I’ll bet you were thinking that I’d forgotten how to write! For my sake, I hope you’re wrong. There’s certainly a lot to write about in my life recently, but the situation demands that such writing be done tactfully and with due discretion. Let’s see how successful I can be, given those constraints.

First, let me address something that’s been on my mind. You’ve probably read the ugly, ill-advised, largely unedited rant against my former employer which I posted in November. It breaks a lot of rules, written and unwritten. I violated my own personal edict against naming my employer in this blog, something I regret very much. I also trashed my former employer pretty thoroughly, something that’s generally taboo. The information presented was factual, but that’s beside the point. It was wrong to do, and I wish I’d not done it.

I have not removed that blog entry. There are several reasons for that. One is that while I’m not proud of what I did, I did it. If I were to delete it now, I think some might see that as either denying or attempting to hide what I’ve done. I’ve also not been directly asked by anyone to remove it; apparently it’s not of sufficient concern to my former employer to warrant direct communication, even though someone in Germany seems to check rather regularly to see if it’s still there.

Now, on to recent events. First of all, I am saddened at the loss earlier this month of Dug Steele, after a brief struggle with an extremely aggressive cancer.

Dug was one of the most talented, experienced, gifted photographers and photojournalists I have ever had the privilege to know. I met him in the late 1970s, through his son, Kirk, who was my classmate and contemporary at Western Albemarle High School in Crozet, Virginia. Dug was larger than life, someone who had raised the use of a camera to a fine art as I aspired to do. Kirk was himself a fine photographer, even in his teens, having learned at his father’s knee.

Dug had a quiet, unassuming wisdom that belied his vast experience. Dug was always ready with a story; I remember evenings listening to tales of sailing, of work on transmitters in Saudi Arabia and on Apple Orchard Mountain in Virginia, of photographic moments in time, and of his experiences among Native American tribes on his trips out west. He had a weird, off-beat sense of humor that was reflected in his son’s manner, and that’s probably why the three of us got on so famously. One of his terms, used to describe someone who can’t stop fiddling with controls, has remained with me to this day: K.T.B. – Knob-Twisting Bastard.

Dug and I had been out of touch for many years, but his influence on my life compelled me to travel to Charlottesville, Virginia to attend his memorial service. It was necessary to rearrange travel plans a bit to make that happen, because I was scheduled for a very important job interview the following day. Fortunately, the company was willing to bend a bit, and my planned round-trip flight became a three-legged road trip from Atlanta to Charlottesville to North Carolina and back. All waypoints were achieved on schedule and everything went very well, but before I made it home it became clear that the cold-like illness I’d been trying so hard to deny and ignore was not content to be ignored any longer. I’m feeling much better now, though, thanks to my pit crew consisting of Allison, Chelsea, Raymond, and even Allison’s sister Ellen.

The interview resulted in an offer, one which I have accepted. Beginning tomorrow, I embark on a very exciting, promising new career. In keeping with my previously-mentioned convictions, the company name will not be mentioned here. However, in order to assure my friends and other interested parties that I’ve made the right move, I will say a few words about the company where I’m now employed.

Quality. The product made by this company is engineered, built, sold, and serviced at its impressive 52,000 square foot headquarters in the United States. State-of-the-art manufacturing techniques combined with skilled craftsmanship result in a precise, elegant final product. With all manufacturing processes done in-house, nothing is left to outside contractors and stringent quality control is maintained.

Stability. The company has been in business since it was founded in 1974, and the same man remains at its helm to this day. Employee turnover is extremely infrequent. The company is debt-free and growing, despite this unstable economy.

Responsibility. The company is operated in such a way that it has zero environmental impact, releasing no pollutants into the water or the air.

Reputation. The company’s name has been a household word in the industry for decades. The name stands for quality, reliability, flexibility, and unmatched capability. Customer satisfaction is both a goal and an achievement here.

Communication. Some companies appear to be so heavily compartmentalized that communications become hopelessly unmanageable. From what I’ve seen, this company operates differently. Here, people talk, processes and products improve, and the customer reaps the benefits.

These few words are among those that have convinced me to join this superb team. I am proud to be a part of this company, and I’m excited about getting to work.

Of course, nothing worth doing is easy. As a result of my new job, we’re moving. My new home will be a beautiful, historic, medium-sized community in coastal North Carolina. I am going to start work tomorrow, and we anticipate finding a home and installing me permanently there within a month. An important trade show looms close on this horizon, and I’ll need to be there to represent my new team and its products, so I’ve got a lot of learning to do in the next three weeks. Allison’s in full take-charge mode and is determined to make the move as trauma-free as possible for me, and the company is providing lots of help as well, so while it’s going to be a bit hectic for the next month or so, it’s a good, exhilarating, productive, rewarding sort of pressure.

Saying goodbye to Atlanta will be very hard. I’m leaving behind many friends and acquaintances, lots of familiar places, and myriad memories both good and bad. There’s just not enough time for the sort of closure I’d ordinarily want. I’m going to try to make the most of my few trips back here as the move progresses, and it seems certain that a photoessay will be a part of the process. Beyond that, I’ll have to simply cross each bridge as it appears before me, and know I’ve done all I can.

A bridge. What a nice metaphor.