happy everything.

Happy Holidays! Originally uploaded by Luna Soledad

Happy Holidays, Happy Hanuka, Merry Christmas, Feliz Navidad, Frohe Weihnachten, Happy Kwanzaa, and a very Happy New Year to all, albeit belated. And while I'm at it, Eid Mubarak too!

2010 was a roller coaster to say the least, reaching it's steep crest around Thanksgiving and barreling downward at warp speed so that by Christmas, the phrase "stop the ride, I wanna get off!" bounced around in my scattered brain. I'm sure 2011 will be much the same when the last cans of pumpkin and yams are plucked from the grocery shelves with the madness of last minute holiday panic, though at present, I am more of the mind of, "Good riddance!"

Like most, I compiled a list of the usual new year's resolutions to include loosing weight, exercising, avoiding another back surgery, curbing my profanities (I know, go ahead and yuk it up friends), saving money, being a better mommie, a better friend, and a better housekeeper - okay, well a better mommie and friend (one mustn't set oneself up for failure), and blah blah blah...

But more importantly, I resolve to make more time for friends and loved ones, more time for love and laughter, more time for magic memories and the stuff that really matters in this world...

To all who love and support me despite plentiful flaws, who still take my calls and return my emails though it may have been eons since last we spoke, who have still made time to see me even though I have yet to make it out to Bertie county, and those sacred special peeps whose very presence, not proximity, in my life keep the wheels of my inner soul greased and in motion... I LOVE YOU and I THANK YOU. More than you could ever know.

Let the good times roll!...

"Our job is to love others without stopping to inquire whether or not they are worthy. That is not our business and, in fact, it is nobody's business. What we are asked to do is to love, and this love itself will render both ourselves and our neighbors worthy if anything can."

...Thomas Merton

Chris.

the last time i saw him..., originally uploaded by Luna Soledad.

I once had a friend named Chris... He was a soldier stationed at Ft. Bragg; we met back in the day when Benson, North Carolina was the "cruising capital of the south."

Chris was an amazingly fun and charismatic fellow who was as funny and entertaining as he was handsome. It was impossible to not have a great time when he was around and we spent a lot of time together watching movies and stealing into matinees for free second shows, camping and fishing in the middle of the night, rappelling off of base towers and being escorted off post, visiting my friend Karen at ECU, and just generally goofing off. He was a great friend and perfect gentleman and though we never dated, I always thought he would be a great catch for some lucky girl. Life was one great big adventure with Chris and everyone wanted to be along for the ride. To know him was truly to love him.

Once, Chris, his friend Mike, and I set out for a weekend at ECU to see Karen and partake in a bit of East Carolina's infamous college life. It was a hysterically crazy fun weekend until Mike, having exceeded his limit of alcohol, puked all over Karen's laundry. Furious, Karen made us spend the bulk of the following day at the laundry mat washing her nasty, chunk-covered clothes while she went to work at the mall where we were to meet her later. --Even doing laundry was a riot with Chris modeling for us one of Karen's pretty floral sundresses...

"I triple-dog dare you to wear that to the mall!" I said.

And he did. --It was a Sunday afternoon, the mall flooded with nicely dressed couples and families just out of church who all just stopped and stared, mouths hanging open, at this 6'2" smiling soldier with hairy legs and armpits sticking out of a very feminine summer dress sauntering his way through the mall and into a kitchen ware's store.

Karen beet red from embarrassment, could barely contain her laughter as she mustered up her most scolding motherly tone and exclaimed, "You go take MY dress off right now!"

I still have the pictures.

There are so many memories flooding my mind now as I type this and even if I wrote them all down, I still would not be able to sum up the essence of Chris.

Back then, there were no cell phones and no email, and gradually we lost touch as we both began dating other people. He left me a few messages on the answering machine and I tried phoning him a few times too -- which was a challenge calling the barracks because whether or not you actually got through to the person you were trying to reach depended solely upon the willingness of whatever CQ was stuck answering the phones to get up, walk down the hall, and go check their room... But we never connected again.

May 27, 1993 -- For no particular reason, Chris popped into my head that afternoon and would not leave. I dreamt of him that night, and the next... Strong, vivid dreams of nothing specific, just his haunting presence. Something wasn't right and I felt it in my bones.

