From Shadows to Sunrise

 

From Shadows to Sunrise

August 18, 2025
In April of this year I could not bring myself to step outside, days when the world felt heavy and colorless. I didn’t want to do anything—not even the things that once brought me joy. My camera sat untouched, collecting dust like a forgotten part of me.

A few months ago, I truly believed I’d never feel good again. I thought that spark was gone for good, that the best I could do was just exist.

But here I am.

Not only stepping outside, but chasing sunrises again. Not just taking photos, but feeling them. Laughing. Living. Picking up my camera with excitement instead of obligation. The light I thought I had lost is coming back, and with it, a sense of wonder I thought was gone forever.

I’m still on the journey, but today, I’m grateful—for the progress, for the beauty, and for the chance to see the world through my lens again.

The Heart Behind the Light

The Heart Behind the Light

August 07, 2025 - Thursday

“Even through the lens of an old heart, there's still something worth seeing.”

This morning it was just a seagull sitting on a piling — quiet, still, not doing anything spectacular — and yet… something in it asked me to stop. To see it. To save it.

I don't always know why I take a picture. I just do. Something stirs and tells me, this moment matters.

Some days I wonder if anyone really notices. I spend time choosing a photo, reading through dozens of quotes until one feels like it belongs — sometimes for me, sometimes because I feel someone out there needs it. And just when I start to think maybe none of it really matters, someone will comment, “Thank you — I needed that.” And then I remember… maybe this is exactly what I’m supposed to do.

Yes, I want people to see my pictures — but more than that, I want them to feel what I felt when I stood there looking at it. I want them to know that there’s still beauty in the little things. That someone still believes in slowing down to notice them.

There’s a part of my heart — old as it may be — that’s still soft. Still full of wonder. Still beating for something.

Maybe that’s why I keep getting up each morning.
Krebs Lake, Pascagoula

 

 

Found Beauty

Found Beauty

August 01, 2025 - Friday

“I just let the pain take over, allowing it to numb the pain of being left behind.” ~ Jessica Sorensen
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This shot is from a few days ago. I had forgotten all about it until I passed the spot again this morning and saw the old chair still sitting there.
There was garbage scattered all around — the mess left behind after someone cleaned out an old store — but this chair caught my eye. Something about it… still upright, still shaped by the stories it’s carried.
Maybe I should do a whole layout of nothing but abandoned, thrown-out chairs. Think there’s a niche for that? 😄 I’ve heard of people making money off stranger things.
But honestly — if even one photo makes someone smile or feel something… then I’ve done my job. I’m doing what I enjoy, and I hope it brings a little light or laughter into your day too.  Pascagoula, MS 

 

Just Use a Card, Pawpaw

 

Just Use a Card, Pawpaw

July 31, 2025 Thursday

 “Sometimes when I need a miracle, I look into my grandchild’s eyes and realize I’ve already created one.” – Unknown
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Today has been a full Pawpaw kind of day, and let me tell you — I am worn out! I had Colton with me from early this morning, and we stayed busy from sunup until Daddy-O picked him up.

After we dropped Charlie off at school, Colton and I headed to the Beach Park. We played, laughed, and soaked in the morning light. Back home, the fun didn’t slow down one bit. Around 11:00, he crawled up into my lap and just melted into me. By 11:30, he was sound asleep and didn’t wake until nearly 2:30.

There’s something so special about that moment — holding him while he sleeps so peacefully. Knowing he feels safe, warm, and loved in my arms... well, it means more than I could ever put into words.

I’ve got a little story that gave me a good belly laugh today:
On the way to pick up Charlie this morning, we passed by the Waffle House. Colton spotted it and said, “Pawpaw, let’s stop and get waffles!” I told him, “I don’t have any money, buddy.” Without missing a beat, he said,
“That’s okay, Pawpaw — just use a card!”

I laughed so hard I couldn’t wait to tell Gage. That little boy is something else — smart, sweet, and just full of life. He’s a handful, sure… but he holds a big, big part of my heart.

Here’s a picture from the park this morning. One look at that face, and you’ll know exactly why today meant so much.

What We Don’t See

What We Don’t See

July 29, 2025 – Tuesday

“Be kind to people and don’t judge, for you do not know what demons they carry and what battles they are fighting.” ~ Vashti Quiroz-Vega

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Most mornings, I’m up by 4 a.m.

