sumacandmilkweed

Necessary distractions

June 12, 2016 sumacandmilkweedLeave a comment

I don’t want to say anything today for fear of the sadness.

Can I just live in a world where I think people want to live just like me, seeing only the good and the beauty around them, loving others for their differences or at the very least assuming a “live and let live” attitude?

I can’t wrap my brain around the events in Florida last night–I don’t want to spend a moment trying to understand that kind of hate. I hope, in not giving any more of a voice to it in this post, that I will read this later and wonder what I was writing about, if only for a moment. I am neither trying to make light nor be too heavy, I’m just too sensitive sometimes for this world. And so the proverbial blanket goes over my head for protection.

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And then I drive or walk or ride my bike in search of things to shoot. Actually, I don’t think that’s a word I even want to use anymore. Capture? Or does that sound equally jarring? How about just photograph? That’s a mouthful sometimes, though. I’ll work on a better word choice, I guess. Anyway I often find myself on this particular road because of this tree. Er, former tree. I think it was struck by lightning some years ago. It sits at the edge of what last year was a corn field, and there are often crows, wrens, other birds hanging around it, maybe nesting in it. I don’t know why I’m so drawn to this tree, but I am, and I probably have hundreds of photos of it from all seasons but the deepest winter. The sky behind it today made it even more compelling.

Across the road from the tree is a grain field. I’m seeing more grains planted around here in the last several years, and some fields that used to be fruit trees or corn are converting to grain. I’m not sure if this is wheat or rye or some other grain, but I liked how it’s still young and thin–you can still see the grooves in the earth through the stalks.

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I’ll admit I photograph many of the same things over and over, and I don’t even mind that because they never look the same depending on the season, the sky, the clouds–but I’m always looking for something different, something I haven’t seen before, something I might have missed.

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Like a former school, now used for storage, and its forgotten basketball courts. I have a soft spot for the abandoned and unloved. Probably all part of that whole sensitivity thing.

Tomorrow morning I’ll send several rolls of film out for developing. For someone who isn’t great at waiting, I’ve probably made a lousy choice in this burgeoning interest in film photography. It’s all about waiting and the element of surprise, neither of which I’m particularly good at. (I say I like surprise, but that’s just me convincing myself mostly.) Or maybe it means learning how to develop my own film is in my future? Oof. Another thing.

Summer, sweet summer

June 12, 2016June 12, 2016 sumacandmilkweed1 Comment

I’m in the place on this earth that I love best. The place my dad dreamed of, scrimped and saved for, and plopped down a shell of a house in 1972 that has been evolving ever since.

deshantzcook_20160601_IMG_6820 — the view

I know how lucky I am to have this legacy handed down to me, to be the caretaker–with my husband–of this sacred place. I know how lucky I am to have a career that has evolved so that I can live and work here. I am lucky, grateful, honored to care for and live in a cottage on Lake Michigan for a good chunk of the year.

And like the shores of this lake, which ebb and flow and deposit (or demolish, as is the case this year) sandy beaches, treasures of driftwood and perfect skipping stones, my experiences here change. This summer, after two years of learning to live with no kids in my home, said (grown) kids are here with me for the month.

There is a music festival not far from here that happens in a few more weeks. My kids are working to build the experience for the 40,000 or so people who will hopefully attend this four-day festival safely. My kids wake up to coffee here and spend the day onsite at the festival grounds, then come back to the cottage tired and hungry and not always cheerful (but mostly they are). It’s hard work, and they’re good at it. I am the coffee supplier, the occasional breakfast maker, the baker of brownies and cookies. The goodbye-er and hello-er and the hearer of stories after long days. It’s a little like it was before they left, but different because they are adults. We navigate the sometimes tricky path of communicating in a different way.

I am different here, too. It’s a stripped down way of life, different from the city both physically and emotionally. The days are longer on the lake and the distractions are fewer. I have said it before: I am most myself with sand in my hair, the lake water in my pores. And like the changing relationship with my kids, and the ebb and flow of this shoreline, I am navigating a changing relationship with myself. More acceptance, less chatter, nicer words, less worry. I’m working on these things, anyway.

