December 27, 2018
Pitfalls of Patriotism
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Met this interestingly clad fellow while riding a local public bus the other day. He seemed kind and obliged instantly when I asked to take a few photos of him in between two bus stops.
 
For some reason, I didn’t think of asking about his outfit and if he was going to a masquerade or some kind of military convention where a “re-enactment” of World War II was the main draw. For all I knew, he might just have been a little unhinged and was just being appropriately dressed and prepared for a looming invasion.
 
When people here hear that I was born in the USA, I’ll often get the question of whether I feel like a Swede or an American. The standard answer is that while on an emotional level I’m definitely Swedish, I tend to think more like an American. That is, I almost always have a positive outlook on life’s possibilities and see more opportunities than obstacles. My mindset is to assume that nothing is impossible. “I can do that!” is my motto rather than “Cobbler, stick to thy last. I really see this as a strength, something I’m proud of and hope to pass on to our daughter, Elle. It’s not necessarily a distinguishing quality that only Americans have a monopoly on. But most Americans I’ve ever met, in varying degrees and often on a very superficial level, have nonetheless a similarly open and outgoing attitude.
 
I’m sure some Americans I chat with over coffee at the Cow in Venice have a hard time seeing me as “a fellow American” because I’ve not lived stateside for more than two decades. That I, as a resident of Europe, could not possibly grasp current events here and the zeitgeist that stretches beyond the talk shows and celebrityverse. I argue that nothing could be more incorrect. In fact, I’m pretty much on top of most of the public discourse and spend several hours a week reading articles and exposés on a wide range of domestic topics. And though my daily news sources’ political sympathies tend to lean towards liberal values (duh), I still get a reasonably objective perspective on key events. Admittedly, there are quite a few societal quirks and curiosities that have emerged since I last moved from the US back in 1995. Some of which I really don’t get.
 
Back to the army guy.
 
What to me seems like strange and potentially dangerous form of patriotism and something that I don’t understand at all is why every other house here has a sizable, swaying American flag mounted on a porch or facade. It’s a fixture and not just brought out occasionally to commemorate a national holiday or celebrate an event.
 
One possible, albeit weird explanation for permanently touting a flag is to clearly show that the residents in the house or building are genuine patriots. Which kinda makes everyone else who isn’t decorating their house with a “Stars & Stripes” seem unpatriotic, no?
 
A more reasonable explanation is that someone in the family of a flag-bearing house has participated in one of the many wars the United States has been involved in over the last half-century. Maybe the war on the drugs, the war on terror, or, more recently, the war on fake news.
 
Last but not least and perhaps the strongest reason for pimping your house with an American flag is to make sure that in the event of an invasion on US soil, the enemy will have no doubt where to find “true red-blooded Americans” to fight with.
 
Joni Mitchell once said in an interview that’s stayed with me since hearing it sometime in the 1980s, that the greatest challenge humans have is getting rid of all the boundaries we’ve created. Both geographical and political. She thought boundaries are fragmenting us as a species and we are way too keen on protecting our “tribe” instead of blurring out borders and building bridges between our ridiculously insignificant differences.
 
I totally agree with Ms. Mitchell.
 
Patriotism is a slippery slope that easily metamorphizes into nationalism which inevitably, however sneakily, leads to fascism.
December 25, 2018
Christmas Day at Venice Pier
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From earlier this morning.

Went to Cow’s End for a hearty Christmas Day breakfast: an everything on it bagel with salmon, cream cheese, capers, onions and a tall double-shot latte made with unsweetened coconut milk. With my hunger assuaged and half my cup still full, I strolled down to the Venice Pier to see if anybody I knew was out surfing. Nobody was. But it was gorgeous nonetheless.

The morning air today was suitably crisp for Christmas Day. Chilly but not cold. Warm enough for shorts but not quite ample for just a tee. It’s sunny with blue skies and that seems to bring out the smiles in folks anywhere I’ve ever travelled. And Venice Beach is certainly no exception.

While it used to amuse me as a stage for both edgy and creative characters, today I don’t much appreciate the freak show part of Venice Beach Boardwalk anymore. It seems as if there’s more emphasis on freaks than on showmanship and real talent these days. Or, maybe I’m just being a curmudgeon. So, I tend to mostly hang around the area that has the pier as its epic center.The sound of the ocean has always had a hypnotic effect on me. Especially here. At night, when traffic dies down on Pacific Avenue, I can hear the ocean ever-so vaguely from our apartment. Or, maybe someone is just heavy-handed on their vaping pipe.

