You Will Be Found

All I see is sky for forever.

NYC 2010

Dear Deb Tracey,

What were you thinking when you shared that quote a few days ago? I mean, it’s not like you expected thousands of over 40’s to reveal themselves to you? or your two inquiries in near three years about why you are a bottom feeder in the digital carousel of life or literal Substack carousel to suddenly explode into a Substack Notes algorithm PHENOMENON or drastic feed annoyance. Did you give this any thought when you randomly posted, in a sacred forum of serious fiction writers, the impacting words from another? A quote that met your heart at such a deep and personal level it took your breath away? What on earth were you thinking when you hit upload? You shouldn’t have done it. (said Satan)

Well, I’ll tell you Deb Tracey. You thought maybe your handful of friends and a few subscribers would feel less buried, more seen. That the hopes, dreams and goals they had when they were young/old could actually come true. Yeah, I said old. (I’m God)

But you’re not old. Show me what you’re made of. Okay. This is what the world tells you. The young tell you. But they struggle too, like you. Seventeen was your worst year ever. Not really. But it was mean and cold and there’s a strange familiarity with that when you are old. Yeah, I said it again. Old. But you are a wiser-under-the-radar-kind-of-human and none of this feels normal. I know you. You stepped into the world of dreams at 39, picked up a profession by 40ish with three kids at home, blah, blah, blah, and more than a full-time working husband. I know! I saw!!! You carried bags for other photographers (I felt your shoulders burning you know), apologized too much, but that’s okay. It’s in your British dna. And you learned. You learned that you had value. You earned every single penny before you bought your first camera and saw my world through it. You reached far beyond your titles: daughter, sister, wife, mother, cabbie, cook, laundry lady, problem solver, and head arguer. What was this? you ask?

I’ll tell you Deb Tracey. It was the most blessed life you could have ever conceived. To be a longing-for-family immigrant, high school failure, passionate dancer, actress dabbler and doormat friend to all who wanted a ride to school. It was your life and you lived every ounce of it. You never learned to tango, but you tango’d between the humility of not thinking you were good enough to be good enough. That’s right, hold on to me, oops, keep your arms outstretched with me, follow me in this direction now. Yes, that’s right, toward the Light of that door. That door! Over there! Ouch. You stepped on my foot. There. It’s open. Go for it. Oh. Sorry. We’re turning now. Clutch my cheek tighter, hold on, the dark is coming. Trust me with it. Oops. You tripped. Don’t apologize. That’s right. Reach for me. You’re slower now, but hold on. I know it hurts. Your bones hurt. Let’s get you better shoes. Hang on. What, you say? you can’t get up? The digital highway is too much for you? You don’t want this much attention? I get it. Try keeping up with bazillions of people and never ending hearing aides. Do you see the Light of that door? We’ll find a new way through. I know, I know, you’re older, but I am not done with you. Never done with you. Until I say so. Let’s hang on together. I know, I know, the struggle is real. You don’t have to tap dance for anyone or anything. Just be you. You don’t want to be popular? I get it. But don’t stop talking about me, ya hear? Tell your story, but please, please tell mine. (God)

Okay. But. But. I complained I wasn’t being seen and now it’s too much? right? and btw, you can be blunt God. (me)

Deb Tracey, how can it be too much when I have brought you thousands of people who feel so unseen? I watched you struggle with this. Dang your phone was flashing more banners than all the stars I made on the fourth day. But your struggles matter far less than all these “elders” who needed to hear your random post that wasn’t even your words. It was no coincidence. Those words were mine. Do you hear me? (God)

I do. I do. And I apologize to everyone if I can’t tell each and every one of you that you matter and your life is not over, it’s only just beginning. Thank you, but it’s Doug Murano who deserves all the credit. (me)

Can you just be quiet Deb? Pleeease. (God)

< This story is clipped due to too many images - click “view entire message” in your email >

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Have you ever felt like nobody was there?
Have you ever felt forgotten in the middle of nowhere?
Have you ever felt like you could disappear?
Like you could fall, and no one would hear?

Well, let that lonely feeling wash away
Maybe there's a reason to believe you'll be okay
'Cause when you don't feel strong enough to stand
You can reach, reach out your hand

And oh, someone will coming running
And I know, they'll take you home..

- You Will Be Found - Dear Evan Hansen

- Ben Platt’s amazing voice, Songwriters: Benj Pasek / Justin Paul -

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And now I know why I cried my way through this show on Broadway. But who would have guessed that? The struggle is real inside.

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Or how about this:

"the man who teetered on the ledge
the inspiration of my pledge
I watched his plight on "Sky T.V."
with hell behind he gazed to the SEA."

- Trading Thoughts, from Emma Dosley in the U.K. after 911
(911 Memorial)

You will be found. Here, in her words. And do you know what? It matters. He mattered. They mattered. We matter.

And when I opened an old box this week and found myself… (again), this journal jumped out. I created it and never entered… not one word. As I looked through the most meaningful four days, my sixteen year old wish for my fiftieth birthday, sobbing I saw that no words were needed. I was ten years into a career and had only just begun to call myself a professional. Like here, I am not a writer. Not yet. But I am somebody. We are somebody. And everyone I see is somebody to Him. To me.

I am old enough to know Bob, Carol, Ted and Alice. oops said old again They walk through my neighborhood. Some unsteady, some grumpy and some with a smile as big as mine. We walk along mutually admiring our senior dogs and their ability to enjoy each tiny step. Smelling. feeling. every. single. gosh. darn. THING. I smile and think to myself, “I am so blessed and can’t wait to get home and write that down.” Finally I am writing something down! I will be found someday… by my grandkid’s kids maybe? It really wasn’t for now. But that’s okay. God had different plans this week and He found a lot, I mean thousands of people that needed to hear LIFE CAN BE GREAT OVER 40! WE HAVE A PURPOSE! Always a purpose.

But cheers! CHEERS to the young and the old (oops I did it again). Never mind. You know what? We all matter.

Just cheers. To us.

All I see is sky for forever.

Love,

My Calloused Hands and Tender Heart

ox

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Dear Evan Hansen
Today is going to be a good day
And here's why, because today, today at least you're you and that's enough

All we see is sky for forever
We let the world pass by for forever
Feels like we could go on for forever, this way
This way

All we see is light
Watch the sun burn bright
We could be alright for forever
This way

All we see is sky for forever

All I see is sky for forever…

Finale’ - Dear Evan Hansen

- Ben Platt’s amazing voice, Songwriters: Benj Pasek / Justin Paul -

First time I ever blew up social media. Thank you Doug. Thank you God.

Book shots below. New York City, celebrating 50. December, 2010. Ten years into working professionally. Packed a medium bag with a digital camera, a film camera and favorite lenses. Literally carried it everywhere. Literally. Happy 50. My photography career lasted 22 years. Still dreaming…. but most of all living. And writing it all down.