More Than Kids

New Environments; New Directions

Last week, I visited two youth camps in California. The first camp, Camp Coehlo in Yosemite, was for young children with epilepsy. The other camp was at Westminster Woods in Sonoma County; the second camp I photographed is an annual program of Leadership Excellence, an Oakland non-profit that uplifts African-American urban youth. Both camps taught me something about humanity, and how I relate to others.

As I wrote about earlier, I have had epilepsy for nearly 25 years, and I didn't know people with epilepsy until recently. I hid my background, and as a result, became an outsider - not in a Unibomber way, but if I were a fish, I would be a salmon swimming upstream...pretending to be a bird. For example, I was the first male Women's Studies major at UCSB. I was the only white person in Black Pre-Law. I worked in female dominated fields. When I worked for a future Democratic Congressmen, I was the only staff person who wasn't a Democrat... and the list goes on. I don't know how to be a fish.

So I show up at Westminster Woods and I check in at the office. Besides being the last day of Leadership Excellence's Camp AkiliI, it was also the first day of camp for an all-white group. I tell the desk person that I am the photographer, and he tells me you must be for "camp so-and-so." Fortunately, Leadership Excellence staff person was in the office and takes me to the right place. I can't imagine being in a large group of all white people. I would feel like a fish out of water.

The Camp Akili staff welcomed me, and later, one of the leaders discussed how humans were all One. Once humans realize this, our planet will be much better. We will stop killing; we will begin healing. I want to believe this, but I don't. I am too much of an outsider. Maybe it is because I have had an inner struggle with my own body. I cannot trust it. Or maybe there is so much other evidence I see of people being cruel to each other.

But there is also evidence that we are one.

In the photos below, I see three generations of African-American men supporting each other, and it becomes easier to imagine how future generations will grow closer. And by watching young people express emotions, appreciation and understanding gives me hope that our future will be alright. I was inspired by teenagers, and their strength will continue to encourage me.

Finally, I also am appreciating being an outsider, because I know there are benefits of taking people outside of their normal environment. In the slideshow below, there are photos of a young boy on a man's shoulders followed by tall trees. This tells the story about connections and support. We stand on others shoulders, and we are connected to something greater than ourselves, whether it is the environment, community, God, Iran, Irag, or the salmon swimming upstream.

Leadership Excellence Blog - Images by bryan farley

Old Man, Little Boy, and Everything in Between

"Old man take a look at my life. I'm a lot like you.

I need someone to love me the whole day through."

Since my 20's, I would sing the Neil Young song "Old Man" and wonder how much I was becoming my father. I love my father, and I honor my father, but I have always feared becoming him. He was depressed, especially the last few years of his life when he seemed haunted by events beyond his control. Two of his few hobbies, drinking and gambling, became full blown addictions. Since he worked in a Vegas Casino after retiring from the California Highway Patrol, his was not a road to recovery.

Five years ago, we spoke for the last time. We were going to spend my Father's Day together; he was going to meet my daughter. He canceled again with another bizarre explanation. I hit bottom before he did. I was exhausted from his late night calls and broken promises. I was tired of hearing his plans about having my step-mother killed. I didn't think my father would kill anyone on purpose, but I knew that I didn't want to spend another Christmas in Vegas having my father tell the casino bartender to call security on me. (Instead of picking me up at the airport, my father changed our plans so that I would meet him at the casino bar... at least he could have recognized me.) I was tired of being disappointed... or so I thought.

He finally checked into AA, but for some people, confronting their life is too painful, and so it was for my father. He probably believed he had wasted most of his life, so he ended what was left with a well placed bullet. I met some of my father's AA friends at an AA meeting six weeks after he died. They were good people. So was my father, but many good people have bad coping strategies.

