documentary

Antoinette, 30 year veteran teacher to our California youth

You’re in the passenger seat with me. We’re cruising through suburbia and into the corner shopping center. Radio is on and we’re chilling to the tunes. Suddenly the music becomes silent. How can this be, we still hear volume, yet nothing is going in to our minds?

What’s up with this? two seconds ago it was a musical feast!

As if on auto pilot, we find ourselves being tugged by intuition towards two figures talking in front of the corner laundromat. The closer we get the smaller our musical background becomes.

We pull into a parking slip, just feet in front of them. We disengage the motor. As the silence grows, two incredibly interesting looking people take hold of our focus. With no pause our sub-conscience tugs us out of the car and drives us toward them. Well rehearsed now, we do the 365 pitch and get quickly rejected.

Yet even with the rejection, the conversation continues. We are smitten with the moment and the depth of character of our new acquaintances will not let go of our interest. At this point, who cares if we do, or do not, take photographs. “These people are amazing!”

“I’ll take it from here.”

To begin, let me introduce you to Antoinette, a very humble lady with 30 years of working in education, and the magnet that first catches my eye.

I sight her as she leans against the front window of the laundry establishment, child grandson at her side. At first it is uncertain to me as to how well she knows her confident, Lieutenant Colonel Kevin Boal.

But as I settle in to becoming part of the conversation, it rapidly becomes apparent that I have unintentionally wandered into a chance exchange between two individuals with dramatically different life experiences. What is captivating is the connection of humanity between them. I am taken in; there is no way I can change the path.

Antoinette, with great compassion, is mostly listening, later telling me of her empathy towards the Lieutenant Colonel, a Vietnam Veteran.

Lieutenant Colonel Kevin Boal, Vietnam Veteran, Man of Raw Wisdom

“You’ve got to visit back tomorrow, when I’ll have much more time to fully introduce you to him.”

Have you ever been with people who, just by only being in their presence, make you feel good about yourself. If so, you already have an idea of what spending time with Antoinette is like.

We speak of faith and patience in our fellow-man. Something she has learned through her 30 years of working in elementary education as a teacher’s assistant. Antoinette exudes a motherly spirit and one can feel her real concern for the people around her. I see this in the way she treats our Veteran friend Kevin, even comforting him at moments that I am overwhelmed by his stories.

I can tell this lady is special, a healer of sorts with great faith. An admitted Christian, she explains that is the source of her patience, inspiration and compassion for the world around her, “I’m a believer in Christ, I’m not perfect, but doing my best to be a good person.” She is the kind of person that sets a life tone worthy of mirroring. I’ll take heed to her example.

I ask her to share her council. Simple reply, “Everything is so fast paced now, you must have patience with yourself and those around you.”

This is a night of patience for me. A workshop of sort in unconditional acceptance and in listening, led by two masters of life, Antoinette and Kevin.

All in all, I spend over two hours communing with my laundromat friends. We talk of many things, with much of the time being monopolized by Kevin. No regrets from either Antoinette or myself. He is fascinating and filled with hard-earned wisdom.

So much so, that it is necessary to save telling you about him for tomorrows entry. Though this is a slight diversion from one stranger every night, it is the only way to give him fair representation and in keeping my blog entry to an acceptable word count.

It only took me 5 minutes to find my place this evening. It has been captivating, uplifting and at times a little scary, some back alley stuff I’ll talk about tomorrow.

All in all, I experience one more tutorial in reaching out.

My findings: “We all have stories, some dark, others not. But in the end, “it’s all good!”

My take away from a spur of the moment visit to a local cleaning establishment. “Ten minutes of photography, two-hours of humanity.”

Curtis, pharmacist and emerging entertainer.

A typical Saturday in Radstoneland: I give you the beats.

