him play with it this one time.

Remember when he used to just barely reach the handle?  And now we have to deadbolt all the doors just to keep him inside…

He loved crawling under the kitchen stools and just hanging out.

And of course, his favorite activity, turning off the television while we were watching it.

One month later.  The hair on the back of his head, the hair he was born with, starts into a beautiful curl.  I will cherish this curl, and wait far too long before having it cut.

He’s mad at something i did.  Or something I didn’t do.  Either way, this is his angry face.  I still see that on a daily basis.

BUBBLES!!!  We say it so often, it becomes his first word.  Bubbles!!!

Going up and down stairs becomes the latest craze.  OMG have you heard of this amazing thing called stairs??!!  Zen spends about an hour each day crawling up the stairs, throwing toys down the stairs, and then sliding down on his butt to retrieve them.  It never seemed scary to me until I got down to his viewpoint.  Then, stairs look like a deathtrap.

The dog door is his second favorite toy in the world.  His first of course, being the Stairs.  Again, in and out of the dog door, depositing toys through the flap, and then retrieving them.

Naked is always awesome.

Sometimes cleaning him three times a day was just too much.  So I let him collect dirt and chocolate pudding, and just hose him off at night before bed.  It saves a lot of time.

New favorite activity, better than stairs.  Throwing food on the floor to the waiting dogs below.  Awesome.

Officially too big for that walking around contraption.  When you can get in and out by yourself, it’s time to move on to bigger and better things.

Again with the TV, but he’s evolved from just pushing the button.  He can now operate remote controls, and delights in stealing daddy’s Xbox controllers.  I cannot believe how much he has grown and learned since this time!!!  Each one of these wide-mouth smiles is accompanied by a loud shriek or squeal of laughter.  That hasn’t changed.

He spends a lot of time squating and just hanging out.  I try joining him one time.  I last about 2 minutes before I fall over.  He looks at me, puzzled, and continues squatting for another 10 minutes.

Favorite new toy, the big red panic button on Mommy’s keychain.  He likes pushing it, but doesn’t understand why the car gets so mad afterwards!  I can’t look at this without thinking oh my goodness, look how short he is compared to the handle on the door!

Wow.  Thank you Zen, for an amazing first year!  FYI, these 130 images were my favorite, culled from about 10,000 we shot.  Thank you for letting me share this little person’s life with you, he means the world to me.  I learn more about myself each day because of him.  And after experimenting on him for 2 years, I am a much better photographer because of it.  I resisted posting my kid pictures on my work blog for so long not just because I thought he was adorable and some psycho might want to take him and raise him as their own son, but also because I worried that it might be considered unprofessional.  But this is who I am.  I am a mommy, a wife, and a photographer.  And having him in my world has given me a new perspective on what I do for a living.

I document people’s lives.  I tell their stories, and I capture forgotten moments that end up being the most important.  I preserve history.  I do consider myself more of a historian than anything else.  Are your great-grandchildren going to understand how in love your felt on your wedding day!  Are they going to know that your husband was your BFF?  Will they have that as an example to live their lives by?  100 years from now, I want people to know that I believed my son was amazing, and that he loved trouble, and that I loved him.  I want them to look at your wedding pictures and see the same little stories.  That your mother-in-law was loving, that your maid of honor turned out to be a complete cow, that your uncle should not have been allowed to have access to the microphone, that you were embarking on a new adventure and beginning a family tree of your own.  Because you wanted to share your life with little people someday.  Little people who hit the panic button on your keys and then thrown them in the toilet to stop the honking.  Amazing.  I love my life, I love my job, and I love my son and my BFF husband.  Even when they throw my keys in toilets.

More tomorrow…    Love, Pepper

Other family members who were very happy I had written what I did, happy to know they weren’t alone in their own strange grief process.  And other emails, not so happy with me, questioning why I had written what I had and done so in such a public way.  My dad was one of those people.  I love my dad very much, and I would hate to cause him any sort of pain, and I offered to take down the post.  He said that was not necessary, but he would like to write his own farewell to his mom, and he would like me to post that as well.  So for those of you who are interested, grab some tissues, here is my daddy’s farewell to his mom.  I found it to be touching, very sad, and very revealing of the incredible man that my father is, and the woman who helped shape his formative years.

To:                    Mom

From:               Mike  [AKA Ken]

Subject:            Good Bye from Your Son

Dear Mom,

I know I probably should have had this conversation with you earlier and well now it is a bit late.  To be honest, this chat is more for me and those I love.    I don’t know if you knew I was with you during your final days here on this earth – then again – that probably doesn’t matter either.  I was there and I was thinking about you, your life and our life together.  I was appreciative that your final days could be in peace with those that I know you loved.  You had to love us because only a mother could.  Because of my faith, I know you are in a far better place today.  I wish you could tell me what you see, not so much for my benefit as I do have a firm belief in Christ but for those I love.

Lap 1 (up to 1945).

Life is a 4 lap race – as a former distance runner and miler owning the family record of 4:38  – you just have to trust me on that.   Like must races, you start out a bit on the slower side and gain speed (and wisdom) until the end.  I was not around for your 1st lap but would guess it was pretty much normal.  It all stared for you in Akron, Ohio.  Grandpa was working for International Harvester in Springfield Ohio.  Did you know that I worked at the Springfield plant during the summer of 1969?   I am guessing about the time you turned 9 things got a bit interesting with that thing about the “Great Depression”.   I wonder how that impacted someone so young.   I look at my life today with a 3,000 sq. ft. home for Terri and I, 3 cars and a motorcycle in the garage, 3 bedroom and 4 bathrooms and 5 color TVs.   I can only guess things were a bit different as you grew up in the 1930s.  I know that your dad worked at International Harvester in Fort Wayne and that you met Dad at a bookkeeping class your senior year in high school.  It must have been fun to double date with your best friend Joanne as you dated best friends, Joe Jehl and Ken Nix.   I can only imagine what dad was like during those years.   His dad died in 1935 at the height of the Depression with 9 younger brothers and sisters.  I don’t know what “dirt poor” was during that time but got to believe they were close.  Got to wonder what kind of dates you guys went on.   It was hard to believe that you waited until dad was out of WWII in April of 1945 to marry but guess you both were far too practical.   I guess you want to make sure that I had a dad to help raise me.  Smart thinking.   I could not have made it where I am today without you and dad both in my life.

