PASS THE SUFGANIYOT
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Every year that goes by, it becomes a little more special to get together and celebrate Chanukah (the festival of lights) with my family, my two sisters, their families and my 93 year old mother.
If there’s a greater religious context to Chanukah, it most certainly passes me over. Don’t get me wrong, the miracle of lights is a great story. I’m happy to believe that something like this did in fact happen, but let’s face it, it was a very long time ago. And in truth, I have no affinity for the food either… In fact latke’s with or without sour creme or apple sauce did not pass through these lips. Sufganiyot… forget about it!
What makes it special is that the whole family is together. It wasn’t all that long ago when it was my boys playing on the floor, eagerly opening up their gifts and cuddling the newest plush toy. Now it’s my grand niece and nephew’s turn for this. One day soon it may be my grandchildren.
So the Chanukah party is a marker of sorts. Next year I’ll take more pictures and marvel at how the kids have grown and of course how the grown ups have gotten older.
In spite of taking less pictures in 2022 than any other year in the last decade, I feel a greater importance of capturing the passing of time, registering in some way who we were at this moment in our lives. And just like those latkes, when they’re gone, they’re gone.
THE SUMMER OF MUSCLE
No pain, no gain
It started simple enough. Two times a week my son’s Maximilian and Solomon would have their friend Sebastian come by for a workout session. In a matter of weeks you would know what day of the week it was when Sebastian would arrive.
It was obvious pretty quickly that they were taking this seriously. Over the summer, as the workout level climbed, they would include a session at a local gym. Clearly our limited kettlebells and other gym gear was no match for the young lads intensity.
The workouts usually would end with a protein shake. Because “ya gotta get your protein’s in”. And if there was no time for a pre-meal shake, astonishingly it would often follow our hearty meal. Nothing was going to get in the way of those “gains”.
The meals proceeding the workout became something to look forward to. Alice and the boys would always make sure there was something special being served. I’ve never eaten so well in my life ;-)
And as fast as it started, this past Thursday was the last session for the summer. Sebastian was heading back east for 2nd year Law. And just like that, the summer of workouts are over.
I’m not sure what the workout schedule will be this fall. With both my son’s now working in the family business, there may be less time for muscle building. The days are already getting shorter. Here’s a few images from their last session. Three young men in their prime.
WHISTLER 2022, THE NEW ROUTINE
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I wouldn’t exactly call us a “skiing family”, but on and off since 2009 we’ve tried to get to Whistler for at least a week’s skiing. Both Maximilian and Solomon have come and gone during those years, with high school and university often getting in the way of them joining us. It didn’t hurt that between 2016 - 2019 Maximilian’s university was a 45 minute drive south of Whistler.
So here we all are in 2022. University days are now over. Covid has released its vice like grip on our vacation dreams and our bodies were willing and for the most part able.
The early years at Whistler were filled with routine. Wake up, eat, drop the kids off at ski camp and make our way over to our own adult version of camp. Our time together was dinner and the short time before bed when the blissful exhaustion of the day caught up to all of us.
So now we’re all grown ups. I’ve been known to want to get to the mountain early and beat the rush. While there was no fresh snow to rush out for, there also wasn’t the crazy line-ups at the base of the mountain that we faced last year. So our routine was get up, have a good stretch, maybe check out the news, have a fine breakfast in our room, lounge a bit more and at some point by late morning we would be ready to ski.
I think we were all comfortable with the pace of this new routine. I think Maximilian and Solomon enjoyed lounging in the room as much as we did. The mountain wasn’t going anywhere and after years and years of deadlines (school, work, etc) it’s just nice to chill.
This seems like a fine template for future ski holidays. I noticed my ski days have hovered between 5 and 6 days during our 7 day holiday’s. I think I’m about ready for a 4 day ski week. Plenty of time to rest and plenty of time to ski. I need to get working on my après ski skills, I think I have some catching up to do.