I really love falling asleep to the sound of waves as they reach the shore and gently crepitate into silence. I’ll typically doze off somewhere between two waves rolling in.

In my childhood, a few years before my parents broke up, they rented the bottom floor of a two story wooden house right on Malibu Beach. This is back in the late 1960s – long before Malibu became a reservation for today’s abundantly/astronomically wealthy. Anyway, the beach house had a small porch four or five feet above the sand. At high tide, I would sit on the very edge with my feet dangling over, watching the ocean sweep under the house, give the sand a dark hue and leave golden strands of sparkling seaweed wrapped around the porch’s stilts. What a care-free time it was, indeed.

Despite being a metropolis with millions of mostly struggling urbanites, Los Angeles’ beaches tend to be amazingly empty this time of year. Which is just fine by me. Less is more, as the saying goes.

December 25, 2018
The Nutcracker
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Stumbled onto to this little critter yesterday afternoon while walking along Pacific Avenue on my way to meet Elle at a surf shop (ZJ’s).

I’ve shot a fair amount of animals in the wild, so I know that it takes timing, having the right settings and some luck to get a good photo. Especially when you know how fleeting the moment is.

That said, this particular squirrel was not only patient with me. It looked almost eager to pose for me and wasn’t at all disturbed or distracted while I fidgeted with the camera’s dials. The only concern it seemed to have was to discern whether or not I was going to be a threat to the nut it had found.

December 23, 2018
Meanwhile, in L.A.
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Merry Christmas, everybody!

Here’s what it looked like a few hours ago as we descended on Runway 24L at LAX. Just as soon as the Dreamliner’s wheels touched down on the brightly lit tarmac, did the familiar sense of coming home arrive. It’s hard to explain, let alone convey in writing. I can feel like this in other places, too. Such is the constant traveler’s dilemma. Where is home?

After an extremely smooth immigration process, at least for Elle and myself with our shiny new US passports, the family entered a comfy ÜberX and thereafter the Sri Lankan driver took us straight to our Airbnb apartment on Pacific Avenue. It’s got this perfect address just north of Washington Boulevard near the Venice Beach Pier, a mere block west of the popular Venice Canals (made even more famous by the tv show Californication).

I’ve been a big fan of Airbnb for a half dozen years now and all three of us were positively surprised at how spacious and well-equipped the flat we’ve rented turned out to be. In addition to a large living room, we’ve also got two reasonably big bedrooms, each with ensuite bathrooms, and a kitchen with pretty much everything we need to cook during our week-long stay here.

After unpacking and getting somewhat organized, Elle and I took another Über up to Lincoln and Rose where “our” Whole Foods store is located – just to get something for a late and light evening meal and, more importantly, essentials for tomorrow’s breakfast. Of course, once we got there, the Whole Foods seduction process effectively set in and before we knew it, our cart was overflowing with a bounty of deliciousness. Always a pleasure to contribute to the bustling US economy.

Like with most folks, how I feel about my old hometown is a mixed bag of emotions. Growing up here was often tumultuous, to say the least, and I wish that at least some of my most vivid memories, nightmares really, could forever be forgotten. With age, I’m sure they increasingly will. One of few benefits of growing older. As bad as it often was, there were still some highlights. But in all honesty, I’ve had considerably more fun here as an adult than as a kid. Such is life.

Obviously, much has changed in LA. since the mid to late 70s. Especially in West Hollywood where I grew up. Tower Records on Sunset is gone and the Bowling Alley on Santa Monica where friends and I used to hang after school, has long, long been replaced. As is the amusement park Kiddyland and Ponyland off La Cienega and Beverly. Heck, those places were torn down probably 40 years ago. The famously seedy Barney’s Beanery on Santa Monica continues to do business near the old IHOP – and my old elementary schools Saint Victor’s and Rosewood are still around. Sadly though, most of my old buddies have either moved away or fallen into obscurity. At least in my universe.

We’re heading to Fairfax High School’s weekend flea market later today and through the classic Farmer’s Market was mostly absorbed by flashy strip mall The Grove several decades ago, I can still walk around parts of the old market and recognize myself. And as far as I know, Canter’s Deli is still around just up the street.

Out here on the coast, changes are much subtler and less visually disruptive. Which is probably why I insist on staying in this part of L.A. each time we’re here to work and play. Everything is just so comfortably, almost numbingly familiar. The fresh, salty breeze, wide, sandy beach, the busy bike path, a faint smokey smell of ancient tar coming from under Santa Monica pier, the light blue hues hovering gently just above the Pacific. It’s all the same – just as I remember it from way back when. It’s like a mental tattoo that has only faded a little.