2nd Lap (1945 – 1975)

The 2nd lap is where I came in with my brothers and sister.   1948 was not such a great year except for me, Stan (The Man) and the guy who invented the TV.   I don’t recall much from those early years.  I do remember living in North Carolina, visiting DC and having dad chase a bat around the house on 15th street with his tennis racquet.  With grandma and grandpa Reilman living next door, it was nice to visit as they had the TV and I could watch my favorite show, “Howdy Doudy Time”.   Life moved on to Davenport Ave where Jim and Dave joined the clan.   My only family memories turn to what seemed to be endless camping, camping and more camping.  How could a guy have asked for anything more?   3 to 4 times a summer we went camping.   We had our single wheel Hi-Lite camper and camped all over the US.  1958 took us to see a Braves game in Milwaukee.   That was the time that dad got his car keep stuck in the tail gate of the Ford Station Wagon.  Clearly the 1960 trip to Seattle was the summer vacation “highlite” with the McGuires – a bit overly planned – but very memorable.  It seemed that Colorado was our second home and I must attribute those summer trips West to my love for the mountains and my desire to end my time here on earth in the West.

I did not know it at the time, but later realized that you were not a good cook.  I always wondered why I loved hot dogs at the golf course only to realize years later that it was they way the buns were cooked.  Sorry to say but your meat loaf and boiled hot dogs with oven baked buns will be a life long memory.  Having said that, my fondest daily memories were our evening meals – every evening – never failing – you did cook and put a dinner on the table for our family.   I can only guess it was a thing of the 50s – but every evening we had a hot meal on the table and as a family – we all had dinner.  Dinner discussions were limited to – whatever – but we did enjoy the time – sorry to say – not the food, but -we didn’t starve and no one died.

Unfortunately, I don’t have any personal warm fuzzy memories from that lap of the race.  I can only guess that was because I was a guy and hung out with dad.  My most caring memory of that time was the night Dennis Potter died on my motorcycle.    You later visited Dennis Potter’s mother after the funeral and recall that you were thrown out of their home.  I don’t’ believe that I could have made that visit.  I never thanked you.

This lap ended with college and my time in the army.  There was nothing memorable about either.  Again, I never said thanks for you and dad sending me $5 a week spending money – it was surely not much – but it was all I had.  Christmas 1973 in Salt Lake City was special to me.  You met Bobbie for the 1st time.   It was nice to have the whole family together visiting my home – and watching the Irish play Alabama.  Sports!   During that 10 years after high school graduation and when I got married, this part of my life was mostly only about me.  I did not call home much and surely didn’t visit at all – I was on my own and living for myself and truly didn’t think much about family.   I was making my mark and quite frankly did not need any help from anyone – thank you!   You and dad had family responsibilities putting Jim and Dave through college and I was enjoying the West and my freedom from Iowa.   If you had tried to reach me – I can pretty much assure you that I would not have been listening much during those 10 years.  I was free in the West and in need of nothing.

Lap 3 (1975 – 1996)

The 3^rd of this race is by far the most difficult.   Being a “miler”, this was the lap I hated.   It was so difficult to stay focused.  This was the endurance part of the race – and we all endured.  This lap was about my family, Bobbie, Pepper and Roderick.

I never intended to leave our family Church, but during services one Sunday at the U of U Newman Center in 1973, the priest told us all that if we didn’t fully believe everything about the faith, we should not be there.   Unfortunately, I took him a bit literally never returned.     Sometime shortly after that I met Miss Bobbie.  When it looked like we were thinking about marriage, we began talking about religion.  I tried to tell her how I was raised and my faith.  You and dad were such strong Christians.   You and dad were such wonderful examples of Christian living and had taught me very well.   I was a Christian and would never deny my faith in the Lord Jesus Christ.   I joined the other Church and I have been trying to tell you why for the past 30 years.   I will stop trying for now – but will not give up the battle.

During this lap I have to say that I was pretty much “zoned out” of life in general.  I never read a book on how to be a father, but I was determined to do one thing and that was to constantly tell my wife and my children how much I love them.  You may have told me growing up, I just can’t recall it – as we all know – listening was never my strong suit.    I don’t know if I ever told you but I never even asked Miss Bobbie to be my wife if you can imagine that.   Unfortunately this “church” thing pretty much dominated that lap of the race for you, dad and me.  I felt sad that you and dad did not get to know my children better.  They are really wonderful people and have grown to be very strong adults, each in their own way.    I don’t think that you and dad ever got over me leaving the faith , even though I believed I raising up my children in the way the Lord and the manner you would have wanted.  Unfortunately, and guessing totally due to religion, most all highlights on this lap were kind of “low lights” regarding our relationship.  We both still had a lot of growing and learning to do in life.

My wedding was the lowest time and something I never got over.  I can you guess you didn’t get over it either.   It was very difficult that with very few exceptions, none of my aunts and uncles were allowed to acknowledge our wedding.  Father Tom would not marry us and you and dad would not allow my brother Jim to be my best man.  That was a very hurtful time in my life and wish we could have talked it out.  We never did.  You did attend the wedding in Idaho but it was far from the memorable time it should have been.

Pepper and Roderick were born and Bobbie and I went along on our lives.  During that time, you had moved to Colorado and built your dream home in the Rockies.  It was absolutely wonderful to have visited there with the kids.  The highest point of this lap was building the house in River Bluff.  Dad stayed the summer of 1986 and helped build the home.  I wish you could have joined us.  Bobbie’s parents moved to Minnesota from Burley and ended up staying 6 years as they had Scott’s family and Bobbie’s family living there.  We spent that summer building our dream home working  with dad and Jim Fenton.   It was family and it was wonderful.  I don’t know why you didn’t come up for the summer and wish I had bothered ask why.  I didn’t.   It was during that  time that I grew to appreciate and grow to love Bobbie’s parents.  It was not that we talked all that much – but we did play and laugh a lot.  Maybe that’s what you and I didn’t do much of together – laugh.

The best laugh we did have although I don’t recall you laughing was something in the early 1980s and we were visiting Davenport.  I don’t know whose house we were staying at and guess it really doesn’t matter.   Bobbie and I were staying in the basement.  One morning, guessing the time was maybe about 9AM, Bobbie and I were making love.  You came walking into the basement to do some laundry.  You looked over, guessing you were only 15 ft. away with a very puzzled look.  I can only guess why you were puzzled.  You finished your work and returned upstairs – maybe staying only about 1 minute.   We never talked about that either – but we all laugh about it today.