While most folks I know are just getting settled in for the night, I’m out chasing the day’s first light. I’ve been photographing the sunrise every morning for the past 15 years, and if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s this: the sun won’t wait. If I want to catch it, I have to show up.

 

This morning, I was back at The Point, walking the fishing pier before dawn. About halfway down, I noticed a man sitting alone on one of the benches. Just sitting quietly, staring out over the water. I’m pretty sure he slept there last night — maybe hoping the breeze off the water would keep him cool.

I don’t mean to sound paranoid but coming across someone out there that early makes me a little uneasy. Still, I spoke to him as I passed. He answered softly — just above a whisper.

Later, on my way back, I saw only his feet sticking out, his bicycle parked nearby, every bit of his life strapped to it. No name. No face. Just a quiet presence.

And a quiet reminder:

The line between “us” and “them” is thinner than we like to admit.

I’ve been guilty of judging too quickly — I think most of us have. It’s easier sometimes to look away, to shrug it off, to convince ourselves that people bring trouble on themselves. But the truth is, we don’t know what battles someone’s fighting.

We see the surface.

What we don’t see is the weight they carry.

 

Found Along the Way Back

Found Along the Way Back

July 28, 2025 -Monday
After all, the true seeing is within.” ~ George Eliot
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This morning at the Krebs Lake dock, the sun climbed gently over the water, soft and golden — the kind of light that doesn’t shout, but whispers you back to life. I was standing there, as I do most mornings now, watching the day begin. That’s when I noticed them — a pair of sunglasses left behind on the weathered planks. In one lens, I saw the sunrise. In the other, my own reflection.

It felt like a quiet message — a moment of seeing clearly.

On the way home, I noticed the bench on the little manmade island at IG Levy Park. Just one. Empty. Waiting. It looked like it had a story to tell, too — maybe one of quiet goodbyes or peaceful pauses. It made me stop and breathe.

 

Then not far from home, I passed two old chairs left out by the road. Rusted. Worn. One was sitting on the other like they were hugging and maybe saying ‘goodbye’ to each other. And I realized something: I’m seeing stories again — not just things. These scenes aren’t posed, not planned, not photoshopped or filtered. They’re just... real.

And the truth is, a few months ago, I wouldn’t have noticed any of this. I was in a darker place — one where worry clouded everything. But lately, it feels like I’m coming back to life. Not all at once. Just a little more each morning.

Maybe that’s why people connect with my photos. They aren’t just pictures. They’re how I see — and how I feel. Maybe folks see their own stories in them. Maybe, without knowing it, I’m helping someone else feel a little less alone.

And maybe — just maybe — this is what I’m meant to do right now.
 

The Quiet Side of Grief

The Quiet Side of Grief

July 27, 2025 - Sunday

 “Tears shed for another person are not a sign of weakness. They are a sign of a pure heart.” — José N. Harris
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This morning at The Point, the clouds hung heavy, but the light still found a way to shine through — and that felt fitting. My heart was already carrying the weight of someone else’s sorrow. Lauren is hurting deeply right now, and there’s not a thing I can do to take that pain away. That’s the hardest part of being a parent… when your child is grieving and there’s no bandage big enough to cover the ache.

I know that kind of pain — the kind that makes you feel alone, even when your arms are full of family. You ask yourself, “Will this ever stop hurting?” And the truth is, maybe not completely. Some losses never really leave us. But the sharpness dulls, and in time, the memories — the good ones, the silly ones, the quiet, beautiful ones — begin to ease the weight.

Sometimes just being present, listening, and offering love is all we can do. And maybe that’s enough.

So I stood there this morning, watching the sun fight its way past the clouds. It reminded me that grief doesn’t mean we’re broken. It just means we’ve loved deeply. And when we carry the memory of those we’ve lost, we’re still holding a part of them with us — not in pain, but in honor.

If you’re hurting right now — like Lauren is — I hope you know you’re not alone. The sunrise shows up every day, whether we’re ready or not — a reminder that healing comes slowly, but surely… and never without love.