– From a jetlagged Joakim

December 22, 2018
From Santa’s Workshop at Turning Torso
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Here’s an ad I produced for Sky High Meetings on the 53rd and 54th floors of our neighboring skyscraper, the iconic Turning Torso.

December 18, 2018
Flushing Christmas
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I’m certainly not a consistently eco-friendly individual. For one thing, I travel way too much. On the other hand, we don’t own a car, we don’t eat beef, pork or fowl and when we eat fish and seafood, we try to avoid eating what’s been farmed. When I shop for clothes (which I rarely do), I try to choose companies like Patagonia as they produce their apparel from recycled materials and act responsibly on an environmental and social level. For 2019, I’m going to reduce my jet-fuelled traveling as much as possible and work harder to help minimize the family’s carbon footprint.
 
If you’ve not been living under a rock for the past 10 years, I think we can all agree that our planet is in pretty bad shape. Regardless of whether or not it’s irreversible or, if humans even created the problems the first place, we still need to figure out how to change our ways so that we become less dependent on fossil fuels and derivatives produced from the petrochemical industry. We need to come to our senses. Full stop.
 
I have a suggestion…
 
Possibly the worst thing you can do this Christmas is to give your kids or your siblings kids or, anybody really, Christmas presents.
 
Friends, we need to stop this ridiculous tradition. A tradition loosely based on a 2000-year-old mythical story where three old men apparently gave presents (Frankincense, Gold, and Myrrh) to a baby dude named Jesus.
 
I know it’s going to be hard. After all, Christmas is one deep-rooted commercial extravaganza where we can simultaneously spoil our children with lavish gifts – and – feel a little less guilty for our own shortcomings as parents. But by refusing to participate in this crazy commerce, we’ll break the tradition and help our kids become aware of how they too can help heal the planet.
 
Stopping the madness of Christmas shopping will also make it so much easier to focus on the fundamental concept in that old Jesus saga; generosity through love, understanding, and thoughtfulness (not stuff).
 
The image above is a collage of photos taken across several years. I work on it every Christmas to remind me of how important it is to break free from some of our environmentally disastrous traditions.
December 16, 2018
Avocado Alexandra at M. Seger in Stockholm
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From a sumptuous lunch at M. Seger in Stockholm this last week. The open-faced sandwich I chose was flush with avocado, shrimp, salmon and a couple of other indiscernible ingredients, was certainly one of the most tasty creations I’ve ever eaten. Shot with a slightly underperforming iPhone Xs Max – probably due to the poor lighting.

December 12, 2018
Note from Downtown Camper Stockholm
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Enjoying a quick visit to the Swedish capital. Interestingly, I seem to make it up here more often during the winter season than any other time of the year. Regardless of when, it’s always a pleasure to visit. Especially when you get to stay at a hotel like Downtown Camper by Scandic.

Last night were invited by the Italian ambassador and the president of Liguria to experience a seven course dinner with specialties from the region that had been designed and cooked by seven of the country’s most renown chefs.

A few years ago, Charlotte and I were on assignment to Cinque Terre and we were impressed by just about everything. Especially the food.

Tonight we’ll join colleagues at the Swedish Association for Travel Journalists for the annual Christmas get-together where undoubtedly hundreds of gingerbread men await to be crunched on and washed down with a steady flow of warm and spicy glögg.

December 10, 2018
December Yoga
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A third in and already December’s been a busy month. It’ll naturally taper off as we near the holidays. But so far, I’ve delivered a short n’ snazzy PR-film, helped redesign of client’s landing page, documented two hotels, worked on half dozen or so new paintings in the studio and written a couple posts here and elsewhere.

Most importantly, and quite frankly a prerequisite for anything and everything I do at this stage in life, is maintaining a reasonably healthy diet and a training regimen that is congruous with my workload and life situation.

Last week, I hit the yoga and qigong mat for a total of six hours and I’m convinced this helped offset some of the stiffness I usually experience this time of year when temperatures and humidity tend to fluctuate dramtically.

I can’t emphasize enough how happy I am for having yoga and qigong in my life. And for finally appreciating how important it is to keep a holistic perspective when making decisions about work, family, food and exercise.

I shot the selfie above on a scorching hot rooftop in Bangkok a few months back during Bikram yoga session.

