Blog about FlyingTorque Dave Terry April 4th, 2008
First of all, let’s get aquainted. I’m a loser. I lose everything. I want to have humans learn to fly like the birds, bats and fish, but I forgot where I put my priorities. I could be a great person, but I have to make a living because my money is lost. I, I’ma, Iduhno.IIIII MeMeMe represents a loser.
Now, whatever in hell you are thinking right now belongs to you. It’s important to you, so don’t give it to me, because quite honestly, I’ll lose it. But before you go, I’d ask you to adventure into a new world. Look up to it, like it’s a white puffy cloud which takes the shape of someone who looks like you looking down at yourself.
Energy is a fundamental quantity that every physical system possesses. Energy is life and where there is motion on this earth, there is life. It dwells dormant in everything, because any object with mass has some amount of energy. Potential, inert,kinetic, or inertial, energy exist as we do. Energy is often defined as the ability to do work. Like, “Hand me the remote. “ This work comes from thinking and learning, needing to change the channel. And after all these millions of years on this earth, we imagine we are a result of our God’s energy spent wisely.
God’s energy is something we select, like a wall plug. We have a God and need an outlet. Or, we choose to be like you, or UrGod. To see the truth about the birds, bats and swimming fish, we need to be able to communicate with either God, or where we give our love.
I am going to attempt to explain to you, how God intends us to learn how to grow into the air. Simply put; We will learn to fly like the birds, bats and swimming fish. True Flight, or bird like flight, uses a fundamental quanity that every physical system possesses. I call it the binding of energy.
Newton's First Law of Motion states that a body at rest will remain at rest unless an outside force acts on it, and a body in motion at a constant velocity will remain in motion in a straight line unless acted upon by an outside force.
A body at rest can be acted on by numerous forces. Imagine a man is in a body of water with a thirty mile per hour wind blowing over the surface of the water. The man will remain in the same place, until he sticks his head above water. Then, he could throw a kite, or a wing/sail into the motion of the wind and capture it’s energy. This difference in motion of the wind and the water can create a dynamic motion controlled by a living body, like a sailor on a boat. The energy comes from the binding of the air and water interface.
Consider the energy inside the two house sockets. It doesn’t enter your mind, until you stick two copper knives into those two little black sockets and realize you’re experiencing 125 volts of electricity racing from the knives into the ground, through the heart which once pumped you full of life but is presently binding you with death. Don’t try this, smart guy.
Humans are evolving more rapidly than anyone can imagine. When a man holds on to the two lines of a controllable kite, it’s not quite as violent as electricity, but it is powerful. One’s body can be ripped out of the water into the air, at will, because the ‘Pilot’ has learned a skill which didn’t exist 12 years ago. We are learning to utelize Kinetic Energy and the second law of motion. We are rapidly realizing the values of inertia.
Inertia is proportional to a body's mass, or the amount of matter that a body has. The more massive a body becomes, the more inertia it has. This is seen by a simple balloon demonstration on a windy day.
Airless, the balloon body is about 3 inches. Laying on it’s side, it’s hardly effected by the wind, when it is on the ground. But now, inflate the balloon with air, affectively enlarging the surface area/mass which weights the same as the deflated body.
The wind will now have a powerful effect on the once tiny body. Air sees only the little deflated flat balloon as nothing. The inflated body is very different. It get’s hit by the wind and is swept away. The tiny balloon now has massive kinetic energy. Kinetic energy (also called vis viva, or living force) is energy possessed by a body by virtue of its motion.
With motion we can use physics. In physics, motion means a change in the position of a body with respect to time, as measured by a particular observer in a particular frame of reference. It’s like you’re a scientist. It’s all you know. You study, learn and determine. Now, a train is approaching around the bend. It doesn’t look that small. Do you calculate the amount of time it will take to move, or just get out of the danger? The position, senses and balance of the observer becomes key to moving air with giant objects.
Until the end of the 19th century, Newton's laws of motion, which he posted as axioms or postulates in his famous Principia, were the basis of what has since become known as classical physics. To fly from the earth, we will use only the Classical approach, but our Point of View will change from the Observer to the Participant. Only by experience will humanity gain the knowledge needed to support the weight of our future enlightenment and the realization of why God has given us the birds, bats and all flying creatures. You are the key, the pioneer.
I want you to know, I am not a scientist. I’m a surfer who realized how we could surf on two wings, which we evolve, from a very basic principle of motion and control of airflow. The use of opposing torques has been my passion. I am a pioneering pilot who has seen the future of our world through the eyes of God and realized He has given us eternity for the asking. And I am humbled to be in His magnificent grace. So, on with the story!
With boats, planing or hydroplaning is a method by which a hull skims over the surface of the water, rather than trying to cut a slice in the fluid. Water skiers are in the water, until they are pulled onto a plane. All they had to do was learn how to let the force of the boat pull against the two big planes on their feet. This is planning and what flat plates do in a fluid environment.
An aircraft is any machine capable of atmospheric flight. A pilot with a multitude of learned experience controls an F15E moving within a 3D environment because its plane is moved by his thoughts taking action. It is more than a rocket, because it has wings, which control it. The wings of an airplane are producing lift because ‘a steady state of air’ meets a mass and moves from the leading edge of the airflow to the trailing edge. This airflow takes the path of least resistance.
During this movement, air on the top of the wing, or dorsal side, is forced to move more quickly because there is a curve, which creates a low pressure between the top, or dorsal side, and the bottom, or ventral side. The leading edge creates a cut in a steady state and this slice carves the leading edge in the direction of the inertial path. This motion and cutting of the air can be done by moving forward, or by the wind moving over the leading edge. Either way, the difference between the top and bottom speed creates a low pressure on top of the wing, which acts as buoyancy in the surrounding density. This lowered pressure acts like a bubble in the water, it's only course of action is to float upward through the very dense fluid which is trying to race around the a low pressure. We call this low pressure ‘lift’ because it lifts the wing in the direction of the low pressure.
This is the basics. Many years ago, I set out on a journey to discover a new world I’d discovered while falling that day. My life has been devoted to falling and rising back to the top. My greatest desire is to be like the birds, but all I could do was learn how to surf. As I fell into wave after wave, my mind began to see the potential to turn falling into flying. Would it be possible to create an aircraft for a human to fly like a bird? I wondered.
First of all, you need to have a place to learn how to fly, so you don’t die. That’s in the water, or sea. Next, if you ever have to fall to the sea you’ll want protection. Inflateable bladders work well for protecting people from inertial energy and all kinds of other diseases. So, you have two inflatables designed as huge wings which can act as either sails, wings, or big condoms to protect you from the falling disease.
