Cross Country Skiing

Today I am incredibly happy. I cannot stop smiling. Yeah maybe it's because I'm already planning my Chick-fil-a order for when I get off the Frontrunner tonight, but it's because of something else too. Someone else. Today I met a wonderful man. Before you get excited, don't. This is not romantic. 

I met a genuine, kind, man today during work. His name is Craig Dimond, he's probably 50-something years old, and he works for the Church as a photographer. I spent two hours in the photo studio for a Friend project, but I left so much happier than I did when I woke up this morning. 

But why? Because of simple, normal, easy conversation. In two hours I knew more about Craig and his career than I knew about most people I've been working with for months. After I asked about his photography, he opened up and told stories of his travels and family. 

I had brought to the studio hundreds of colorful paper handprints, received from children around the world. I laid them out on a large white board in the basement of the Joseph Smith Memorial building, in a basement-esque studio, unorganized and filled with camera equipment, plywood, half-painted posts, colorful couches that looked like they hadn't been sat on in years, and one large light-sheet-photographer-thing. As I rearranged the hands, we talked.

We talked about my California beaches and his Wyoming snow. He told me about his shoot in Hawaii for the Testaments movie; I told him about my college journey and newsroom experience. When I asked him about the most memorable shoot he's ever done, he carefully considered my question, then said, 

"Most photographers, their most recent successful project is their favorite, but that comes and goes. I would say it's the people that make the difference..."

He then went on to tell me about his time in the DR Congo, shooting a family in the black of night because the electricity to the city went out. Using only an LED light and a kerosene lamp, Craig worked with lighting and angles to capture a moment. He told me about shooting the Chile Santiago Temple and the frustrations he had had with the construction. He had to change a lot of the photos because the temple just wasn't ready yet. He spent 10 days in Chile, gathering photos and meeting families. 

At one point Craig turned to me and asked, "Are you a runner?" I took this as a compliment, but admitted, "No, I'm definitely not. I'm a walker." He suggested I try cross country skiing (Craig enjoys skiing; snowboarding, he said, was very different). 

We rearranged the hands again to build a new design, and for some reason, this one took a long time. Craig would look at the image and readjust, often moving just one handprint in order to get a better picture. I felt he was taking his time on purpose, so we could talk longer. At times I felt our main project really was to talk, and the handprints was a side task we had to get done. 

I asked about taking pictures at general conference. He told me about working at advertising companies for car seat covers ("It's not really the sexiest thing to take a picture of") and upcoming campaigns he was hired to do. I spent most of the time asking questions and listening, but it was the most fun listening I've ever done. Craig would stop whatever he was doing on the computer to turn to me when he talked. I liked that. 

I guess I've been so far removed from normal, healthy, wonderful conversation with someone. We didn't have phones to check, we didn't get interrupted, and we didn't worry about an age, experience, or interest difference. We just talked. 

The last thing he said to me, after our thank-yous and goodbyes, was, "If you ever need pictures of yourself cross country skiing..." 

And we left it at that. I probably won't see Craig again, but I was so happy to listen. To meet someone new. To share laughs about Provo culture or children's handprint submissions, to talk about photographing the Brethren or visiting his grandparents when he was young. To meet a stranger at 10:00 a.m. and to know a stranger by noon.