August 18, 1984. Finally at college. Mom, Dad, and Ted just left. In the blink of an eye, I went from being supervised by Mom and Dad to… NOT. Kid to adult. Surreal, fast. Feels like falling and flying at the same time.

Before social media. Before cell phones. After dinner we wandered over to the donut shop by campus — neon signs crackling with heat of alchemical wizardry. Tennis shoes still wet from the creek. Everything smelled like last hour’s rain and this week’s fallen leaves.

We looked for high contrast setups, deep shadows. Explored possibilities while leaning heavily on the motor drive to snap sequences through slide film. We imagined we were going for the cover of a magazine — and just went for broke.

We drove up to Lost Lake. Put on Neil Young and took it slow. Just below the tree line, far away from civilization. Still beautiful, still the same place. What a place to say “I grew up coming here.”