I have been thinking more and more about the B-side photographs. There are the obvious good pictures, the ones that get shown more, while the other pictures from a series are kind of forgotten..

I remember best my connection to my grandmother. I know I learned things directly from my parents but those things are kind of invisible. There was something about the things my grandmother said and did with me that went straight to the heart..

When troubling news makes it to my 11 year old’s ears–and this is happening more and more as she gets older –my daughter will view current events with a searing clarity that defies all modern conventions and she will inevitably say, “but why don’t we change that?”.

Last Wednesday, while photographing for Ash Wednesday, I saw a woman (without ashes) approaching me in a long Cruella de Vil style coat. I stopped her and asked if she might be going to get her ashes..

My grandfather died the day after Christmas 1968. He was a Methodist minister and had moved the family there for a job on the Methodist board in 1949. He was having a scheduled heart surgery and while I am still not clear on the details, I know he died on the operating table. The surgeon who was a family friend cried as he delivered the news to my grandmother..