These are my thumbs. They have aided in the embracing of many tools, objects of wonder, other hands, people, instruments, etc. They are important to me because they equip me with/as a conduit.

This picture is of my Dad at the Walter Sisulu Gardens, the Botanical Gardens. It was taken on a Sunday morning a few weeks ago, when we hiked up the mountain in the background.
I love it because it shows South Africa for the amazing place that it is. This striking place is about half a mile from my house on the same mountain, so this is the view I get everyday. This picture shows our live here, and even in economic trouble, crime and a corrupt government we still experience the beauty of this place. They say nothing is like Africa and I would have to agree with that because of the culture and lifestyle we experience here, we have a life in nature: and even though it is not ideal here it will always be remembered as my home.

Tell - The small red lamp I used next to my bed broke. I was in the art gallery setting up my first show when it happened, and I tried to hide how sad it made me because I felt it was strange to be attached to a dollar Goodwill lamp. But I kept a little piece of it and set it in a pile of my things. Later that night, one of the other artists secretly took the little piece and put it in next to where I was working. I carry it around in my pocket now.

My father still lives in my home town in Central Oregon and takes long walks everyday. It's his time to observe the changes in the city, to think and pray. Whenever I go home I join my dad on these long walks. They're often early in the morning, our routine is for him to wake me up early, often as the sun is still rising, before the house is abuzz with activity. He's always well armed with a strong cup of coffee. Depending on the season the air is thick with the smell of wildfire smoke, or a light dusting of snow on the ground. What's not dependent on the season is the continually clear skies and the sun rising over the mountains.

These walks are a time for us to really connect. We talk about the rapid changes the city has gone through, his and my memories of the places we pass, as well as deeper conversations about marriage, work, friendships, finances, etc. We have an unspoken rule about religion and politics being out-of-bounds but we venture there sometimes as well.

On the day that he gave me these tiles, the walk started out like any other. We shared our stories as we walked up to the top of Hospital Hill and watched the sun continue to rise. We walked around the nunnery and looked at the landscaping the McMenamins brothers were putting in at their new property. One our way downtown, my dad all of sudden stopped in front of a constructions site. I thought he was going to begin a dialog about the evolution of the old building into the new and was completely surprised when he called out to one of the workers. A little bewildered, the young man came over. "Can you do me a favor?" my dad asked. Now I was completely confused and certainly curious. "See those tiles in the dirt over there?" he asked as he pointed to a mound of debris. "Would you mind picking out about 10 of them for me?" The construction worker did as he was asked, a cigarette hanging out of his mouth, with no hesitation. 10 tiles in hand, my dad then turned to me and placed three of them in mine. "These are tiles off the floor where your mom and I had our first date".

There a couple of things which really moved me about this experience. One of them, is that my dad still considers that memory precious even though my parent's have been divorced for over 22 years. I can understand him being moved by my birth or other such things which came as a result of their relationship, but to still hold onto the circumstances of their meeting is a testament to his sentimentality (and undying romanticism too I guess). The other his just simply his keen sense of observation. He clearly pays a remarkable amount of attention to the changes being made in the city and makes note of what that change means to his personal history in those places. His effort to try and retain pieces of those memories through photographs, stories and artifacts like these tiles is really striking. I'm deeply touched not only by his depth of attachment to the people in his life, no matter how sour the relationship may have become but also the thoughtfulness with which he observes his surroundings. To me these are the indicators of a human being unafraid of really deeply engaging in the world and the people around them. The lesson for me has been that this is the key to a rich life. After the building has been demolished, the divorce papers signed, the house sold, it should be the memories of falling in love, having grand new adventures and learning new things that you hold onto. I won't ever forget these walks that my dad and I take and am pleased to have a these three tokens of the lessons I've learned.

Marble.
I find marbles everywhere. I think this is a good thing because a) At
least I'm not losing them and b) A fairy probably put it there. I
love finding marbles and when I do I put them in my left back pocket,
then I sleep with them under my pillow for three days, then I put them
in the window. I do all of these things because I once read that this
was the proper thing to do when finding a marble.
This particular marble is white and green and has a little rusty spot
that may be blood. I found it just recently by the Rio Grande. I was
there with a friend biking on a trail. We decided that we would leave
the trail, and cut across the dry, spikey, snake-filled desert to get
back into town. It was in this wilderness that I spotted the marble
resting in some orange dusty soil. "Aha!" I declared, and scooped it
up immediately. Needless to say we shortly found our way back to
town, and the marble spent a few nights under my pillow.

Show: My turtle....
Tell: Her name is Rudy Huxtable. I found her 3 and a half years ago at a lake in SE Virginia. She was the size of a quarter shell and all. This chick has traveled over 2500 miles to Oregon where she is considered an invasive species.LOL Good thing she shares an apartment with her owner, who is also an invasive species via Baltimore!!!

Show: Iron statue of Neptune by: Paul Dipasquale
Tell: This statue sits at the 34th street beach access on the Atlantic Ocean in Virginia Beach, Virginia. It is the site of Jerome and Cliff's first official date in October of 2006! It is amazing and the weather was gorgeous that fine day.

This is not a sweatband. It is a tearband. When my two year old daughter cries (which is rare, thankfully), I use this to dry
her eyes. It's gotten to the point that she immediately grabs my wrist if she gets tears in her eyes. There's something about
the act of wiping her eyes that to her means the pain is gone and she can get on with life. So this little tearband is pretty
powerful.

The funny thing is she doesn't know what a regular sweatband is. She'll probably see people with sweatbands and
wonder if they've been crying a lot.