Kendall’s Senior Photos
I had so much fun shooting Kendall’s senior portraits. As her older brother, I couldn’t be happier or prouder. It’s hard to believe that in just a few short months she’ll be graduating from high school and moving on to college. I’m so excited for you Kendall and the great adventures ahead. Congratulations and...
Gray’s First Photo Shoot
This is Grayson. His face holds the capacity of a thousand unique expressions. He’s the newest edition to our extended family, the first child of Shawn and Jessica Cain, the first grandchild of Bruce and Cindy Schemehorn, the first great grandchild of Richard and Margaret Schemehorn. To say the least, he’s a pretty special little...
Labeling People
It’s difficult to give resolute definition when most things are in a constant state of transition, and we rarely understand the things we’ve already defined as well as we think we do. Despite this innate difficulty associated with accurate defining, most of us are well rehearsed at placing specific mental tags, especially upon people....
Becoming A Man
Becoming a man, I think, is like becoming a writer. One must be patient, attentive to form and medium, hard working, always perfecting, and, most importantly, forever editing. Becoming a man takes practice. A boy becomes a man at 18, some say so. Others say it’s much earlier than that, perhaps aligned with certain ritual or rite of...
Initial Thoughts On Henry Miller
A coffee house, Indianapolis, window seat, computer on table, alone; white, porcelain mug steaming just in front of my lingering right hand. The coffee is decent; mine is black, purified, smells slightly of Iquitos, of the Amazon River basin, of jungle rain pooling on makeshift soccer fields, of small villages and children jumping from...
Run Wild
“Forests are for dreamers and those who pretend,” she says through a playful smile. “They’re for those who must abandon every day thoughts and listen intently to nothing else besides the rhythmic pushing of their own hearts.” And the flash of a million memories light up her eyes as she speaks of days spent traveling with dear...
The Reconstruction of Beauty
This is written to remind. Because some things are worth remembering. And some things I’ll never forget. Like her lips, soft as French Merlot after a hard day at the office, pink as a sun-baked horizon drunk off an afternoon rain. Or her eyes, green and round as grapes in the morning light. Or her arms, like a good nights sleep embracing...
Methamphetamine Chili
So we’re clear, what follows is a fictional story. Methamphetamine Chili * * * Chili goes down fast and easy when it’s negative five degrees outside. And in the Midwest, chili is methamphetamine, sardonic soup composed of everything from battery acid to cough syrup to gasoline to freshly extracted kitten intestines. And a thousand...
Playground Love — A Short Essay on Young Rel...
* * * My first real girlfriend broke up with me via email. The subject line read, “Sorry, I can’t do this anymore…Loser.” Or something like that. And maybe my memory’s a bit harsh as to the exact title of that email due to years spent mentally tidying up that trashy semester, but I guess that’s just the way I remember...
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