Traveling with a Lost Soul - Old Memories, New Purpose
My brother's memory is like a textbook, full of facts & details. My memory is like a box of postcards, bought but never addressed or sent. My brother can not only tell you about a time we went somewhere, but he can probably tell you exactly when & even what route we took. But for me it’s random flashes of pictures, thoughts & feelings just pop into my head. I can spend hours, days & weeks trying to figure out where they came from.
In 2016, I started the facebook & flickr page Wayfaring Hermit as a way to share my photographs with a larger audience. I had no set plan or long-term goal, just a way to share my journey with others. Also in 2016, my dad put his first stamp in his National Parks Passport book. June or July 29th, 2016, (the month is blurred) he was at New River Gorge National Park's, Canyon Rim visitor center. I visited the New River Gorge National Park & Preserve, Sandstone Falls visitor center on Jan. 16, 2026, thinking it was my first time there.
unedited photos my dad took in 2016 when he visited New River Gorge National Park, Canyon Rim visitor center
When I told my mom about it, I expected her to tell me about visiting 10 years ago with my dad, but she didn't. She told me a different story, of camping there with another family when we were kids & going white water rafting with them on the New River. I knew that I had been white water rafting. I can see the raft in my head, the protective gear we wore. I remember some sort of instruction about what we were supposed to do. I remember that it was fun & uneventful, meaning no one fell out, which we were warned could happen, all other details...gone. I had a similar memory of being a kid in a mind-blowingly huge cave. In fact, all other caves I've visited in my life have felt disappointing. It wasn't until after I visited Mammoth Cave National Park as an adult & was told our parents took us there as kids that I understood these vague memories & feelings.
I think I started photography as a way to remember. We moved to a mid-western state & I remember the feeling of loss. It felt like everything in my home state was taken from me in a flash. Decades later, I'm still struggle to find adequate words, but the feeling of loss permeated every moment in that new state. Every winter brought death, all living things turned brown, white, dreary & cold. I think photography for me was a way to hold onto things before they were lost, like spring flowers, bloom quickly, soon gone & missed, unless I had a picture of them. Bright colors, waves crashing, salt air, sand in the toes, jets in the air, warm sun, sights, sounds, smells of home all gone in an instant, ripped away from me!
Shadows of my dog & I on the beach not long before sunset
Sound dramatic? Yes! But I was a dramatic teen, forever looking for a way to express the pain inside, but not fully understanding what was happening until I came back to my hometown as an adult. Waves crash, jets fly, flowers bloom all year round, oddly, I no longer fear the inevitable death of everything around me. Even with my father's death, the loss has been replaced by a sense that he travels with me in spirit & memory. In life, his failing health prevented him from doing many of the things he loved in his last years. But he & I are connected forever by our love of nature, history, traveling, exploring, learning & experiencing new things. He can go everywhere with me now, so I'm trying to fulfill his dream of visiting all the national places & getting new stamps in his Passport to National Parks, Explorer Edition book.
“My memory is like a box of postcards
Did you know I can send postcards to you or someone you care about?
