The Nurse in the Bama Jersey

I'm thinking back to a year ago when I watched the Iron Bowl with my dad in the emergency room waiting for him to be admitted to the hospital with pneumonia. We had to wait all afternoon for a room to open up. About half way through the 4th quarter, we got word that they were ready to take him to a room. As Dad was wheeled into the west wing, we were greeted by the nurse who would be responsible for checking dad in. I could tell by the Alabama jersey he wore which team he was pulling for. Dad and I were both tired...he was ready to get the admitting process over and try to rest; I was ready to go home.

However, the Auburn Tigers had a different idea.

We finally had Dad in a room (the game was already playing on the TV) and in the hospital bed with the nurse going over his meds & history when Chris Davis returned Alabama's missed field goal kick 109 yards to win the game. The nurse stopped what he was doing and looked at the television in disbelief; I don't think that he would have been more stunned had I stood up and slapped him. He quickly excused himself and left the room. About 15 minutes later, he returned saying that he was sorry that he left, but that he just had to go compose himself. To anyone who is not from, or has lived in, Alabama for any given time, this nurse's behavior would have appeared rude or inexcusable. Thankfully for the nurse, Dad and I understood.
I'm looking forward to watching today's game from the comfort of my living room. 

Image Credit ~ Carole Foret's "A Second Chance"

Prints available on Carole's website at:

www.carole-foret.artistwebsites.com

No Offense Taken

At a recent art show, a lady who was unfamiliar with my photography, visited my booth. She saw me and my husband sitting together  and asked which one of us was the photographer. When I told her that I had taken all of the photos, she seemed surprised, stating that most of the images had a masculine quality to them. I took no offense to her statement, as my photos reflect my background. 

I grew up in central Alabama building forts in a pine thicket with neighborhood kids. Countless hours were spent sitting in a jon boat with my brother and dad fishing for bream and catfish. As a teenager, I preferred spending my summer afternoons on a tractor raking hay in the hayfield rather than doing more traditional girl's chores. While I was not a bonafide Tomboy, I wasn't a girly-girl either. 

I think that it is true that we are the sum of our parts. Somewhere in all the experiences that make me who I am is a love of southern rivers lined with moss-covered oaks; the beauty of a farmer's field with crops ready to harvest and rusty cars, trucks or tractors. These are the images that have the power to take me home through my viewfinder.