Life.

The following is from Issue 6:4 of my newsletter, originally released to subscribers April 7, 2025. Of special note to those who are subscribed, I happened to reference this issue in a social media post about a week after it was sent, and had several people message me to say they'd never received it. I do apologize for that, and suspect that for some reason it was filtered into many of your spam folders. I'll address this further in the next issue- but want to assure everyone that if you are/were currently subscribed- you still are.(If in doubt, you can resubmit/update your email through the link below.) Hopefully this was just a one time fluke.

Life.

In trying to choose a title for this issue, a few ‘life’ themed expressions came to mind, and it occurred to me the vastly different connotations of each. We tend to use the term “This life…” as one of sanctity and endearment, embracing our human experience despite all its up and downs with comprehensive gratitude. As we should. But when we turn to the phase “That’s life…” it often serves more as a euphonism to concede that things don’t always go our way. I suppose ultimately the “that’s” will find their place in the valleys of “this,” but it’s interesting how one little word can change the tone of something so important.

As I often point out, and those of you who have followed for a while certainly know, while this newsletter stems from my photography business, what I write about here isn’t always photography related. More frequently I use it as a platform of expression and means of connection, discussing my experiences and observations on life in general. I always hope in sharing the views and lessons that I encounter as I pass through this world, that those of you who choose to read might either find parallels in your own story, or at least take away something to ponder. I do hope that in this case it’s more of the latter, and apologize because I know this won’t be the most enjoyable edition to read. I wish I didn’t have to write about it either- it’s definitely more of a that’s than this kind of a post. However I do think it’s timely and might provide further depth to some of the headlines currently flashing through the news.

Last Tuesday, I was informed that I’m losing my job. An impromptu meeting was called with one of the operation heads who had flown out from Chicago, and as he directly put it, “because of the coming tariffs and economic uncertainty, we’ve made the difficult decision to close the Logan warehouse.” He went on to express that this was no reflection of our productivity or work ethic, just a consequence of the times. While most of the gear that we carry comes from American companies, it is manufactured overseas. Everyone at our facility is being let go.

It was kind of ironic that this meeting happened when it did- April 1- and for the opening five minutes or so I sat waiting for the punchline. “April Fools!” Our workflow hasn’t slowed much since a busy holiday season, and efficiency wise as a group we’ve just been killing it. As they started to hand out flyers with severance details, however, my suspicion turned to desperation. “Boy,” I hoped, “they’re really going to lengths with this prank.” But deep down I knew better. The discussion turned to COBRA plans, and looking to the pained faces of my supervisors- who themselves had found out just moments before- reality took hold. This was happening. The closure was permanent and the decision was final.

I know there was nothing glamorous about this job. It was just driving a fork truck and processing orders in a sporting goods warehouse. I took it to have a source of steady income as I tried to rebuild from the financial devastation of the pandemic, and planned to keep working there until I could make a sustainable living from photography, and/or writing. I’m still nowhere near that point though.

I remember when I was interviewed, however, my soon-to-be boss asked what I hoped the workplace would provide me. My answer wasn’t a paycheck. I told him I just wanted a place where I could feel comfortable, like my efforts were valued, and that I belonged. The response reflected on a lot of horrible job experiences I’ve had in my life. I’m a hard worker and I don’t ask for much. I just don’t want to dread going in every day.

I am grateful that this was never the case here. While tasks could feel monotonous at times, I always felt appreciated at this job, and it really did feel like somewhere I belonged. I sincerely like the people I work with, and actually enjoyed working there. The schedule fit well with the days I have my son, and my bosses were always willing to work with me to allow the time needed for travel so I could keep doing art shows. It was a pretty good fit all around.

I think what I’m struggling with the most personally, though, is beyond all of this, what started as a job became so much more. Admittedly I’ve turned into a bit of a loner in recent years. I know that’s entirely of my own doing- or undoing, however you want to look at it- but the truth is I don’t have any friends or family here outside of one little eight-year-old boy. And his ONLY job is to be an eight-year-old little boy. I’m adamant about that. I’ve always worked very hard to shield any of my personal hardships from him. He’s a very sweet, caring, sensitive kid, and the last thing I’m going to do is give him reason to worry about Dad.