December 4, 2018
Back in the Air
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For whatever reasons, it’s nonetheless been quite a while since I last flew the drone. So, when I noticed yesterday’s fog bank rolling in over Malmö, I persuaded myself to endure the cold, gusty wind and try and get a high altitude shot of the Turning Torso as the fog swept by.

December 1, 2018
Malmö from Above
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Here’s a collection of footage shot over some of my favorite places in Malmö during the spring, summer and fall of 2018. Turned out that capturing decent, dare I say cinematic quality film from a drone wasn’t nearly as hard as I first thought.

Unsurprisingly, much of the same techniques and considerations apply as when filming on the ground. The biggest challenge, at least as I see it, is achieving useful compositions at heights of up to 120 meters within the time constraints of the batteries ability to keep the aircraft afloat.

November 30, 2018
The Vault
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Newly opened lifestyle hotel The Vault is, as the name suggests, located in a property that once housed a bank. The hotel sits at the top of Stortorget – just a few hundred meters from Helsingborg’s main train station and ferry terminal. The view from our large corner room was absolutely magnificent and stretched out beyond the square and towards the Öresund Sound.

Room 212 was generously sized with ample space to relax and a proper work desk. Since I mostly write in bed when staying at hotels, I particularly appreciated that there were dual power outlets on both bedside tables flanking the comfy double bed. Finally a hotel that gets this right!

The bathroom was unusually large and had two wide sinks, a large shower and a toilet in an adjoining room, which also came with a sink. This was one of the most thoughtfully designed hotel bathrooms I’ve come across and totally in par with a room at Hoxton in Paris, The Standard in New York (East Village) or The Siam in Bangkok.

To say that The Vault has been liberal with its choice of decor would be to trivialize the enormous creative effort that has been at play here. Even though much of the bank’s interior, including the entrance, towering arches and main hall are intact, you don’t have to look particularly close to see how an abundance of free-flowing artistic imagination has been expressed through the hotel’s furnishings, decor and often wonderfully quirky details. Admittedly, I’m no expert on interior design, so obviously I can’t say whether or not it follows a specific style – of which I’m completely ignorant. But maybe that’s the red thread at The Value – a wide range of tasteful interior design solutions that together form a subtly palpable and irresistible whole that won’t lend itself to be labeled in a traditional way.

There’s a unique intimacy at The Vault, repeatedly demonstrated by the relatively young staffs helpful and positive attitude. Which in its own way makes for an interesting contrast when juxtaposed with the premises’ conservative history.

Although Helsingborg has a relatively decent selection of good eateries, I would definitely recommend the hotel’s cozy restaurant, Volta. In addition to a couple of creamy pasta dishes and delicous wine from my home state California, what we were most delighted about was the kitchen’s “Little Mess”, which consisted of two generous scoops of mascarpone ice cream, chocolate truffles, hazelnut syrup and fried pieces of cocoa. Clearly our new favorite dessert. It’s also in Volta guests can enjoy a tastefully presented breakfast buffet that had everything I love, sans a pot of piping hot baked beans.

With this latest lifestyle hotel, hoteliers Karin and Kjell Jacobsson once again exhibit their tireless passion for creating uniquely memorable experiences. The Vault is certainly a thoughtfully designed hotel with a clear focus on bestowing guests with a place and a space that provides sustenance for all senses. Well done!

November 26, 2018
The Vault in Helsingborg
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Currently working on an editorial project for Hotell Addict about a couple of hotels, one of which just opened here in Helsingborg, The Vault. The shot is from our room’s view tonight.

I really like this town. It’s significantly smaller than Malmö but also more quaint and easier to move around in. The harbor area is just gorgeous and the H99 neighborhood just north of the ferry terminal was somewhat of a blueprint for what eventually became Västra Hamnen.

Back in the hey days of the early 1990s, I spent a half a year in Helsingborg working as a DJ at Sweden’s oldest hotel, Mollbergs. I’d take the train down from Göteborg (where I lived at the time) on Thursdays, check in to one of the hotel’s huge rooms and play soul and funk 9:00 pm until 01:00 am from Thursday to Saturday in the hotel’s dining room. I even had an art exhibit there during the last couple of weeks of my residency.

November 23, 2018
A Talk
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Yesterday afternoon, I had an hour long talk to seniors at a high school about what it is like to work as professional photographer. The talk was hosted by Transfer Öresund, a non-profit organizaton I’ve been part of for about a decade.