HIS NAME IS PAUL
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This is my cousin Paul. He is most certainly my closest cousin, in fact he’s also one of my closest friends. And as these images show, he’s a bit of a character.
We can convey character in images, but maybe what I was aiming for is that he is a character. Paul is a unique breed of humanoid that lives and breathes schtick… his is an unabashed, unapologetic form of Henny Youngman meets Jackie Mason type of borscht belt humour. It’s adorable. It’s agonizing. It’s uniquely Paul.
I had a blast taking these images mostly because I was almost certain he was going to tell me to go fuck myself when I asked him. Much to my delight he agreed and I think in all honesty he was just warming up as I was winding down. This guy was made to have his picture taken. I hope he’ll sit for me again and I really hope he’ll bring more of those fine smoked meat Rueben’s again (hint hint).
And for this post I am breaking one of the golden rules and I’m posting in both black and white and in color. I think the black and white photos stand well on their own but for this series I processed the colors (for the first time) using Fujifilm’s Eterna (Cinema) preset and since my cousin Paul is an enormous cinephile (with a sub specialty in Italian mafia films and tv shows), it seemed like a good fit.
Please don’t ask about the banana. It’s a long story.
WEEKEND AT THE DRAKE
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As we prepare to settle into what feels like an inevitable 3rd lockdown (or is it the 4th?) here are some images from a trip to the Drake Devonshire Inn a couple of weekends ago when our thoughts were on decompressing from the city, what are we doing for the next meal and shall we order up more tea?
Even though we were less than 200km from Toronto, it felt like we were away. The acts of eating in new restaurants, enjoying the spectacular view looking out into Lake Ontario, doing a little winery hopping and visiting the local alpaca farm was the respite that we were looking for. The quintessential recharging of the batteries.
So here we are on December 17th, a mere two weeks from that weekend, with the announcement today from the Ontario Government on further restrictions. Discussions now are on can we get the rapid test kits in time for returning to work on January 3rd and how can we ensure that we’re all safe.
If nothing else, this pandemic should be teaching us to be in the moment. Yes, it’s a cliche, but this very small part of the world that we call home can seemingly change on a dime. So for now, I’ll look at these images (yes, Alice’s foot is swollen due to a torn ligament) and remember a weekend with no care in the world.
Happy Holidays!
DETERMINATION UP THE WAZOO
I’d be lying if I didn’t acknowledge that I wasn’t just a little proud. During Covid times, my eldest son Maximilian has embarked on a quest to transform his physique. It’s not that he was a slouch before, but something gripped him to put in the work to do something special. To look the way we all, if we had the determination and the time and perhaps a few less decades on the clock, would want to look.
I’ve seen it first hand the hours after hours he’s put into this. It’s not fast and it certainly isn’t easy. It’s not one or two days a week but most of the days of the week., week after week, month after month. And the amount of mostly lean, high protein food this young man can consume is startling. Between him and his younger brother Solomon, half of our fridge is full of high fat, high protein Greek yoghurt.
And to make this all the sweeter, he’s done this from home while finishing the last year of his masters program and most recently, the preparation for his thesis. Impressive to say the least.
But I am the grateful beneficiary of a young man who doesn’t mind having his picture taken, so what more can a dad who likes to take pictures ask for? Max is willing to ham it up and do what’s necessary to show off his hard work. My job is to try to not screw it up.
I posted recently about my ailing mother as well as the birth of my grand niece, two important events in our family. This post is a postcard to Max and his older self. A reminder to him of the year and time we’re living in and how he spent it doing pull ups and stomach crunches and the myriad other gruelling activities to sculpt his body. We can’t stop time, but we can certainly freeze it for a few precious seconds.
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BABY RAINA
My mother is 92 years old and having a bit of a rough time as of late. I can’t think of a better antidote to this stage in her and our lives than the arrival of a new child. A few weeks back we welcomed my niece’s second child, Raina Millie into the world.