Today, I showed my children old photos of their grandfather. There was a time when he appeared happy. In the early black and white photos he was playful and enthusiastic, even peaceful. He loved his nephews and nieces whom he must have missed after my mother and father divorced. In the old faded color photos with me and my mother, he smiled in a way that I never saw when I was older. There was a time, when my dad was cool, and handsome, and happy.

father's day - Images by bryan farley

Now that I am "24 and a whole lot more," I wonder how my children will remember me when they look at old photographs. Will they see a happy father? A responsible man? Will they see the layers of human struggle that are within most of us? Will they know that I was my happiest before my father died?

My wife photographed me and Mason this morning. We had a nice moment, and I appeared happy, but I was thinking about my dad and missing him. I was wearing my favorite T-Shirt. It is from a cool advertisement for Canadian Club Whiskey. The tagline is "Damn Right your dad drank it." I love the shirt, probably because it suggests that there was a time when my father knew how to control his drinking.

Somewhere in this, my dad and I had (or have) a relationship, and I wish he were still around to give me advice right now. I would probably do the opposite, but at least I would have guidance that I understood. Until recently, my father always showed up for the large events, but he missed the smaller ones...and the small ones seemed big to me. I wanted him there. I still want him here. This is probably why I photograph small people doing small things at small moments. Kids remember the smallest things. And because I remember not having him around, I am more vigilant about keeping my commitments to my children, perhaps at the risk of my own happiness.  I think my father also sacrificed the best way he could at the risk of his happiness. My role model sacrificed too much. I pray I do better.

"Old man take a look at my life; I'm a lot like you."

Giving Up

Recently, my life has become full. This does not mean that I have everything that I want, or that I feel satieted. In some ways, my life is lacking more now than ever, but at least I can feel the nagging sensation of a life unfulfilled. This is better than going through life without feeling.

Because I am visual, images affect my feelings and decisions. Over a month ago, my church attended an annual family retreat in Sonoma Valley. I photographed cows. I thought that I was photographing the cows for my children, but I connected to the cows. This sounds strange to me, because I usually connect to cows over prime rib. But, the cows walked over to me as I photographed them; one seemed to smile.  Once I saw the photos, I felt differently about eating cow meat. I am not a vigilant vegetarian, (I may always have a bacon exception, even if I photograph cute pigs), but I am done eating cows for now.

cows - Images by bryan farley

I have also eliminated or reduced other food. Maybe my caffeine withdrawal explains the nagging ache in my heart and my inability to sleep. Or maybe I am missing steak. Or sugar. Or useless carbs. Maybe I am listening to too much country music. Do I need to give that up too?

On Monday, as soon as I got into the car to drive home from photographing the epilepsy camp, the first song on the radio was one I had been singing all day. The simple chorus is "the heart don't forget something like that." The song is cheesy, and far too easy to remember. and perfect.

For me, memories are connected to images, songs, places. Once these get stuck in my memory, I do not forget them easily. Driving through my old home town the day before brought back many memories of old friends and lost loves.  Some people do not retain memories like I do; I do not really understand these people...not really. Sometimes, I wish I were more like those people. i wish I could give up memories too. But that is not who I am. I love memories. And as a photographer, I am a keeper of memories.

and then today, the other song that I had been singing this week came on just as I was getting ready to visit the California Highway Patrol office. Some background first: I have been trying to think of doing something special for Father's Day with my photography.  After thinking about my father lately, I decided to photograph California Highway Patrolmen and their children. The idea seems perfect. I can honor my father and support others. There might be laws against civilians giving services to peace officers, so this might not work, updates later.

Going to the office was more difficult than I realized. When I was a child, my father took me into CHP buildings often. I loved it. Going today was emotional.  I almost didn't make it into the office. But I did. But back to the other song that has been following me. It is called In Color. (You can find it at Jamey Johnson's page). One of the lines: "If it looks like we were scared to death... you should have seen it in color."

Many of the photos I have of my father are in black and white. He doesn't look scared, never looked scared. There is another line that I am still processing, "You can't see what those shades of gray keep covered." Is this the same as "the devil is in the details?" Do we hide our intentions in the shadows and the shades of grey? How do we live In Color? How can we make choices, keep commitments, and continue to grow? Especially, since life is not a still photo.

