#tbt What We Save

In 1979 I moved to Iowa City, Iowa, with only a backpack and a portfolio. Later my mother sent me my old Camp Hochelaga footlocker which I had packed with my winter clothes before I left home. My mother died a few years later. The footlocker went on to house the linoleum blocks I used to illustrate my letterpress books. Back in the days when our children were small and we were cramped for space, I stored it in our garage. Camp footlockers  were not built to last forever. Before mine was emptied and hauled to the dump, I ripped off the return address label my mother had used decades ago. It's what I saved. A reminder of when 37 Point View Drive, Troy, New York, was my home, when I could still count on my mother being there.

Throw Back Thursday : Children and War


The image has faded over the years. In truth, it was blurry to begin with. Of the many small photos my father took while he was a soldier during World War Two, this one remains my favorite. In its more vivid, sharper days, I could see the girl's features and the steam rising from the cup behind the toast on the table. I have known this nameless girl most of my adult life, but only in the last few years have I thought of her as a child of war, a witness to the most cruel actions of a brutal humanity. Maybe that's why the peacefulness of this everyday moment of morning sunlight and breakfast toast grabs at my heart.