 

Stories in the Stillness

 

Stories in the Stillness

July 24, 2025
“We are often taught to look for the beauty in all things, so in finding it, the layman asks the philosopher while the philosopher asks the photographer.” ~ Criss Jami
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I stopped at the east end of Beach Boulevard this morning when I spotted a Yellow-Crowned Night Heron feeding in a tidal pool behind the seawall. As I turned to head back to my car, I noticed this old tree — the same one I photographed many years ago with this same sky behind it. Only then, I was walking with my little buddy, Cody. Hard to believe he has been gone nearly seven years now.

That tree reminds me of so many of us — reaching out for something, though we may not know quite what it is we’re trying to hold on to.

I tend to find meaning in the quiet things, the simple moments others often pass by. I like to imagine there’s a story in everything, waiting to be brought to life. Sometimes, I might be the only one who sees it, the only one who truly understands what the photo is saying. But that’s okay — because I know someday, my storytelling will come to an end. And I hope that through these pictures and the words I’ve left behind, my grandkids will learn to see the world the way Pawpaw did — one big canvas full of moments worth noticing, and stories waiting to be told.

Through the Tears, A Promise

Through the Tears, A Promise

July 23, 2025 – Wednesday

“So it’s true, when all is said and done, grief is the price we pay for love.” ~ E.A. Bucchianeri

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Allen Dale lost his wife. Lane lost his mom. Lauren lost her mother-in-law. And Charlie, Caroline, and Mollie lost their MeMo — Cindy — yesterday.

There are no words that can take the pain away, but through the years I’ve learned: it does get better. In time, you remember something funny she said, or pick something up that reminds them of her, and a little smile will slip through the sadness. I believe that’s why God gave us memories.

Even now, all these years later, a memory of Dad or one of my grandparents will come to me out of the blue. And while there’s still a little ache, it also brings comfort — and sometimes even a chuckle.

I try to look at the bigger picture. That our time together isn’t measured in years or days, but in something far greater — a promise that one day, we’ll be together again, and this time it’ll be forever.

I keep thinking about that old hymn we used to sing at Whitesand Baptist: “When we all get to heaven, what a day of rejoicing that will be! When we all see Jesus, we'll sing and shout the victory!”

Yes, death hurts — it hurts deeply. But just beyond this sunrise, there’s a brighter morning waiting for us.

So go ahead and cry. Let yourself feel the loss. But know that you’re not alone. God has big shoulders, and He’s always waiting — ready to wrap you in His arms and wipe away every tear.

 

 

Where the Memories Bite

June 17, 2025
For the past two weeks, I’ve had the pleasure of spending time with two of my favorite fishing buddies—Charlie and Trent.

It’s hard to believe how much time has passed. For those who remember when Charlie was born—so small and full of wonder—well, take a look at him now, towering over me like a young man who's found his stride. Watching him grow into someone who still enjoys time with his Pawpaw is something special. He’s the one who took us out on the water, made sure we had what we needed, and—most importantly—put up with me. Thank you, Charlie. You don’t know how much that means.

Trent, I hope this trip was everything you hoped for. We may not have checked off every item on the list, but we did the one thing you wanted most: we fished. And that’s more than enough for me. I saw joy in your eyes and felt peace in mine.

We caught more than fish on those early mornings—we caught moments I’ll hold on to for a long time. Laughter in the boat. Quiet ripples on still water. Silhouettes against the sunrise. These are the things that stay with you.

Boys, thank you both for the gift of your time. Pawpaw’s heart is full.

 

Finding Our Stillness

 

Finding Our Stillness

July 16, 2025 – Wednesday

“Love what you do and do what you love. Don't listen to anyone else who tells you not to do it. You do what you want, what you love.” ~ Ray Bradbury
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This morning, as I was out with my camera, I saw a simple moment that reminded me just how important it is to hold on to what brings you peace.  A man fishing alone on the pier — no rush, no noise, just him and the quiet rhythm of the water.

And I thought… that’s it. That’s what this is for him — the same way photography is for me.

It’s not about catching the biggest fish or getting the most likes. It’s about doing what speaks to your soul.

Every day, I try to find some small gem to capture — a flash of light, a quiet corner, a moment that might be missed. That’s where I feel like myself again, where I breathe a little deeper, and life slows down just enough for me to see.