So I try to carry everything and keep my burdens to myself. I have no social network here, nobody to lean on, nobody physically present to vent or just talk to… except for when I’m at work. Though I still don’t share a lot, my co-workers have unwittingly become sort of my de facto support system, simply because they notice things and care. It’s reciprocal, of course, I try to be the same for them when needed- but that’s how a good workplace operates. You’re more than just robots turning out cogs, you build a sense of community and genuinely care about each other.

A good example of this happened a few weeks back. In light of how it seems every year has played out through the 2020’s I can’t believe I’m saying this… but 2025 has been particularly challenging. I’ve been dealing with some health issues, housing uncertainty… just fighting battles on a lot of fronts. On top of everything else I ended up getting a pretty bad case of the flu in early March, followed immediately by some kind of respiratory infection. I had to miss a couple days of work, and was feeling very overwhelmed and down in the dumps the day I came back. But that morning our HR rep made it a point to come and talk to me. She didn’t want to discuss the attendance policy (I rarely call in to work anyhow) or doctors notes or anything like that. She just wanted to check in and ask if I was feeling better. And somehow after that simple gesture, I did.

Later that same day my supervisor caught me in the breakroom, and asked if there’d been any resolution on another issue I’m dealing with. Long story short, I rent an apartment off the backside of a house that the owners book out as an Airbnb. They hired me to act as an onsite manager- so I take care of the cleaning and grounds work for some additional side income and reduction in rent. Recently the City changed its code on proximity of short-term rentals; a good thing overall, but a neighbor, who also wanted to start an Airbnb undercut my landlords in applying for the permit first, then reported us for being too close to their operation. Now we have to shut ours down, and my landlords are considering selling the house. I’m not only losing the extra income that has often proven the difference in helping me make ends meet at the end of the month (this even before I found out I was losing my full-time job) but I’m also faced with finding a new place to live, in a college town where rent on even the crappiest apartments is astronomical.

So anyhow- no, there hasn’t been a final decision made on that- but for a few minutes I actually had someone I could talk to, face to face. She might not have any answers, but still wanted me to know that someone cared. And sometimes that’s enough to at least get you through the day. To give you the determination to keep hoping, and keep trying to figure things out. Even though they can’t solve the problem, sometimes somebody can help lighten the load, just by asking if you’re okay. In this world chock-full of people eager to make you feel like you don’t matter, it’s a pretty powerful thing when someone actually helps you to feel seen.

A big part of the grief I’m dealing with now is knowing that I’m losing this again. That, and I have extreme social anxiety- especially in new workplace situations- so job hunts and starting over is profoundly daunting to me. I already feel physically nauseous about that. But still, I don’t think any of this is what hit the hardest last Tuesday after that meeting. The most heart wrenching part was walking back through the warehouse, seeing each of my individual co-workers, and knowing how this is going to impact them.

There’s our shipping lead- nicest guy you will ever meet- who just welcomed his first baby, and whose wife got laid off from her job a few weeks ago while still on maternity leave.

There’s the woman who has bounced around for the past couple of years at various temp agencies and worked her tail off trying to earn a spot with our company. She was absolutely elated- jumped up and down with the biggest smile- to learn back in January that she was being offered a permanent position with us.

There’s my friend who took this job a few years ago after being forced out from his lifelong occupation as a dairy farmer. Hard working as they come, he’s in his sixties and planned to be with the company until he’s able to retire. He’s absolutely beside himself, trying to figure out what he’s going to do now.

There’s the single mom, who had just started to find her joy and get back to herself again, after she and her kids endured things in the past year most could never imagine.

There’s the young man who is neurodivergent. (“I have a touch of the ‘tism,” he’ll joke, with those of us who have broken through to earn his friendship and trust.) He’s very intelligent and high functioning, but socially withdrawn and has difficulty with change.

