#when I get out of college I want to start volunteering somewhere. probably an orphanage

[melonpond]

haven't posted much art in awhile so have this

[punkpoemprose]

December 5th- Secret Santa

Universe: Modern AU

Rating: G (General Audiences, fluff to the max)

Length: 5627 Words

A/N: It’s worth noting that I would probably get more pieces done if I kept my word count lower, but here we are. This lovely bit about volunteerism and falling in love proves, I think, that I have fully mastered the Hallmark Christmas movie formula. Thanks for being patient with me as I play catch up! Hopefully I’ll finish the rest of the fics I’ve started that were already supposed to be posted. Whoops!

The Bjorgman family was a large one, and it was no secret to anyone that their matriarch was always looking for “just one baby more” to join their ranks. It was how Kristoff had been adopted into the fold many years before, how his younger sisters and brothers, all adopted themselves, had come to be called as such. It was why every holiday was spent split between their family home and the small orphanage from which they all had been “found” by Bulda and Cliff.

The aged couple couldn’t really bring themselves to bring any new kids into the fold, but that didn’t stop them from finding ways to bring children into their family, and why Kristoff found himself lifting crates of apples off the back of his pickup truck, in the snow, to bring to the orphanage’s kitchens. Since his parents first realized they couldn’t have children themselves, since the day they found him eight years old with no family to call his own, they’d become the unofficial, official sunshine club for the children's home. They were forever coordinating donations, finding ways to organize events and trips for the kids, and Kristoff had grown up with the work being a part of him and a part of his life. Despite having been out from under his parent’s roof for three years, he never hesitated to find a way to help his family in their work to help the kids who weren’t so lucky as him and his younger siblings.

“Kristoff honey!” his mother yelled from one of the adjoining rooms as he dropped the final apple crate on the kitchen counter with the others. There were three more there, plenty enough for the amount of apple pies his mother planned to bake for their annual “desserts and dreams” program.

It was really just a party where the kids at the orphanage filled out their Christmas letters. It was a simple enough process, there was sugar and kids nervously writing usually very small requests on a piece of paper that they’d then hang on trees in local businesses and churches. Even people who couldn’t adopt a child could adopt their wishes for the holidays, and it was, generally something that they’d had great success with in the past.

Before his mother had stepped up, when he was still in the orphanage himself, there had been little celebration for the holidays. He still remembered the disappointment of no tree, no decorations but what he and the other children made themselves, and certainly the fact that there were no presents. But he remembered his first Christmas after being adopted clearer than that, he remembered how the whole house had seemed to glow with lights and tinsel and how he cried into his parent’s arms when he was given a present. It had been a lot to handle, and over the years he’d watched his younger siblings go through similar Christmas 180’s.

His parents hadn’t allowed another holiday without celebrating since for the kids in the orphanage. As they’d quickly learned their first year organizing the party, the year he’d turned 12, the community really did want to help give kids Christmas, they just didn’t know how. It had taken his mother and her fighting spirit to show them the way, and they hadn’t stopped since.

“Yeah Ma?” he shouted back, walking to the kitchen door to close it. It was flurrying out, and the last thing he needed was to hear about the puddles he’d caused by leaving the door open for a moment more than necessary.

“There’s a few new volunteers that need instruction. They just walked in, the rest of us are busy. Once you get the apples handled would you mind getting them on decorating?”

He huffed out a sigh, walking back through the kitchen, down the hallway and towards the room he assumed his mother was in. He wouldn’t tell her no. He couldn’t. Both because he really was unable to deny his mother any of her wishes, and because Bulda was not the type of woman who ever took “no” for an answer. Once she got something into her head, she was a woman on a mission until it got done. His father, Cliff, said that it was the whole reason they’d gotten married in the first place.

“She walked up to me in the middle of a football game and said ‘you’re gonna be my man’ and the rest is history”, was what he used to say. It was, truthfully, almost identical to the story of how he came to be their son. He still recalled her walking up to him, touching his cheek and saying “cutie, I’m gonna keep you”.  

He was decidedly not his mother’s son. He knew the irony of that well enough, but it was true. Bulda was outgoing as the day was long, and he was not. Working with people was not necessarily his strong suit, but he would admit to it, and he considered that something. Kids he was alright with, but other adults he preferred to avoid. It was also why when he wasn’t helping his mother, he did carpentry work. Of course he had to talk to people in order to determine what they needed done, but they rarely wanted to hold much of a conversation and that was good enough for him.

“Ah Ma,” he said as he walked into to room, seeing his mother toiling rather heroically over a desk piled high with envelopes and legers, “why don’t you let me handle the math for a little while, you know I’m not good with…”

“Pish posh!” his mother said, waving him off with a smile, “You know I have to run the numbers six times myself before I’m willing to let anyone else double check me, and that’s your father’s job. Go on, it’s just a couple regulars and a new girl, you’ll be fine.”

