I was born in Manhattan in a hospital that overlooked the body of water people call the East River, even though it’s not a river at all — it’s a saltwater tidal estuary, and the tides are intense.
Soon after I was born, my father held me at the hospital window (I am told), pointing out all the ships struggling against the tide. He was a naval architect, so he knew plenty about what the ships were doing, and how. It was my introduction to the saltwater world.
When I was eight, my family and I moved to Germany, near Hamburg, so Dad could research how ships make waves. I entered a German school, learned the language, made a bunch of close friends, and had a great time for the year we all remained there. It was during that year that my parents gave me my first camera: a point-and-shoot Agfa 126.
Years passed. I bought an old Nikon F2 and some even older lenses at Olden Camera in New York City, started what turned out to be a 25-year career in newspaper journalism, spent a few years working as a photo assistant in Manhattan and around the country, got married, had two daughters, got divorced, had another daughter — everyone (but me) in my family was female. Even the cats were female. (Except for Rico — Enrico Caruso, so named because he “sang” all the time.)
After journalism imploded in 2012, I went back to school, earned a master’s in rhetoric, and started a 10-year second career, teaching college until I retired, which is when I really began planning to travel in a camper van. I planned to take my two cats with me. My three daughters joked that if I ever needed a break from driving, the cats could drive — hence the moniker “2 cats driving.” But both cats died before we could get on the road. In their memory, I have preserved the name and will travel with the urns that contain their remains.
My saga will be told incrementally, post by post, photograph by photograph, in this blog. Email me at 2catsdriving@gmail.com and I’ll add you to the list to receive notices whenever there is a new post to read.
Thanks — John F Ward