RIP for a Reader

Allow me today, if you will, a reminiscence.

The other day when I wrote that April Fool's post, I hadn't been intending to write one. I just felt the content for that day had been a little sparse (I mean, how exciting is it to read that all the Print Sale prints have shipped, unless you're getting one?), so I bashed it out. It was one of those posts that takes only two or three hours from conception to completion. Sometimes coming up with a blog post is like pulling teeth. Other times words flow like water.

I think most people enjoyed it. (One or two really did not.) However, a number of people were actually fooled, which isn't the best result. What you want is for people to be fooled at first and then wise up to it as they get into it deeper, so they can kinda laugh at themselves but not end up annoyed about being lied to. In this case, though, I actually like the underlying idea—those phantom museums of new work, making ephemeral images from the electronic ether into real paper and ink prints as a good deed for the world—so I sort of segued into blocking out the idea. It's not a preposterous idea, just an idealistic one. I'd be seriously charged up about it if I could do such a thing. Although it might be good if I were  younger at the start of the project.

I was also surprised at the reactions to my plot-point about having gotten married. A number of people said they'd hoped that was true, because they want me to be happy, and I'm touched by peoples' good wishes for me. Thank you, if that included you. But I really didn't mean that to be a big point of the piece; it was just a means of explaining how the narrator (the fake me) suddenly came into a big whack of cash.

Kicks
However, one reader I did expect to hear from was a guy who I've been hearing from for fifteen years or more, who originally would sign his comments "Bryce Lee of Burlington Ontario Canada." Bryce was a railfan, a train photographer, and a loyal TOP reader...and a follower of my column "The Sunday Morning Photographer" before that, and a subscriber to my doomed print newsletter The 37th Frame before that. When my son was a boy I mentioned in a column that he couldn't afford the outlandish custom "kicks" (shoes) he had designed for himself using a website's customization tool. ("Daddy, you aren't allowed to call them 'kicks,'" to quote 11-year-old Xander, which was then spelled Zander.) I promptly got a check in the mail from Bryce, with the words "for Zander's kicks" on the memo line. Guess Bryce didn't know he wasn't allowed to call them that. From then on I'd get a donation in the mail from Ontario every year, regular as rain.

I heard from Bryce many times over the years. When his mother died; when he moved out of the house he was born in; when he sold his Nikons (although he kept buying more), and when he began distributing his vast collection of train photographs to interested parties hither and yon. When his medical problems proliferated and limited his mobility and his photography. Some missives were morose and pessimistic and spoke of his declining interest in photography. A few of his tales were lurid and made him seem just a trifle scary—he often mentioned that he was in the vicinity of seven feet tall and weighed 350 pounds, and he once told me he had killed an attack dog with a hatchet and a man with a car. (The latter an unavoidable automobile accident, not anything sinister, of course.) He loved dogs, though, and often asked after mine. Apparently he used to like to ride his motorcycle in full leathers, which, given his size, must have been a imposing sight.

He wasn't a friend any more or less than many other readers are—I've met hundreds of you and heard from thousands more. But over the years Bryce's quirk was that took a lively and good-hearted interest in personal details. He liked to give me advice, and many times lavished praise on me for being a good dad—reading between the lines, I guessed that either he had not received much parenting from his own father, or that the parenting he did receive was—how shall we put it?—less than it might have been. He consistently seemed gratified to an unusual degree by the signs and hints of care and regard toward my son that I showed glimpses of, here and there, in my writings. In any event, when I said anything personal on the blog, however glancing, Bryce would usually seize on it and offer up his 2¢.

So I didn't know and couldn't guess what the general reception of that April's Fools Day post might be, but I thought I knew one thing: that it would draw a response from one Bryce Lee of Burlington Ontario Canada. Even if he realized as he read it that it wasn't true, if he had read that I was getting married he would have had something to say. We never met in person, but I knew him well enough to know that.

A few days later it came to me that I'd been wrong. I hadn't heard from Bryce after all. Then it struck me that, come to think, he had been silent for several months. The light bulb went on above my head at that point, sorry to say—he had sometimes regaled me with lists of the many maladies he suffered from. I did a Google search for a possible obituary...and unfortunately that was what I found.

Very sad.

The family of photo-dawgs
Surely our ranks are thinned by death now and again...most of the time unbeknownst to the rest of us. There's seldom any way to know if a name that had become familiar has merely drifted away due to lessening interest or has left less willingly. Sometimes I go back and read old posts and feel a certain poignancy and sadness when I come across the name of a commenter we don't hear from any more. They might still be happily pursuing their pleasures elsewhere, of course. As is the case when someone leaves the 12-step fellowship I attend, it's usually not given to me to know what becomes of the missing.

