Long Exposure — Among the people you’ve known for a long time, who is the person who’s changed the most over the years? Was the change for the better?

Garry and I at President Clinton's party on Martha's Vineyard

Garry and I at President Clinton’s party on Martha’s Vineyard

All the people I’ve known a long time have changed, me and my husband in particular. Better? For whom?

I am far less sociable and hugely less outgoing. I was quite the party-maker with a wild and crazy social life and now I’m a virtual recluse.



Much of my life centered around work … and I don’t work any more. I’ve gone from being gregarious to being a loner, being work-centric to being survival-centric.

Good? Not good? If I hadn’t changed in response to the realities of life, I’d probably be dead or living on the street. I guess that makes them good, right? I read less, write more.

I keep taking pictures. It’s now more than forty years of photography. That’s consistent, anyhow.

Garry was shy, solitary. He was so driven by career and work he didn’t have time for anything, anyone else. Like making friends, building a personal life. Yet … when I came back into his life, he began to emerge. He started to pull back from work, become more sociable. Now, he couldn’t be paid enough to go back to work.

1990 in Ireland

1990 in Ireland with Author Gordon Winter

He used to be the kind of guy who always looked like he’d just stepped out of the pages of GQ. Now, he wears sloppy shorts and old tee shirts or pajama bottoms and sweatshirts.

He remains passionate about sports, but can miss the game and watch a movie without having a crisis.

Both of us eat less, don’t drink at all. Our world centers around each other and a few close friends and family.

You know what? I think it’s good. And appropriate.



Weekly Photo Challenge 

Relic – What images does “relic” conjure for you?

Photo Marilyn Armstrong - Bernat Mills

We live in a throwaway society … yet here, in the country — maybe because we have a little extra room — many people choose to keep the relics.


Because we find old things, those rusty remembrances of our past, beautiful.

snow shack

Whether it’s the old storage shed behind the barn, the barn itself, or the old truck we drove for 20 years … they hold a lot of memories of when we also were young.


In fact, we find old stuff … relics … fascinating. We collect them. Photograph them. Try to imagine what they might have seen in their many years on this earth.




Being afraid of fear itself … and worse yet, being afraid of being afraid of fear itself. I could go on and on but I won’t and aren’t you glad?

I just discovered that Wikipedia, my favorite source, lists phobophobia as a fear of phobias — the fear of fear itself. I made it up on the spur of the moment yesterday thinking I was terribly clever.

Now I feel cheated. Somebody made it up before me. How unjust can life and literature be? Is there a phobia for that? Can I make one up? Will Wikipedia include it on their master list of phobias?

Fear According to Savage Chickens

I am afraid of being afraid … and afraid of being afraid of being afraid. Or is it fear of being thought to be afraid? Anyway, that would be phobophobophobia.

My fear of being afraid of fear ignites my courage, so to prove that I am not really afraid of fear or the fear of fear, I will do anything and everything, including incredibly dangerous and stupid stuff.

Does that mean I’m brave?

I’m not sure. I’m confused. I will not really do anything and everything to prove I’m fearless. Unless it’s a double-dog-dare. That changes everything. Beside, my personal history of bad decisions speaks for itself.

Okay, maybe I would. Under the right (whatever they are) circumstances.