The sail/wing action is mainly up and down. This is what happens when two wings are ‘flapping’. In the up position, it’s a sail. Horizontal, it’s a wing and down is a transitional positon, where the mass falls and gains momentum.
This flying wing/sail will have a mast attaching the two identical sizes of wings and their mass. Both mast will attach to the Center of Gravity (CG) of the entire structure. Each wing is controlled from the pilot’s point of view, using Radio Control.
Remind me to explain this when I own the patent.
The pilot is inside a massive structure, which dwarfs his tiny body. This body could be a hundred feet across and the wings two hundred feet across. Radio Controlled Servos are in watertight boxes located in the wingtips. They control the movement of the two wings by moving flaps on either the front or back of the wingtip of the mast. These servos effect twist in the wing. Now image the body looks like a big mouthed bass!
Air moves from the leading edge, or mouth, of the giant inflated aircraft. The air is heated and pumped into the enclosure by electric motors with ducted intakes which allow air in, but not out. The heated wingtips will want to rise up on their own. The key here is the entire body could have a huge surface area! The larger the surface, the easier it is to get lift from the wind and fly the wings.
This body could be giant, once it is controlled by the RC Devise. This body might dwaft the tiny human which has learned to fly this aircraft like a bird. That giant body can grow to massive proportions. These inflated bodies could even use jets to produce heat to lift, thrust and penetrate strong wind. When bodies are created using RC servos, these servos will become the spine of the giant, moving parts distant from the center of gravity, like the tail of a dinosaur.
Inflated and articulated bodies will be growing into the air like plants in springtime. This is the use of kinetic energy and the mind of man at work. Is it’s God’s will? Ask God, not I.
This enlightenment takes a different shape than the rocket, which is riding a controlled explosion. Our growth as humans becomes avian and expanded with the understanding of Opposing Torques. See the new world, as a bug sees you. It may be the dna of a new generation of mankind.
‘Two Torques =Motor’
The final concept in the future of flight is the use of two massive torques applied to the same Center of Gravity on a 3D plane.
Because I realize you may not understand the basics of sailboarding, or how to fly like a bird, a bat, or fish,; I'm going to explain, very basically, how a pilot uses the wind and water interface to lift his weight onto a plane, propelling the unified mass of the sail, board and body, over the surface. By doing this, you will see that a number of forces produce this dynamic motion.
Dynamic Locomotion is energy obtained from a number of sources, all acting in harmony with the pilots control.
There are two basic forces in use within the sailboard model. The mast is held erect by the pilots weight balancing a vertical mast and wing mass over a Center of Gravity. The sail, or verical wing, twist the wind around the body, sail and mast, producing a low pressure which lifts the system into a hydro plane over the water. A dynamic motion is induced by the vertical sail wanting to be blown over and flattened against the water. The board planing on the surface of the water slips the entire system of board, sail and body of the pilot, across the wind.
The board, body and sail is static relative to the sailboarding pilot. The Pilot is standing on a board going 20mph. It could be an ocean liner as far as the pilot is concerned because it’s all relative and the system is one. But the pilot's body is altering and changing things uncounsiously because the pilot has taught his body to respond to changes in balance. The pilot experiences all the motion around the system, but relative to his point of view, the system is static and he is controling the motion of the board and sail.
The pilot twist the sail while it is exposed to the force of the wind and this produces a torque and lift which acts on the mast attached to the sailboard with a line, or universal joint. The pilot controls the actions to balance it all at the Center of Gravity, which is static relative to the entire moving system and the pilot. But there are a number of forces acting on this system which when working in harmony with the flow, provide the pilot with a massive amount of power. The key to know is the pilot has 'learned' to balance them.
The 'WaterStart' is a method of letting the sail pull the pilot out of the water, onto a sailboard. This board leaps onto a plane and races the 'Sailboard' across the wind. Actually, on a windy day, the sail has the power to rip the pilot out of the water and throw him over the top of the sail! But the pilot has 'learned' to control the moving wing, or sail, laying on the water's surface. The key to flying like the birds is the learning, so let me explain.
The 'WaterStart' was discovered, about 17 years after the windsurfer was invented. Originally, the windsurfer used a rope to pull the sail out of the water. Very difficult, but theres a trick which makes it easy, but not as easy as a waterstart. Here’s how it’s done.
After some moments, the guy, or girl, grabs the mast holding it vertical until their hands grasp on the boom which would control the sail's twisting of the airflow, or pitch. It seems so ignorant now, but at the time, it was the only way we knew how to do it. Then came the waterstart.
This Waterstart very simply came from the survival of the sailboarders who took them in the whitewater of the surf, using their old surfboards. We needed to get up and away!
A sailor in the water who wants to do a waterstart simply throws the sail over head, grabs the boom, puts a foot onto the board to control it's motion and direction, then "gives the sail power", or twist in the sail. This twisting of the air creates a huge torque in the mast and boom as it trys to rip everything over the top of the board. The sailor goes with the flow as the sail lifts the sailor up onto the sailboard. Once erect on the board the sailor just directs the board onto a plane across the wind and off in to the horizon.
What's important for you to understand about learning to fly like birds is: "Learning to 'fly' two wings and a tail are going to be a process of athletes 'learning' to deal with two massive powers, in the water. But once one body flies into the air, the race begins. It’s like a matter of survival for all the lemmings willing to jump into it. Those pioneers will shape the design of the final frontier. They learn for simple reasons, so they can be the first to do it. Now for the dynamics of doing a waterstart and why it’s important.
A Sailboard 'sail' generates a twisting torque in the mast of the sail. This torque is applied to the base of the mast, which caused the mast to be forced downward into the floating board. This forces the nose of the bouyant board down, into the water. The tail bobs upward.
To compensate for this tail bobbing force, the sailboarder, or pilot, puts some weight onto the tail of the board with a foot. Because the pilot's weight is different than the sail forces, the nose of the board wants to move downwind of the pilot and sail.(Actually, it wants to move upwind, but the skilled pilot is forcing the nose of the board downwind using the torque of the sail mast.) Now, the board, body and sail begin to move downwind. When the pilot and sail are equal in balance, the surfboard acts as a planing vehicle for both, the pilot, the force of the sail and the flow of wind which is moving over the water. When the pilot twist the sail, a much stronger force is implied to the nose of the board. He lean back.
But, the pilot has learned to control the equality of the forces between the nose and tail of the sailboard. When the pilot can apply all of his weight onto the board and stand up, the sailboard acts like a sailboat, lifting the pilot onto a speeding plane. Now, the pilot, board and sail are one dynamic motion, moving rapidly over the surface of the water, on a plane.
