The Momentous Project

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View with me through my camera lens as I endeavor to rediscover the overlooked, forgotten, yet are of the utmost importance to those searching for a restful moment in time. “Momentous.”

Flipping the Switch, When the Choice to be in the moment is Difficult:I’m writing this, wearing my heart on my sleeve in...
12/23/2025

Flipping the Switch, When the Choice to be in the moment is Difficult:
I’m writing this, wearing my heart on my sleeve in hopes that not only for the sake of my processing something new, but hopefully helping someone out there with a broken heart as well.
Part 1: The Trained Response.
In the military, when a mission was unveiled to you after waiting for orders, a certain response that has become second nature takes over. I call it “flipping the switch.” Whether it’s to leave family, leave something of meaning either tangible or intangible, or turn off the pain of death in order to fully commit to the task at hand for the sake of successful mission completion or safety of your counterparts.
We aren’t trained for any other options when it’s time to go home. Subsequently, when a friend, family member, or comrade died, I couldn’t process it, so, I turned off the light switch to my heart. The insidious thing is, after a few years, the practice becomes necessary. And then, one wonders why the feeling of numbness is predominant, then guilt when someone close passes, then some sort of self medication method to “feel something.” “I’m so numb, am I a callosed monster?”
Part 2: When Being Momentous can hurt like Hell, but Necessary:
My sweet mother passed away in May. Today, three days before Christmas was my third time to visit her at the National Cemetery. Christmas wreathes had been laid with great care amongst the graves. A practice which has always been hauntingly beautiful to me. Seeing her stone hit me hard today. A blindsided attack of grief mixed with the emotions of brothers and sisters who lay just up the hill. It took everything I had to stand. I went back to my car in tears. I then darted off, slammed the door, started to buckle my seat belt, and drive away. But before the belt clicked. I stopped, frozen, looked at the wreaths, and the words that popped out of my mouth was, “Don’t flip the switch! Don’t do it! Let it be what it is!” Being in the moment today I knew was necessary. Yes, it was agonizing. Yet, today was day one of learning how to grieve for the first time. I’m glad it was on hallowed ground amongst brothers and sisters, but more importantly, I was with my Father in the car. We shared the pain, love, and bond of service in that place and moment.
So not my typical photo journalistic approach for a book entry or idea, but something I pray someone can use this Christmas season. I pray healing for you wherever you are. May the season bring blessings dear ones.

Special thank to Wreaths Across America Chattanooga for making today a bit more bearable in a beautiful way.

Winding Roads, Wide Open Range: Having traversed many deserts, grasslands, and empty vistas that seem to reach beyond t...
11/11/2025