• Teach Spinning, announce next weeks Halloween costume ride. What will I wear (you’ll just have to wait for the report)?
• Best Buy for more iPad stuff. I’m telling you, “the thing is a drug addiction.”
• Purchase new care tires. “So much for any more iPad fix money. It’s all gone now!”
• Visit camera store. Look at other things I cannot afford. My method of aversion therapy. “I have to come down from my iPad accessory high.”
• To park with the kids. “Ah, release from life.”
• Bother other families at park to be in 365. Daughter now hooked on 365, she forces me to bug people. “Alright, I submit.”
• Accept rejection from said park families. “I know, felt like the creepy dude stalking parents at the park, but I have to respect my kids starry eyes.”
• Leave park to heal wounds of shame for bugging families.
• See photo opportunity on street corner, redirect path to intercept target.
• Get yelled at by violent preacher dude on targeted street corner. My bad, “thought he’d want to tell all of my readers to repent.”
• Stagger back to car, happy I’m still intact! “don’t worry, kids are safely hanging inside locked car and in my field of view.”
• Set path for home: dinner time and a serious re-think of 365.
• Wife tells me, “go find someone to photograph, I’ve got the kids.”
• Wander aimlessly in new treaded car.
• Drive past coin operated car wash on Saticoy.
• Begin to experience, “holly *#*#, it’s 8pm and I’m clueless as to if I’m shooting 365 tonight.”
• Small voice in head tells me to turn around and go to other coin opp wash near where preacher dude was earlier today? “OK?”
• 8:15sh, arrive at prompted coin opp. “I can at least wash my car.”
• Fight with change machine, damn thing wont take my wrinkled bills. “doesn’t everyone shove wadded money in pockets?”
• Win fight, walk away from opponent, hand filled with quarters.
• Get hosed: $5.oo for 8 minutes of paid water.
• Pull out of slip, “I refuse to pay $2.50 more to rinse a touch of soap off car.”
• Pit stop at vacuum station for decompression of timed wash experience.
• Observe expert car washer in stall beside me. “How come his car looks so much cleaner than mine?”
• Question my car detailing ability?
• Submit to my failure.
• Strike up chat with car expert, “perhaps I’ll get pointers on where I went wrong. Should I have sprayed the degreaser first? Maybe I was too long with the soap brush? Help!?”
• He’s a cool dude. Throw 365 invite, he accepts.

My car washing buddy for the evening is Curtis, his trained profession to date: Pharmacist. A recent Los Angeles transplant from Kentucky, he began his West coast pharmaceutical career 4 yeas ago. As we talk I quickly realize that there is more to Curtis than simply preparing medication. He talks the importance of patient experience, saying with smile on his face, It’s really about making people comfortable, many of my customers don’t feel well when they come to my pharmacy. I do my best to let them know that I care.”

The man has great compassion for his fellow-beings, something that inspires him in his greatest dream, “I want to be an entertainer.”

An emerging comic and singer, Curtis expresses his reasoning for pursuing a path into such a difficult and competitive profession. He has the right perspective. “It’s about giving myself and sharing my talents.”

After 30 years as a director and photographer, this is a comment that I very much appreciate. There are so many talented people who seem to burn out from to great of a self-absorbed point-of-view. Curtis’ interest in “giving and sharing” is about as healthy as it gets. I wish him well!

We talk of creative mindset, linking it with the importance of being true to personal perspective and what it takes to both develop and hold on to artistic point-of-view. Another topic very close to me.

Curtis give us this wisdom, “whatever way life takes you, follow your inside, your persona, how you feel about your presence on Earth, and somehow let it be the guide in interfering with your choices.”

I meet a man who cares about people, and in time, I hope he finds his voice in the world of entertainment. We need guys like him on stage.

In the end, I understand why I am at this particular car wash, at this particular time and on this particular evening.

“And I’ve learned again, 365 just happens.”

“Live life to the fullest, Time to work is time to work, time to play is time to play.” Johnny’s mantra.

Driving home after a dinner with friends and family. I come across a group of bikers. Actually my second group of bikers. It was only 20 minutes ago when I was rejected by about a dozen of them. Let’s just title that group, “we’ll never meet who’s behind curtain one.”

