Photography has shaped my life ever since I received my first camera for my 6th birthday. It was a Snoopy-Matic that used the hard to find, even back in the 80’s, 126 film. It was shaped like a dog house with Snoopy lazily lying on the roof. The chimney held the Magicube flash bulbs that never failed to overexpose the images. It only came with one bulb that gave you four flashes and then it was completely burned out. The plastic lens offered only one aperture to choose from, the dreadfully slow  f/11. Hence,  my first photos created were a dark and blurry mess.

A year later after I turned seven my friend and I rode our bikes a few miles away from home to explore a toxic waste site with really “totally bitchin” looking dirt hills that we had seen from the car before. We found a hole in the fence that our bikes would fit through. We spent a few hours there exploring and playing king of the hill. We lost track documenting the adventure with the Snoopy-Matic and ended up getting home late with dirty clothes. I don't remember the exact lie that I used to keep myself out of trouble but it worked. I lied for two reasons. The first was because we were not allowed to ride that far from home and the more important one is that I didn't want my Mom to worry about me.

After nearly four decades, I still lie to my Mom about my photographic adventures.