And there are many, who like me, are working at the warehouse full time in addition to other jobs on the side. Everybody there is living paycheck to paycheck. You know the old adage about pulling yourself up by your bootstraps? We’re all trying. Most of us yanked those straps completely off long ago. It’s not the way things work anymore.

So that’s where things are right now. They’ll be phasing out our operation over a period of several months. Some people only have a few weeks left. I was given a termination date of August 1. It's hard though. Each workday since receiving the news has felt like attending a wake. You tell stories, make small talk, try to lighten the mood with a passing joke. But everybody knows it's only a matter of time until that last shovel of dirt is thrown.

I don’t know what’s next for me. I’ll just have to figure it out and move on to whatever is to come. And all of these people will do the same, as we say final goodbyes and go our separate ways. All I know is it’s not what any of us wanted.

This chapter, in each of our lives, shouldn’t have ended this way.



Again, I just thought I’d share this because, well, I kind of needed an outlet right now... and honestly I don’t know what else to do to try and cope with things other than write about what’s going on. For the past week I’ve felt shocked, lost and despondent. But more importantly I wanted to offer a more personalized look at what many people are going through than will show up in the headlines. It’s happening everywhere. I saw the other day that Maytag is laying off 600 workers back in Iowa. Another 120, I believe, are losing jobs from a company in Decorah. And of course you’ve got the poor federal employees being dismissed by the thousands, or getting jerked back and forth like they’re tied to a sadistically flung yo-yo.

We are the faces behind all of those numbers. Every single one is one of us. And while I hope the same doesn’t happen to any of you, please remember this when the statistics scroll as little blurbs across the bottom of your news screen. These are scary, difficult, heartbreaking times and a lot of people are going through a lot right now. I fear there will be many more to come. Please remember this, and look out for one another. Please do what you can to help others feel seen, and in a time of so much confusion and hostility, please always strive to be kind.

Okay, sorry again for the solemn nature of this one. Hopefully my next newsletter will be a little brighter. I don’t have much else to share as far as writing and links go. I had a lot of story ideas coming into this year that I’ve meant to try and write about- it’s just been hard the past few months to find the time and headspace. I’ll still try to get to some of it yet this spring.

I did start a new blog series to track my training for that ultramarathon I hope to run in the fall. (As you might guess, the training isn’t going so hot right now, but I’m still trying.) The plan is to share monthly updates with a summary of workouts, along with personal notes, insights or anecdotes. By doing this, I simply hope to encourage others to be active and to show how far it’s possible to go when we just stay persistent and keep taking things one step at a time.

You can find the introduction and initial recap from February HERE. I’ll try to have the March entry posted in the next couple days.

I’ve also updated the 2025 show schedule on my website, which can be viewed HERE. I’ve included Riverssance for now, but that one is pending, as the official jury results won’t be released until later this week.

The spring/early summer dates are set, but I suppose there’s a chance I could add, or opt out of, a few of the shows in the fall. It all just depends on what happens, and what I have to do to get by. A big part of me wants to start applying for late summer and autumn festivals to see if I can make a go of things again. But experience tells me this is no time to take risks. I'm worried it could be a really tough year on the art show scene- economically people will struggle, and purchasing new artwork probably won’t be a priority for most. There’s also the chance that shows will be cancelled- if not this year, certainly next- due to lost grants and funding. Surviving solely as a working artist has always been very difficult, and could become near impossible for most of us in the years ahead. I just need to be smart right now, put my Bohemian spirit aside and stay clear eyed to the lessons from my past. I'm already down two jobs from what I had a month ago, and if I'm not careful with my photography business I could easily be called out on strike three.

I’ll try to get a better feel for things, and update the schedule as it all plays out.

Alright folks. Ugh... I’m cringing a little at the thought of sending this one out. But as I’ve always said, this newsletter is an honest look at my life, both good and bad. I hope there’s something to be taken from it.



Be well, everyone.

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