When I look back at photos of my father, they tend to fall into two categories: solemn and goofy. His smiles often looked more like a grimace. The best photos of him are the the serious poses. Like pop, I’ve tended to mug for the camera for most of my adult life. I’m not one of those people who hate having their photo taken and readily concede that every one of them was “me” at that moment.

At 70, the camera shows me an old man that cannot possibly be me. The imaginary me that looks out of these eyes is a young guy. Who is that geezer in the mirror?! But maybe that will pass and the inner me will get comfortable with the guy walking around in this skin. Barb took this photo (with her iPhone X).

Broke down and bought a new iPhone yesterday. My 6SE was two years old and the battery was fading noticebly. I loved the smaller form-factor of the SE and was hoping Apple would keep it around but, alas, the smaller phone is no more. The clincher was the camera on the new models (Barb’s photos from her Yellowstone trip were breathtaking).

Took a couple of photos this morning of Terry Bledsoe, a coffee shop regular. The portrait modes is impressive.