For some reason, I began thinking about some of my previous "adrenaline rushes." Some could be categorized as "good," some "bad" and at least one of them as "ugly." Although this list is not all inclusive, following are some that I wanted to share in roughly chronological order:
As a child, I scratched my way to victory in fights. I drew a lot of blood this way. My aunt chastised me for causing my cousin to bleed and cry and told me it was wrong and “girly” to fight this way. Guided by her words, I adjusted, changing tactics by confining my assaults to fists only. I remember being proud of myself as I drew just as much blood in my next fight without even scratching! (I know, I know – it’s “the ugly” I included in the title. Needless to say, I’m really quite the pacifist in my adulthood.)
Holding Gwen Monson’s hand through the movie Camelot. I was in the eighth grade then and had harbored a horrible crush on Gwen since the seventh grade. It was a long movie and both of our hands were sweating profusely, but I didn’t care. Gwen Monson!
My first ride on a ten-speed bike.
Receiving my first single-lens reflex camera, a Nikkormat FTN, from Japanese exchange students related to my grandparents.
Cutting classes at the University of Utah to fly to San Francisco for the day with my girlfriend.
Getting lost in the corridors connecting the SL Arts Center with Symphony Hall and ending up on the stage of Symphony Hall with a sea of empty seats before me.
Drawing the number “125” in the draft lottery during the Vietnam War. This meant I was relatively safe and unlikely to be called to duty.
Looking over a scenic vista after the first rock-climbing ascent with my friends.
Rappelling down the cliff after the first rock-climbing ascent with my friends.
Catching the sight of two gray whales below the rocky cliffs of Oregon while watching sea lions at play.
The birth of my daughter, Marissa.
Riding horses into Bryce Canyon.
Watching helplessly as Marissa’s horse went wild shortly after she mounted it during the above-mentioned ride into Bryce Canyon. She held on in spite of its bucking, long enough for the guide to catch up to her and calm the horse.
My first solo drive across the United States.
Receiving the very first call as I walked in the door of our new home in Wallingford, CT from Nikon World magazine. They called to ask if I would be willing to send them some of my photos for an article they hoped to write about me.
Chasing whales in a Zodiac in the foggy Gulf of Alaska.
Road trips with my daughter.
Kayaking past an eight-foot alligator in the Florida Everglades.
Overturning my kayak and falling into the waters of the Florida Everglades shortly after passing that eight-foot alligator.
Being surprised by the sudden appearance of a sea turtle as I swam with my daughter in the Pacific Ocean just off the coast of Honolulu.
Producing the images for my most recent show at Phillips Gallery (see http://www.phillips-gallery.com/gallery/g.html Click on Dibble Gallery and scroll to my exhibition).
My chance encounter with Martin Scorsese in an elevator of the Waldorf Astoria.
Stolen moments with special friends.
Kung-Fu, a combination of grace, ritual, expression and purpose.
My first ride on a recumbent trike.
As a child, I scratched my way to victory in fights. I drew a lot of blood this way. My aunt chastised me for causing my cousin to bleed and cry and told me it was wrong and “girly” to fight this way. Guided by her words, I adjusted, changing tactics by confining my assaults to fists only. I remember being proud of myself as I drew just as much blood in my next fight without even scratching! (I know, I know – it’s “the ugly” I included in the title. Needless to say, I’m really quite the pacifist in my adulthood.)
Holding Gwen Monson’s hand through the movie Camelot. I was in the eighth grade then and had harbored a horrible crush on Gwen since the seventh grade. It was a long movie and both of our hands were sweating profusely, but I didn’t care. Gwen Monson!
My first ride on a ten-speed bike.
Receiving my first single-lens reflex camera, a Nikkormat FTN, from Japanese exchange students related to my grandparents.
Cutting classes at the University of Utah to fly to San Francisco for the day with my girlfriend.
Getting lost in the corridors connecting the SL Arts Center with Symphony Hall and ending up on the stage of Symphony Hall with a sea of empty seats before me.
Drawing the number “125” in the draft lottery during the Vietnam War. This meant I was relatively safe and unlikely to be called to duty.
Looking over a scenic vista after the first rock-climbing ascent with my friends.
Rappelling down the cliff after the first rock-climbing ascent with my friends.
Catching the sight of two gray whales below the rocky cliffs of Oregon while watching sea lions at play.
The birth of my daughter, Marissa.
Riding horses into Bryce Canyon.
Watching helplessly as Marissa’s horse went wild shortly after she mounted it during the above-mentioned ride into Bryce Canyon. She held on in spite of its bucking, long enough for the guide to catch up to her and calm the horse.
My first solo drive across the United States.
Receiving the very first call as I walked in the door of our new home in Wallingford, CT from Nikon World magazine. They called to ask if I would be willing to send them some of my photos for an article they hoped to write about me.
Chasing whales in a Zodiac in the foggy Gulf of Alaska.
Road trips with my daughter.
Kayaking past an eight-foot alligator in the Florida Everglades.
Overturning my kayak and falling into the waters of the Florida Everglades shortly after passing that eight-foot alligator.
Being surprised by the sudden appearance of a sea turtle as I swam with my daughter in the Pacific Ocean just off the coast of Honolulu.
Producing the images for my most recent show at Phillips Gallery (see http://www.phillips-gallery.com/gallery/g.html Click on Dibble Gallery and scroll to my exhibition).
My chance encounter with Martin Scorsese in an elevator of the Waldorf Astoria.
Stolen moments with special friends.
Kung-Fu, a combination of grace, ritual, expression and purpose.
My first ride on a recumbent trike.
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