The following day, I called his barracks and explained to the CQ that I desperately needed to reach my friend, that I was calling long distance and wasn't even sure if he was still stationed there or if he'd already left -- please, please, please see if you can find him... I gave his name. Silence. The First Sergent took the phone and began quizzing me on how I knew Chris, my relationship with him, and when I last spoke with him... My mind was racing - I was thinking, oh no, that crazy-ass went AWOL, but no such luck...

May 27, 1993, just three days after ETSing on permanent leave, Chris was shot in the head at point blank range while visiting a friend in Indiana by some unprovoked, deranged bastard who said he felt threatened by the "military look" in Chris's eyes; his friend, Denise, was also murdered.

I felt numb, empty, in shock. --I spoke to Mike, who gave me Chris's mom's number... Though I'd never met nor spoken to her, she knew exactly who I was. We talked and laughed and cried for hours. --Perhaps that was what he wanted, for me to comfort the mother he loved so much.

Shortly after his death, the girl Chris had been dating found out she was pregnant; she had twin boys - who look so much like the father they would never know.

It's been 17 years and I still think of him.
I still miss knowing him...

A Trick I Learned In The Philippines--

I can see your mouth smiling
At my brain,
As clear as the last photo I took--
that devilish grin
of a boyish man,
full of mischief,
full of life!
--You are still the fun
In my fondest memories
And I miss loving you,
my friend.
They say you're dead.
He stole your mischief--
the fucking BASTARD!!!
But for me,
You will always be
full of life;
it's in your smile,
hiding in my brain...

Love,
Crystal.

CLJD 25 January 1994

things that make me smile.

Desktop Doll Heads, originally uploaded by Zen Cat.

1. Alvin,
2. his unconditional love and support,
3. his kind and wonderful words, and, of course,
   
4. his strange and delightful obsession with doll heads...
   

'Nuff said. XOXO

"Too often we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word, a listening ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring, all of which have the potential to turn a life around."

...Leo Buscaglia

communion.

communion.
Originally uploaded by Luna Soledad

Once upon a time as a young military wife stationed abroad, I had the extraordinary experience of discovering family in a wonderfully diverse array of people brought together by the shared commonalities... Distance from our families of origin, the uniqueness of military culture, and the desire to enjoy life with people we love.

Some of the best times of my life, some of my most sacred memories, were born in Germany. And some of the best friends in my life, made.

I recall Thanksgivings gathered 'round my giant table filled with flowers and delicious food cooked with love by Germans, Mexicans, Puerto Ricans, and Croatians. Soldiers, civilians, children, my gay hairdresser and his boyfriend.

I remember Christmases gathering at Elvia's house spending hours making tamales with friends... Pot loads! We talked and laughed, spooned & folded. The taste of that first batch freshly steamed was something straight out of Mexican heaven.

New Years, celebrating with Martin and Evelyn on the old bridge in Kitzingen, drinking champagne and dodging firecrackers, and calling our parents and friends back home, six hours ahead, to wish them good tidings.

German street fests and church basement parties. Hispanic heritage functions on base and touring the Würzburger Hofbrau Brewery with USA DENTAC on the taxpayer's dime.

I remember Isabel's first birthday party... our flat was filled to capacity with people from around the world, every shade of the human spectrum, a symphony of languages... Everyone eating, drinking, and being merry simply because a little girl's birthday was a fine excuse to come together just be happy.

Indeed, some of the best times of my life.

This past week, Elvia's daughter Nicki graduated from high school. I drove up to Virginia. Another friend, once a single soldier in Germany many a year ago, drove out from Fort Campbell, Kentucky. Another couple, also from our Germany days, drove down from New Jersey. And still others, from Washington, DC. A few fellow graduates came over after graduation... The house was filled with people, each from distinctly different lives, backgrounds, cultures, ages, races, and professions -- rich with love and laughter.

I had not seen some of these dear people in nearly 12 years.

Two folding tables were erected in the living room for a celebratory spaghetti dinner and a good time was had by all... making memories.

And for a moment, I felt like I was home again...
But home, after all, is where the heart is.

"Home is a place not only of strong affections, but of entire unreserve; it is life's undress rehearsal, its backroom, its dressing room."

...Harriet Beecher Stowe

swings & doodlebugs.

swinging., originally uploaded by Luna Soledad.

Despite having been overcome with the plague this past weekend and the "good car" breaking down, we four did manage to slip away Saturday for a cookout with dear friends, Nikita and Wes, in High Point, NC.