The venue was Sundsgymnasiet, a prominent high school in Vellinge near Malmö. Though I’m confident the class appreciated that I shared a few of my anecdotes, practical tips and philosophies, I sincerely hope that at least some were given an inspiring nudge forward.

I’ve been doing these talks for a number of years and I thoroughly enjoy sharing my experiences. Inspiration has always been a key factor in my life. I think I have a fairly unique ability to immerse into almost any subject and to a degree in which I get inspired.

November 22, 2018
2018 Highlights: Bamboo Yoga
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2018 is slowly but surely coming to an end. A year much dominated by a machiavellian cluster-fucker with full access to nuclear launch codes and no moral compass whatsoever.

On a brighter note, 2018 has been filled with some incredible experiences. One of the most recent – and arguably most important – being our amazing daughter Elle’s eighteenth birthday. I’m still having a hard time wrapping my head around how fast time flies.

As per usual, the Raboff family has been guilty of deepening its carbon footprint with travels near and far. Much has been work related, which is by no means an excuse, but whatyagonnado?

One of my personal favorites for 2018 was producing a short film that encapsulated the essence of what Condé Nast Traveller Magazine voted India’s formost yoga destination, Bamboo Yoga Retreat in southern Goa. If you have the time, visit this place. The food alone will make the trip worthwhile. And the meditation and yoga classes in the bamboo shalas facing the Indian Ocean are a guaranteed stress reliever. The best part of that gig was that I got to participate in several classes.  I shot the majority of this with the Sony A7III with Zeiss 35mm, 18mm and 85mm glass.

November 21, 2018
Salmonella & Lice
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Nine Piece Sushi for Bengt-Göran, cried the chef. That was the name of the elderly gentleman that sat next to me during lunch today at Sushi & Salad, a restaurant a few hundred feet from my studio in Malmö’s latest square, Masttorget.

This is crazy. We will soon have six sushi restaurants here in little Västra Hamnen – an area similar in size to Vasastan in Gothenburg, Hammarby Sjöstad in Stockholm or half of what Santa Monica is in L.A.. Five sushi restaurants! And as opposed to hair salons, which often have cheeky names that range from Hairport, Hairley Davidsson and Hairoscope, the sushi joints here often bear boring names like, Sushibar, Sushi For You or Harbor Sushi. Such humdrum naming should be outlawed! Unfortunately, most of them also have really bad sushi. With the exception of Salad & Sushi, where I often eat lunch and which is exceptionally good for Malmö. Had I opened a place that served sushi, I would of called it, Salmonella & Lice, Raw n’ Ready, or Mouth Sticks.

Back to Bengt-Göran.

While I was drowning my rolls in the soy/wasabi concoction and wolfing them down as if it were the last supper, my neighbor BG sat calmly and cut his nigiri and maki pieces with surgical precision. Sure, he seemed a little misplaced wearing an old pullover and suspenders – but it was clearly visible that he was enjoying the moment more than I. Though I wonder if he really understood that it was raw fish he was eating
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We were the restaurant’s first lunch guests today, and I’d barely just finished my last piece of sushi on the now soy-drenched wooden cutting board when a small army of hungry office workers formed a long line at the counter. That’s when Bengt-Göran turned to me and said, “It’s a good thing we arrived when we did, right? Otherwise, we probably would not have had any fish today. ” I nodded in agreement and added, “Yeah, cause you really want your fish on Wednesdays. To myself I thought, heck, I could eat fish every day of the week. The shot of BG was taken with an iPhone XMax and those to the right with a Canon 5Ds during a shoot with a client.

November 16, 2018
New Film Site
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Earlier this week, I launched a new website entirely dedicated to my short film ventures. It covers my most recent commercial productions as well as personal projects, like the instalments in my time capsule series.

The site’s tongue is Swedish, but should stilll be easy enough for English speakers to get around/navigate through.

Now, mosey on over and take a peak:

www.kortfilmsproduktion.se

November 12, 2018
My First Love
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One year in my early twenties, I was given two unusual birthday presents. One was the size of a shoebox, the other much larger in height and width, yet thin like a picture frame or something. When I opened the smaller of the gift-wrapped presents, I saw a neatly packed row of small, white tubes. Each tube had a round black lid and was labeled with a logo juxtaposed over a vibrant color. There might have been twelve different colors in all.

