It’s that time of year again: graduations. I have begun to divide my life into stages by the kinds of events we celebrate. Long ago, it was our own graduations and those of our friends. Then it was weddings. Next, it was baby showers, followed by divorces (well, that wasn’t usually a celebration). Then there were second marriages (and occasionally third).
Now, I seem to be participating in the same cycle of events one generation removed. Because I have friends in many age groups, these events continue in waves depending on how old my friends are.
The high school graduations of my friends’ children started ten years ago. Those were followed by weddings, and a few baby showers (although babies seem to be coming later and later in people’s lives).
But, this time, it’s my nephew who completed high school. This event led to us taking Tisen on his longest road trip ever. Fortunately for us and for Tisen, my brother’s family is willing to accommodate Tisen so he didn’t have to stay in a kennel. I’m not sure either one of us would have survived the separation anxiety.
The other unintended consequence is that I gained a couple of new models for portrait shooting. It’s a good thing my nephews were unwarned of my intention to shoot some portraits or I might not have seen either one of them during our visit. However, I managed to get a few minutes of their time before they got too impatient with me. What is it about the men in my family that they can’t sit for more than 10 minutes to let me practice portraiture?
They might have been a little intimidated posing next to my strobe on an umbrella stand–I don’t think either one of them has ever posed in front of an umbrella before.
I had fun trying to create some more dramatic lighting by casting shadows with the light. My youngest nephew seemed to think the lighting was a little too dramatic, but he played along patiently anyway.
Tisen, never one to pose in front of a flashing umbrella, spent his modeling time discovering the joys of the ‘burbs. I believe the thick, green grass right outside the door was a first for him. At home, he can cross an asphalt parking lot to find a small patch of grass or walk to the park to roll in a short, spongy variety of grass. Before he came to us, I doubt there was much grass in his life.
Unleashed and let out the door in the heart of an Indiana suburb, Tisen seemed at first confused and then overjoyed by the large yard to play ball in. Although there was no fence, Tisen stayed well within the invisible confines of the property lines as if he was afraid he would get lost if he got too far from me in that endless expanse of grass. I am now worried he will resent returning to his urban life.