The pilot has done a simple 'waterstart' and is now the master of his moving wind propelled system. The use of two wings, a mast and a board moving over the sea will have to 'evolve' from a number of pilots trying to learn how to waterstart a moving wing system. They will invent a way to do it when they have the tools to float on the surface during a gale. Doing it in a 3D system, or flying in the air, will come after flying can be done on a plane.
The main points to grasp are the size of the wings are huge inflated bodies controlled by the pilot using a hand held Radio Control Devise. When two torques are applied at one point, a type of motor is formed and this becomes kinetic when acted on by the pilot. This entire system has huge potential energy. Inertia is proportional to a body's mass, or the amount of matter that a body has. The more mass a body has, the more inertia it has and the giant inflated wing systems will have massive inertial speeds.
Lastly, none of this will happen, if you do not take action. It’s a simple design. It’s God’s design. We are his children. This is the truth. What I’ve told you will take humans into the sky. I’m asking for your faith, love and money. I need your support.
I ask in the name of Jesus.
Ask Him.
Eternally your,
David Note to the Furure: This letrer was on my computer when I made my first Self Inflating Wing. I’ve been working on this for the last month. And today, I will post this to record the fact that I have made my first Self Inflating Wing and I’m attaching one photo of 10 which I have recorded today on IPhoto
Betty Main has been on my mind every day. She's still in presence. It’s her smiling attitude. The woman’s spirit is a beam of light filling the room. I thank God for knowing her. Betty and I sat together in the Community Church. We were like little kids who came there to meet, bonded by the spirit of our love. Weekly, we attended Bible study together. Betty was a good friend for many. But now, I suppose she will be with all of us who know Christ, as she is in Christ and He lived in her. And our memory of her will be with us forever. Thanks Betty!
Until her passing, Betty Main was honored as the home-owner with the longest time in residence here in Sandestin. She and her husband, Johnny, built one of the first homes here in the very early days. Betty and Johnny Main lived out in the swamp. That’s the way they liked it. It was accessible only by four-wheel drive, nearly 30years ago. They were pioneers, full of laughter, sincerity and love. They both lived each moment of every day to the fullest. And by God, a resort grew up around them.
Sometimes I wonder who I am, in the eyes of God. I know I’m not the smartest cell in the sea, nor the largest. I’m just like everyone else. I’m moved by the tide and currents and the will of those which surround my membrane. With this in mind, I’d ask you to look at Galations 1:1 and discover what Paul has to say about pleasing men, or God.
Revelation is the spirit revealing the truth, as seen by God, through the eyes of a man. For this reason, the honest truth is currupted by the thoughts of the viewer. I am only a witness of man's plight in the light of God’s love. You can be the judge of this moment in my life.....
I’m a photographer and writer. I study the light, line and the life which exist within it’s bounderies of a composed frame. If the frame is not capable of capturing the essense of my study, I write about it. The photo tells a thousand words, but my fingers do the walking the rest of the way.
Being a photographer and writer gives me some credibiltiy in the eyes of others. This credibility is constantly under attack by people who can read and look at pictures and think for themselves, about what I know, or think. For this reason, it’s difficult to maintain relationships with everyone who reads and sees a glimpse of my soul.
I have a number of young friends, as I’ve always enjoyed kids. I’m not a fag, or child molester, I’m really just an old kid who realizes eternity is longer than my life and I’ve got a long journey ahead of me. After my wife was gone, I was left with few friends who weren’t married, divorced, or having to take on the responsiblities of single parents. Young people inspire me and every now and then, I discover one which I feel I’d like to help out, by moving them closer to God. God has given me the gift of being able to inspire people to know Him and this is what I try and do.
This kid is a very special kind of person, because he’s only 19 years old and I’m old enough to be his great grandfather, but he acts like a thirty year old. He’s motivated to do something more with his life than just hang out. We’ve moved along as friends for most of the time I’ve lived in NW Florida. He’s special because he’s very smart and logically minded and yet, he’s kind of a rebel, like myself. Because I think I know who he is, doesn’t mean you need to. I’ll just call him Paul, like the guy in Galations 1:1.
So, this is what happened to me and Paul. Only God knows how it will all work out and I’ll leave it in His hands.
In the last year, I’ve been trying to build my business in this area. I run around several times a week and talk to Real Estate Agents, Contractors, Ad Agencies, Magazine Editors and others who might be interested in photography and writing. During the course of this action, I met two very nice people who have become good friends and also helped me to pay a few of my bills. I’ll call them George and Gracie.
One evening, I was shooting photos of the local high school graduates, at a friends house. His son was graduation and going off to college and they were have a big party. It was a huge ‘pre-prom party’. Paul was there and I shot of photo of my friends son, Bob Jones, and Paul. Both of them were smiling and happy to be done with High School. I even posted the photo on my web-site, as they were both people I felt I’d be friends with in the years to come.
Well, some time ago, Paul had a girlfriend. I’ll call her ‘Paris’. She was younger than Paul and still in High School. One night, Paul invited me to go and listen to some music over at a small restraunt on the beach in Destin, Florida. There, I met Paul’s beautiful young friend, Paris. We listened to the music, but we didn’t get to talk much, as we were listening and they were in love. I was more of an observer of Paul’s girlfriend.. I left early and that was the only time I ever met the little lady.
A couple of months later, Paul tells me, “ Paris doesn’t want to see me anymore.” And I could see, he was really upset by the situation. I tried to help him out and told him, “What’s for you, won’t pass you.” But that didn’t calm his soddened soul and having been in his position more times than I care to remember, I just let it go and figured he was smart enough to pull through and move on, which he did.
In the mean time, Paul drifted away, while I became much closer to the two real estate agents, George and Gracie. They were closer to my age and George and I appeared to be on the same wavelength and they wanted nice photos of their listings for their website. We weren’t hanging out drinking together, but mainly just talking about our business processes and trying to grow them. I didn’t even know they were church going people. We were just friends who appeared to get along quite well. I took photos of their listings and posted them and their names on my website which is viewed by thousands of people all over the world.
A couple of months ago, I stopped in to see Paul, at the place he usually worked. I had a photograph in mind and wanted to use him as a model in the shot. He’s a good model and needed some shots for his portfolio and I figured it would help him. He told me he’d be glad to do it and for me to give him a call later. But he appeared kind of distant. I called, but he’d blocked my phone from his cell.
I tried to call him a few more times and he didn’t answer. Then I went back to his work and tried to find him, but he’d left the position. The manager, there, gave him a call and told me Paul said he’d call me. But Paul never did call. Finally, I used a different phone and called his number. The instant Paul realized who it was, he hung up on me. I was dumbfounded and had no idea why he would do this.
