Long as I can see the light

On December 8th, I started a new job at Berea College and found out that my office is in the same room as the Danforth Chapel.

Later that afternoon, we had a family-and-doctors Zoom call about my father’s declining health and the need to start having end-of-life discussions.

I don’t believe in signs. But I don’t not-believe in signs.


It’s a bit of a cheat to call this #40DaysOfGoodShit Day 2, since the photos were taken the Monday before Lent, but it’s my second post in the series and there you have it.

We had another call that day, with a hospice team.

I walked into the chapel after the call. There was a break in the clouds outside such that the sun came streaming through one window and not its neighbor.

Sun coming through the window in Danforth Chapel, Berea College (retouched)

And the colored light fell on the podium in a way that was almost tangible. Illuminating the air itself. Not quite ghostly but perhaps Holy Ghostly.

Light on podium, Danforth Chapel, Berea College (retouched)

I post these, partly to share them with you because it was beautiful, and partly to ask for tips on photo editing. Below you can see an album of the originals of these photos and the retouched versions (as well as an alternate angle which frankly I just don’t love as well). I’ve tried to boost the colors and diminish the brightness a bit to make the light stand out more, like it did in person. It’s not entirely successful at recreating the ethereal effect, but that may just be a limitation of moving from 2 dimensions to 3 (and/or taking photos with my cell phone). But if anyone has ideas of other ways to edit the photos, I’d love to hear them. Actually, they’re all CC-BY-NC; you’re welcome to have at it if you just want to tinker.

Light on podium, Danforth Chapel, Berea College

That I should rise

#40DaysofGoodShit, #1

The hospice where my father is staying has a full-time music therapist on staff.

A ruddy young man with a neat reddish beard. He asked my father what he’d like to hear and Dad said “anything Irish.” He said he knew “Joe Murray” would have some Irish in him, took his guitar case off his back, and hit the ceiling fan with it.

He played us The Wild Rover and When Irish Eyes are Smiling and Danny Boy and something about St. Patrick’s Day in New York City and one more I can’t remember. And then he sang one we’d never heard before and he said he’d only heard once, about “where’ve you been, Bridey Flynn.”

Dad smiled and tapped his foot the whole time.

And the music therapist went to pack up and tapped the ceiling fan with the head of his guitar again.


The photo “Guitar Scales” is by Alan Levine, CC0 at https://flic.kr/p/RDaeis