TRUMAN ON THE BEACH (Confessions of a Photographer's Wife)

           

            When our phone rang last week, I jumped a foot.  Sadly, the last few phone calls I’d received had to do with my mother and her worsening condition.  We’re past that now, she’s in heaven, and she’d want us to get on with things.  Aside from Truman wearing his black case, we’re back at it, and just in time to answer the phone call from my daughter, informing us of burning boat out in the Strait of Juan de Fuca.

            Black smoke emanating from a 42’ yacht is not something you see every day.

To date, we haven’t bought a boat, so we drove to the Strait – a distance of about 2 miles, and set Truman up on the sandy, rocky beach.  Who knew that a trail of smoke far out in the water could be so fascinating?  Through our binoculars, we were able to see flames licking up from the waterline, and an occasional belch of very black smoke, adding to the smoke trail extending down the Strait.

            Pictures weren’t too satisfactory, but the time we spent on that beach, while watching a disaster, led to thinking of how fortunate we are.  It brought a sense of peace in this time of sadness.