Lake Walupt, August 6 2018
Today marks 1 year since my dad died. He was a writer and an artist, a truck driver and a logger. He could explain how an engine worked, and in the same moment with a sweet smile say, “I’m quite chilled, I need a wrap.”
He was humble, and so curious about everyone else. Gerhard was one of those rare people that listened when you spoke, instead of waiting for his turn to talk. And when he did, he never hurried through his words.
His callused, oil stained hands gave that sensitive man such a steady authority. I trusted him, and I think everyone that knew him did.
I wish I would’ve had more time to really document the way his mind worked. I wish I would’ve asked more questions, and heard more stories. And tried to bottle more of that steady energy.
But a few years ago I did sit on my parents front porch in Wyoming, pulled out my camera after sharing some beers, and asked how they met.
Oahu January 2018 with Christopher and his family