When I was about 11 years old, my uncle gave me an old 35-mm film Leica camera. It was a relic way back then. It didn’t even have through-the-lens focusing. But it had an excellent German ground-glass lens. I was instantly addicted. I carried that camera everywhere and nearly sent my parents to the poorhouse from the cost of film developing.
Around the same time, someone gifted my father with a subscription to the National Geographic Society. It was a luxury that my milkman father never could have afforded. He treasured those monthly magazines and refused to throw them away, instead letting them stack up in our front hall. Entranced, I would arrive home from school each day, plop down cross-legged on the front hall floor, and spend hours immersed in photos of peoples from exotic, far-flung lands. By age 12 I knew that I wanted to be a travel photographer for national Geographic.
“If you want to make god laugh, tell him about your plans.” Woody Allen.
But, as Woody Allen famously said, “If you want to make god laugh, tell him about your plans.” By the time I turned 17, I knew I had to get away from my dysfunctional family. Six months later I quit university, ran away from home, and got a job. Paying rent, buying a car, and feeding myself soon became my foremost concerns. I relegated my dreams to a distant corner of my mind and set myself to the task of climbing the corporate ladder.
However, I never completely abandoned photography. For the next 35 years I dabbled in it. I even had a darkroom in my house during my first marriage. But my passion for photography truly blossomed when I finally fled the corporate world, started Hole in the Donut Cultural Travel blog, and began pursuing my true passions of travel, writing, and photography.