I’m a little set back by this first encounter, not one of the group was willing to partake of 365. It was a rather large gathering. “They looked so like a willing bunch,” I told myself.

For your reference, the scene: Picture a casual outdoor gathering, killer bikes parked along the road, and a group of leather jacketed bikers sharing stories over after ride coffee. At the time it seemed to me, “in a gathering like this, someone will gladly volunteer to be featured.”

What I do find is a gang very hard to break into, with several cliques huddling around tables or reclining on steps, all deeply immersed in their own dialogue.

I do; however, presenting business cards to introduce 365, manage to talk to two guys.  They are definitely not interested in being photographed and I can tell by the tense stare from one of them that my presence is tolerated, but not welcome. Who knows maybe we will get a call and be invited to a future event? Something that I will wholly accept. So keep reading, maybe there will be a re-visit in later blog entries.

Deflated from that rejection, and with about 20 miles of pavement behind the experience, I come across a second gathering of bikers mingling in a parking. Again, as did group one, they are in cliques sharing post ride stories.

What the heck! It takes three missed swings to strike out, I have more swings left and I’m not striking out on day 41.

I line up for pitch two, pull into the parking lot, promising my family this one feels right. To the trunk I go, grabbing my 35 pound back pack of photographic power. I approach the plate. “Hey bear with me, It’s not easy writing a personable and sometimes witty blog entry every night.”

So if I want to write a baseball comparison for soliciting a group of bikers to get involved in 365, humor me.

The lot is dim, the sound of revving bikes fill the air. Spotting an amazingly painted Suzuki 750, I approach, complimenting it’s cool factor as I tell of 365. Without division, all hands point to Johnny, our man of the evening.

Johnny is engaging, warm and articulate. He is completely into the 365 project, liking the outreach factor it presents. “I’m in for anything that brings people together,” he says.

It is obvious he is liked by the group, of which many contribute with team spirited comments as he and I talk.

Johnny is a very smart cat. At 24 he has already capitalized on international commerce, building a very successful import/export business between the United States and Vietnam. What is highly interesting is that he mostly imports product to Asia. Quite the opposite of many in his trade.

By the looks of the custom paint on his bike, hand painted by a tattoo artist, he is doing quite well. paint jobs like that, do not come at a small price.

There is no guile or ego in his attitude. He talks of values that his father instilled in him. Values that have led him to the balanced perspective he lives by.

A few of Johnny wisdom’s:
“Work hard, play later.”
“Money is not everything. Health is golden.”
“Be willing to sacrifice wasted time to stay focused.”
“Live life to the fullest.”

So what with the bike?
I learn of the closeness of the biker community and how it sticks together. “It’s not an unusual thing to get a high-five from an unknown fellow biker,” Johnny explains.

“As a kid I liked speed.” By the looks of his bike, I think he’s found fast, and it seems to be his release. “Biking is a big part of my life, it free’s me and allows my to relax.”

The group is pushing to leave and it’s time to wrap. One more question to ask.

“Where do you see yourself in 10 years?”

With understated humility, and in honor to his father’s advice, “be your own boss,” he answers, “based out of my home, Vietnam. To be the biggest import/export business in the world.”

Johnny, Thanks for the interview!

“It’s impossible to go through life without problems,” and at only 20, Aaron has had his share. But this young man is remarkable.

I’ll start this entry with a few Aaron quotes. They really do set the stage for who he is, and the experience credentials he has earned early in his years – some self-inflicted, others by situation.

If you are a regular reader, the following is a common question to you by this time. If you are new, I ask everyone, “Do you have any words of wisdom you would like to share with my readership.”

I ask Aaron this question early on in our interview, even as we are shooting photos.

Actual photos taken during the moment Aaron responds to my questions

After a moment of thoughtful pause (I can tell he is thinking deeply regarding his response), he replies, “Everybody feels the way you do; what you do with it is up to you. You can either handle it, or you can be a victim.”

A very deep thought. I question him back, “Do you mean everybody CAN feel the way you do?” He is specific, “No, there is no can in it.”