For Thanksgiving, 1993, our family traveled to spend the holiday with my family to in Edina.  Mary Anne’s family was there, Jim’s family was there as were you and dad.  That was the trip you fell into our unprotected stair well, put 2 holes in the wall, broke a 2×4 stud, fell 6 steps  down, and only bruised yourself.  You should have died then and there.  But the worst thing imaginable happed during that visit.  During a raging snow storm on Sunday afternoon, dad, clearly angered and very impatient from not being able to travel, said “I can’t believe I have to waste my time in Minneapolis waiting for the snow to quit” – asking me if I thought it was OK to leave – I said – yes.

In 1995, Pepper graduated from high school.  You and dad traveled to Edina for the graduation, arriving at 3 PM, going to the graduation at 7, having dinner with us at Taco Bell at 9:30 and leaving for Davenport at 10PM.   I will never understand that trip and would have really appreciated an explanation why it was some important to leave.   Dad said he had to get back to oversee the basement renovation…

Bobbie and I separated in 1996 and were divorced in 1998.  Until that time, I don’t believe that you truly could understand and feel my pain.  You began to.  I remember talking to you about Darci.  It was probably the 1^st caring conversation that we ever had and it felt wonderful.

Then cane the family reunion at the Dells, the summer of 2000.   I was trying to get back together with Bobbie, I actually proposed this time and she actually accepted this time.   Things were looking up to get my family back together.   Roderick and Pepper were with us and it was to be a very happy time.   You hired a photographer to take a family picture and when Bobbie got into the picture, you asked her to leave as she was not “family”.  Things went downhill from there, a lot of tears and very hurt feelings that never healed.   We did award Roderick with his Eagle Scout that day and we all hugged, but the feelings were not forgotten.  You were able to reconcile with Bobbie in the years since and I have forgiven you, but those scars will forever be felt by Pepper and Roderick.   Today, I look at that family picture and it brings me great sadness for them.

In the last 8 years, you began to grow enormously.  I am guessing that was because you blessed with 3 more granddaughters.  You did not miss your opportunity to get to know them this time.   Unfortunately, the years had got away and you never really got to know either Pepper or Roderick but you were able to give those granddaughters a wonderful grandmother.   I was most proud of you as you and Bobbie were able to reconcile.   I can only assume you reconciled as she would tell me that she had talked to you on a number of occasions with very positive comments.  I don’t know who made the 1^st effort, but I would like to think it was you trying to say “I was wrong and I am sorry”.   You last saw Bobbie at Pepper’s wedding in 2002.  It was so nice the family together.  I believe you were making up for past sins.  Thank you for making that effort.   It meant so much to me.    Although you didn’t know it, it was during that visit that Bobbie and I went our separate ways.   I met and married Terri in 2003 and purposefully made sure I did not introduce you until after I was married.   You talked to her the day I married her and since that time, both you and Dad made a very strong effort to accept her as family.  Thank you so much for that effort.   She and I love each other very much and we both appreciated your sincere efforts.   I cannot recall one phone call with either you or dad that you both did not say either “Tell Terri we love her, Give Terri a hug for us or Give your wife our love”.

That was very important and appreciated.  I never thanked you.

Once you and Dad got into your 80s, you really lost your energy.   I wanted to talk to you a number of times, but I was unable to start the conversation.   I was angry at both you and dad but I was unable to verbalize my feelings.   By the time I was able to start the conversation, you both lost the ability to defend your actions.   I decided that my time for being angry was passed and I forgave you both.  We never had the discussion.   I wish I was able to clear up my feeling with you both.   That is my loss.

I don’t know how you were as a wife, but to make it 64 years with Dad, you had to have something going for you.

Looking back, and talking to Mary Anne at your funeral, we both commented how pretty you were.   I know that I was always proud of the manner that you kept yourself and always thought that I had the prettiest mom around.   I did.

You could never cook and unfortunately, the microwave, frozen foods, fast foods and the George Foreman were a generation away.  You had to actually “cook” in those years.   The quality was lacking and you never made it to “Grandmother” status, but looking back, we did eat, we always has a meal on the table at 5:30 PM and we could always count on you to be there.   Thank you.

We never had a warm relationship and I don’t know why.   I don’t believe I have a particularly good relationship with my brothers and sister either.  I can only guess that I was not raised to be a very warm and fuzzy person.  Then I look back knowing I was raised to love the Lord.  I look back and see that I was raised to want to raise and love a family and I was raised to make a promise to myself that I would smile at them and make sure my children knew I loved them.    I was raised to want to do better for my family.  I was raised to want to work hard.    As the Marines put it – I wanted to be all that I could be – and I think I actually did it.  I have also been raised to what to be a better and more involved grandfather myself – and I will be that person.

As I say goodbye, I have to say that a mother’s job is never done and that her work with her family can only be measured by what has been left behind.  I look at your children and that all have College degrees and have all been very successful.  They all have wonderful children and families that love each other.  As we say goodbye to you mom, we must thank you and dad for what you did give us and that is life and love, regardless how you showed it.   The last 2 visits I made to Davenport where my most memorable.  For me, I finally felt that I was able to talk to you about your life, yours, dads and mine.   I will cherish those last 2 visits, 2 months before you died.   Maybe I was able to make “peace” with you after all.  Thank you for trying, thank you for staying there with me in my early months of life as I fought Chicken Pox, thanks for not giving up on me when they wanted to hold me back in 6^th grade, thanks for the summer tutor, thanks for taking us to play golf all those summers,  thanks for staying with me in my challenging hours after Dennis Potter’s death, thanks for the $5 dollars a week allowance during college – it wasn’t much but it was truly all I had,  thanks for trying to be grandparents – no one is perfect and it is something you must do better in your next life – please keep an eye on Pepper, Roderick, Mitch and Zen and I will do the same.

Good bye Mom, I really do love you.   / Mike

Thank you for writing that dad.  Here are a few pictures of my Grandma.

This picture was a favorite at the funeral.  Everyone kept saying how wonderful it was.  Grandma, you fought me for 10 minutes, refusing to smile, refusing to put her purse down, and the reason you are laughing is because I finally said I wasn’t going to let you leave without getting one good picture of you both looking at me and smiling and that you both were being more petulant then my baby and it looked like rain and wouldnt it be great if we stood out there arguing long enough that we both got rained on, and that that would be your obituary picture, standing there being stubborn and looking like 2 drowned rats.  And you laughed.

