I use this description, tongue in cheek, when I think of my good friend, Brad. We’ve known each other for a number of years, but when we first met, I found that he had a pretty interesting hobby. At first, I thought it a bit strange. But as I got to know my friend, I came to understand it. In fact, when we traveled together, I began to expect it. Because you see, my friend Brad, has an affinity for the past.
A while back, I spent a weekend with a very special group of people. Who they were and why they had assembled isn’t important. I wasn’t one of them, but I grew up witnessing their struggle. They were there to celebrate and I was honored to be among them. And while the celebration was underscored with pomp and fanfare, having the appropriate doses of laughs and hilarity, more importantly it carried an underlying theme of personal responsibility.
One of the many beautiful, natural wonders of nature is when rays of sunshine find their way through the clouds and brighten up the horizon. It is a magnificent sight and comes with a calm. To me, it used to signify that the storm was over. The clouds were breaking apart and we were in store for a wonderful day. But today, when I see those rays fall to earth, it means so much more.
Many years ago, in January of 1971, a car pulled up in front of the house shown in the photograph above. It was driven by a good man, who had with him three of his four sons. And when they pulled up, this man, blew his horn, and a young teen emerged from the house. The youngest son of a single parent, he adjusted his coat, and walked toward the car. And while he neared the car, one of the occupants, reached out and snapped this photograph, on that cold January day, 43 years ago.