Here’s another thing I’m working on. Or working with. It’s one of the first generation Olympus PEN half-frame cameras. This one is probably from 1960 or ’61. The whole half frame thing intrigues me… You get an image on half of a frame of 35mm film, which means you get double the shots per roll. Who doesn’t like that? I spent the week trying it out and will send my test roll for processing on Monday morning. I’ve got my fingers crossed, because wow, this little thing is fun to shoot. Hopefully I’ll have something to show for it next week.

So that’s where I am. In my favorite place, working, enjoying my kids, trying out a new camera. A divine start to summer.

I did some stuff in New Orleans

May 1, 2016 sumacandmilkweed6 Comments

How do you sum up a very short trip to New Orleans? I’m still processing all of it. New Orleans is not like anywhere I’ve ever been. Ever.

deshantzcook_20160428_IMG_5260 — Good morning, New Orleans! Bag piper on the Mississippi River

And I mean that in the best way. Not in the way where you ask someone what they think of something and they say, “oh yeah, that’s… [different, interesting, not like anything I know, etc.].” Nuh-uh. New Orleans IS all of that, and in the best, most delicious and weird and wonderful ways possible.

deshantzcook_20160428_IMG_5269 — St. Louis Cathedral

My friend Maggie found a cheap flight back in December, sent me an email and said “let’s go take pictures in New Orleans!” My thought process went like this: no, I can’t spend the money, I can’t take vacation, I shouldn’t do this, wait, I want to do this, why can’t I do this?, I’m gonna do this! We asked our friend Jane to join us, and voila, flights booked, hotel found. All we had to do was wait until April.

I’d never been to New Orleans. I know what anyone knows about it: Bourbon Street, jazz, above-ground cemeteries, the storm. I know that like many places (and people), there’s a lot more to the story of New Orleans. A blogger I like moved there from California and I love her photos and depictions of the place. I know about the balconies. I know about the beignets (and how to pronounce them, and that if you breathe in whilst eating one the powdered sugar will send you into a choking fit). What I didn’t know: it’s tropically hot, people go there to PARTY (in all caps, I’m serious), it’s beyond friendly, courtyards and shutters abound, and you really have to watch your footing in the French Quarter because the sidewalks are crazy uneven. And get the hell outta the way of the streetcars, for pete’s sake!

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Anyway. Did I mention how hot it is? It is hot. And the locals don’t even think it’s hot, at least not in late April. They’ll tell you summer is hot, but April and May is NOT summer. Summer, and hot, is July and August. Apparently the locals just up and leave then. I don’t know who runs the show there in the summer, but I wonder if they’re as friendly as all the people that I met? Who can be friendly with sweat dripping into your socks? I don’t know. I digress. It was hot, but I like hot. Mostly, anyway.

It’s hard to see much when you arrive late in the day and only have two full days after that before you leave the next morning. But we managed to pack a lot in, including seeing a private hush-hush house concert of some very talented jazz musicians, one of whom I am proud to say I know. I shot a roll of film. I took some digital photos. We ate some good food and sampled the local booze. We saw (and heard, and smelled) Bourbon Street. We got torrential-rained on.

deshantzcook_20160428_IMG_5353 — Robin the tour guide. She did say we were going to get wet…

I like that New Orleans feels like an old friend that you know so well, it doesn’t trouble itself to neaten the joint up when you come over because you’re just that comfortable around each other. It doesn’t even bother to ask you to accept it like it is–it just knows that you will. It embraces your faults just as easily, maybe more so.

Carry on, New Orleans. I only had a few days to take you in, but I’ll be back for more.

Changing of the guard

April 23, 2016May 2, 2016 sumacandmilkweedLeave a comment

I have bragged about my good stock. Nothing I have anything to do with, but just my luck. My father’s side, the Italians, are some sturdy folk. My gram made it to 98 and a half, and was pretty razor sharp up until the last several years.

My father is 86 and the second youngest of seven children, and he is still around (thankfully). All of his siblings were still around until only recently, and now the shift has begun. My oldest aunt died within the last year, and now we received news that another of my aunts has gone. It’s not unexpected, they are all in their 80s and 90s–but it is a blow.

The tide is changing; the old guard is moving on.

