“I’m not saying that everything is survivable. Just that everything except the last thing is.”
~ John Green
brother from another mother
I’ve been selecting photos from my Sacred Spaces series to print for an upcoming solo exhibit in October. While scrolling through some older photos I came across this guy, Jon Durno, one of the most important people in my life. This was taken at Stonehenge in February 2011, before the outhouse existed. Jon and his daughter, Morgan, took a day out their busy lives, borrowed a friend’s Jaguar, and drove Kiya and I to the Salisbury plain where Stonehenge sat in a blustery February haze. When Kiya and I took that trip to England I had only one place I really, really wanted to go, and that was Stonehenge. I was compelled to see it. Maybe it was the whole Sacred Spaces idea that had been rolling around in my mind for what was then a good five to seven years. Maybe it was something deeper, I don’t know. I just knew that, if I was going to travel thousands of miles for what might be my only time in the ancestral homeland, I needed to go to Stonehenge. Thank God my friends love me enough to indulge me when these things come over me. Jon made sure I got to go. As if I didn’t already worship the ground he walks on, his effort solidified my love for all eternity.
February haze
The great thing about traveling during the off season is that you’re not overwhelmed by crowds. The bad thing about traveling in the off season is that it can be a little cold. Jon didn’t care. He sat right there waiting as I slowly meandered my way around the ancient site that New Age Druids and the like still flock to every solstice. Eventually, he, Morgan, and Kiya couldn’t drink any more hot chocolate or stand around in the gift shop and I had to go, but my goodness, what a cherished day that was. What a wonderful friend Jon was to make that happen for me. It was the first time we’d seen each other in twenty years. Morgan was an infant, not even a year old, the last time we’d been together, traveling the United States playing rock and roll music. That life wasn’t always easy, but Jon’s light never dimmed. His positive attitude and genuine love for us and what we were doing never wavered. I loved him then. I loved him in 2011. I love him still, and I always will. I got lucky the day he decided to be my friend.
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