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I am about to make a bold and controversial statement.
Men love flashlights. Ladies like flashlights, sure. But men love flashlights.
I made this photograph in honor of my grandfather. And my brother. And dad. There is a common thread in these generations—they are all flashlight stockpilers. They cannot have too many and there is one for every occasion. Car, house, even clipped to a belt. Or if you are my brother, strapped to your head. (Ok he’s a search and rescue tech but still, he probably has like, 90 of them.)
And it makes me love them even more because I think hoarding flashlights comes from a place of care, of wanting to be ready— to protect and to respond. To be prepared to just handle it.
My grandfather, pragmatic as they come, kept a flashlight in every room. He is no longer with us but the flashlights are. And here I am, missing him but getting to remember his wise, protective soul.
Heirlooms are good like that— they share little snippets of a person’s spirit if you listen. We’re listening. This is an appreciation post for our lights— the protectors, the responders, the ones who handle it.
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This One is for the Lights.
Love. Shine bright, Shana!
Great story!❤️