The uncropped original, you’re still holding your purse and refusing to hold Grandpa’s hand!!!

This is you laughing when you think of my putting a drowned rat picture in the paper.  I’m glad I made you laugh.

My Grandparents with my son, their first Great-Grandchild.  My son carries the middle name Michael, just like his uncle, his grandfather, his great-grandfather, and his great-great grandfather.

I don’t know if it’s as weird as bringing a camera to a funeral, but i am a photographer, and it helps me to remember, so I brought it.

The funeral was a couple days ago, but it’s taken me since then to try to piece together how I feel about it and how I want to frame my public eulogy for this woman.  I still don’t know how to do it.

This is my brother Roderick.  He and I are the only siblings, and so we’re pretty close.  He was a pallbearer, but they didn’t actually carry the casket anywhere, it stayed on a little casket cart and he was one of 6 men who helped kinda steer it.  He’s a good man.  He broke down on the way out of the funeral home.  I asked him if it was for Grandma, and he said no.  He just couldn’t stop thinking about how in 30 years we’ll have to do this for our dad.  He and I both sobbed at the thought of that.  We love our daddy.

These funeral guys really knew what they were doing.  Honestly, it felt a lot like a wedding with all of the preparations they were doing and then just getting to the church, they have flags they put on our cars and other funeral cars that went on ahead with police lights, only the lights were purple, blocking off traffic so we could make our turns.  If the whole thing hadn’t been so solumn, it probably would’ve been pretty cool.  It was a sad, purple motorcade.

I didn’t take any pictures for a while.  Zen was fussing and even though it is my job to take pictures in a church, it still felt really weird.

So here is why I am upset with my grandma.  My dad was raised a certain brand of Christianity.  At age 28, he found a different brand of Christianity that spoke to his heart, and he swapped.  When Helen [my grandma] hear he was joining a different faith, she went to bed for a month.  Literally.  I think to mourn the spiritual death of her son or something, I don’t know.  My dad fell in love with my mom, and my grandparents refused to attend.  My parents asked grandma’s brother to marry them.  This request was refused.  In the end, they came to the wedding, but it was like 4 days beforehand that they agreed to come.  It was tense.

My dad’s parents would come to visit us once every 2 years.  They lived 6 hours away by car, but came only every 2 years.  They never stayed longer than 2 days.  It became a game with my brother and I to see who could be more obnoxious about trying to get them to stay longer.  Not because we wanted them to, because they weren’t fun people, but just to see how many ridiculous excuses they could possibly come up with.  I mean, they were retired, and old, and had nothing going on, but were always in a large hurry to get back to Iowa and leave us as quickly as they came.

Religion was always a factor in our relationship.  Whether it was being told by my cousins that my dadd was going to hell, or being forced to put money in a collection plate when we went to visit, or even being told as a college student that I needed to keep searching for the Truth, because I didn’t have it yet, it was always there.  Always.  Just lurking.  I was different from my cousins and not as good.  My dad was different from his siblings and not as good.  And my mother, well, she just wasn’t good.

This went on my entire adult life.  When I was 20, my parents divorced.  That is a pain that will remain forever, and it truly shattered the world as I knew it.  But this story is not about that.  2 years after my parents divorce is finalized, they start a reconciliation process.  They began dating each other, and going to counseling, and my brother and I begin [prematurely to be sure] to make wedding plans.  He’s going to be the Best Man and I get to be the Maid of Honor, and we start to plan this amazing party and how cool its going to be.  What will we wear, who would marry our parents, and DUDE! we better get some jewelry out of this too, maybe we all get rings, Roderick has already decided he wants my dad’s 10th anniversary ring with the emeralds in it.  This will be fun.

That summer, the summer of 2000, there is a Nix family reunion, and things are going so well with my mom that we all decide we need to bring her along.  I mean, it shouldn’t be weird, because we haven’t seen them anyway since my parents split up.  My grandma hires a photographer to take a family picture.  [Not trusting me, the photographer, do be able to do it with a tripod - and I really could've used the $300 they paid the other guy]  As we all gather for the family picture and are being lined up by the photographer, my grandma takes my mom aside for a moment.  She tells my mom that because she divorced my dad, she has lost the privilege to be in the family picture.  My mom very quickly leaves the lake, telling me that she forgot soemthing and would be right back.  She was trying not to make a scene in front of everyone.  the photographer takes the picture [which is horrible BTW, off center and me on the end with a wide-angle lens, truly a terrible picture] and then my family runs up to the cabin to see why my mom left.

We found her huddled in a ball, sobbing her eyes out.  When we find out why, my brother and I start crying too.  It’s just too mean.  My grandma shows up and instead of seeing the pain that she caused everyone, points out that she is justified.  When my dad yells at her that he gets to define his own family, and that if his ex-wife is his family that should be good enough for them.  That, if nothing else, as the mother of their grandchildren, my mom deserves some respect.  And that as much as they say they care about family, here he is trying to get back together with my mom, and my grandparents are doing everything they can to prevent it.  That’s when my grandfather says: “She was only ever after your money!” which is just bizarre to everyone, because we’ve all heard stories about how broke our parents were when they got married.  And, it just went on from there.

My parents did not get back together.  My dad met someone new, someone we love, and when he married her, he vowed never to subject her to the same cruel treatment at my grandparents hands.  That my grandparents got to meet Terry at all is a miracle.

I adore Terry, and i think she is an excellent match for my dad.  but as I stood in the funeral home, looking into my grandma’s face for the last time, I couldn’t help but think how differently things could have played out in my life had she been nice at all.  Had she followed at all in the footsteps of the one she claims she worships.  Becuse I gotta say, if you have one of the WWJD questions at a family gathering, there is NO way you would ever be told that you have “lost the privilege” to be in a freaking picture.

Which also explains to my brides why I refuse their requests to leave certain people out of my coverage.  If there is someone at your wedding you don’t want to remember, then don’t put them in the wedding album.  But my photography is not going to be used to punish people.

Anyway, back to the matter at hand, Grandma’s funeral was strange.  A ritual of death that I’m pretty sure was designed to give comfort to those people still living.  But it did not.  In fact, I had one woman come up to me and tell my how much my Grandma loved me.  “Really?” I asked, genuinely surprised.  “Did she say that?”