One day, I stopped by his house and talked to Paul’s father, who told me Paul had mentioned me, to him, and that he’d talked highly of me. He said he’s ask Paul to give me a call. But the kid never did. It broke my heart. I had no idea why he had cut off communication, or stopped being a friend. But, I figured, he’s only nineteen and maybe he just doesn’t want to be bothered by some old guy, like myself. So, I let it go and moved on.
Time moved on and the silver threads of string theory intertwined the lives of several souls. Last week, the Sandestin Golf and Beach Resort had a PGA event. I’d been given a number of free, $50, tickets and a press pass. Two of the tickets, were given to my friends, George and Gracie. They asked if I’d like to join them in the afternoon of the final rounds and I said they could park their car at my house, on the green, and we could walk over and follow the leaders.
There were hundreds of people at the event and George and Gracie told me they’s meet me over at my house, after they went to church. I told them, I’d be doing the same. And so, we met and began walking and following the players. Soon we were standing on the 17th hole where we’d captured a rope view of the action. We’d been standing there making small talk for several minuted when Gracie says to me, “Oh Dave, I was perusing through your website the other day and came across a young friend of yours.... Paul dated our daughter, Paris.”
I stood there dumbfounded, looking at the scoreboard, remembering my friend, Paul. There were a bunch of people standing between us and the board and one of them caught my eye. He looked like my friends son, Bob Jones. But he had glasses on and it’d been a year since I’d seen him and he was wearing sunglasses and hanging with a bunch of young guys from college. I didn’t know George and Gracie had a daughter. They’d never really mentioned her and if they had, I didn’t remember, because I don’t have any kids and when parents start going on about their kids, it goes in one ear and out the other. But this caught my attention...
I stood staring at the group of college boys, wishing I was in college again and hadn’t lost my wife and walked through the valley of the shadow of death and why God was keeping me here. Then my attention turned to my friends and I said, “You are the parents of Paris, the girld who broke the heart of my friend Paul?” And Gracie began talking about Paris and how Paul had done this and that and how Paris and done this and that and I stood there, drifting off, looking at the college kids, remembering how alive I’d been when I was their age. As the boys turned to leave, the one who looked like Bob Jones, turned back and looked directly at me, then turned to leave.
“Bob!” I called out. Gracie was still talking about her daughter as Bob Jones turned around and I realized it was actually the boy who was standing in the photo next to my friend who Gracie was presently talking about. The stings were intwined in the cosmic moment and I was stunned, realizing I was caught in the middle of God’s will for a number of people.
I excused myself and went over to see Bob Jones. He was delighted to see me and I was excited to see him, telling him we had just been talking about a photo I’d taken of him with Paul. We were cordial and only spoke briefly, as I went back to tell Gracie and George about the cosmic connection I’d just experienced. They didn’t have an epifany, but I did.
And I realized, Paul must have figured I’d known about George and Gracie’s daughter when he was going out with her, but I didn’t. He figured I’d been on the inside of his experiences and trials, when actually, he’d just cut me out of his connection with what he loved, by his anger. He’d only seen a realationship of strings and their name on my website and turned away from me, because his feelings were hurt. He didn’t see it through God’s point of view, only his on.
There is only one God, and one universe within which we exist. Time and space limit our thoughts to the speed of light. But God transends this speed and sees our needs long before we are awakened by His illuminations of our plight. Every now and then, we get a chance to witness His cosmic divinity. In the end, all we really need is to give away our love, in order to be loved.
Several times in our lives, events take place which make us realize we might actually be connected with some greater power. Realizing we are in sync with the flow of our consciousness, or that of something much greater than we could imagine, we’re inspired.
Last week, I had one of these brief realizations. It was the middle of the week. I went to sleep at about 9pm, because I had a meeting at 7am the next morning . At 3am, I awoke with a start. I’d had a dream.
First a little background. I am a graduate of the most prestigious photography school in the United States, Brooks Institute of photography. When I began this school, there were 65 students in my class. Three years later, only about 13 of us were still enrolled and looking at graduating. Those of us who made it through this ‘West Point of Photography’ school, were considered a fairly elite group. We’d endured hundreds of critiques, photos ripped up, thrown in our face for reprinting and countless hours in the complete blackness of a darkroom.
In this dream, which had just awoken me, three good friends were sitting in my living room outside the Santa Barbara Mission,. My best friend and wife, Tootie, was making some chocolate chip cookies, while Steve Welsh, the present owner of Welsh Studios in St. Louis talked to Chuck Davis, a Cousteau Society underwater cine and photo master and Marine Biologist, were talking about the swings and shifts of 4x5 photography. I awoke when I realized myself, an adventure pioneer and budding producer.
As I awoke, I remembered how vivid the dream and it’s details appeared. I was about to write it down, when I felt compelled to contact Steve Welsh. I’d tried to contact Chuck Davis, several years before, but he had not responded and it’s been 30 years since we’d seen each other. I sat down at the workstation and searched out Steve Welsh.
Welsh Photography Studio is a huge entity in St. Louis and Steve’s direct E-mail was lost in the company somewhere. So I wrote to the webmaster and hoped he’d get the letter to Steve. A couple of hours passed as I poured out the events of the years. It was a purge. I wrote into the night. Looking at the clock, realizing my meeting, I set the alarm and fell asleep for a few minutes.
After the meeting, I was so tired, I forgot to pay for my breakfast. The rest of the day fell apart and I stumbled from one problem to another using my excuse of having been too timed. But I felt good about having sent of the letter, which the dream had inspired. At five in the afternoon, I opened my E-mail to discover over 30 frivolous intros to various propaganda. Buried within the deletions and filing process, I saw a message, not from Steve Welsh, but from my old darkroom buddy, Chuck Davis!
Well, I just figured Chuck must be working with Steve and saw the E-mail when I sent it. Excited, I opened the mail figuring I’d contacted two old friends in the same note. But reading the lengthy letter from Chuck, I realized, to my amazement, Chuck was not even vaguely connected to Steve. This was a purge and telling of ones life to an old friend, exactly like I’d sent to Steve Welsh. At the end of the letter, Chuck asked me to give him a call. I wrote him back and told him I’d be calling on the weekend, which was the next day.
As I sent off the letter to Chuck, I glanced at the time. His letter had been written to me, about the same time I’d awoken from the dream!
The next day, Chuck and I talked and I realized something even greater. My experiences with photography and writing have given me freedoms, wealth and enjoyment beyond my imaginations and dreams. I know everything on this planet is connected by one very forgiving string. Even evil and goodness are connected by this ultimate tie. The thing which ties us all is something more vast and encompassing than our minds and even our souls can fathom. It’s called love. Even evil is tied together by ‘love strings’ for itself.