I visualize photographers the world over—I sometimes call us "photo dawgs"—as a big, far-flung, extended community of people of like mind—united (as well as leveled) by our common interest. I feel the camaraderie even with people I read about who perished before I was born, and I fancy that a photo-dawg or two of the future, not yet born, will come across some of my words one day and perhaps feel the kinship too. We're diminished when one of us fades off and leaves this coil.

So to Bryce, and, insofar as he stands for them, to all those we lose, a few parting words: thank you for reading, dawg, glad you were one of us, and godspeed.

Mike

Original contents copyright 2019 by Michael C. Johnston and/or the bylined author. All Rights Reserved. Links in this post may be to our affiliates; sales through affiliate links may benefit this site.

(To see all the comments, click on the "Comments" link below.)
Featured Comments from:

Robert Harshman: "Mike, I really liked the April 1st story. It convinced me that you should at least write some short stories if not a novel or two. And I thought your response to my question of 'what day is it?' was perfect—Monday. And your idea about what to do with a windfall of money stuck me as very good. A nice dream. The story was very entertaining. that's also why when one of the lotteries reaches above 1/2 billion or so I throw away a few dollars to entertain myself about what I might do if I won even though I know the odds are pure never going to happen. Sorry to hear about a reader passing away. A fellow dawg, gone by. May he RIP."

Rob Campbell: "That's a good, sensitive and thoughtful piece, Mike. It often strikes me that people who regularly frequent a site become much more than ships passing in the night; they assume a personality that we construct for them from the clues they slip to us. We might get close, or be very mistaken, but either way, unless we find out, they become those characters for just as long as they remain posting. Silence becomes a worry. I frequent the late Michael Reichmann's site, and over the years, people just vanish after regular posting, leaving that question mark. One, I heard, perished by being on ice at the wrong time or place and others have let it be known they have various illnesses, and you draw your own conclusions when posts end, especially from some who are obviously talented photographers. It is a reminder of the temporary nature of now."

Christopher May: "This feels all too familiar. Just about a year ago, I was in a similar situation.

"Many years ago, I crossed paths with a lady in the UK. We met thanks to common interest in a comparatively rare lens — the Tamron SP 180mm ƒ/2.5 LD IF. I had posted some images taken with the lens on my Flickr stream and she came across them while pondering buying another of the 3,000 copies that were made to celebrate Tamron’s 35th anniversary. She wrote me to seek out a more fleshed-out opinion of the lens. We soon discovered many similarities in each other, both in photography and in life in general.

"We ended up writing quite often. Sometimes it was about nothing—a new camera or lens—and sometimes it would be very deep discussing health issues or relationship problems. She helped me through a very tough breakup and we both leaned on each other for support with bettering our dietary and exercise regimens.

"I was also fortunate enough to be able to meet her in person. When my fiancé and I traveled to Kenya, we had a layover in London and were able to meet up with my Flickr friend and spend a day roaming with our cameras. I’m so happy that we had that opportunity and I had hoped to repeat it again someday.

"Last year, she had ventured off towards Ailsa Craig which was always one of her favorite photographic subjects. Before she left, we had chatted up lenses again and she decided to bring some Zuiko glass to use with her Olympus E-M1. A couple days after her arrival, I sent a message to see how things were. I never got a response. She traveled to quiet locations and didn’t have great phone service; sometimes I wouldn’t hear from her until she found WiFi at a coffee shop or such, so I wasn’t too worried. As time went on, though, it seemed more and more out of character for her to neglect checking in. She didn’t have any family that she was close with and I didn’t have any contact information for the few friends she kept up with in the UK. I kept trying email, Facebook messenger and overseas calls to her cell number. I even started wondering if and how I could contact UK authorities. My fiancé was also looking for information and eventually came across an obituary. She had died the day after our conversation about the Zuikos.

"I still have a lot of mixed feelings about everything. On the one hand, I’m extremely grateful for the Internet age that we live in allowing me to make and keep friends an ocean away. At the same time, though, it hurts that I didn’t find about her passing until weeks after the fact. I wasn’t able to attend her funeral. I don’t even know what happened to her. I try to let all of that go and focus on the gift of her friendship. I succeed a little more with that every day but there are still days that it seems unfair. As the axiom goes, though, life isn’t fair. It seems that death isn’t, either.