“Oh, well she talked about you all the time, and how she went to Paris to visit you and your newborn sister TWICE!”  Sorry lady, that wasn’t me.  That would be Jim’s family.  “Oh!  That’s right, you must be the other family, living in Oakland!  Oh your grandma told me all about you guys!  She loved visiting you in Oakland so much!”  Sorry lady.  That is Dave’s family.  She looked very confused now, as she asked me who I was.

“I’m Pepper.  I’m Ken’s daughter the photographer.”  Oh, the photographer!  Your pictures of your grandma are just lovely!  Me.  The eldest of the 9 grandchildren, and mother of a great-grandson.  Not a mention from my grandma.  I know, because I asked.  Did she ever mention me?  “Well, uh, I know she had a great-grandson she was fond of!”  Thanks lady….

This felt hollow, like the icing on the cake, but a really bad cake.  I didn’t understand her or know her in life, and I felt the same way in death.  I listened carefully to the words being spoken about her and they seemed mostly generic platitudes, good woman, fruitful life, loved to sew, loved church, but I heard no stories, I learned nothing new, and I really thought I would.  I really thought I would go to this and it would be this learning experience for me.  I could go and mourn the woman that I hadn’t gotten to know in life, but i could know her in death.

Not so.  And when sitting with the cousins afterwards, the ones she had loved the best and spent her time with, they didn’t have any stories to share, so i was left talking about her abysmal cooking and refusing the wear the tight black dress my grandfather brought back for her from the Korean War.  I’m assuming it was a tight dress, I just know she refused to wear it and it was black, it could’ve been anything, maybe something naughty.  She was a very proper woman, and when he was in college my dad delighted in calling her drunk at 3am on her birthday.  Frankly, I don’t know how my daddy, such a jokester and a fun guy, is even related to his parents.  I asked my dad for some stories.  All of his stories involved him doing something dumb or crazy and getting into trouble for it.  Like the time he decided to light a cherry bomb from the kitchen stove, and he opened the front door wide so he could easily chuck it out.  He lit it, and threw it as hard as he could out the front door…

… where it bounced on the screen door and right back into the living, exploding and making a fine mess.  But those aren’t the stories I was looking for.  And I know he felt very sad that he didn’t have any either.  The only thing he could recall was that when they went camping as a family, she was always there, so he took comfort in the fact that she loved spending time with them outdoors.  but since that one line was redacted from the final obituary, I’m guessing that either she really hated the outdoors or maybe just hated camping with the family.  I know my dad was sad that the one thing he felt he knew about her, the one memory he could hold on to, was edited out of the final version without telling him.  He got the paper to read it and save it, and his one line, his one contribution, was taken out.  That’s just sad.

Here we are at the cemetary.  It was quick, and unemotional for the most part.  Lots of prayers that I just didn’t know, so I just sat, somewhat confused.

This is my Grandma’s casket.  This guy is her brother Tom, the one that refused to marry my parents since my dad left his church.  This is the inclement weather shack where they have graveside services not graveside.  It smells like the inside of a log cabin made from cheap wood.  It is very cold inside, and the service is short, a few prayers and we’re done.

I love that my dad drove his Corvette to his mother’s funeral procession.  Have I mentioned how much i love my daddy?!

It was a long day, and Zen fell alseep in my dad’s arms during the final ceremony.  I think it is supposed to be graveside, but with all the rain and Grandpa’s poor health, that didn’t happen.

I don’t know what happened to Zen’s shoes.  I promise, he had them on earlier in the day.

My Dad is an amazing Grandpa!!!  I feel so grateful to know that he will be a positive force in my son’s life, that he will be there for him.  Cause i love my son too!  Not enough to make sure that he has shoes on in the rain, but enough… 

Everyone headed back to the church for food I guess, but I didn’t feel anything, I still felt pretty empty and I wanted to feel something.  Roderick and I circled back and stood for a little while in the rain staring at the headstone with our name on it.

So here we were, just standing in the rain by an empty gravesite looking at a blank headstone and trying to make some sense out of it all, and he looked so sad…

So I told him to look really sad, you know, for the blog, and it had the intended effect.  He started laughing and we walked back to the car together.  I think that’s my happiest moment of the funeral, making my brother laugh, and then putting our arms around each other as we walked back to the car in the rain.

After everyone had had their fill of funeral potatoes, someone suggested we go outside for a family picture.  This is supposed to be a recreation of another picture from like 40 years ago on the same church steps at someone else’s funeral.  It seems strange that everyone is smiling, considering we were just at a funeral an hour before inside that building, but in talking with the cousins, I’m guessing they felt the same way that I do.  Empty inside, not knowing how to feel, since I guess none of us knew Grandma very well.

A 4-generation shot.  My son, my dad, my grandpa, and my brother.

So here is my obit for my Grandma.

She was a lousy cook.  Really lousy.  She confided once to me that she didn’t know how to cook anything when she got married, and her first meal to Grandpa was so bad he spit it out, told her he was going out for a burger and that she was a wife now and she needed to learn how to cook!  The other army wives taught her a few basic recipes, and she was so proud that 50 years later, no one ever knew that she couldn’t cook.

Sorry grandma, but everyone knew.  And the one time we went to your place for Thanksgiving dinner, Dad whispered to us to eat what we could, shovel into our napkins what we couldn’t, smile and tell you how delicious it all was, and that we’d be going out for Taco Bell as soon as we left, which would be early.  And we did.  My dad told me how Friday was Hot Dog night, and that you boiled the hot dogs and toasted the buns.  I said “Broil?” and he said nope.  Boil.  You boiled hot dogs.  Every Friday night.

She loved to sew.  I think.  It was mentioned several times during her funeral, so I’ll put it here.  But I don’t recall you spending an awful lot of time doing it, but then again, we didn’t really see you a lot.

She was a judgmental woman who never showed me much affection.  I personally never heard her speak of hell, but she disapproved a lot.  This isn’t right, that’s not good.  She was afraid of heights, or at least was afraid of driving with me up a mountain.  She came to my high school graduation and my wedding, she she hit the highlights, while completely missing everything in between.  I briefly considered finishing the two classes in my degree and graduating just to get her to come out to visit, but I decided the reward wasn’t worth the effort.  Plus I’d lose the ability to proudly proclaim at family gatherings that I am a college dropout.

The coolest part of the funeral was that all of the cousins who were 21 and older went out for a drink [except me, I stayed in the hotel with Zen] and I thought that was pretty awesome, that they all got to hang out for a little bit.  Even cooler yet, my Uncle Dave went with them and ended up buying.  My Uncle Dave is pretty awesome.