The larger package contained a canvas, about the size of an LP album cover. Behind the canvas were three or four art brushes of varying sizes and a large wooden palette. I can’t remember who gave me these presents, it could of been either my brother Tyko or my aunt Lillemor. Or, maybe they both pooled resources for my birthday that year. In any case, I was excited to begin what would evolve into a life-long relationship with painting and quite frankly, the genesis of what would turn out to be a career of creativity.

I mention this because I have allocated most of the space in my new studio to painting. It feels wonderful to be able spend time with my “first love”. And at this stage in my life, I much prefer standing in front of a giant canvas and less time in front of a giant, glowing screen. After such a long hiatus from painting, I feel almost giddy about creating something in the physical world again.

The photo above is from Gotlands Konstskola – the now defunct art college I attended on the island of Gotland.

November 9, 2018
Foggy Constitutional Rights
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I lived and went to school for a while in Thousand Oaks in California. So the recent killing of 12 people in a club there, saddened me deeper than any of the other mass murders of recent years. I find it appalling that so many Americans still hide behind the shallow shield of the Second Amendment that protects the right of the people to keep and bear arms.

The amendment was adopted on December 15, 1791, which makes it more than 200 years old. Folks, this was a time when owning slaves was an integral part of society (in the north and south) and keeping African Americans in indentured servitude was considered a birthright for the white race – of which only men had the right to vote in the fledgling country’s elections.

In my worldview, to still keep the Second Amendment on the Bill of Rights is just proof that the Constitution needs an overhaul.

And that there are so many tens of millions of Americans that in 2018 still believe it’s their protected right as citizens to own and carry firearms – based on a 200-year-old piece of paper, is just madness.

No other country in the world has as many firearm related deaths as the US does.

According to GunPolicy.org, in 2010 there were 3.78 guns per 100 people in the United Kingdom.

In the United States, there are approximately 101 guns per 100 people.

Roughly 50 to 60 people die from gun-related violence or accidents in England and Wales each year.

In 2016, 38,000 gun-related deaths were reported in the United States. An increase by 4000 from the previous year.

How can this not be related to the mass killings? How can you not see the connection? How is it possible that educated, smart people don’t get this? Mind-boggling stuff.

The image above is from a flight over the Öresund Bridge in a Diamond (turboprop aircraft)

November 7, 2018
Today: Elle’s 18th Birthday
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Today is our daughter Elle’s 18th birthday. We celebrated her according to family tradition with an early Champagne breakfast in bed – which, by the way, made the bottle of French bubbly Elle’s first legally consumed alcoholic beverage.

I still have very vivid memories of the day our baby girl was born. I suppose most parents do. We had been living in Malmö for a couple of years and started feeling at home in our spacious apartment on Erik Dahlbergsgatan in the center of town. I was working as a freelancer and Charlotte had her day job at Malmö Aviation as manager for the airline’s call center. We enjoyed a mostly carefree life with a lot of traveling, regular dinners with friends and family and what not. Before committing to the concept of parenthood, we promised each other that we’d continue our adventorous lifestyle and bring our new family member along with us as we explored new places – which was a promise we’ve kept ever since.

Sometime after midnight, in the wee hours of November 7th, 2000, it was time for Charlotte and I to get over to the maternity ward at what was then called Malmö Allmänna Sjukhus (MAS), I phoned a local cab company from our bedroom at the apartment and specifically asked for a driver who was fluent in Swedish and knew exactly where to pick us up and, more importantly, where the entrance to the maternity ward was. As far as I remember, the driver was on time and new his stuff.

Well there, it turned out that Elle needed more time before she was ready to grace us with her beautiful being. We had a fairly quiet night at the hospital, but just after 11:00 a.m. the following morning, Charlotte delivered Elle. I had the honor of carrying our newborn to an examination room where a nurse gently cleaned her lungs from phlegm and I nervously released her from the umbilical cord hanging from her belly button. Yup, it was surreal.

Fast forward 18 years later and here we are, November 7th, 2018. Charlotte and I have long been proud of what a wonderful human being Elle is. She’s got her heart in the right place and a good dose of street smartness to boot. And our daughter continues to inspire us in multiple ways. Not in the least being her ethical perspectives and views on animal rights.

Exactly where Elle’s biggest talent lay is too early to conclude. There’s a lot of stuff that grabs her attention and keeps her busy when not at work or school. Heck, I was closer to 25 before I realized that creativity in some shape or form was going to be my knack and calling. We’ll obviously be her biggest fans forever and whatever she decides to do.

If you’re reading this, Elle, know that we love you and congratulate you on the most auspicious of birthdays, the 18th.