My memory tends to fail me so I let my camera tell the stories. My Canon was by my side when I jumped off the Great Wall of China, away from the tourists and ventured out into the loneliness of the 2,000 year old ruins.
My camera was in hand as Barack Obama spoke to Hartford on his history-making campaign trail.
I snapped images of northern California farmers and the plight of their beautiful and remarkable lifelong work.
I will never forget the faces of my students in Yang Quan, or how the sun shone on the magnificent blue waves of Big Sur.
I will forever have the images that conjure up the memories of standing where the Sava and Danube Rivers meet in downtown Belgrade on New Year’s Eve.
I will look at the photograph of Sienna and remember how I stood looking out into the Italian hills as a local played the ivory keys of a piano in the distance. This is how I’ll remember my life. It allows me to get to know the world and people in a candid, quiet and honest way. I’d be honored to tell your story too.
My heart and my home are in Bristol. I am thankful and grateful each day.

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