Grandma, I didn’t know you at all in this life, and to be honest, I have no clue what happens after we die, so I don’t know if we’ll get another shot, and I don’t know that I care.  But, thank you for giving life to my father, cause if you hadn’t, I wouldn’t be here.  I wish I could say something better, but I just didn’t know you at all.  I just wish you could’ve been happy with the granddaughter that you got. I wish we had been close.  i wish that I mourned your passing right now.  But I feel nothing, and I don’t know what to make of that.

As for me, I’ll be fine.  I’ve got another grandma, who frankly kicks ass, and if there was an Olympics of awesome grandmas she would win the gold.  And if she didn’t her grandkids would mug whoever did to get it for her.  I’ve got an awesome little family of my own, and some pretty spectacular parents.  Overall, I think I’m pretty good.  I’m sure you cared for me in whatever way you were capable of, but it was something i will never understand.  I wish you the best on the next leg of the trip, whatever that is.  Goodbye Grandma.

Pepper

]]> http://www.peppernix.com/journal/2009/10/25/funeral/feed/ 6 http://www.peppernix.com/journal/2009/10/21/blog-postponed-for-my-grandmas-funeral/ http://www.peppernix.com/journal/2009/10/21/blog-postponed-for-my-grandmas-funeral/#comments Wed, 21 Oct 2009 07:21:53 +0000 Pepper http://www.peppernix.com/journal/?p=9427 Hi guys.  I thought I would be writing about the fun I had in New York for Bridal Fashion Week or about all of the amazing weddings I’ve been able to photograph in the last few weeks, but I can’t right now.  I’m in Minneapolis [where I grew up] doing a horrible job of falling asleep.  I’m headed down to Davenport Iowa in a few hours to attend my Grandmother’s wake.

I don’t know what a wake is, I’ve never been to one before.  I have had the incredible fortune [or just an amazing gene pool] to be 32 years old and still have all 4 of my grandparents with me.  Or I did at least.

Grandma passed away.  My dad’s mom.  We started a special club when I was 8 called the 23 Club.  You could only be in it if your birthday was on the 23rd of the month.  Unfortunately, now I can’t remember what month hers was in.  November maybe?

I’m not sure how to feel.  Part of me says I should watch what I say on a public forum, in case my other Nix relatives follow my blog.  On the other hand, it feels very good to say what is on my mind.  I am angry with my grandma.  I feel a deep sadness and regret that she is gone, and that I feel like I never really got a chance to know her properly.  In the past 20 years, I believe I have spent less than a month with her.  Part of that is my fault, I don’t deny it.  At some point in my adult life, I could have said, Hey, I need to get to know my grandma better!  But I didn’t.  I was angry and hurt.  I am conflicted.  Do I out my grandmother publicly and say You were not the most loving and caring grandmother you could be!  Or accept that maybe she cared about me and showed affection as best she could, as best as she knew how.

I guess the question is this really.  Do I think my grandmother cared about me?  That is a yes.  Did she makes mistakes, or not even that, major missteps?  Yes, but we all do, me especially…  I just don’t know if these tears are for her or for me.

Anyway, the blog is postponed until I get back.  If you are trying to get a hold of me, I have my phone, but honestly, if it could wait until Friday that’d be great.  Email is much better this week.  If you have an emergency, I do have employees in the office taking care of your orders and albums, so please feel free to email.  Thank you for your patience.  If we have a meeting this week, someone will be calling you to reschedule.

Pep

MBIF Phaedra SC LCM NA CGC TDI - 1994-2009

Phaedra has been a constant in my life for the past 14 years.  The steadfast presence of her breathing is so deeply etched into my perception of the world that even now as I stare down at her still form I quite literally have to concentrate in order to dispel the impression that her chest is still heaving with rhythmic life.  Much as when returning from an extended period at sea one seems to feel dry land ungulate as the ocean for a time, it is as if my senses cannot make sense of a Phaedra that doesn’t breathe, and so they impose their will on the scene, trying in vain to see what they want to be.   Is this a hallucination of the mind or an illusion of the eye, I do not know.  I just know that it haunts me.  But perhaps it is rather a gift of the heart and it is meant to comfort.  I have decided – it is not a failure of my senses, but rather an expression of a higher reality – a metaphor made physical for how she will always remain in my memory – living and brilliant, and always by my side.

I have owned dozens of pets and I have loved them all by turns, but Phaedra was something very special and rare.  Anyone who spent any significant amount of time around her commented upon it.  Some spoke of her intelligence and attentiveness.  Others commented upon how self-possessed she was, and ‘un-doglike’.  Some were fascinated by her habit of attentively following human conversations while others were merely creeped-out by it. Still others marveled at the competitive heart and spirit.  Many have simply been amused by tales of her cunning and trickery.  I could attempt to describe her personality here but I would fail to do it justice.  I think that her character is best described through her deeds and so I will do so below and ask others to contribute as well in the comments.

But I do want to say this…

Put plainly, Phaedra was one of the most rewarding relationships that I have had or expect to have with another living being, regardless of species.  She was my companion, my protector, my jester, my confessor, my pride, my strength, my perspective, my savior and occasionally my pet.  She gave me purpose during a very dark period of my life and at all other times she made me laugh.  She was ring bearer at my wedding and she was gentle and kind to my baby son.  At one turn Phaedra and I shared moments of the deepest wordless understanding, and at others she reminded me not to take things so seriously. I am proud to say that Phaedra was one of the great friendships by which I define my life and I am nothing short of honored to have known a being of such nobility.   I will not lie to you that colors today are as vivid as they were yesterday, but they are brighter than they were 14 years ago.  Today we are diminished by her loss, but she touched us so greatly that on net we are greatly enriched.  My wish for all of you reading this is that you are so lucky as to have such a relationship at some point in your lives.

I love you Phaedra, and I will always carry your memory with me.  Thank you….thank you so much for everything.

%==================================================================================%

David Perry of David Perry Films was kind enough to put together this video of  a walk we took with Phaedra and Minx about two years ago.  The password is ‘dog’.

Sadly, it was one of the last times when either of them were up for a hike of their spot, which I guess serves as an indicator of just how long they’ve been in decline.

The video is probably a bit mawkish to anyone other than ourselves, so be warned.  It does feature the famous ‘Phaedra hug’ early on, as well as Minx sporting her rediculous summer puppy-cut (it made her happy though).  The music is the Dead Can Dance song quoted above.

