La Push, Washington

A Bald Eagle flies low across the water along Beach 1 at La Push, Washington

The rock formations as seen from Beach 1 at La Push, Washington are amazing. It was misty, foggy, and rainy as waves
from the Pacific Ocean crashed against the rocks.


 

Hurricane Ridge

The view of the Olympic Mountains from Hurricane Ridge is amazing as the clouds begin to roll in. More pictures later.

Along The Washington Coast

No, I'm not bored or daydreaming. Just couldn't resist making this pictured along the Washington Coast near Cape Disappointment. It's a beautiful area. More pictures and story later.

Black & White

Early in my career as a photojournalist working for newspapers, assignment were shot in black & white. I still find satisfaction in making black and white images. This sunset picture was made at Gearhart Beach, Oregon.

To Bee Or Not To Bee...And A Butterfly

A couple of Bees and a Swallowtail Butterfly in the Blackberries behind the house in Shorecrest.

Wheel Of Possible Misfortune

     Every neighborhood had at least one. You know, the dog that would lay in wait and come flying out of the shadows like a ‘bat out of hell’ chasing cars, bicycles… most anything with wheels. Ours' was a pack of chihuahuas. They would come yipping from the Bennett’s yard and out into street without notice. Mostly they went after bicyclists; nipping at pant legs and shoe laces. They were more of a nuisance than a real threat to do harm. A large mixed-breed dog nicknamed Chopper was the car chaser. He lived a couple of blocks over. Nobody messed with Chopper.

But what I saw the other day that is one for the books.  It's not often that you witness a dog jumping, lunging, pouncing, and biting at the tires of a push-type lawn mover.  With the blade spinning and grass flying the dog’s tail was wagging with anticipation as the man moved the mower back and forth cutting short swaths in the grass. I couldn’t believe my eyes, it looked like an accident waiting to happen. You could hear the frustration in the young man’s voice as he yelled for the animal to stop, but that dog was relentless. As long as the mower was moving, so was that dog. 

I held my breath every time that dog lunged at the tires. The battle of dog verses machine must have lasted nearly thirty minutes. Then the mower stopped and so did the dog. It just walked away. 

I saw an opportunity I couldn’t resist. I had to know...so I walked down the block to the bottom of the hill for an answer.

“Excuse me,” I said to the young man as he rested in the freshly cut grass. “I have got to know…What's up with the dog and the mower?” He just shook his head back and forth and shrugged his shoulders. 

About that time the dog came running toward me at break neck speed, slowing at the last second, and then sniffing my pant legs and hands. “She won’t bite,” he said. Well, she certainly seems friendly enough, I thought,  just glad I’m not on wheels.

      “What’s her name,” I asked. “Maggie", he replied, “She’s part chocolate Lab and Pit Bull.” 

I admitted to the young man that curiosity had gotten the best of me.

       “I really don’t know,” he said. “It just happened one day.  She also goes after the weed whip,” again shaking his head. “It caught her across the nose once, but she still won’t stop.”

      “Well, I’ll let you get back to it,” I said, as we shook hands and I headed back up the hill. The mower fired up once again. I could hear Maggie barking in the distance, but I didn’t turn around, I just kept walking. 

I Won't Mind Being Dead, But I'm Not Going To Pass Away

     The heart goes silent. The chest falls for the final time. The blood no longer flows through the arteries and veins. The flicking of light leaves the eyes and the last memories fade from the brain as it goes dark…..

I received a short five-sentence email not long ago. Another high school classmate had “passed away.” And that got me to thinking.

When did it become OK to just “pass away”?

Well, my best guess is sometime in the 1970’s or 1980’s, but there is no credible evidence to support that, just speculation gleaned from a card file full of memoriam handouts dating back some 70 years. 

Funeral home directors are the first to acknowledge that indeed there has been a change, saying that using the term “passed away” is more family friendly. It serves as a transitional gentling, they say, giving the grieving family a less harsh experience with the death of a loved one…it less cold than “died” they insist.

I just can’t buy into the concept. Who the Hell just wants to pass away? It like a limp handshake… “passing away” is so non-committal. It’s more like having passed the green beans at Sunday dinner, or Passing With Care along a stretch of highway, or even two ships that just pass in the night.  

Let’s call it what it is…Death. Charles Foster Kane, played by Orson Wells in the movie Citizen Kane didn’t lay on his passing away bed, or utter the word “Rosebud” as he passed away. He died. Sure, it’s not an easy reality to accept… But there is nothing easy about dying and there is no sense beating around the bush and trying to soften the blow…we don’t just pass away; we die…were dead…it’s over.  Why do you think the grim reaper is dressed in black and carrying a scythe? It not because he’s here to soften the experience…he means business. He’s here to reap the dead, not the recently passed away.

Death is one aspect of life that is non-negotiable; there are no passed due notices, warranty extension, the receiving of a free pass, do-overs, or even playing possum. Death cannot be avoided like relatives that overstay their welcome or that nasty tasting coffee that every waitress in America seems willing to refill on a moments notice.

Death is final….it’s a life paid in full.

Really…none of us just want to pass away or even take a dirt nap for that matter. Who likes the idea of pushing up daisies or sleeping with the fishes?  I certainly don’t want to buy the farm, kick the bucket, meet my maker or take a final curtain call…it’s death and there are no refunds.

I prefer to think of death as simply The End of a journey,  you know, the closing chapter, the final sentence, the absolute last word of the story.  Life presents us with opportunities. We need to get out there and explore and live life to the fullest. That way when the The End comes people won’t just say he passed away, they will say he lived life with gusto leaving behind enough stories to fill a lifetime in death.

Spoiler alert, my story doesn’t end with the word “Rosebud,” just a simple —30— will do.