When Chuck wrote me, he had love in his heart for photography and the spirit of the true photographers’ desire to capture what is in the heart. Chuck told me all about what he loves, just as I had written Steve Welsh and told him all about what I had loved in my photography career. And this was the string which bound the two of us together. Something greater than our selves, something indescribable by mankind. It was like the giant ball of ‘love strings’ had grasp the essence of our mutual commitments and tied them together. Many people, myself included, call it simply, God. Scientist call it String Theory. Read more here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/String_theory
I haven’t heard back from Steve Welsh. and will pursue this. Maybe this is what I’m lead to do, but for now, Chuck and I are back in our friendship, sailing on the high seas of photography and our love for what we get to experience within the core of it’s illuminated spirit.
Several times in our lives, events make us realize we are connected with some greater power. Realizing we are in sync with the flow of our consciousness, or that of something much greater than we could imagine, we’re inspired. It's the cosmic connection where two become one.
Last week, I had one of these brief realizations. It was the middle of the week. I went to sleep at about 9pm, because I had a meeting at 7am the next morning. At 3am, I awoke with a start. I’d had a dream.
First a little background. I am a graduate of the most prestigious photography school in the United States and maybe the world, Brooks Institute of photography. When I began this school, there were 65 students in my class. Three years later, only about 13 of us were still enrolled and looking at graduating. Those of us, who made it through this ‘West Point of Photography’ school, were considered a fairly elite group. We’d endured hundreds of critiques, photos ripped up, thrown in our face for reprinting and countless hours in the complete blackness of a darkroom. Those of us who graduted are tied by a mutual understanding which transcends conversations.
In this dream, which had just awoken me, three good friends were sitting in my living room outside the Santa Barbara Mission. My best friend and wife, Tootie, was making some chocolate chip cookies, while Steve Welsh, the present owner of Welsh Studios in St. Louis talked to Chuck Davis, a Cousteau Society underwater cine and photo master and Marine Biologist, were talking about the swings and shifts of 4x5 photography. I awoke when I realized adventure pioneer, a documentary photographer, writer and myself.
As I awoke, I remembered how vivid the dream and it’s details appeared. I was about to write it down, when I felt compelled to contact Steve Welsh. I’d tried to contact Chuck Davis, several years before, but he had not responded and it’s been 30 years since we’d seen each other. I sat down at the workstation and searched out Steve Welsh.
Welsh Photography Studio is a huge entity in St. Louis and Steve’s direct Email was lost in the company somewhere. So I wrote to the Webmaster and hoped he’d get the letter to Steve. A couple of hours passed as I poured out the events of the years. It was a purge. I wrote into the night. Looking at the clock, realizing my meeting, I set the alarm and fell asleep for a few minutes.
After the meeting, I was so tired; I forgot to pay for my breakfast. The rest of the day fell apart and I stumbled from one problem to another using my excuse of having been too timed. But I felt good about having sent of the letter, which the dream had inspired. At five in the afternoon, I opened my Email to discover over 30 frivolous intros to various propaganda and ads for enlargement. Buried within the deletions and filing process, I saw a message, not from Steve Welsh, but from my old darkroom buddy, Chuck Davis!
Well, I just figured Chuck must be working with Steve and saw the Email when I sent it. Excited, I opened the mail figuring I’d contacted two old friends in the same note. But reading the lengthy letter from Chuck, I realized, to my amazement, Chuck was not even vaguely connected to Steve. This was a purge and telling of ones life to an old friend, exactly like I’d sent to Steve Welsh. At the end of the letter, Chuck asked me to give him a call. I wrote him back and told him I’d be calling on the weekend, which was the next day.
As I sent off the letter to Chuck, I glanced at the time, his letter had been written. Again, to my amazement, it was about the same time I’d awoken from the dream!
The next day, Chuck and I talked and I realized something even greater. My experiences with photography and writing have given me freedoms, wealth and enjoyment beyond my imaginations and dreams. I know everything on this planet is connected by one very forgiving string. This ultimate tie connects even evil and goodness. The thing, which ties us all, is something more vast and encompassing than our minds and even our souls can fathom. It’s called love. ‘Love strings’ tie even evil together.
When Chuck wrote me, he had love in his heart for photography and the spirit of the true photographers’ desire to capture what is in the heart. Chuck told me all about what he loves, just as I had written Steve Welsh and told him all about what I had loved in my photography career. And this was the string, which bound the two of us together. Something greater than our selves, something indescribable by mankind, like the giant ball of ‘love strings’ had grasped the essence of our mutual commitments and tied them together. Many people, myself included, call it simply, God. Today's scientist calls it String Theory. Read more here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/String_theory
I haven’t heard back from Steve Welsh. And, I will pursue this. Maybe this is what I’m lead to do, but for now, Chuck and I are back in our friendship, sailing on the high seas of photography and our love for what we get to experience within the core of it’s illuminated spirit.
I shot a wedding this week. I was on the beach at sunset, beautiful. Sand filled my shoes as the sun fell into the horizon. Forty people gathered, awaiting the bride. The groom met me with another bald head. I saw myself. The light shined off his freshly shaven dome. I shot some photos of him with the brides maids and friends and I watched the sun fall. And I thought about how many times I'd taken photos of people who beamed their own light and the love which glowed from their soul. And I remembered, as always, my own true love. As I watched the sun fall into the ground. And I wondered if he would find the same God which called my name when she was no longer standing next to me. And the light was all I could see falling on the faces of the people inside my viewfinder. Later, as I looked at the tears welling up from those eyes in the audience, I remembered why I was a photographer and loved my study of life.
It’s impossible to imagine your worst nightmares, until they become experience. Most of us don’t know our fears, until they appear. Our deepest fears are beyond our grasp. But our emotions are greater than ourselves and hidden in a well of nightmares, until realized. I’m a pioneer. There’s no other name for what I am. When something new comes along, I enjoy trying it and if I like it, I learn the skills well enough to impress those who inspire myself, then, I write about those people, experiences, or places.
I started as a surfer inspired by people who surfed in Hawaii. By the time I turned 40 years old, I’d travelled from London to Lagos, Nigeria, alone, looking for the perfect wave. I surfed on waves which few humans will ever see, or can imagine. As a pioneer, surfing adventures were exciting and adventurous and lead me into the depths of both heaven and hell. It's the hardest sport in the world. Ask Laird Hamilton. Later, as I grew older, I pioneered sailboarding and become a professional. In 1983 I moved to the Island of Maui where the watersports thrive. I rode waves larger than three stories high. But in twenty years, I’d never been in a situation like the one I experienced while learning to kiteboard. And, in all honesty, I’ve never experience this type of fear.