I feel a need to get the stories from my dad before they are lost. What don’t I know? In the last few months his health has been precarious and I have spent more time with him because of this. I heard stories I’d never heard before, and I realize it’s a dance of asking the right questions, him being in the right mood or right frame of mind to open up. When you’re young, you don’t know anything about your parents. If they are around when you mature, you begin to realize that your own story is intrinsically connected to theirs. You have their hands, their eyes, their skin color, their mannerisms, the sound of their voice even, their quirks. To know them is to know yourself.

My mother died too young and I feel that broken connection, the loss of not getting to know her as a woman beyond being my mother. I don’t want to lose this opportunity with my father. I’m mature enough to want to go there with him.

Quiet reflection

April 11, 2016May 2, 2016 sumacandmilkweedLeave a comment

When I get too busy, I lay low, kind of disappear, shut down a bit, buckle down, get the thing done that I need to get done. I’m a yes-girl. I never want to let anyone down, so I say yes too often. I’m not trying to complain about this–it’s my nature and I’m okay with it. But sometimes I need to realize my limits, say no once in a while, and focus on my self, my needs, my stuff.

I had to slow down a bit this past week when my dog, who turns 11 this month, spent the day at the vet getting a major tune up. She was put under and her teeth were cleaned, with eight removed (she has plenty left). She also had three masses removed. I didn’t have these masses sent to the lab for many reasons, one being the extra cost and another being that I won’t put her through treatment if they are cancer.

I got her home late that night and, although they explained how she would behave coming out of the anesthesia (the vets and everyone at the clinic were wonderful), I wasn’t emotionally prepared for it. I spent a rough night on the couch as close as I could get to her, with her vocalizing and seeming completely out of it, and me constantly worried and checking that she was breathing every moment she was quiet. By early morning, though, it was apparent that she was going to be just fine.

Of course I have spoiled her all week and I am ever so grateful that I work from home and could keep a close eye on her. Each day has been better than the one before it. Today she played, and maybe even ran around too much for someone with stitches in three places, one of these being the thin skin of her belly. I’ve opened cans of the most foul-smelling things, fed her freeze-dried raw meats and organs and bone meal (and I’m a vegetarian). Love doesn’t even come close to what I feel for this being, and my gratefulness for her well-being feels a bit overwhelming.

In the relative quiet of this still-busy week, though, I feel a little bit of a reconnection with myself, with what’s important, with where I’m going. Maybe a little more no. Maybe a little more time with my dog and the people that are important to me, a little less time behind my computer. I’ll try, anyway.

MooniePie — lounging, day before surgery

Oh, Ohio

March 18, 2016May 2, 2016 sumacandmilkweed6 Comments

You’ve got some windy plains, Ohio, and some weird insistence on ditches on the sides of your minor roads which makes pulling over to explore something interesting near impossible. You’re a lot like your neighboring states of Michigan and Pennsylvania–flat in places, hilly in others, part pastoral loveliness and gritty, forgotten industry. When I think of you I think of traffic tickets and Chrissie Hynde, but this is neither here nor there.

My friend Jane and I took off late Wednesday afternoon and drove to Mansfield, Ohio, which is just past halfway between Detroit and Pittsburgh, stopping on our way because the light was kind of awesome to shoot things that struck our fancy. Oh, but that wind! It made standing still to shoot a little tough.

deshantzcook_20160316_IMG_3504 — so windy!

deshantzcook_20160316_IMG_3525 — (not where we stayed)

deshantzcook_20160317_IMG_3557 — one of Sarah’s chickens (or hens, or ? I don’t claim to know much about fowl)

We stayed Wednesday night in an upstairs room and alcove in a farmhouse in another small town about 10 miles from Mansfield with a very nice couple named Ron and Sarah. We ate black bean burgers at a nearby restaurant and actually went to bed around 9:30. Which is just crazy.

In the morning Ron fed us breakfast of homemade bread and jam with eggs fresh from their chickens and regaled us with stories about the house and the area. I can’t get enough of that stuff, and I hope I didn’t annoy him with all my questions. I could have spent the day bugging Ron, but we had to get on our way.

deshantzcook_20160317_IMG_3612 — Ohio is wet. I mean really, really wet.

We were there mainly to go on a photography tour with about 40-some other people of a prison that was built in 1904. It’s been closed since the 1990’s and has been the site of a few movies (it’s fairly famous for one in particular, The Shawshank Redemption), has a reputation for being haunted, yada yada. But before we got to the prison, we took a little spin through downtown Mansfield, which is a bit hilly and charming and weird and frankly, a place I’d like to get to know a bit better. We didn’t have a lot of time, though.

deshantzcook_20160317_IMG_3632 — look at that sexy back end

deshantzcook_20160317_IMG_3643 — crumbled steps leading to an abandoned house (or church?)