I wish I had answers instead of questions. I might get some sleep.

when one month is worth a lifetime - a trip to camp coelho

I will never forget the last month. It might have been the best month of my life...at least the best month that I can remember. I have grown more, learned more, and I understand myself better than at any time in my life.

One month ago, I turned 41. On my birthday, I attended an Epilepsy Fundraiser. I have had epilepsy for 25 years. Only recently, have I begun acknowledging that I have an invisible disability. To survive or to attempt to become successful, I have created complicated personality traits to hide my true feelings or fears. I understand why I have hidden my condition; I do not live in a world that feels comfortable with sickness, death, disability, but before I can live in that world, I must live in this body.

Yesterday, I drove to Yosemite and photographed Camp Coelho, a camp for kids with epilepsy. (I have included some of the photos below. The Epilepsy Foundation of Northern California will be able to use my other photos to help with outreach and fund-raising.) I was first diagnosed with epilepsy at 16. Until recently, I didn't really know anyone else who had epilepsy. This camp helps children overcome the isolation that I have felt. The camp normalizes a condition that is much more normal than people realize.

blog - Images by bryan farley

If becoming more authentic regarding my medical condition had been my only lesson, I would have considered the month a success. Funny thing though, as I became more authentic in one area, other things started changing. I realized how much I loved fatherhood. I also realized how much fathers love their children. Do fathers value anything more than their children? We might pretend that we do, but do we really? When that bond is threatened or severed, what happens? I imagine that it can lead to depression, alcoholism, or many other things. I think that happened with my father, and if he were prone to such things already, being separated from his child couldn't have helped.

I realized this month just how much I would sacrifice for my kids. Of course, I would sacrifice my life. Parents understand this. But I would do more. I would choose to face my biggest fears and work to keep my family together.

Before I had children, I believed that true love was the greatest thing that someone could have. I watched movies. I dreamed that one day I would find my soul mate. Thought that I met her a couple of times. Maybe more. I still wonder about those women, and I will think about them forever. Nothing could compare to a soul mate. Then I had a kid.

Love is powerful. As I strive for the authentic and optimal life, I want to love more and be loved more. As a father, I love my children unconditionally. I always will. And as a child of parents, one dead the other still living, I know that both parents still love me. But I lost something when my father died. I lost an unconditional love that I didn't understand until I realized how much I loved my children...and how depressed I would have been without them.

and those are just some of the lessons I learned this month. 

Graduation Day

Today is my graduation day. Not this year, but high school in 1986. And then again in college. June 11th has become a special day in my life. I look forward to the moments of reflection each year, and remembering how far I have come. 

Oddly, I didn't enjoy my high school and college graduations much. I felt as if both events were more about my family than they were about me. I also thought that graduation was a goal established by someone else. Of course, I wanted to graduate, but I went to college to learn. I didn't decide that 220 quarter units meant that I was done. That is probably why I continued going to school, and I why I keep learning.

Now that I am a parent, I realize the significance of graduations. I realize why graduations are more about the parents than about the children. Graduations mark time.  They are rituals where we stop and realize how quickly life passes.  Even when little kids graduate from Kindergarten or pre-school or elementary school, adults can process how quickly life is moving.

I didn't realize how much my parents loved me until I had children. I didn't realize how much my parents worried about me until I had children. I didn't realize how much my parents worked just so I could grow up confused and ungrateful, and (human). As most parents do, mine shielded me from a lot of horrible things, and since my father was a California Highway Patrol officer, he had much to shield from me.

These little graduations are important, and we are lucky if we have the opportunity to go to as many as possible.

Here are some recent images from a kids' graduation. After looking through the 600 images, I am touched by the amount of preparation that goes into the day - into every day, and into each person's life.

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children's graduation - Images by bryan farley