We chat about it for a while. I realize what he is talking about are core emotions: love, fear, envy, joy, shame, empowerment and on and on. He relates them to life in general, linking all to the second part of his statement, “What you do with it is up to you. You can either handle it, or you can be a victim.” What he is talking about is self-respect and empowerment. In this he has earned a self-managing diploma received from the University of Hard Knocks.

Even though he is short in years, there is a palpable feeling of comfort radiating from him. I wish you could meet him and experience it yourself.

His story starts as one we have heard many times; troubled high school years, falling away from home, and a list of general rebellions. But what is unique about Aaron is his early willingness to change, not just for himself but to truly help his friends follow in his footsteps.

Here is how I know about him (notice, I have not yet told you how I met him).

Just two houses down from mine is the hang-out zone for a group of about fifteen regulars. Teen and twenty-something boys and girls loitering at all hours of the day. Usually tossing cigarette butts into our yards, and at times speaking loud obscenities. Really puts a damper on allowing my 8-year-old girl spending time in the front yard.

I even know a few of them, mostly good kids (or as least I’ve led myself to believe so). But still, they are there day after day, at hours most would either be in school or working.

Tonight, as I set out for a 365 stroll, I see Aaron, sitting by himself in the hang-out-zone. In past, I most likely would have not approached him, choosing to be tolerant yet unengaged. However, 365 is shifting my outlook by allowing me this thought, “If I have a question, or do not know the individual who prompts said question to my mind, I will not ignore facing them straight on.”

That said, I do not hesitate in approaching Aaron, and am fully glad I do so.

We’ve all heard actions are stronger than words. So what is he doing about life? His philosophies are deep and reflective, but is he acting on them?

Per his service to his friends? I facilitate the answers with a question, “Why is he sitting alone at the hang out zone?” A couple answers:

ONE:
Having not hung out for some time, “I wanted to check in on Jacob” (the kid living at the hang out house). One who Aaron is pushing to get his G.E.D. He states this: “I tell Jacob, If I can do it, so can you.”

TWO (and a little heavy):
He has just come from counseling one of the group, a kid living close by. How was he helping? Talking him out of  suicide attempt. This in itself would fold most twenty-year-olds. I’m thinking he ended up here to simply decompress.

Per his self work:

First, Aaron has made up for his high school follies in flying colors and is currently attending Pierce College, taking all his GEs with a few music electives. He cares about every course he is enrolled in and is pulling great grades, even Sociology. On top of that, he has applied for grants and financial aid to further his education and is serious about finishing with a degree in music.

Coming from a line of musicians, this is not a pipe dream. “I eat, live, breath music.” Supported by and following in his father’s footsteps, it is a well thought-out career decision, and he wants to do it right. Currently he is in the process of applying to The Musicians Institute, one of the more credible institutions in Los Angeles. A proven starting point for many successful artists.

On a closing note, I ask him about his plugs. He seems somewhat frustrated by them. “It was a thing I did a long time ago, but now they are holding me back. Too many people judge me because of them, and even my tattoos.” He tells me,  “They were the width of soda cans and very offensive to many employers. I’m working hard to find a good job and need to lose them.” For the past 6 months he has been getting them to recede, going from smaller to smaller ring. Now just a touch larger than quarters, he is almost there. The last step is a surgical procedure that costs $500. He is saving his money.

We talk into the evening, this is a good kid. I realize that all of our photos are somewhat serious or moments of captured conversation. I suggest one final portrait. The light is gone, but thanks to Apple and the illumination from my trusty iPad, we make one final photograph. Almost a smile, but with a one second exposure, I think we did a pretty good job.

Hey Aaron, see you at the hang-out. And thanks for your willingness to get the rest of the gang ashtrays for the cig butts.

Talk again my friend!

Almost forgot, “Where do you see yourself in ten years?”

Answer:
“To be a working studio / touring musician and to be happily married.”

“I have a feeling you will succeed.”