An iconic shot from my past - what is not clear from this photo is that the crashing waves of the Pacific as they surge into Grays Harbor, Washington, are just on the other side of those boulders that my father so blithely is perching on.
Having grown up on a Michigan farm, he developed a passion for the sea when he moved to Seattle. He developed a habit of writing his poetry in sight of large bodies of water.
I inherited this habit and honed it to perfection in my teens when I would drive to the beach at night and slouch there, pen in hand staring out through the fading light. This odd behavior at least once provoked a cop to rap on the window and see if I was all right.
However as you can see in this photo I am not amused by being held above the breakers, which I might never have seen before (I look to be about two yeas old).