We all have something that helps us connect — with ourselves, with the world, with others. For me, it’s through the lens. For him, it’s a cast line . But in the end, we’re all just trying to find those few moments that make us feel alive.
Pascagoula, MS

Finding Meaning in the Morning Light

 

July 16, 2025 – Wednesday

“You will never be happy if you continue to search for what happiness consists of. You will never live if you are looking for the meaning of life.” ~ Albert Camus
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Each morning I tell myself, “This is the best sunrise yet,” only to find myself saying the same thing again the next day.
These past few mornings at The Point, the skies have been beyond words — a true gift to start each day.
Coming here each morning helps me center my heart and reminds myself that it’s really the simple things that make life rich. As we grow older, we learn that true joy isn’t found in searching for some big, hidden meaning — it’s found in these quiet moments, one sunrise at a time.
The Point, Pascagoula

A New Day, A New Cast

July 15, 2025 Tuesday

This morning at The Point, I held up a big fishing hook against the sunrise. It made me think how each day is like casting a line into the unknown — we never know what we might pull in, but there’s always hope waiting just beneath the surface. Sometimes it’s not about what we catch, but about the simple joy of casting out and watching the morning unfold. Just like that hook against the morning sky, life is full of possibility if we’re willing to throw out a line and see what comes back."

Lines in the Water, Lines in the Heart

 

Lines in the Water, Lines in the Heart

July 14, 2025
"Grandchildren: the only people who can make you feel old and young at the same time."  ~ author not given
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The last two weeks have felt like one big, joyful fishing trip, and I know I’m really going to miss all this excitement. I’ll be taking Trent home this Thursday, and Charlie starts high school next Wednesday (the 23rd). High school — it just doesn’t seem possible that Charlie has grown up so fast.

Charlie and Trent went to church with me yesterday, and my gosh, Charlie was towering over me, while Trent is now as tall as I am. Trent will be starting 8th grade when he gets back to Texas.

This was the first summer Trent came to stay with us, and all he wanted to do was go fishing. I think Charlie did an amazing job making that happen, and he also did a great job putting up with me. Charlie sometimes has a hard time understanding why Pawpaw can’t help with all the boat stuff. I keep telling him — where I grew up, folks didn’t have boats, and if they did, they were the “well-off” people. When Daddy and I went fishing, it was always from a pond bank or the river — no open water, no boats. Meanwhile, Charlie was learning to run a boat as soon as he could stand at the console!

It’s going to be quiet around here next week. I’ve enjoyed having the boys around so much and spending that time together. What really touched me was that they wanted me to go with them, even though they could have gone on their own. That’s where this quote fits so perfectly — they make me feel both old and young all at once.

I’m already looking forward to Trent coming back — and maybe, just maybe, McKenna will come stay with us for a week or so. I know Caroline and Mollie would love that, though I’m not sure how my wallet would hold up with three girls wanting Pawpaw to take them shopping! (But you know what? We would do it.)

Grandkids are such a blessing. I get to do so many things now that I didn’t have time for when my girls were small, and seeing life through their eyes is one of the greatest gifts I could ever ask for.

A Lesson from the Heron

 

July 14, 2025 – Monday
 “Slow down and enjoy the moment you're in and live your life to the fullest.” Nanette Mathews
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This morning at The Point, as I watched the sunrise and the gulls darting back and forth, a Great Blue Heron glided slowly across Yazoo Lake. Unlike the gulls rushing around, he moved calm and steady, almost like he had all the time in the world.

It made me think — this is what I need to do, too. Instead of always trying to think and do so many things at once, I need to just slow down, enjoy each second, and not worry about the next minute.

The Point, Pascagoula

132 Characters, Countless Memories

 

July 12, 2025

Today would have been my 49th anniversary at the hospital if I had not retired — but all things worked out for the best.

To most people, this may look like an ordinary metal ruler. But to us COBOL 74 programmers, it was one of the most important tools on our desks.

The little numbers across the top told us exactly how many characters would fit on each line. Our printers could handle up to 132 characters per line — those big green-and-white sheets with holes down each side. Writing reports on that paper wasn’t too bad, but when we had to design pre-printed forms, that ruler became our best friend.

Back then, every single instruction had to be written by hand: where to start each character, how long each line would be, exactly where everything would fall. I enjoyed sitting at my desk, ruler in hand, carefully laying out each form or report.