But on to the prison. We went on this exact tour last year and were in it not for the movie thing or the haunting business, but for the crusty, peely, yummy textures, lovely lines and light. Plus, even with 5 whole hours there last year, there were rooms we missed and we were on a mission to get to those spots.

deshantzcook_20160317_IMG_3681 — movie room

deshantzcook_20160317_IMG_3795 — cell block, shadows

The place is now run as a historical site by a bunch of really nice, knowledgeable volunteers, who were so terrific they jumped out of our shots, helped us find our way, and answered tons of questions. These people really love this building and are serious about its preservation.

deshantzcook_20160317_IMG_3707 — shower room

deshantzcook_20160317_IMG_3805 — *Facts on File*, 1974 (the top book) and red chair

deshantzcook_20160317_IMG_3843 — magazine stand and peeling paint

The library was apparently the prison hospital at one time.

deshantzcook_20160317_IMG_3719 — chair, light and shadows in solitary confinement

deshantzcook_20160317_IMG_3721 — THE red gurney

deshantzcook_20160317_IMG_3747 — (very former) phones

deshantzcook_20160317_IMG_3750 — might have been the room where guards oversaw the phone conversations–the phones are just on the other side of that low wall

And after about 4.5 hours of lugging tripods and camera bags around, we had our fill and headed out. With stops, of course. Missed a turn and came upon this abandoned factory, and with the puffy clouds and blue sky and the wild wind whipping through the buildings making the most foreboding clanging sounds, well, who could resist?

And a final stop at a cemetery, view towards a farm.

Rural Ohio has a thing for putting cemeteries on hills. I imagine there is some purposeful reason for this, but I appreciate it for the vistas. Again, the sky–gorgeous!

And that was it–just under 24 hours in Ohio.

St. Joseph, again

March 13, 2016May 2, 2016 sumacandmilkweed4 Comments

I’m back in St. Joseph again for the weekend, a visit with my dad. While the weather isn’t as magical as it was last Saturday, it’s warm enough for an early spring and the snow is very nearly gone. It’s no secret how much I love the west side of this state, but geez, St. Joseph is just so sweet. I spent the morning walking to the beach and around downtown, enjoying a cappuccino at Tosi’s, saying “hi” or “good morning” to pretty much everyone I passed (they’re friendly here, Karen Thomas, you’d like it!), smooching a 10-year-old golden retriever as I talked with her owner about the joys (ahem) of old dogs. There are crocuses coming up here. I saw some green sprouts. Spring is coming!

The sky didn’t cooperate so much for photos today, but is it ever a bad time to photograph the lighthouse pier? I don’t think so. Well, maybe it isn’t the best time right now as it is still under construction. Didn’t stop me, though.

pier, railing, catwalk, lighthouse in distance

catwalk

inner lighthouse

deshantzcook_20160312_IMG_3380 — from the end of the pier, the outer lighthouse

I thought the pier was closed because of the construction, but as I parked I saw a woman walking across the dune from the big homes on the shore. I asked her if the pier was open and we ended up talking for a bit as we made our way across the parking lot together. She had an accent (German, maybe?), a bright smile and twinkling eyes. She walked with a cane and told me she lives right over there (pointing to the big homes), and that she is 87 and walks this pier twice a day. We chatted a bit more and I learned she used to love to drive, would drive to visit friends in Chicago and Detroit. I thanked her as she ushered me ahead so she could rest a minute before continuing her own walk.

deshantzcook_20160312_IMG_3412 — on the beach, just starting to drizzle

I like you, St. Joe. Let’s get to know each other a little better.

In praise of naps

March 9, 2016May 2, 2016 sumacandmilkweed4 Comments

deshantzcook_20160306_IMG_3270 — the afternoon nap, perfected

This is my dad’s cat, Ginger. Like many house pets, she really knows how to nap.

This is an afternoon ritual. My dad curls up on his couch under a cozy blanket, and Ginger curls up on the back of the couch on her own cozy blanket. They can remain like this for hours, not entirely together, but together.