Thank you, David!  The silhouette shot of Phaedra is stunning.

%==================================================================================%

Rhodesian Ridgeback’s are a breed out of colonized Africa who are known for being hearty, strong and independent dogs capable of extraordinary endurance and great tolerance for heat and drought.  They were used to hunt game of all sizes but get the most attention for the fact that they were successfully employed in the hunting of lions.  Those who hear this often conjure a vision of a fierce, aggressive dog, which is the furthest thing from the truth.   Ridgebacks are generally calm and confident, their muscled frames and confident bearing allowing them the ability of being protective without the need to resort to aggression.  The boys are clownish and affectionate and the girls are conniving and independent with a something of a sense of humor.  Both sexes will do virtually anything for food.

MBIF Phaedra SC LCM NA CGC TDI (or ‘Phaedra’) was born to a Rhodesian Ridgeback dam and a sire that was never determined.  My girlfriend at the time, Amy, knew that I had had an encounter with a Ridgeback in the forests of Big Bear, CA, and that the breed had left an impression on me.  And so it was that when we happened upon this insistent little pup in need of rescue that Amy strong-armed me into taking her in….for my own good, as it would turn out.  Phaedra very quickly began to show a knack for just being the best dog in the world.  Stable, well-behaved, attentive, and extraordinarily bonded to her humans, Phaedra could be counted on even as a pup to be a calm and respectful house guest.  At least that is, until the age of one, when we introduced Phaedra to the sport of Lure Coursing, during which her instincts kicked in and all Hell broke loose.  Phaedra was a maniac at the line – clawing and yowling and making noises not normally associated with dogs who were not being tortured. Her instinct and drive to get those evil white bags (aka ‘the Bunny’) along with her considerable strength made for some highly entertaining viewing….as long as you weren’t the one releasing her.  On more than one occasion Phaedra pulled her hapless handler to the ground and would readily drag a full-grown adult on their bellies until they released the lead.  Getting her off of the ‘bunny’ at end of a course was similarly harrowing and several strategies were employed including blindfolding, bribing with liver, or simply picking her up and carrying her off the field.

On the sidelines not-so-patiently awaiting her turn. Special thanks to Amy Balthrop for these coursing images.

Phaedra intent on the 'bunny', resplendent in her custom mudcloth sliplead made by Amy.

Phaedra learned that at the and of the course she had approximately 10 seconds to get all three 'bunnies' before a handler grabbed her. She had a pattern of 'middle, last, first'

In a Best of Field run-off against a Pharaoh Hound.

Rarely the fastest, but frequently among the most agile.

Phaedra learned pretty quickly that she was not the fastest dog out on the field, so she adopted new strategies of predicting where the course would go and cutting across the field to intercept and snag the bunny as it past.  This behavior earned her the nickname of ‘The Shark’ as well as a few unofficial epithets given to her by lure operators such as ‘That Little Shit’ and ‘Damn Dog’.  Undoubtedly however, Phaedra’s crowning achievement was the discovery that if one were to just reach down and bite the line in half, the bunny magically stopped moving, making it very easy to catch and shred into a hundred tiny white pieces of plastic.  This approach was bold, it was cunning, and it was unprecedented.  It was also highly illegal and her competitive days were over from that time forward.  Phaedra was still allowed to run, but it was more or less understood that she was there in a similar capacity to a rodeo clown – comic relief and team spirit.  Before she outsmarted the game, however, Phaedra won a raft of titles in Lure Coursing as well as other events. For those of you that are confused by the alphabet soup that surrounds her name, let me parse her titles for you so that you can have a better appreciation of what this little rescue dog did in her lifetime:

- MBIF Phaedra SC LCM NA CGC TDI -

MBIF – Multiple Best In Field
A Lure Coursing title in recognition of dogs who merit Best In Field on more that one occasion.  Best In Field goes to the dog who renders the best performance in competition against all of the winners of Best of Breed, ie, all of the top dogs in each breed race against each other.  Speed is not the only consideration in Lure Coursing, but it is a considerable portion of it. It is fairly common for a good racing Whippet, Greyhound, or Pharaoh Hound to earn MBIF recognition in its career as such breeds enjoy the advantage of speed.  It is another matter for a Ridgeback – rarely ever the fastest breed on the field – to take a Best In Field award.  Phaedra had two.

SC – Senior Courser
A Lure Coursing award given by the AKC in recognition of a certain number of awarded points.

LCM – Lure Courser of Merit
ASFA honor awarded to hounds who have achieved a high number of points over a prolonged career.  Many coursing hounds lose their interest or get too old to compete before amassing enough points to earn this achievement.

NA – Novice Agility
Canine Agility is a sort of combination between gymnastic floor exercises, a track meet and a steeple chase. It involves multiple obstacles that must be mastered in a timed fashion by the dog in the order that the handler specifies.  While Ridgebacks certainly have the agility to handle the course, it is generally mastered by smaller breeds.  The level after the Novice Agility title involves mastering a course of slalom poles.  Phaedra learned this well enough to prove that she could do it, but made a point of defecating in the middle of such a run, sending a clear message that she would really rather be chasing plastic bags.

CGC – Canine Good Citizen
The CGC title is an American Kennel Club program to promote responsible dog ownership and to encourage the training of well-mannered dogs. Dogs are put through a series of stressful situations and they are expected to react calmly.

TDI – Therepy Dog International
The TDI certificate is a temperament and empathy test to prepare dogs for use as therapy animals in hospitals and the like.  The temperament component is like that of the CGC, but amped up considerably.  Dogs are surrounded by the infirm and by persons in wheel chairs and other assistive devices and expected to behave calmly.  The examiner cut this part of Pheadra’s test short and awarded her the highest possible mark after viewing something that went well beyond the standard temperament test:  one of the patients in a wheel chair had accidentally rolled over Phaedra’s tail.  Phaedra flinched, but otherwise waited patiently for the patient to move along before getting up.  Phaedra never put her TDI into practice as an actual therapy dog, but she was a very emphathetic dog.

This shot, taken on Kodak's old IR film, was taken just seconds before Phaedra ate this flower.

Actually, she ate flowers a lot...

Actually, she just ate things in general...

Long walks in the wilderness were always a big part of our life together

Late in life she just liked being outdoors

The bridge at Tanner Park

Phaedra sitting proudly on 'Phaedra's Rock' - a tough jump.

