Light in a Box

“Funny how a melody sounds like a memory”  That line sums up the song “Springsteen” by Eric Church. The song is about the memory of a midsummer's night Bruce Springsteen concert. The lyrics tell the story of a teenage romance that is reignited by the melodies heard on that July Saturday night. While the pair have become distant, they are forever bonded by the music of "The Boss". The lyrics lay out the scene, describe the events of the night and the emotions felt as the protagonist reminisces on a memory triggered by a song. That is the power of music. Songs evoke emotions and have the power to take us back to a moment immortalized in a melody. Couples often appropriate a song as their defining soundtrack, when they get married they select a song to be their first dance and that song forms a link back to the day they said: "I do". We turn to music to make us happy, to get us pumped up, to get us through tough times, and to work through anger. Music

I don't know how to describe the emotion. It's mostly disappointment but there's a pinch of disbelief involved as well. It's like coming home one day to a house full of friends and family shouting surprise but rather than an unexpected birthday party they have decided on a very confusing way to begin an intervention. That's how I felt when we parked at Kenosha Pass during peak fall colors. For every golden aspen tree on the hillside there was a person there to see them. Cars were parked along the highway for a quarter mile on either side leading up to the long overflowing parking lot for Kenosha Pass. This was a place I had driven through countless times on the way to the Gunnison National Forest which is my temporary home during autumn peak. Having seen the sign so many times I eventually googled the pass that led deep into the aspen carpeted hills on either side of the road and soon after added it to my hiking to do list. However, peak color around Kenosha occ

It was just another typical day at work. I was sequestered to the back of the building producing artwork for other artists as I did every day. Every piece that passed through my hands drew a comparison and a quick critique against my own photography. Of course, my work was typically better but there was a steep jealousy mountain beyond bias valley that was stacked against every piece. My journey was just beginning and I could only dream about the day my work would start flowing through the lab. As the afternoon dragged by and I counted down the minutes until quitting time, my boss walked up to me and told me I had to go upfront right away. The request was strange, this was not her usual visit to discuss my daily objectives or discuss an order coming my way. Today she was in need of my presence at a part of the building I was rarely needed for some mystery reason. My route would run through our company gallery where our various products were displayed. One of my photographs had been u

The sun is shining on a cloudless Sunday morning as my Prius races west along I-70. For the fourth time in as many days, I am making this drive. The first three days had been full of optimism as I sang along to the blaring radio over the two-hour commute to Vail. The weather had been perfect, calm, sunny with temperatures in the low 80s and today was more of the same. Today, however, the radio was not on, my optimism traded for a mind raging with pessimistic thoughts. 15 minutes from Vail at the Eagle County line, the blue sky met a wall of clouds and it began to hail. Thursday was an exciting day. I drove my wife's SUV out to Vail's Lionshead Village loaded to capacity. I was set to arrive promptly at 9am to check-in and set up for my very first art festival. Everything I needed to build my booth was in the moss green Honda CRV except for my artwork which would be coming with me on Friday. The festival was a big step in pursuing my dreams and as I walked up to the welcome te