When some good friends invited me to join them on a downwind kite flying adventure over the surf and thru the rocks with several of the early pioneers of the new sport, I was ready for the adventure. There were no rules and the only direction we could go was down wind. We were pioneers and we'd drive upwind, then launch our kites and race downwind for 5 miles. 'Grab your kite and go', was the order of the day. The conditions were extreme. It would be fun.
The wind was gusting to thirty five mph which enlightened small pebbles and threw them down the sandy beaches, over the edges of Ho’okipa Beach hillside. We arrived at Ho'okipa in time to see our heros, Eliot and Lou take off. Everything was going just dandy when we launched. Butterflies fluttered inside our souls, behind wide and darting eyes. Terror was everywhere and the vibes at Ho'okipa were like a crew of fully geared skydivers entering a commercial airline flight, holding loaded guns.
Eliot and Lou were pros, so they launched in the thirty five knot gust as we watched and prepared for the experience. They were cautious as they edged out past the rocks and then started boosting 30 foot leaps into the air and throwing their bodies into aerial spins and forward rolls, flying over the mast of the sailboarders. We were quiet and cautious as we launch kites which could drag us into the air and hang us on powerlines with one mistake.
Several others launched and then my friend help me before launching himself. We were having a great time, flying in and out of the surfline, off the tops of the fifteen foot peaks and into the sky for what seemed eternity. One by one, the other kites disappeared down the coast. I was, heading out and down wind, having an amazing adventure. I started dropping into the fifteen foot high waves of Outer Sprecks, but saw giant swells breaking on the outside, at Spartan Reef which is about a mile out at sea. I sailed farther out. I was in tune with the kite, board and waves. Fearlessly the fool steps into the unknown. While riding up the face of one peaking swell, I body slammed an entire folding white waterfall and was pulled underwater through the back of the wave. Before I recovered, the kite slammed to the surface. I popped up and relaunched...but the bridle and strings were tangled and the kite turned inside out. The kite slammed the surface in the thirty knot gust, like a marlin, leaping on the end of my line.
When this happened, I had a reel which is no longer used by kiteboarders. But, I enjoyed it as the devise allowed me to launch and recover, alone. With a reel, I could wind the lines in, where I could turn the kite inside out again and relaunch. I start reeling and swimming toward the kite. The lines were 90 feet long and it took some time with the little handle spinning the reel. As I kicked my feet, the board attached to one leg, pulled on the board. It was hitting me in the head as I kicked.
Normally, when out at sea in the Pacific, looking down into the deepest blue you've ever seen can be very disturbing to almost anyone. It’s like you’re floating in the sky and not natural. But to be doing this when you are alone, a mile out at sea, on a two meter board with a cute yellow kite, well, this is what makes the pioneering experience an adventure. I was reeling and kicking and the stupid board was on a cord which was too short. The board hit my head with every kick of my left foot.
By the time I reeled and kicked to the kite, I was ready to spit venom, or sink the board on the cord, forever. I swore at the board and even lost my temper and hit it’s hard fiberglass. With the reel, the tiny cork of a board was useless. It could not be paddled and wouldn't float well enough to sit on. It was just a useless tool hitting my head. I became frustrated and annoyed.
Then, I had the idea to pull the cord up to my knee, so it would not hit my head when my feet kicked. Looking down into the deep blue, I opened my eyes expecting to see the dark blue of the depths below. At first, I thought I could see a green shadow from the kite reflected in the bubbles. But when I looked down, there was no deep blue. Something moved me and fear leaped from the depths of my soul. I grabbed a breath and looked again. My heart was racing for no apparent reason. The tiny bubbles from my feet appeared to have a shadow in the gray of my water filled eyes. These bubbles curved into the darkness of an unfamiliar gray. Fear engulfed every pore of my body. I kicked for the surface and the board slammed into my head as I took a breath. I screamed a kind of stupidly terrified yell, underwater, as I peered into the bubbles to confirm what I knew and didn't want to experience as real. The scream felt like a whimper.
In thirty years of being in the water almost every day, I've only seen open ocean sharks three times. What came out of the bubbles was the head of a ten foot WIDE Tiger shark. It's fist sized eye looked right into my own and for the first time in my life, I looked eye to eye with death. Suddenly, the largest thing I’ve ever seen, underwater, shook it's entire body like a dog shakes water from is fur. It's back quirked up and the softball black eye remained on mine as I was buffeted by the waves of it's enormous mass. It was the feeling of being inside an earthquake. Waves pass through you and they propagate outward, as you realize you are a part of a giant wave. But the eye remained fixed on mine, while bile raced to my mouth and my bowels released. The force of the eye’s glare was like the muzzle eye of a forty five on a dark night. I shuddered and gasp for air climbing onto the headbonker board like it was the last step out of hell. My fear disappeared and became terror. "I am not going to die like this." I said to myself, as I realized why a mouse will just look at you and not move when it is caught by your sight. Fear is a force and a weapon and this thing, breathing water through a filter of teeth, knew exactly how to create fear in my tiny shaking body. I lifted my head and gasp for air, life and God’s grace.
I tried to stop shaking and yet my curiosity of absolute disbelief compelled me to look again below the surface. There, not twenty feet from my soft white flesh was a creature which could gobble up a 500 lb tuna like an appetizer. . It was watching every move I made and turned so it's eye could remain on mine. I looked at the grace of it and tried to show my respect.
"I am not going to die like this." screamed my thoughts. It watched, then fell in to the deep blue, gliding silently down. I had to breath. It's confidence was nauseating. By it's violent shaking, I knew it was not at all happy with me and was most likely, gaining inertia to aim at it's victim. I lost control and became a shaking body of blubbering insignificance. This was when the reality of my situation was like some wise old man shaking his head at my ignorance, saying, "I told you so." I was about to be lunch for papa shark and all the grandchildren living in the depths below. The surfzone and whitewater was several hundred yards inside and the kite wouldn't fly until I could turn the kite inside out. Trying not to get upset, or kick, or throw up, I flew the kite into the air and it slammed back to the surface. But it pulled me forward like a troll. This sparked my confidence.
At this point I figured the animal would go for the board, or my feet, but there wasn't a damned thing I could do about it. I pulled the board under me and lifted my feet into the air trying to get myself on the board. I flew the kite inside out, into the air and it slammed back to the water. The kite’s pull trolled me along. Thoughts were of how it would feel to be eaten, not what I would do. Would I feel the bones breaking? Would it eat me until I was dead, or would I have time to feel the animal shaking me like a rag doll in a mad pit bull’s mouth? Maybe it would just play with me for a while, ravage me in chunks at will. I tried to be calm, but shudders were quaking inside my body. Violent uncontrollable shudders, impossible to control. The predator was stalking me and would try to hit before I escaped in the bubbles of the waves.
