Fish Shacks at Willard Beach South Portland, Maine

 

It was cold. Below zero with a fierce wind blowing the sea smoke out to sea.Thermal underwear. Down jackets (notice the plural). Snow overalls. Impeccable boots. Heavy insulated socks. Rechargeable hand warmers set on high in the pockets of my third jacket layer. Neck Gator. Hat. Check.

But epic fail of forgetting the thin gloves I use in combination with the pocket warmers to get through a morning like this.

It's not that I didn't know what to expect.

By the time I tried to frame a few images the bitter cold was no longer cold. It was pain. Sheer pain pounding up to my wrists.

The other photographer out there at the same time attempting to be friendly? I apologize. I was in such pain I could no longer see. I could no longer think. I didn't have the bandwith to even be kind. I needed to get to my car asap.

The lesson. Pain evaporated my ability to see. Evaporated my ability to respond to kindness.

I raced to the car best I could and cried and cried and cried waiting for the pain to subside. Which it did.

And I am left with this lesson.

 

Love at first sight. Love at first light.

 

Today is a cold and grey January day filled with freezing rain but for a moment this morning the sky was enormously beautiful. Generously beautiful. So beautiful. And deeply humbling and all I could think is how, how could I do to give back? This was an enormous gift and how can I possibly give back to this degree? To those that much is given, much will be asked.

 

The Day Joe introduced me to Kenny, and Transience, chapter 64 "Babes in the Woods"

 
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This is Kenneth W Beek who I met out on the streets a few years ago. More of his memoir TRANSIENCE will be published in Julys' edition of MAINER NEWS. His writing is...remarkable.
Here's an excerpt that he offered in the comments of an image I posted on Father's Day:
'Ashlea had given me a phone. She actually traded me for a cigarette, but when was the last time you bought a phone for a dime? My guess is, phones probably cost more than ten cents when the first telephone was sold. And so it was a gift.
The first thing I did was download a free text app. The second thing was text my “elder” child, who happened to be with my “younger” child- who is more accurately my middle child- the two of whom happened to be in Old Orchard Beach. That's not two hundred miles away like Bangor. That's two towns away, or somewhere between Biddeford and Purgatory. So we made arrangements to meet. It had been awhile… I hadn't seen Rachel since she had to go, and I hadn't seen Bowman since the weekend I lost my last wallet and found myself in jail rather than Heaven. I was waiting for them in Monument Square across the street from the library using the public Wi-fi. I was listening to Hank Williams and wondering how my dad was doing. I was wondering about a lot of things, the sorts of things normal people don't seem to wonder about at all. I wasn't worrying about anything, which also seems to distinguish me from normal people. Maybe that's just a misconception, but I seem to encounter a lot more worry than wonder, most places I go.
“Dad!”
It was Rachel. She was approaching from across the park with her brother and her boyfriend. I waved to them, and Bowman waved back. He can't get too excited about seeing his father. He's a teenaged boy, a young man. He has to be kool. I can relate. Being kool made me what I am: The Beast on a bench with nowhere to go.
“What's going on?” he greeted me, the drawl of Kool Kids of America.
He had waited until he got close enough to not have to yell. Kool kids only yell at concerts and cops… but an ear to ear grin was fastened to his flush and blushing face. He kept his kool, but just barely. He was excited to see me. I was happy to see him, but with that level of elation only possible when it springs from a deep well of regret, like a bucket hanging clear to Hell, drawing its final drops of Joy. The reservoir of those emotions is a ravine of regret, a hidden landscape forged by remorse for the sins of a condemned soul. I'm pretty kool.
I got up and hugged them both and shook her boyfriend's hand. I'm not much for hugging. It's difficult to embrace anyone else, even my children. I've always felt like that. My mother never hugged me that I can recall, and my father mostly only did so to apologize for taking a beating beyond the reasonable level of discipline. I figure that's how most tough guys are made. Lord knows, my father was tough. The Lord also knows my father was beaten often as a child, and quite beyond any reasonable level of discipline. I've never hit Rachel. I spanked Bowman once, but it hurt me more than it did him. I'm not just voicing an old cliché. I spanked him once. I could never have done it again.'
Transience, chapter 64 "Babes in the Woods"
The Day Joe introduced me to Kenny 

Peering into your web I entered an unexpectedly celestial world, untethered by what I think I know...

 
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Peering into your web I entered an unexpectedly celestial world, untethered by what I think I know. And the parking lot disappeared as did that other photographer on the next wharf over and the parked truck and the debris from the welders shop. Poof. A portal. Without all the mystical hubris that chases that word.