I’m not even sure if many shops still use COBOL these days. But I think if I sat down today, it wouldn’t take long before I could write a report or update a database again.

Things have changed so much since I retired 12 years ago. By then, I was using Crystal Reports — faster, drag-and-drop, but I still needed that old ruler for the pre-printed forms.

There are times I miss being there, the challenges and the friendships. Then again, I know I’m a bit of an old dinosaur now. Like this ruler, my time has come and gone… but oh, what a good run it was.

What If I Fly?

 

July 11, 2025 – Friday
“There is freedom waiting for you, On the breezes of the sky, And you ask "What if I fall?" Oh but my darling, What if you fly?” ~ Erin Hanson
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Good morning from The Point. You know, this is me — always asking “what if I fall?” I never seem to consider the idea that my dreams might actually take flight. Why do we so often look for the negative and rarely believe that maybe, just maybe, it will all work out?   The Point, Pascagoula

When the Call Comes

 

"Only God can mend a broken heart, but He has to have all the pieces." ~ Author unknown

Good morning… There are so many times our world gets shattered, and we feel so alone — like no one could possibly understand. But this isn’t true. The hurt is still there, but God has big shoulders for us to lay our heads on.

This morning around 5, my cousin Carol called. As soon as I answered, I knew something was wrong. Through her tears, she told me her mom — my Aunt Beverly — had passed away.

What do you say when you get news like that?

Carol and I lost touch for several years after I moved to Pascagoula, and I’m quite a bit older than her. But when her dad got sick, she and Gracyn moved back home. When I’d go up to visit Mom, Carol would come up and say, “Let’s go riding.” I never knew where we’d end up, but you can bet we had fun. We would laugh and talk about everything under the sun — and what surprised most people is how much we loved looking around old cemeteries.

Cousins are special for so many reasons. I’m so proud of all of mine, and it’s times like this when we need each other the most. That’s what really counts.

The Point, Pascagoula

Casting Lines, Catching Z's, and Chasing Rainbows

July 9, 2025 – Tuesday

Casting Lines, Catching Z's, and Chasing Rainbows

Good morning.

The boys and I went fishing again yesterday — or maybe I should say they went fishing, and I spent the morning sitting in Charlie’s seat taking pictures. After we got the boat back home and did all the little chores that come with it, we went over to my house to join the girls.

Charlie and Trent were out on the patio cleaning fish when the girls decided they were ready to head home. By the time I got back, Charlie asked me to cook up some of the fish for dinner. Well, while I was busy in the kitchen, my two fishermen — ages 13 and 14 — fell fast asleep on me!

Now, mind you, I was up before either one of them, stayed out in the sun just as long as they did, and here I was still going strong while they were out like lights. Of course, I have no idea what time they finally went to bed — they might’ve been up all night playing Xbox.

It was a good day, the kind of day that makes summer feel endless and sweet. Today, Charlie is out cutting grass, so I’ve got a little break to rest up — can’t let them get too far ahead of Pawpaw!

I was telling Lauren this morning what a good summer it’s been. School will start back soon, and I know I’ll miss all these busy, everyday adventures.

This morning’s photo was taken on Beach Blvd here in Pascagoula. I still can’t believe I was able to catch this shot — a fisherman in the early light, with a rainbow standing watch behind him.
 

Smoke Signals and Sleepy Pawpaw

 

July 7, 2025

Charlie and Trent love to stay with me when Trent comes home to visit. It was actually because of a funny story I told Lauren last week that she insisted I start writing in my journal again.

One day last week, we had been fishing all day. I was hot, sunburned, and worn out. To make it even worse, a few days earlier I had bent over and thrown my back out, so by the time we got home I was more than ready to lie down and hope the pain would ease.

After I took a shower, I told the boys I was going to my room to rest while they played their Xbox games. My back was finally starting to feel better, and I was just drifting off to sleep when suddenly I smelled smoke.

Let me tell you — that’s never a good sign when you’ve got two boys loose in the house! I jumped up and ran into the kitchen, asking what on earth was burning.
Charlie looked at me calmly and said, “I was just trying to light the oven.” He went on to explain, “That’s how we do it at the hunting camp, Pawpaw. You turn it on, wait for the click, and then light it with a paper towel.”