Phaedra was quite fond of wrapped presents...

...so Christmas and Birthdays were a favorite...especialy if there was something edible in some of the gifts.

Phaedra was the ring-bearer at our wedding

Sean and Eddie of Sax Romney Flower Design worked hard to give her a nice wreath of flowers for the occasion. She shook them off in under 5 seconds.

Eventually she would suffer ONE flower for the ceremony.

One of my favorite photos - Pepper dancing with her dad at our wedding while Phaedra watches from the side.

Phaedra discovers treats under the 'kids table

The yard just doesn't look right without her sleeping in the sun.

Phaedra has never really been a fan of puppies, and she was just as wary when we brought our human puppy home.

Phaedra pretty much kept her distance...

Until she learned that babies are endless source of disgarded food. Phaedra shown here grazing Zen's leavings with her 'cousin' Chubbs.

Zen was fascinated with Phaedra, but by this point she was too fragile to really play with such an energetic kid.

Sometimes Zen had to settle for playing with Phaedra's jester bowl...

...still one of his favorite toys.

Goodbye, girl. We will always remember you.

Pepper and I would love it if some of you who knew Phaedra would leave some thoughts and stories below in the comments.  Thank you for sharing and remembering with us.

- Mitch

Many of you knew and met Minx from the various visits to my home office.  She had many nicknames, The Dark One [referring to the darkness of her soul], Satan’s Lapdog, Breath Monster, and in a former life, The Bunny Rocket.  She was often introduced as The Worst Guard Dog in the World, for her absolute mellowness when meeting new people [mellow meaning, she wouldn't bother to get up unless she could smell them carrying food!]

The day before our appointment with the vet, we took her to the park one final time so she could frolic.  She instead found a patch of grass close to the car and plopped down to relax, her bunny chasing days long gone.  I am very happy that I was able to get these pictures of her, looking very relaxed and peaceful, and probably wondering why mommy and daddy were crying.  It was time to let her go.

Here she is with her sister Phaedra in the background [as you can see Phae's tumor is getting bigger by the day, we worry another post like this is not far off....]

As we sat there, she started looking up at the sky.  There were no birds, only a slight breeze, and we sat, breathing in the spring air and watching the clouds…

She lay down in the car and watched hopefully out the window as we ordered her a favorite treat, a burger and an ice cream cone…

This was taken last winter.  Minx was a Russian Borzoi with a thick coat of fur.  In the summertime we would shave her down so it was enjoyable, but in the winter we would let it grow long.  One of her favorite places in the world was to lie down in thick snow and eat a treat, and she’d stay there for hours, or until she knew there was food elsewhere to be had!

When our son Zen was 3 weeks old, we thought a little photo session with him and our girls would be perfect.  Phaedra would have nothing to do with little Zen, and she refused to cooperate at all.  Minx however, let us know that she was perfectly willing to sell out whatever principles she had about appearing in photographs with 3 week old people, as long as there was food to be had.  Unfortunately, Zen decided Minx was getting a much better deal and so this is all we got…

You know she’s thinking “Well, just because HE’S not behaving properly, that doesn’t mean I don’t get MY treat, right?”

These next few were taken by my BFF Sara France in 2005….

Many thanks to Amy for sending these images to us…

I would love to write a long list of funny stories, but to be honest, this is the first pet I’ve had to put down, and only the second friend I’ve ever lost, so this is difficult to write, it was difficult to photograph my Minxy at the park the final time, and it was awful saying goodbye at the vets.  To their credit, the kind folks at Cottonwood Animal Hospital were fabulous, and I am grateful to them for their sensitivity.

Anyway, I would love it if those of you who knew Minx, who loved her dearly, or who had only met her once, if everyone would write a comment, share their thoughts and funny stories about this marvelous animal.  This magnificent creature with the funny nose, who ran so fast and got into so many garbage cans, who drove us crazy with her bad habits, who gave us so many stories to laugh at now…

We love you Minx, and we miss you already.  Thank you.

But after hearing rumors of my untimely demise it was time to learn again how to post all the doings of us here at Pepper Nix Photography. I’ve got 25 weddings from the last 6 months to share with you, as well as several dozen family sittings, engagement sittings, and bridal sittings, some fun trips, and not a few incredible stories! This has by far been our best and busiest year yet, and with 2008 already halfway booked up, I can promise that the stories will not stop next year!

In fact, I saved the best news for last…

… my husband and I are pregnant with our first child!

This has been a very, um, eye-opening experience to say the least! It’s a boy, and he is due to arrive in about 8 weeks.

We are currently interviewing for nannies, so if you think hanging out with a Pepper spawnling would be the neatest thing in the world, please email your resume to me!

So stay tuned, and watch for the stories to appear today, tomorrow, and as many as I can this holiday season!

The conference was packed (SOLD OUT, actually) and everyone we spoke with seemed to really get a lot of information and ideas out of it. If you didn’t make this one you should seriously consider gettin’ your butt over to L.A. for the one in September!!

These dont’ relate to our presentation….actually here’s not really any rhyme or reason to these pix and flicks at all, but we thought we’d share a few of the impressions that we got with our new point-n-shoot:

Dimitre Morozov consults with Mitch on ways to overthrow his evil brother Alexander…

Captured here by surveillance camera in the back of the squad car that was to shortly haul them away: Bronson Pate (looking rightfully sheepish), Matt Grazier (looking a bit…um…dazed, we’ll say) and Justin Wiard (who clearly doesn’t understand the situation he’s in). This trio of terror escaped police custody and have been on the lam ever since. If you see them, just offer them something shiny and call the authorities.

Mike Larson, Sara France, Garrett Delph & Mitch look suspiciously innocent…

Me & Amber

Work is never done.

Thanks again, everybody! YOU GUYS MAKE IT FUN!!

The Über-cool Adams Family (with the exception of Landon (top left) who was just trying to hold it together).

A special Big Up to Bella, for entertaining us with her awsome interpretation of Death Cab for Cutie’s I Will Follow You Into The Dark (accompanied on guitar by Nick – SO punk rock….not like SOME people we could metion). We LOVED it, Bella! BUT, you have to work on an encore, girl! Your fans demand more!

The blooming chanteuse Bella (left) and the immanently huggable Signe (right).

Thanks again, guys. You rock it so hard it hurts.

- Mitch & Pepper

PS – my shirt STILL smells like hibachi….