My dad’s previous cat lived to be 22 and I suspect this one will age just as well. She is spoiled (as all pets should be). She isn’t a lover like her predecessor was, but she is lovey in her own way–she’ll rub your legs, allow you to pet her, purr, stretch and blink and talk at you–but she’s just not a cuddler. They are all different, as are we.

My dad has always been a napper. I am a big fan of naps, but my life doesn’t allow for many lately and the occasional luxury of one is greatly appreciated. I love a summer nap in the middle of a hot day with windows open and summer sounds outside. I love a fall nap when it’s raining outside. A winter or spring nap when the weather is chill and the days are still short, well, what could be better?

When I do make the time for a nap (or I just can’t keep my eyes open anymore and I have no choice but to nap) my dog is almost always happy to oblige and join me. Then again, she is almost always napping. But if I lie down on a couch or in bed, she’s there almost instantly, filling the empty space behind my legs or in front of my belly. Sometimes even under the covers. She’s my personal furnace like that.

Maybe 2016 should be the year of making time for naps? We should all nap more. What ill could come of this? None, I tell you.

Maybe I’ll try to fit one in today. Just as soon as I finish this pile of urgent editing projects on my desk…

Home is where the lake is

March 7, 2016May 2, 2016 sumacandmilkweed2 Comments

When I was younger, I thought that by the time I arrived at the age I am now I would have it all figured out. I’d know exactly who I was. I wouldn’t stand in the toothpaste aisle and wonder what the hell toothpaste to buy. I’d not look in the mirror or at my body and question what time has taken from (or added to) me. I’d know what to eat, not fuss about where to go, what to do–I’d make decisions easily, in other words.

But it’s not like that. I still get completely stymied by the simplest things, I still don’t know exactly who I am. But mostly I have a better idea. And the surprise is that it’s kind of freeing to accept that, yeah, even at this age, I’m still developing. I’m glad I’m not fully formed–it means I still have things to discover and learn and try.

One thing I do know with all my heart and soul and very fiber of my being is that I need to be near Lake Michigan. Growing up with my summers there embedded that lake into my makeup, the sand into my skin, the dunes and grasses and colors and wind into my essence. I’m sure I’d survive if I left it, but I don’t want to. I want to get old on Lake Michigan’s shoreline. I want to die with sand in my hair and between my toes.

St. Joe beach

sculpture on the beach

from the top of the pier next to the lighthouse pier

from the top of the pier, lighthouse pier to the north (still under construction)

I was in St. Joseph for just a night and day this weekend and at least got to stick my hands into Lake Michigan’s water. I considered taking my shoes off and walking in, but opted for easy and dove both hands in, dragged my fingers through the sand and tried not to let my camera bag or my coat get wet. It was sunny and beautiful and windy and plenty of people were out on the beach and the pier.

November–barefoot and hooping on a really warm day

I was barefoot on the shores not long ago, in both October and November, a lucky warm fall.

But it always feels like a homecoming, feeling that water–no matter the temperature or unseasonable time of year. It’ll hold me until the spring when I can walk the beach at the cottage further north of St. Joseph.

Old and new

March 3, 2016 sumacandmilkweedLeave a comment

A new blog, a new format, so much newness to get used to. Here’s some old to counterbalance the new.

I toured an unused but not abandoned church, with permission, a few weeks ago. If you know me personally, you know I do a bit of abandonment photography. You might not know that I am conflicted about that–it involves trespassing and putting myself in some occasionally dangerous situations (scary, but exhilarating). For me it’s not about capturing the demise of the city but more about documentation, a journalistic view. I don’t attach myself to the right or wrong of a church or a factory that once was great but that can no longer be supported anymore, or a neighborhood in demise. These things beg for change but they are what they are in the moment that I come across them. I try to see the beauty in them where they stand.

But this church, and the building that housed the church offices and activities, has some new owners with all sorts of exciting, artistic, community-focused ideas. I love that new life will be breathed into these two structures and, hopefully, in the neighborhood around them.

Say what you will about Detroit. I know what’s happening here. I know the people who are fighting for change, and I know that regrowth is happening. There is art and food and culture and commerce here. I may live in the suburbs, but I patronize the city that centers our metro area. If you don’t step foot within city limits, your opinion means nothing.