In my desperation, I flew the kite up, slammed it down on the water, then re-launched. I slammed it onto the water again and it bounced back up as I concentrated on flying it back upward. Slamming the kite was my defense. I continued hammering the kite on the surface in the direction of the surf until I felt a swell become a wave and lift me. I used the kite to pull me as fast as possible downwind, trolling my soft flesh. In a few moments, in the unknown safety of the surfzone, I became more calm. Correcting the bridle, turning the kite inside out, I re-launched the kite, lifted my body onto the board, then escaped from that ungodly experience. It was the home of my worst fears and I had ventured into the lair of the giant. Alone, empty, no longer the confident pioneer who adventures forth as if protected, I escaped. Now, some time has past and I’ve found new paths and fears. Daily, I realize I am alive and will never forget the monster looking me in the eye with intent to kill, nor the uncontrollable shaking, the loss of control and the confidence which took me to this place . Once again, something greater than myself gave me another day. “Thank God!”, I say.
What I learned from this experience was; other creatures in the sea are very aware of their area. As ocean police, sharks are most aware. It's not how you swim which impresses a killer, but how you act. I swore at the board and even lost my temper. I screamed and this violent act attracted the attention of a local. You don’t yell at the policeman.
When fools walk into a gangland and start mouthing off about anything at all,they are watched and observed by every living creature within earshot. They prey on this ignorance.
I wrote this story because it was, very simply, an experience I survived. I'm grateful to be here. And what greater thing than to be able to tell someone you are still here and grateful to all things greater than yourself.
I believe in God, more than myself. Maybe it's because I'm an idiot. But I'd be an ignorant idiot to do what I want and not realize the things which happen in my life are not God working the strings of my soul. Here's an example.
I work, as a waiter, a couple of nights a week at a busy restuarant. For myself, it's a social scene. But, I'm a photographer and make more in an hour of photography than I do in four as a waiter. Because I've been doing it for so long, it's easy and I have lots of fun. Lots of nice people, pretty ladies and I'm able to serve my fellow man.
Two days ago, my manager at the little job I hold, asked me to come in for a couple of hours so she could work with me on becoming a better waiter in her restaurant. I want to be the best, so I told her I'd be glad too. What's two hours, I thought to myself, as I made the commitment.
As a writer, I have alot of deadlines chasing me about and I've learned to kind of put them in their place over the years. Editors always push writers for early deadlines as it gives them time to edit and then ask the writer for a rewrite. This is the process. When I made the commitment, I knew I had two deadlines worth about $300 dollars, but figured the two hours would be a good break and I could come back and 'Git'er'Done'.
At the job site, as the 2nd hours began to come to a close, I asked the Assitant manager to start filling my spot. "Oh Dave," he says, "We really are slammed and I need you to cover this section."
I told him what the manager had asked and knew she had her hands full, so I bit my lip and tried not to whine. I'd just have to stay up later writing, to get'er'done.
As if in a consulation, the Assistent Manager comes back and says, "Hey Dave, how'd you like to come in at 11am and work a large party? And we can get you off early. It'll be easy money and won't take long."
I look at him and figure he's being honest with me. I could come in early work for a few hours and go home to sleep. "Ok" I say and the sound echoes in the heart of my darkness. This would have been a good time to drop to my knees, bow my head and pray about it, but instead, I worked until 11pm, came home and then wrote the articles until 2am.
The next morning, fifteen minutes before 11am, my mother calls."The garage door won't close." I knew it was the reset button on the devise, but I didn't have time to stop and fix it, before work. I was tired and said, "I'll stop by when I get off work."
"I'll call the guy to come out and fix it." She says.
"No, just wait. It's the reset button and if you call someone, they'll charge you for the service call."
"Well, I'm leaving this weekend and need to get it fixed."She says."I'll just ask him to come out and take a look at it."
Mother is a widow and usually lets anyone who helps her know this. She lives in an expensive home and they see the Cadi and the home and the little old widowed lady and start calculating their profit potential has just leaped into their ability to make their next 3 mortgage payments.
I go off to the 'easy' job at eleven in the morning, expresso in hand. Three hours later, I'd grossed $50 US dollars and stopped by my mother's to fix the garage. The garage door was wide open, with snakes taking advantage of the easy entry into her home. There's a ladder under the door opener and I go up and reset the machine. Then I try the door and it works fine. Entering the house, I figured she hadn't been able to reach the guy and that was why her car was parked outside and the door was open, letting the snakes into the garage. Inside, she's in a tissy about all the things she has to do to be able to leave on the weekend. "Well, the garage door opens, now." I say.
"Yea, I know. I had the guy come out and he's still got to come back on friday to replace the springs. It cost $550 dollars!"
This is another time I should have just fallen to my knees and ask for God's mercy and help. Instead, I blew up and started yelling about all the theives, snakes and lies of humans who take advantage of little old ladies living alone in big houses. "Do you think I'm old?" she says.
"Mother, I'm old, for God's sake! What does that make you?"
After some resolve, I left and in the car, I noticed the voice message was active. Calling the answering service, I've had a call from one of my real estate contacts. "Dave, could you stop by and do some interior shots of a house over in Miramar Beach. We need interiors, front, back and maybe one beauty shot. The owner is on the property right now, down from Atlanta."
I call the realitor who informs me she needed to Git'R'Done and had to call her second choice of photographer, as the owner didn't want to wait any longer before driving back to Atlanta. " Could I ask what the budget was?" I pleaded.
"Sure Dave," she says, "It was five hundred dollars."
At this point, pressure began producing violent spasmotic pulses in the tiny mass of gray matter resonating against the interior of an ageing skull. I wanted to prostrate myself on the ground and cry out for mercy, but alas, the day was not finished with me.
At 3pm, I was scheduled to return to the job place where I was to wait tables during a busy night. This would take my mind off my problems, I thought. Keeping my mind full of serving others has always helped me feel better about myself. Arriving back at the waiter job, I was given a good section, overlooking the water. When I got out of my car to walk to work, there was a violent rainstorm. Arriving wet, I went upstairs to get busy and set things up.