The home is nestled on acres and acres of what was once an active dairy farm. The massive lushly green lawn is filled with wonderful big old Oak and Magnolia trees (in full bloom). One such grand tree held from its high bough "the world's greatest tree swing," as Wes puts it. Indeed, such a simple pleasure and it was magnificent. --We all took turns.

We had a great meal with great friends beneath large covered patio overgrown with ivy and various fragrant vines. The kids ran and played and wandered about... Liam discovered "echoes" which provided endless entertainment. Isabel explored the expanse of the great outdoors freely much to her delight. We explored the old dairy barn and played on antique tractors.

And I taught Liam the age old secret of "Doodle Bug calling"...

"Doodlebug, Doodlebug
Come out, come out
Your house is on fire..."

Then as I gently swished the straw around in the Antlion's lair, he suddenly appeared like magic.

"Why?" Liam wanted to know.
"Well, because we tricked him and told him his house was on fire."
"Why?"
"To make him come out so we could see him."
"Oh..." and then back to the tractor he ran...

"Children are curious and are risk takers. They have lots of courage. They venture out into a world that is immense and dangerous. A child initially trusts life and the processes of life."

...John Bradshaw

once upon a prom.

Nicki & Jake., originally uploaded by Luna Soledad.

This past weekend, I had the pleasure of photographing a beautiful, young couple on the eve of their senior prom: Nicki & her beau, Jake.

I've known Nicki since she was a sweet, pretty little girl stationed with her family in Kitzingen, Germany. Her family quickly became my family; her mother, a sister I never knew I had... My daughter, Isabel, the baby sister they always wanted.

I remember when Nicki first started kindergarten and how she used to race home in the afternoons and burst through the door bringing with her all the bubbly excitement of her day... Her love and enthusiasm was infectious. I remember how she would greet her little brothers and then run to see tiny Bella -- and I can still remember the melody of her angelic little-girl voice as she sang out sweetly, "Hi Isabel!"

Just outside of the front door to her home, I remember her mother had hung a decorative house that read, "Home is where the army sends us" and so true... though it's been many years and we've spent much of that time far apart, Nicki, her mom, dad, and brothers have remained family and even from a distance I've watched as she has blossomed into a beautiful, genuine young woman and her brothers, considerate and handsome young men.

But I will always remember Nicki as the kind, fresh-faced little girl who was always concerned for others and wanted little more than to see everyone around her happy.

And now she is a senior in high school, attending prom, and graduating next month to begin her own journey through life with the world at her fingertips and magic in her eyes...

And isn't she gorgeous?!!

Age is opportunity no less,
than youth itself, though in another dress.
And as the evening twilight fades away,
The sky is filled by the stars invisible by the day.

...Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Morituri Salutamus

surprises.

10:365 | Nikon.

Originally uploaded by Luna Soledad

So yesterday was a pretty rotten day, as indicated in my previous post. Not overwhelmingly bad rotten; oh I've certainly had worse bad days. But Thursday was well, indescribably busy, constant, stressful, and non-stop. Thursday was like a hellcat that bolted out of nowhere attacking without pause until 5:30.

I was mentally and physically exhausted and would have liked nothing more than to go home, strip, and crawl right into bed and die. Alas that is never an option so instead I went home and found upon my doorstep a most pleasant surprise...

A medium-sized package from my dear west-coast friend, Alvin, and a smaller-size package from Amazon (via Alvin). Well, like anyone else, I love getting mail that doesn't include a nasty statement telling me I owe money, be it a letter or package. --But a package, well, that's some real excitement, especially if the contents are unknown.

Years ago, when I lived in Germany, people used to send me stuff from time to time... my mother would frequently send me various knick-knacks and strangely, canned goods (which she got for free even though it cost my father 50 bucks to mail it for which I could have bought twice the amount at the commissary?) and occasionally there were packages at Christmas from friends and family, or presents for baby Isabel... and then there were the boxes from my way-back first kindergarten friend, Felicia, which I think meant the most of all. --Felicia sent me a box of her maternity clothes when I was pregnant; she sent me the latest Dorito flavors when they came out; she even had her mother drive her around the area where we grew up with a video camera so I could see all the changes that had happened since I left... it was these such little random surprises that made my soul smile. --Being stationed overseas, there was just nothing better than finding a notice in your mailbox to say you had a package waiting from "home."

Immediately my day got a little bit better as I grabbed the scissors and made for the boxes... The big one first of course, and what should I find inside but Alvin's previously-loved, black Domke camera bag! ...along with our traditional book and card. (The small box held a Domke shoulder pad for the strap.)