Winding Roads, Wide Open Range: Having traversed many deserts, grasslands, and empty vistas that seem to reach beyond the horizon to heaven, one is faced with a few realities. First, you have to slow down and take stock of your situation, the assets you brought, how much time one can spend in the environment, and never underestimate what lies beyond the beauty.
Secondly, after regarding the first, you have time to settle your heart, breath, and search your soul.
In the expanses of such creation, you can remember times that brought you joy, or the dark seasons that brought hurt. This trip to South Dakota gave me a chance for both. I prayerfully thought about current days, old haunts from service I cannot change, but this visit out west, my recently passed mother was on my mind.
Outside of being an accomplished singer, mom loved all things western. The history, culture, and especially horses. Saturday mornings she would make biscuits and gravy from scratch and we’d watch old episodes of Rawhide or whatever feature film was on. More often than not, John Wayne. In Mom’s last days, I’d show her photos of my travels, all the places she ever talked about. Her room was decorated with photos of horses I had taken. She even had an old Roy Rogers trash can from the 50’s. I’d wheel mom down the hallway of the nursing home and hum a tune for her. I would begin to sing an old country western song, usually an incomplete phrase of a stanza as bait to get her to sing along. Some songs were favorites from old movies. One in particular was a duet with Dean Martin and Ricky Martin, “My rifle, my pony, and me.” She’d chuckle under her breath if I imitated Dean Martin. After we sang and she got back to her room she’d get lost in the scenery of looking out the window, watch the birds, and drift off to sleep. I’d kiss her forehead and slip away. Some days I left okay, others I would grieve and sit in my car a while before putting the car in drive. And then one day, we just sang songs gently in Mom’s ear as she gracefully departed for Heaven’s gates.
A new lesson from this trip through the badlands of South Dakota: for the first time in my life I get to grieve loss in its season. Tragedy after tragedy, I’ve not had the luxury of grieving in a healthy manner. As a veteran, friends were taken away, died from illness later in life, or yanked from this earth by su***de. Or caregiving, which leaves no chance when one passes the next is in your care. Death has either brought sharp pain or seasons of numbness.
A military counselor and a chaplain both told me something I mulled over for the 2,000 miles or so I drove on this trip. In the military we are trained to reach an objective by following steps a, b, c , d, etc with no variation. These counselors both told me grief does Not follow these rules and may not complete its course in the time frame anyone expects. These counselors both stated the first step of grief may jump to the third step, back to the second, repeat, or start all over. To wit, either way, it’s really okay.
Moreover, and not guild the lilly any further, the winding roads let me see new things on this trip. Thus, I will always remember the lush Dakota grasslands as “Momentous.”

The Unsinkable Molly Brown: I have found that making long road trips, especially if driving well over one thousand mile...
11/03/2025

The Unsinkable Molly Brown: I have found that making long road trips, especially if driving well over one thousand miles out west, is to set up way points along the journey. Reasons being, one, I need a break, gasoline, and food. Secondly, a point of interest breaks up the monotony of the road. And thirdly, a stop gives you a chance to find a bucket list item or that certain something from history you’ve always wanted to connect with.
Initially, stopping in Hannibal, Missouri was to see the place where famed Mark Twain came from. Goal achieved! However, I did not know that just a short stroll away from his childhood home was a small humble cottage where another person of note would live! Yes, Mrs. Margaret Brown, otherwise known as “The Unsinkable Molly Brown!” In the late 1800’s she married into her wealth as “New Money” which rubbed “Old Money” in high society the wrong way. Such things did not bother this fiery lady. Her fame began as she was a survivor of the 1912 sinking of the Titanic aboard life vessel #6. She gained the moniker “unsinkable” for her helping passengers board boats as the ship slowly made its’ descent into the icy waters. She went on to champion the aide of survivors of the Titanic. Then the Red Cross during WW1, then to aide French and American troops after the war rebuild lives. For her efforts she was given the French Legion of Honor. After all of this before her death, she wanted to try her hand at acting.
In my opinion, she lived up to her nick name, and her life was certainly, momentous.

New installment! Hannibal, Missouri is the first stop on my latest road trip. And, if one needs inspiration for writin...
10/28/2025

New installment! Hannibal, Missouri is the first stop on my latest road trip. And, if one needs inspiration for writing that next chapter in a book, what better place to visit then the birth home of Samuel Clemens, aka Mark Twain. In my opinion, he was one of the most prolific writers of his time. Mark might as well had been a painter because he could immerse you in vivid stories, landscapes, and events.

"Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness, and many of our people need it sorely on these accounts. Broad, wholesome, charitable views of men and things cannot be acquired by vegetating in one little corner of the earth all one's lifetime".

This quote stays in my mind as I travel and endeavor to tell a story through my camera lens and pen. Sharing and living moments in time is the mission of the book. Hopefully, inspiring others find ways to find what is momentous in life, hold on to those things, and then share them. Currently, the temperature of the world seems volatile, and there’s a tug of war for peace. The world is still beautiful we just have to use our eyes or cameras and focus on it.
More on the way so follow along!

Below is the photo of Mark Twain’s childhood home. Attached to the home is the famous fence the neighborhood children painted. And the second photo is his childhood crush who became the muse for the sweetheart in “Tom Sawyer!”