Such a sweet little (about five pounds) girl; during the baby naming ceremony which is mostly an excuse for the family to get together, share stories and eat, she slept and ate and I believe there might have been a poop or two. I can’t remember if she cried, if she did, it wasn’t done with much enthusiasm.
It’s been two and a half years since the arrival of Raina’s big brother Elliot. We’re all delighted to have a new family member, someone who will carry on the traditions that came before her. She’ll be told of her great grandmother Ann and great grandfather Milton, but they will be people in faded pictures. Her story will be made from the brave new world we’ve left her. With any luck, she too will have a long and healthy life and she’ll have the chance to have her great grand children pass the torch to their own. And who knows, by then maybe people will live forever.
It’s a great reminder to me of the value of images, it’s proof that we’ve been here and until we live forever, I guess we’ll just have to keep taking them.
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LAST DAY
38 years working for one company is a profoundly long time. I’d venture a guess and say that it’s not the norm any longer, with most young people changing firms at the drop of a hat.
I’ve had the good fortune to have just one company controller at Reliable, his name is Rex. Rex decided to make it a career and retired on June 30, 2021, he started in 1983. That’s a long time ago.
As hard as I try, I can’t really remember much about 1983. But I do know it was the year that I started working for what eventually became my company. At that time Rex wouldn’t have been much on my radar. I was a young sales rep trying to do what sales reps do, I didn’t have the luxury of hanging around the office much. It wasn’t until 1991 when my father passed away that my relationship with Rex started to evolve. He was the guy looking after the books and I was as green as the grass. Thankfully, Rex stuck around, in both good times and bad and there was plenty of bad on the horizon.
The cliche is that it’s another “end of a chapter”. When you’re a company that started in 1955 we can count lots and lots of chapters. They haven’t always had a good ending. I believe this one has. Rex has good health and we were able to hire his replacement long enough in advance that the transition should be seamless. And while Covid restrictions forced us to scale back our celebrations, I think that all in all it was a good day for Rex and a good way to say “thank you and farewell”.
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QUARANTINE
Some of you may know that I participate in a weekly word project on Instagram with a couple of friends called #thiswordthisweek. it’s a bit of a fun thing that we do to help us get through the photographic dry spells. But most importantly in this time of Covid-19, it’s become, at least for myself, a reason to still take pictures.
The word this week is Quarantine, a word everyone is all too familiar with. My first thoughts were to put our masks on and take some pictures of Alice and myself at home, try to make a statement about our hardships. But let’s face it, I go to work everyday, I get to walk outside and go to the market when I need to. It maybe a hardship of sorts but I’ve not been completely isolated. This is not the case for my mother Ann who is 91 years old, who’s been quarantined for the best part of ten months.
This story is not dissimilar to sons and daughters around the globe who have elderly parents. Isolation, fear, loneliness, boredom are words that describe what I’m sure my mother goes through every single day. Her friends are now mostly deceased, her ties are with the few that remain, her sisters and her children.
Her universe is the television and her large print books. She says she is okay but will also admit to the dark parts of being much on her own and no longer being a part of the outside world as before. She misses Sunday dim sum with Alice and her grandsons. She misses going to the mall and buying things that she doesn’t need. She misses her freedom. She misses her life.
My mother’s time cannot be counted in years and decades. Her time and her future are now. We visit every week and bring her food. At the end of the meal is always something sweet, creamy and delicious. When she’s eating her beloved dessert, I believe she’s at her happiest and most content. Perhaps she’s time travelling to a place that is warm and sunny, full of family and friends. The enjoyment she gets out of it is a thing to behold.
The quarantine is not fair to people like my mother. In some ways I don’t think she fully understands what’s at stake when we visit. We keep our distance, we make sure that we’re as careful as possible. Of course simply by being there we are taking a chance, risking her life at the same time as we’re trying to give her back some of her life. Quarantine and Covid-19’s cruel irony.