In retrospect, I know I should have been suspicious when he made that odd comment about eBay Domke knock-offs.

In his letter, he dares to say that he hopes I don't find it tacky that he sent a used bag... For real? Are you kidding me? That's the absolute best part! That my friend would care enough about me to send me something that he loved and had used in the art which he loves is what makes such a gift most special! Priceless.

Of course, I'm sentimental like that.

So thank you mucho Alvin. You're the bomb-diggety!
And I will continue the bag's great legacy, with love...

An old Cherokee is teaching his grandson about life:

"A fight is going on inside me," he said to the boy. "It is a terrible fight and it is between two wolves. One is evil - he is anger, envy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, and ego. The other is good - he is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion, and faith. This same fight is going on inside you - and inside every other person, too."

The grandson thought about it for a minute and then asked his grandfather, "Which wolf will win?"

The old Cherokee simply replied, "The one you feed."

...Cherokee Indian Proverb

the road to a friend's house.

long & winding road.

Originally uploaded by Luna Soledad

Whoever said that the road to a friend's house is never long, never traveled across three states in a car with a three year old.

...I had imagined this as an opening line for the post-adventure blog entry, alas, 'tis not so. In fact, I had an absolutely wonderful time traveling with my young co-pilot and am still basking in the after-glow of our enchanting memories together.

Everything from staying the night in a hotel to petting a horse at a rest stop was part of our special adventure together... Liam saw the mountains for the first time; I saw them for the first time again. We drove through big cities and learned their names. (We drove a lot!) We also learned about road signs. We sang songs on the radio and made some up. We saw ducks, llamas, wild turkeys, and elk. We had smiley face pancakes at IHOP and ate dinner at "Old McDonald's." We saw sharks at the aquarium and they smiled at us. We took no naps and it was okay because we might miss something. We saw snow. And we played and played, laughed and giggled until we just plain wore ourselves out. We ate ice cream before our meal and stayed up late at night watching cartoons in bed. And wee (pun intended [read=Liam]) discovered the boyhood joy of peeing outside and well, I took pictures because that's the kind of mom I am.

Best of all, we saw dear old friends who love us and made new friends to love too... and I was reminded once more that family is indeed what we make it, what connects our lives in soul, whether or not we're related.

Yes, I have to admit now that it is true after all: the road to a friend's house is never long... especially when traveling with a three year old.

"Only those who look with the eyes of children can lose themselves in the object of their wonder."

...Eberhard Arnold

find your cool.

find your cool.

Originally uploaded by Luna Soledad

The older I get, the more I realize that life is a great big cycle of irony and mayhem and smaller cycles... and if we're lucky, we find our way through this insane labyrinth, often feeling our way in the dark, and love and are loved along the way.

For instance, one such cycle is knowing everything and knowing nothing... I can remember a time when I thought I had all the answers (just ask my parents) and then suddenly, I discovered that I knew nothing about anything. Then came wisdom. And doubt. Then confusion. --It's a vicious one, this cycle, and it will play on like a broken record in the background of our existence.

Thank goodness for good humor and friends.

For all the heartache and sorrow I have known in my thirty-something years of wandering around in the dark (and there's been a bunch), I must confess that I have been blessed with fortune in my friendships. Sometimes, that makes all the difference.

Recently I reconnected with an old friend from what seems like a lifetime ago... someone I knew from college, before my first marriage, before Germany, and children. Indeed, a lifetime ago.

Sometimes I don't even feel like the same person I once was, before - before everything... as if my life has been a succession of novels I've read in which I was the main character in some ridiculous drama or romantic tragedy. Volumes stored and recalled.

My friend Greg was from a time when my life wrote itself with ease and filled the pages with fun-filled laughter void of responsibility. I was a likable and charismatic character full of joyful energy...

That was over fifteen years ago.

We met for lunch and then set out about town talking and capturing images of whatever struck our fancies. We walked and talked and laughed and to my most pleasant surprise, I found that my dear old friend was one of those rare and wonderful people with whom time does not stand still... We just picked up right where we had left off.

Knowing, accepting, and being ourselves.
And that, is a gift indeed.

Very cool.

"I am already kindly disposed towards you. My friendship it is not in my power to give: this is a gift which no man can make, it is not in our own power: a sound and healthy friendship is the growth of time and circumstance, it will spring up and thrive like a wildflower when these favour, and when they do not, it is in vain to look for it."

...William Wordsworth