I had an opportunity at the end of January to explore a position in the fine arts field, using my words to promote their art. That gave me the opportunity to spend some quality time with my scanner. I reconnected with several pieces from Lafayette College magazine.
I wrote this piece on senior art projects and even had a photo featured. (Bottom photo on the second page.)
Then there was this feature on Gregory Gillespie working with Lafayette College students.
The part of being a journalist on a regular beat is the relationships you form with people. This feature on bicycle commuting featured a local business owner (Russ Padgett, Cycle Funattic in Phillipsburg, N.J.) and if I remember correctly, because it was a decade ago, the idea came from him.
To put this story together, we followed Russ on his commuting route, a good 15 miles, and our staff photographer literally hung out of my car like we were on The Dukes of Hazzard.
I like the way the story turned out, and I feel like it was a very timely piece for its day. Gas prices then were escalating, but not nearly to the extent we would see a few years later.
This ran in the Phillipsburg Chronicle, August 1, 2003 as a “Community Life” feature. For more information on Cycle Funattic, see their web site: http://www.cyclefunattic.com/.
We spent days meandering the streets of Tunis. We hopped trains to Sousse and Carthage. We celebrated with the locals on the one year anniversary of the departure of Ben Ali. Olives factored into our lives there with every meal, served in a big bowl beside the olive oil, harissa and bread. A perfect complement to the spicy tomato-based, lamb sausage soup that I can still taste today.
We found the market the day before we left. We could see it from our balcony at the hotel, but we never quite realized what sat under that massive building always boisterous from the first light. That’s where I snapped this photo of olives, in all their rich varieties.
Every time I taste a good olive, a real olive, not one that’s been industrialized and reduced to life in a can, I return to Tunisia.
My husband and I traveled to Cape May, N.J., for our first vacation that didn’t involve staying in the home of a friend or relative since the birth of our daughter.
The weather had turned cold, so we bought her the hat she’s wearing. Plus a frog raincoat. She refused to take either off for the duration of our trip. This photo summarizes the fantastic adventure.
The sun. The sand. The child’s fascination with touching and exploring. She called the Victorian where we stayed “The Fancy House.” We took her to an arcade and played Skeeball and encouraged her to play a game where she danced on the blinking lights. Her prizes? Some dinky vampire teeth and a finger trap.
A man saw us together on the beach, as the wind whipped us around. He offered to take a family portrait. I displayed it in the living room for years.