Bensko Bitz

     You came, you shot, you conquered...or so you thought. That's what I did. On vacation. Until I lost my camera. No, not the big fancy one. It was the disposable waterproof kind, but it would have been better had I lost my big one than to have lost the images I had on that rinky-dink plastic-cased excuse for a submarine.
     It was more than a summer vacation to San Diego, it was my wonderful in-laws' 50th wedding anniversary / family reunion, and I was darned if I was going to miss one shot from that entire weekend. With my husband's crazy schedule, my weekends mostly booked out, and with four children scrambling around, any time we are all together is like oxygen shot through a cellophane muzzle.
     So, when the opportunity rose to go sea-cave kayaking in La Jolla with our relatives, I left Big Bertha on land and picked up that yellow disposable which leers at you from the Walmart checkout stand. The one which makes your husband cringe, knowing the film will never truly be developed, confirming his prediction of 12.99 down the proverbial sea-cave...
     As I strapped on my life jacket and helmet, I secured my 12.99 waterproof Hasselblad in my vest pocket and set out on our journey of exploration.
     Throughout our great sea adventure, I proudly snapped away at every breathtaking moment we would never forget for the rest of our lives: kayaking over five foot tiger sharks lurking the ocean floor, pelicans soaring overhead our gaggle of gluttons for adrenaline, the joy on the face of my child with her daddy paddling away with the cliffs peaking, the tides swelling, Joey agog at the seals perched on their protruding bellies...and I caught every moment. I wound that camera like an archaic sewing machine, intuitively searching it's spine for a digital readout or picture display. Click, wind, click, wind, click...
     After two breathtaking hours of capturing images that I knew I would develop and slip into our incredible weekend of family reunion and anniversary images, we returned to our car. I reached for my plastic Hasselblad. I searched through my bag. We drove back to the hotel. We got out of the car. I had lost my camera. My plastic, waterproof submarine image creator had vanished, with every precious water-splashed lens dropping...gone.
     My heart imploded like a helium balloon sucked into a vacuum. My memories were gone, I had lost such a simple object, but it was my best friend through that journey. We clicked, we wound, we clicked, it scoffed at me when I asked it to show me a picture, it smelled like chemicals...it was perfect.
     This made me ponder what made me most sad...was it that I lost the pictures, or was it losing a part of the process that makes capturing memories so special? In my heart, I will never forget those incredible moments. No one will ever take those memories from me, not even the sea, so perhaps it was the process which swells in my soul, an addiction with waves of fulfillment confirming the preciousness of life.
     I do have one photo from that day however, one I took with Big Bertha before we set out, of the kids in front of some kayaks. We were at the wrong kayak place, these weren't the kayaks we paddled in, and we all changed our clothes before we launched, but you get the idea...

And a few others from our weekend...

The door opened and a waft of cool air released from the frame, expelling the San Antonio heat from my skin. A kind, bellowing voice welcomed me in, accompanied by a nervous growl from Duke, his bohemoth Mastiff raised with gentle hands but wearing the genetic twitch of an electrocuted rabbit. Bobby Henline's home is the haven of hope, possibilities, and through his wife's exquisite execution, a Martha Stewart homage to all that is still right in this world, in spite of what happened to him in Iraq, where he was severly injured in an IED explosion in 2007.


As I waited for the day's photo sessions of wounded warriors to begin, my eyes crawled the walls of pictures of his beautiful wife, Connie, and his three children. My eyes stopped on four frames lined up like soldiers saluting their leaders, each photo matted with a poem written by Robert, before and after his accident. His wife's photo held with the matting a poem he wrote the week prior to the explosion, from the front lines to his love. Each child's photo with their own personal expression of devotion and pride, each a private  dedication to their altered lives since their father changed.

Only Robert didn't change on the inside, he is still the same wise cracking jokester he was before, only now perhaps even bolder, with greater courage and fearlessness. When most patients are burned as severely as he is, with 38% of his body covered in debilitating scars, their spirits are often injured beyond repair. For Robert his injuries opened a door of unusual opportunities which have changed his perception of life's purpose and given him a new mission, a mission without weapons of iron, but the weapons of Tempered Steel.

Tempered Steel is an organization started by Iraq Star soldier Scott Stephenson and his mother Luana Schneider after he was seriously wounded and disfigured in Iraq in November 2006. Their mission is to break down the barriers between wounded and disfigured veterans and those who only see their scars. The goal is to exchange fear for enlightenment by exposing the very real human stories behind the wounds of war, and I am honored and humbled to have been asked to shoot their Tempered Steel Photo Introspective of wounded military veterans.

Scott and Luana contacted other severely wounded military members and asked for their participation and involvement in the portrait sessions, and the response was overwhelmingly, "YES".

The images will be accompanied by personal interview accounts culminated by Amanda Cherry-Haus. Amanda and her husband MSG James Haus were recently featured in an interview with Bob Woodruff for World News with Diane Sawyer addressing the alarming rate of veteran suicides.  As a military spouse of a soldier with severe PTSD, Amanda has educated herself on the issues gaining certification on PTSD treatment and causes.  She is currently starting her own charity called W.O.M.A.N.-Women of the Military Advocacy Network, to focus on the unique needs of military women and families while working with Tempered Steel.

We shot our first sessions in San Antonio at Robert Henline's home, with such an incredible response by those involved, that an additional day of sessions was added. Since then, the project is moving full steam ahead.We look forward to a traveling gallery exhibit to the cities of San Antonio, Chicago, New York, Washington D.C., San Diego and Los Angeles with images also accompanying Tempered Steel's injured vets as they travel the country sensitizing our youth to the value of acceptance by speaking to Junior Highs and High Schools across the country.

Robert Henline, graced with the armor of humor, insight, wisdom, and irony, is now a professional comedian. He has embraced his new extreme makeover and travels from club to club with the most outrageous of comedy routines, never skipping a beat and reminding the public of the power of the human spirit and the beauty that lives within the most unexpected places.

Mount Sopris sprung through the backdrop emitting it's grandeur upon the back lawn of the prestigious Aspen Glen. Shakira and Noah, from Miami, juggled bipolar weather forecasts of pending storms (a continuing theme in my latest May-June weddings) yet won the meteorology sweepstakes with gorgeous skies and 75 degree winds. The most precious flower girl, Mollie, (with a touch of stage fright) melted the guests. They toasted Mother Nature with bubbly and danced the night away with stars a flutter and candles humming by outdoor fireplaces. As I sat under the pristine skies, having shot my last image, I reflected upon my job and realized...life is good.