All I could do was laugh.

Until you’ve had grandsons running around your house at night, you haven’t truly lived. At least now that they’re older, I’m not as worried about going to sleep — last year they pulled all kinds of pranks on me while I was trying to rest!

I just hope that many years from now, they’ll remember these wild, funny nights with Pawpaw as some of the best times of their lives. I know I’ll carry these memories with me forever — right up until my very last day.

A Grandfather’s Catch-Up

 

July 7, 2025 Monday

Good morning once again after a long absence. My daughter, Lauren, suggested I start journaling again after something funny happened, and the more I thought about it, the more I knew she was right. My last entry was July 12, 2021 — almost four years ago to the day. I’ll have to go back and read what I wrote back then, but in the meantime, a lot has happened over these past four years. I'll try to catch things up.

I’ve welcomed three new grandbabies: Mya, Beaux, and Kobe. We only got to hold Mya for a short time. When she opened her eyes for the first time, she was resting in the strong and loving arms of Jesus. Beaux will be 5 this year, and Kobe will be 4. In addition to these blessings, I now have a great-grandson, Colton, who will also turn 4 this year.

When Colton was born, all the daycares were full and not taking new babies. That’s when I asked, “Do you think I can keep him?” Meaning: Do you trust me? (LOL) For two and a half years, we played almost every day and built a bond that means the world to me.

Two grandsons have graduated from high school now. I think back to all those mornings I took them to school, listening to them laugh and carry on in the back seat… It feels like just yesterday. Gage, Colton’s dad, is working at Ingalls Shipbuilding and doing a great job raising Colton. Noah graduated this year and will start college next month. He plans to go into nursing, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he ends up doing mission work one day.

My other grands keep Pawpaw pretty busy. McKenna, my oldest granddaughter, along with Trent, Beaux, and Kobe, live in Texas, so I don’t see them as often as I’d like. But we stay in touch. McKenna just turned 15 — something I can hardly believe. When they moved to Texas, she was a shy little girl, but now she’s a confident and strong young lady. Trent turned 13 this year and is visiting with us now. Right now, he and Charlie are out fishing. I went with them 3 or 4 times last week, but Pawpaw can’t quite keep up with two teenagers! I told them I’d join them later this week.

Charlie — let me tell you about him. He was born early and was so small that my thumb was bigger than his foot. Now, 14 years later, he’s taller than me and loves to hunt and fish. This boy knows how to work! I couldn’t keep up with him if I tried. He doesn’t quite understand why I can’t back or run the boat. I keep telling him that all my fishing was done from the riverbank. We didn’t have boats or wide-open water like he does today.

Caroline — my sweet, tender-hearted girl. She’s 12 this year and will start junior high, joining the school volleyball team. I’m so proud of her.

Mollie — my little firecracker. She’ll be in 5th grade this year and will also be starting at a new school. Mollie will tell you exactly what’s on her mind — no filter! (LOL) She loves soccer, and that little girl can run!

Colton — as I said, he’ll be 4 this year. Watching him grow up has been one of life’s greatest joys for me. With my other grands, I worked full time, but with Colton, I got to be there for so many of his firsts: first smile, first time rolling over, first step. And if you need to know anything about monster trucks, I promise you, he can tell you.

I don’t mean to brag, but I have such a strong relationship with my girls and grands. It means everything to me. They know they can call me any time, for anything — and I can do the same with them.

Well, that gets us mostly caught up since 2021. Now I can start sharing my daily life again — including the funny story that made Lauren laugh so hard and led her to tell me I needed to start writing again. I may not write every day, but I’ll do my best. I’ve been through a lot, and maybe sharing will help someone else, too.

I don’t know what I would have done without my girls.

Looking back over these years, I see how each moment — the joyful ones and even the hard ones — has woven together into the life I have today. Watching my grandchildren grow, sharing quiet talks with my daughters, and finding new ways to see the world through my camera has all reminded me that I’m still becoming, still learning, still living fully.

I know there will be more ups and downs, but I also know now that I’m never truly alone. I have my family, my memories, and my lens to keep me connected to what matters most. If someone had told that young man on the visitor tower in 1976 all that was ahead, he might not have believed it — but I wouldn’t change a thing.

Here’s to whatever tomorrow brings.