I went to see Clarence last Friday and he was in good spirits. He had been moved to a hospital type bed and was on oxygen and morphine, so, understandably, he was in a great mood.
We joked about a lot of things as we passed the time, then he said to me "I really like your hat...can you order me one?"
Not knowing how long he would be around, I said "Here, take this one and I'll order another. Then I'll come out and we'll be twins."
After I put my hat on his head, I took my phone and launched the camera app so he could see himself. A goofball to the end, he posed for the shot.
My last pic of Clarence.
For all my Kansas City photography friends, a “Celebration of Life” service is scheduled for Saturday (tomorrow) at 1:00 pm at Grace Baptist Church in Gardner, KS.
I would suggest everyone bring along Clarence’s favorite camera, but he would say “you know that’s my favorite camera” when seeing just about every old camera...except Russian cameras...and the Kodak Retina Reflex III.
Nikon Nikkormat “that’s my favorite camera” or “the Leica M3 is my favorite camera in the whole world” or “you know that Voigtlander Vitessa is my favorite camera” or “the old Rolleiflexes are the best cameras ever made” or ... well, it’s a long list.
But take him a FED5 and his eyes would roll with “I don’t work on Russian cameras any more...I can’t stand them” (but he did for me, anyway).
I'm just a guy who finds the world an interesting place and likes to capture certain moments with a camera. They aren't for sale, or anything. I just like them. Well, usually. I've taken a lot of photos I don't like, as well.
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I was wandering around Mound City, MO taking pics of anything of interest. I snapped an old movie theater with my Rolleiflex 2.8 and moved on. I was weaving through the residential areas when this strange little building, maybe it was once a salon, came into view. I turned the truck down the hill to get a shot.
“I’m hungry,” I said to myself after getting my tires fixed in Shamrock, TX. Hmmm...Wynoka is only a few hours away.So with German food and bier on my mind, I texted Dieter to see if he had room. He replied with some obscure text I didn’t understand so decided to call.
I stopped along the back roads I was taking home in a little ghost of a town named Prescott. I let Biggie stretch her legs while I had a cigar and enjoyed the quiet of the neglected baseball Diamond on the edge of town. As we sat there, I watched a young father giving his toddler a ride on his motorcycle. Around the block he went...then again....
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