"My thoughts are with Bryce’s family and friends. I remember seeing his comments before and also made note of the fact that he was another rail photographer (we seem to be an even more select set of photo dawgs across the world and across the web). I’ll echo your godspeed wish, Mike but will add a little railroad flair to it. Highball, Bryce! Wishing you good light and lots of trains on the other side!"

Martin D: "That is a very moving piece about Bryce Lee, Mike. Thank you for writing it. Yes, we all occasionally encounter such strange associations with another person: distant at one level but close and selectively personal at other levels. The relationship develops quietly and becomes part of our lives, sometimes more visible, sometimes receding. Sometimes we already treasure it whilst it is alive, and sometimes we only realise its true importance when they cease. Either way: such associations make us better human beings. Losses hurt, they also make us grow, in appreciation of the lost friendship if nothing else. A fitting photograph of the end, Mike. Your old associate Bryce, wherever he now is, will appreciate it."

Comments

[Mike Potter]

A nice tribute, Mike. I hope Bryce would have been pleased to read it. Thank you for creating this community of photo dawgs.

[Speed]

The first thing I'll do after I shuffle off this good green Earth will be to send you an e-mail from beyond (I'm sure Steve Jobs is working on that now) letting you know. Maybe some pictures too.

[James Bullard]

RE: "it might be good if I were younger at the start of the project." That's true of almost every project we dream up in or beyond middle age. The old adage "we get too soon old and too late smart."
I have had thoughts lately of doing some YouTube videos of some of my photo hikes in the Adirondacks but I not only have to learn to make videos, but I also have to deal with a 74 YO body that is less enthralled with long hikes up mountains.

[Martyn Capie]

A very touching post and it sounds like Bryce was a great guy.

[Kenneth Tanaka]

Very sorry to learn of Bryce’s death. As a long-term TOP reader his name we certainly familiar to me. His comments will be missed. My condolences to Bryce’s family and close friends.

[Jim Arthur]

Great post. The diverse extended community you mention in this post is one of my favorite aspects of TOP. All the effort you put into moderating the site to eliminate trolls is appreciated and contributes greatly to my enjoyment of the community. Thank you for that. Rest in peace Bryce.

Them kicks are drippin.

For a primer on how to speak Gen Z see Cool Carl here.

[Lesley T]

Beautifully written.

[Dennis Mook]

Hear Hear!

[Dave Van de Mark]

"Surely our ranks are thinned by death now and again..." A truer word couldn't be said since, at last count, 10 out of 10 of us still do :-)

But I loved your story about Bryce and even more how you sort of keep an eye out for us "photo-dawgs" that keep sniffing, clawing, chewing and howling about and at your posts! We are indeed an interesting "pack".

[c.d.embrey]

I find april-fools-news as detrimental to civil discourse as any other faux-news. From my admittedly jaundiced POV, I see no difference between Alex Jones (and his ilk) and the 4-1-funsters.

BTW nice shoes!

[Yoram Nevo]

Thank you Mike for this post

[Stan B.]

Sorry to hear of his passing...

Personally, I'm looking forward to "the next adventure," although I can't imagine not missing being able to document my new environs with a favorite camera.

PS- Those kicks remind me of Homer's personally designed vunder mobile!

[Stephen S. Mack]

Mike, I missed my annual April Fool's post on Facebook this year. It would have read as follows:

"Chicago Cubs sign 18 girl just out of high school who throws a 150 mile-per-hour fastball."

With best regards,

Stephen

[alan]

Cheers to Bryce and I'm happy that his photos live on.

Family pictures are the most important to me and it saddens me that we have some of people that no one alive now know the names of. I'm sure that the same fate awaits the family pictures I've taken. We are indeed just dust in the wind, all we can do is enjoy it while we can.

[Gary Nylander]

Your post on April Fool's day was a good one, just right for us photographers. Sorry to hear of the passing of one of your faithful readers.

[Robert Roaldi]

In the past several years I have learned of two deaths from googling obituaries. In both cases, they were friends I used to have frequent dealings with but then lost touch with for different reasons. It's a big world but we only have relationships with a small portion of it.

[YS]

What a beautiful story, am sorry to learn of Bryce's passing as well.

[JimK]

Thanks for sharing, Mike. One thing that I've found encouraging about this internet thing is that it can be used to discover people who have similar interests and passions, and one can expand their friendship circle in ways that seem very simple and yet unbelievable at the same time!

Hope to be out your way in a month or two---I'll try to drop by!

Jim