In his carefree youth, he and the camera were inseparable. When a daredevil friend took him flying in a one engine plane, the camera went along. They flew off the coast, over the Pacific, getting the bird’s eye of trees, cliffs and sea stacks, cold wind seeping into the cockpit. He clicked the shutter a hundred times. Back on earth, he printed a dozen images. In one, the sepia sea gleams like glass, the sky stretches into silence.
Much later, his adult children gaze at the old photograph, smell naphtha-kerosene and feel the dip and rattle of the Skyhawk.
Image by Chris A Anderson, courtesy of the Estate of Chris A Anderson