As the night began I had one couple, then another and the entire restaurant began filling up; except for my section, which was outside on a foggy damp night. By 8:30pm I'd made $30 dollars. Five people came out side, satdown and then ask to move, due to he weather. The rest of the place was full and I felt I should go home and get back to writing, editing and making a living. But when I asked the assistant manager to leave, she told me I had to stay. Finally one of the other waiters got a '16 top',which is normal worth about $100, but 12 of them were children and the waiter who had the table hates kids. I told him I'd take it and went over to the table. The area was pandemoniam. The mothers were carrying kids up and down the stairs to go to the bathroom. The fathers were drinking. The kids were acting like they needed to go to sleep, or maybe needed more sugar...They were grumpy and running around the big table like flies. As I walked out with 12 waters in plastic cups with lids and straws, the entire table was filing out the door. One of the agravated mothers came up and apologized for leaving, but said they couldn't deal with the "Spring Break Kids" another minute and just wanted to get them all in bed. As the fifth hour approached, I'd still only made $30.
In my anger, steam shooting from both ears, I went over and set up a tray to start folding napkins. At this time of night, on a busy night, everyone is on edge. As I stood there calculating my misfortune one of the kitchen managers comes up the stairs and tells me to not fold napkins where I was. "This is where we always do it." I say, and moved the tray stand closer to the wall.
"I'm telling you! You should not be folding napkins there!" and he also said the same thing to another girl who'd found a little space to do it where we normally do it. It wasn't him commanding me, it was the way he went about it, as if someone else had made him mad, so he was going to take it out on someone else. So, I decided it would be best to just leave the job, before I did the same thing to someone else.
I went down stairs, did my report and told the assistant manager I was clocking out. "Are you quiting?" She ask.
"I'm clocking out and if you want to fire me, go right ahead. And I'm not talking anymore, or I might just say something I regret."
And so, it goes... another day filled with life, liberty the pursuit of happiness.
Today, I spoke with my Senior Manager and she told me to take as many day's off as I like. She said she had great respect for me and that everyone enjoyed my presence and she only wanted, for me, the best. And so, I put my faith in God and move forward, into the morrow of all 'ourselves'.
I have to look up the word to make certain I've spelled it correctly.. just to be honest. 1-truthful; trustworthy 2-sincere or fair 3- being what it seems, frank and open. So, by definition, I'm an honest person, most of the day. There are many times during the day when I ask myself, "Why did you say that? That's not true!" I don't know for certain if that person is that, or did, or did that, or that job got done. But I say things which I subjectively believe are true. And this subjectivity tends to carve new branches in our directions and commitments and deceptions and commitments to each other. The branches grow and may, or may not, bear fruit.
First of all let me tell you the truth..I can't spell. Second, the spell check on this blog works about as efficiently as a parapalegic tortise and I'd rather you just accept the fact that I can't spell and I make all kinds of typos. I'm a writer, I'm edited by idiotors.
Generally, I'd have to imagine most everyone would like to be honest, but each day, we're faced with other people in our face, trying to make themselves feel more important than we are. In the process they are just like us and have a strong tendancy to not be honest in their accessment of themselves and what ever it is they're trying to sell. And we're all trying to sell ourselves. Right? Be honest
This is a good example of honesty and how we tend to believe we are being honest with ourselves, but in reality we are not, for some reason....The girls name was Peggy O'Toole. She was redheaded, with enough freckles on her face to give her the appearance, from a distance, of being red skinned. And Peggy weighed almost 300 pounds. She worked as a cleaning lady in the auto dealership where I was studying to be a better sales person.
Peggy moved at the rate of an excited slug. She could take 20 minutes to move from one side of the building to another, waddling from one overburdened leg to another. If there was a cup, or trash, on the ground, she would penquin walk from the place where the trash sat on the ground, over to the closest. There, she would pull out the broom and handled scooper, then amble back over to the piece of trash and using the broom, she'd swipe the trash into the scooper, then wander over to the trash can and deposit the item in the bin, before taking the broom and scooper back over to the closet where she would place it in exactly the same position from where she had aquired it. This would take about 5 minutes.
After watching her do this for a couple of months of sitting on a bench waiting for customers, my curiosty and anger got the best of me and I asked her why she didn't just pick up the trash and put it in the bin. "I'm paid by the hour, not the pieces of trash I pick up." She tells me.
Well, that was honest, I thought to myself. And so, I spent a week getting to know Peggy. She was really a sweetheart. Finally, I asked her why she was so overweight. "I just can't loose the weight. I've tried all kinds of diets, but none of them help."
I'd noticed she always had a stash of choclate in her purse and would stop, occasionally and pull out a hersey bar and chomp one, or two, down before moving forward. "Have you ever tried not eating sugar?" I asked.
"I think I have a glanular problem." She said.
"But, have you ever stopped eating sugar?"
"I believe I'm a diebetic and the sugar helps me with energy." She said. "It gives me a boost of energy."
Now, this is when I realized she might not be honest with herself. "Have you ever gone to a doctor about your weight, or this loss of energy?"
"Don't need too." She says.
"Would you really like to lose some weight?"
"More than anything in the world!" she said.
I felt she was being honest and several days later, I made a reservation at a hotel and spoke with her boss about getting her off work for a week to go on a fast with me. He told me he'd pay the hotel fee. I was willing to take off a week from sitting on the bench to live with this lady, entertain her and care for her, while she fasted. My wife was dying of MS and didn't mind at all.
With these things in order, I told Peggy I'd be willing to help her lose weight, if she would let me. And then I told her my plan to have her go on a fast and how I'd rent her a room, care for her dog and make certain she had a very enjoyable, relaxed, yet active, week of vacation. She was overjoyed and we made the arrangements!
The day before she was to go to the hotel, she called me up and told me she was afraid she couldn't do the fast, because she'd gone to see a doctor and he'd advised her against it. I asked her who the doctor was and she told me a name. But there was no doctor by this name.
The next day I confronted her about it and she came up with about 5 lame lies. Finally,after about an hour of trying to sell her on losing weight and trying to find out why she was so resitant to the deal, I asked her if she'd ever been molested as a child. She told me she had and began crying. She'd been a very pretty, thin, little girl, until she turned 13 years old and discovered when she gained weight, it made her father angry. The bastard finally stopped molesting her. He eventually threw her out of the house, she quit High School and started cleaning other people's houses and the auto dealership where we sat together, as honest to goodness friends.
Hey, the tea worked and so does Livejournal! I'm stoked.. Now, I'm like a real person..Now, I suppose I need to set out and get some people to read what I have to say. So, if you're checking out photojournalist, or magazine writers, or photographers, writers and people whom work in the field of media, please check out my website. I've created it in the last few weeks and it contains my most recent published articles and some of the photos I done in the last couple of years. Later, it's off to write you! Here's a shot of my mother and her two buddies on Easter Sunday at the Hilton in Sandestin, where we went for brunch. Dave:>)
daveterryfoto
Previous
grateful
aggravated