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STAYING IN
We’re on week one of our second major lockdown during Covid-19. If I’m honest it’s felt pretty much like we’ve been staying in since late March 2020. Yes we had a reprieve this summer (oh what a glorious reprieve that was) but this is now feeling all too familiar. It almost feels natural. That’s kind of crazy.
On top of that it’s January in Toronto and it’s been grey and grey and grey for so long I can’t remember the sun. I do remember a constant stream of beautiful sunny Sunday’s in July and August and even for much of September. Getting out of the city with our road bikes feels like an eternity ago.
Alice and I are debating (negotiating) whether we will still be going to Whistler come March. The latest news in BC is that they don’t want visitors. Yet the mountain is open and they are, like the rest of the world, desperate for business. It’s a tough decision. We’ll figure it out in February but in the mean time I can dream about beautiful British Columbia and those wonderful mountains. And when the sun is shining and the snow is fresh and it’s not too cold, it is what my dreams are made of.
in the mean time, here’s some images from staying in. That’s all I have at the moment.
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OUR PLASTIC LIFE
I don’t love the smell of plastic in the morning, I’m sure neither do you. Quite frankly it’s disgusting at any time of the day. It gets into your nose and makes a home for itself. Before you know it, you never knew it was there. Tricky little bastard that plastic is.
But it does do some pretty cool things with light as I have found out this week. At work we have plastic temporarily installed as a structural diaper under the ceiling to prevent the garbage from the new roof installation from falling on our heads. On my way home from work the other day, I noticed a layer of plastic was what was separating me from the driver and I guess, from sharing in each others germs.
I can’t say pre-pandemic I really gave plastic much thought, other than I know we’re supposed to be using less of it to save the endangered species in our lakes and oceans. Isn’t it ironic that in order to save ourselves, we’re producing more plastic in the form of take out containers, grocery bags and cutlery than we likely ever have in the history of humankind.
Back to the cool light. I’ve been experimenting lately with some of Pat’s (@laroquephoto.com) presets that come with his 1 Eye Society subscription and I have to say I really find them a joy to use. I know they’re supposed to be just a starting point but you know that’s what separates the men from the boys (clearly, I’m still just a boy ;). So for the time being I’m just enjoying the ease of clicking a button and having 97% of my post processing done. The “starting point” stuff will come in time.
The second set of images are work I’m doing to emulate a certain Polaroid look as a preset. The process is fascinating to me. The preset completely transforms the image into something different from the starting point. Like the plastic, reality is being distorted, the feeling is now different, perhaps even a different time and place. And maybe in these ridiculous times that feeling of being somewhere else is about as far away as life is going to take us for the time being.
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A SAUBLE BEACH THANKSGIVING
My last post was back in June. That’s probably around the same time i last picked up my camera. What are we going to call this… the Covid-19 brain freeze ‘n drought sounds about right. Whatever the reason (really, damned if I know) I just lost all interest in taking pictures.
When I finally did pick up my camera again a few weeks ago, I hoped that the part of my grey matter that registers what all the little dials and buttons do, didn’t completely atrophy like a weight lifters biceps after he’s become a couch potato.
The good news is that maybe this is more like riding a bike than I thought. The basics came back pretty quickly. The harder stuff like using a flash was a little trickier, with some of the missing details only reappearing days later.
Our Canadian Thanksgiving this year was a trip, about 3 hours north west of Toronto to Sauble Beach. The missing element of travel has been a big reason why I haven’t been motivated to shoot. So this was the perfect opportunity to see if there was anything left in the tank.
My mission was made all the more interesting since Pat @laroquephotogram provided his Daido Moriyama presets to me. My creative rebound needed a bit of a push and this was a great help seeing the world through the contrasty perspective of the Japanese master.
Regardless of the results, the passion at least for the time being is back. The Covid-19 brain freeze ‘n drought seems to have abated. Yet another of the many reasons this time of year to be thankful.
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