Remember When? A trip down memory lane and an origin story

#RememberWhen the world disappeared at the edge of town? We chased UFO’s through the dust of racing on gravel and drank with the ghosts, roasting marshmallows in a bonfire at the center of the burnt down school house. I’m surprised we ever managed to make it out of the mud long before cell service and ever made it back to this world at all.

These edges, they’re endangered. And I’m worried that we’re going to lose them forever … and find ourselves trapped in a world we’ll wake up in one day wanting to escape.


That post came from a 2013 post on a now defunct site, Cowbird. It’s been a while since I’ve searched myself online and was surprised to stumble across this old post and a story shared in my profile. In an effort to own my own data, here it is:


My story starts in Nebraska, with a young man who decided not to pursue an engineering degree in college in lieu of working at the meat packing plant and falling in love with a pretty teenager in desperate need of unconditional love and support. From here, all I can share (at the risk of a million micro stories spilling out and taking over my Saturday) is that my father named me after a Nebraska pioneer who, on his death bed, requested that his daughter Mari Sandoz write his life story. My mother named me after a precious stone. I’ve only ever known multiple truths.

For as long as I can remember, I was a daydreamer. I loved how I could travel through time as I walked home from school, when the condemned barns by the grain bins bustled with travelers waiting for the train. I’d listen as townsfolk chattered, horses trotted and school bells rang. There was life in this dying town at one time and I’d often get lost in it.

When my grandma gave me a Minolta 110, I discovered a passion for capturing moments, landscapes and people’s emotions in the present and how those moments shifted over time. And in 2012, a short 20 years and 12 cameras since I received my Minolta 110, I began sharing stories with my photographs. Only my audience was small as I never published them. Until now.

The stories I will share here have been waiting a while to sprout. The Cowbird soil seems fertile and I’m excited for the garden we will grow.


While the Cowbird community blossomed into a lovely garden, I didn’t participate while it ran through 2017. One thing (of many) this pandemic reminds me of is that time is still multi-dimensional and layered.