Linguine Alle Vonjole: Wildlife, historic sites, and scenic vistas tend to be my topic of choice when writing these ins...
07/01/2025

Linguine Alle Vonjole: Wildlife, historic sites, and scenic vistas tend to be my topic of choice when writing these installments. However, today, this shall be in honor of my recently departed mother.
Having spent the better part of the day on the sun laden beach, we decided a hearty dinner was in order. A small quaint Italian restaurant came into view just as the rain began to fall. I opened the menu and in large letters “All Pasta Handmade!” This proclamation made me happy and then my eyes drifted to something familiar from my past. A simple yet flavorful dish my gourmet mother would make. Linguine alle vonjole! Sweet little neck clams, white wine, clam juice, garlic, and a wee bit of the cooking liquid from the pasta, then reduce. Then, gently place a generous portion of pasta in the sauce and lightly garnish. Ps. This is not a dish for cheese topping. An Italian Nona may come from the kitchen offering her thoughts loudly while brandishing her wooden spoon!
Mom did her best to give her husband and sons the world through our taste buds and music. She opened our eyes to what lay beyond our little Tennessee home. Somehow she could make meager fare and magically create dishes that would put a grin on a Michelin rated cook. The best ingredient of course was her love. And for that memory brought about by flavor, I’d say that was momentous! What flavor locks you in a moment of time? What makes you stop the presses with perhaps a tear in your eye?

A return to writing: Life has a way of interrupting the best of intentions or goals on occasion. In this case, a pause...
06/24/2025

A return to writing: Life has a way of interrupting the best of intentions or goals on occasion. In this case, a pause, a speed bump if you will in this book project. For those who know me personally know that aside from a photography business, and selling art, I’ve been a part time caregiver for ailing family. Thus, not a whole lot of time was available for creative writing for this book. Two weeks ago, my sweet mother passed away.
In my Mom’s honor, I resume writing and photographing moments of meaning, reflection, and that which makes us appreciate moments in time. These are gifts in life that make us pause and drink in life. Today’s photo is just that. Reflection. A post rain landscape photo of Siesta Key Beach in Sarasota, Florida. Perfectly named for what I need. “Siesta!” Which is to say….. Hey Lee! Time to rest now!
Thank you all for following me despite the lengthy hiatus. So off we go again, into the spectacular or everyday over looked wonder….. Things which are, “Momentous.”

06/24/2025

Celebrating my 3rd year on Facebook. Thank you for your continuing support. I could never have made it without you. 🙏🤗🎉

Lyrics. A couple of lyrics from two different songs came to mind today. “Go rest high on that mountain..” -Vince Gill,...
10/15/2024

Lyrics. A couple of lyrics from two different songs came to mind today. “Go rest high on that mountain..” -Vince Gill, “As I went down to the river to pray,” -Alison Krauss. Both popped into mind as I looked through photos of this evening. This trip has been a little more challenging than usual to let things go and be present where I am. Lately, peace of mind, the things I enjoy in work, relationships, the mortality of loved ones, or loss of several friends this year from illness and su***de. It’s all been a bit more than I can bare. Every angle seems to be under assault. All that said, today we ventured to a small lake with wetlands with the Colorado Rockies in the distance. It had briefly rained and was cloudy. We ventured out in faith with cameras secured round our necks. As we hiked around the lake, the evening sun emerged from behind the clouds and gifted us quite the amazing golden hour. I understand why so many painters, poets, and photographers venture to this part of the west. The autumn yellow colors atop the aspen trees, the fading greenery , and reflections from the sky made for a healing moment. A chance to breathe. I heavenly gift of rest, some healing breaths. Momentous.

First stop!
10/12/2024

First stop!

Suprise! The Momentous Project is back on the road gathering content for the book project!! But what is this box for????...
10/11/2024

Suprise! The Momentous Project is back on the road gathering content for the book project!! But what is this box for????? Where is Lee and Judy going??? Stay tuned!!!!

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