Category Archives: Pictures

Anton Chico

I spent four years of my young life going to school in Anton Chico, New Mexico. Anton Chico is a village of about 600, about 45 minutes from my hometown. It’s the kind of place with one store, and that store is clearly just a room in someone’s house, and behind the cash register there’s a curtain through which you can see the part of the family that is off duty watching TV in their living room.

The church in Anton Chico The church in Anton Chico The church in Dalia (near Anton Chico)

The four years I spent in Anton Chico are not among my favorites. I was an outsider, and life is always harder on outsiders in a place like Anton Chico. But I was also the son of a teacher, and that didn’t help. I also didn’t speak Spanish, which put me even further outside the acceptable circles.

DSC_8036.JPG Abercrombies (long since defunct) where I purchased many a candy bar after school Abercrombies (long since defunct) where I purchased many a candy bar after school

I suppose kids are the same anywhere, but Anton Chico seemed rough to me then and seems rough to me now. I got roughed up and pushed around regularly. I lived in a state of fear, and even though my life was never in danger, that fear made a permanent impression. To this day, every time I walk into a new situation, I wonder if I won’t be ambushed. I can’t help but tense up, and think about how I might best defend myself if someone steps out from behind a door and clobbers me. Read More →

Cousins in motion

Storm and Ellen Storm and Ellen Storm and Ellen (with the inexhaustible Frits in the background)

Carnival, of sorts

I’ve never been to Rio for Carnival, but from what I’ve heard it’s a wild time. And in that respect, Copenhagen’s version of Carnival is surely… less wild. But I’m not complaining — it was good fun.

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There is something primal about drumming. And there was a lot of drumming. And, on the relatively narrow confines of the pedestrian streets of inner Copenhagen, the drumming filled the entire space, creating an effect something like a discotech — you could feel the drumming as much as you could hear it.

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Once our eardrums started to feel a little abused (the drummers, I noticed, all wore ear-plugs) we found a quiet spot to eat outside. Then we found some shade in a park and laid around and ate fresh cherries while Ellen took a nap. Not a bad day. Not bad at all.

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Lightning


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Easter 2011

Rikke-NajaI never much cared for Easter. As a kid I had trouble getting excited about hunting eggs. After all, they’re just eggs. Why all the fuss for an egg? As a teenager Easter meant only that I had to get up incredibly early so I could help hide the eggs for the younger kids. Easter is still not my favorite holiday, but a number of things increase its likability in Denmark.

First, I don’t have to get up early. That’s good. Second, the eggs are never actually eggs. They are chocolate eggs. That’s good too. But most importantly, the Thursday and Friday before Easter Sunday and the Monday after are holidays, making for a nice five-day weekend. That’s real good.

Aww, how cute Somehow the flowers know that spring has arrived Frits showed Ellen how to throw rocks into the stream, and then grew concerned by how few rocks he had left.

There’s an additional reason that Easter is nice though Read More →

Weeeee!

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DSC_4711.JPGEllen is a pretty cautious child, but she’s growing more and more comfortable on the playground. She particularly likes the swings.

But last month she discovered something even better than the swings. It’s a swing that she can go on with her mom. And really, what could be better than that?

Stanley E. Coppock (1916-2011)

Stanley E. Coppock (1916-2011)My grandfather was special. He was a special man. He wasn’t just special — in the way that virtually all grandfathers are special. He was more special than that.

Now, in making that claim, I know I sound like any grandchild might when his grandfather passes away. And if you didn’t know him, then that’s all I could expect you to believe. But if you did know him, then you already know what I’m saying is true.

But I didn’t always know my grandfather was special. As a child I only knew that he was my grandpa. I knew he was fun. I knew he was nice. I knew he looked me in the eye when he talked to me and never condescended to me. I knew that my parents, my aunts, my uncles, and my cousins all loved him and loved to be around him.

But I was just a kid. For all I knew, he was exactly like every other grandfather. It was only very slowly that I realized that he was not just any grandfather.

The ranch in 2003

I began to have suspicions when I was only ten or twelve, because of grandpa’s daily trip into town. If I was visiting, he’d invite me to come along, and I’d hop into his truck with him, and we’d run whatever errands he needed to run that day. This always included a stop at the post office, where he’d greet what seemed like every person in town. After that we’d often stop at the bank, where he’d greet every employee by name. He didn’t stop at just the teller that helped him — he’d walk down the line of tellers.
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Forty two

Lisbeth at Cafe Oven VandeI turned forty two this month. To mark the occasion, my loving and generous mother-in-law Karen took the train to Copenhagen and watched Ellen so that Lisbeth and I could go into town and do things we miss, like see movies, have quiet dinners, and converse without being interrupted every five seconds.

We don’t often get out, so we felt that we had to make the most of it. Our first stop was our old neighborhood, Christianshavn, where we had lunch at Cafe Oven Vande, which in addition to having good food and a nice view of the canal, was also the first cafe I tried when I first came to Christianshavn.

The Dagmar cinema Cellar space downtown Silver shop near Amagertorv

After that we went to my favorite camera store (Photographica) where I bought what instantly became my favorite camera strap ever (the Black Rapid RS-4). From there we went to see the latest Coen Brothers’ film, True Grit (which is a solid addition to their body of work, but not a classic.) We then had dinner at Tight, which features the odd mixture of culinary influences from France, Australia, and Canada (it was fine, but I won’t go out of my way to go back.)

Side street in the pedestrian district Illum, a pricey department store in the pedestrian district DR Concert Hall

We topped the day off with a concert at the stunning DR Concert Hall. This is the second concert we’ve been to there and the concert hall itself is almost worth the ticket price. And it’s not just about the light-show on the outside, or the archeticture. The concert space itself is masterfully crafted. Everything from the color of the seats, to the texture of the walls, to the sound itself contribute to the experience. We saw Agnes Obel. I can see how her work isn’t for everyone, but Lisbeth and I like it a lot, and she might sound better live than on her CD.

Bella Hotel

From our bedroom window we have a good view of the Bella Center convention center, where the largest hotel in Scandinavia is nearing completion, and opens in May. (It apparently goes by the name Bella Sky Comwell hotel, a name that only a board of directors would approve.) And although it may appear that I’ve photo-shopped these pictures, I have not. Colored lights illuminate the hotel, alternating every 20 seconds or so.

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So much wasted jam

Ellen turns two today. This sounds like a good thing, but in reality it’s the start of a long, tough spell. This means that she’s officially in the “terrible twos,” a year of legendary tantrums and fits.

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But in our case it’s worse than that because in Denmark, it’s the third year that is terrible. It’s called “trods alderen” and it’s just like the American terrible twos, except that it occurs a year later and it’s required by Danish law.

So, unfortunately we’ll spend the next two years scurrying about, trying to give Ellen whatever she wants in a pathetic attempt to avoid her terrible wrath.