He gave serious thought to telling his mother that her definition of “fine” and his must be very different, but when he heard one of his younger sister’s calling out for help he thought better of it. They, as they always did, had their hands plenty full without his hemming and hawing about a simple task.

“Yeah, but tell me if you need more heavy lifting done, if I hear you and Dad lifted anything over three pounds I’m going to skip Christmas dinner.”

Bulda, for her part, feigned shock as he walked away. They both knew he wouldn’t dare.

***

“I’m umm…” the girl before him, Anna, was already the most difficult volunteer he’d ever worked with. Not that he thought that she was trying to be difficult, but it was clear to him that whatever she did, it was not usually volunteering at an orphanage’s pre-Christmas party. He had to admit though, that besides his family and the handful of recurring volunteers they’d trusted over the years, there probably weren’t many people that could say they volunteered at an orphanage’s pre-Christmas party.

“I’m pretty good at making paper snowflakes?” she offered.

It had been a simple enough question, he thought. He’d just told her that she was supposed to help make or hang decorations for the party, and had asked what she was good at. He hadn’t thought it was a difficult question, or an involved one. He’d really just meant to ask her whether she wanted to decorate or whether she wanted to make the decorations, but it hadn’t come out that way, and so he had a rather nervous, but very pretty redhead looking at him like she was on foreign soil.

“Okay,” he said, deciding that even if he wasn’t good with people, he could be polite at least for his mother’s sake. “There’s… uh, paper and scissors over at the table, I’m sure you can figure something out. Thanks.”

He did his best to kind of gesture to the table in question and back out of the room slowly to go find somewhere else to be, but she caught onto his sweater sleeve.

“You’re not going to…”

He wasn’t sure whether she meant “stay” or “help” or both. Under any normal circumstance he would say no and walk away, to go do something else helpful that wasn’t arts and crafts with a stranger, but this situation was far from normal to begin with, and she looked panicked. He really wasn’t certain as to why she was even there. She looked a little too old to be the usual college or high school kids they got for community service hours, and she looked too young to be one of the rich types from the nearby city who came for the photo-op. There was something in her eyes though, a determination mixed with her nervousness, and that’s why he sighed and, without giving her an answer, walked over to the table.

***

She was good at making snowflakes. Or at least she was much better at it than he was. Hers were delicate things that looked like they had fallen straight from the sky themselves, he had made sort of squarish abominations with chunks missing that looked more chewed out than cut. She was giving him an A for effort, but had a feeling that not even his mother could truthfully come up with a compliment for what he'd created. But Anna did.

"You're getting better everytime!" She said holding up his latest attempt, "It looks a lot more circular than the last couple!"

Despite the fact that she'd shown him three times how to cut the paper to end up with a snowflake instead of a snow brick, he was still managing to come up with a mess. He appreciated her patience though and despite his earlier reservations, he was finding her easy and even enjoyable to talk to.

"So what do you do for a living Anna?"

It seemed, again, a simple enough question, but when he saw her face go flush he thought that maybe he'd managed to offend her. 

"I uh... I'm unemployed at the moment. I just finished my degree in early childhood education though, so the goal is to teach."

He watched as she nervously ran her fingers over her braid, and tried to give her a reassuring smile. He had no idea how to talk to women, and while it seemed as if things had been going fine before he asked, he wasn't sure what he could do to make her more comfortable.

"That's great!" He said, trying to really show her that he meant it, "Volunteering with kids while you apply seems like a smart plan. My parents could write you a reference letter if you want."

She smiled shyly, "That would be nice, thank you. I'm just happy to help. I just really needed to do something that felt..."

She shrugged and looked to him for the word she was lacking.

"Meaningful?" He offered. It was the word he'd use to describe what he and his family did there. Rewarding and positive also came to mind, but at the end of the day, making something out of nothing for kids who barely had anything was one of the most important things he could think to do with his time.

She nodded and gave him a look of appreciation that he hadn't expected. She picked her scissors back up and went to work cutting another perfectly folded page.

"So do you work here?"

Kristoff shook his head. It felt like it most days really, especially during the holiday season when his mother and father seemingly had daily plans for the children housed there. Whether it was parties, organizing donations, crunching the budget to swing presents for children who hadn't received donations or taking nice photos of the children for various agencies to show perspective parents he almost always spent his evenings there. Oftentimes he showed up just to do a couple things and force his mother to go home. Some days she'd try to stay late into the night to get things done, and while he respected her greatly for it, she sometimes needed someone else to step in and make her rest. She often needed to be reminded that she couldn't save the world singlehandedly. 

"No, I'm a carpenter. I used to live here though, before..." he didn't know why he was telling her. Normally most of the volunteers knew him. He was "Cliff and Bukda's boy" to everyone in the community and they all knew that he was adopted. He certainly didn't look at all like his parents. But Anna wasn't from the area as far as he could surmise and she was perhaps one of the first people he'd ever needed to tell.

"Oh... I'm so..."

He waved her off before she could continue.

"Oh don't be, please. It's not a sore subject or anything. I was adopted when I was eight, and we've been coming back ever since to volunteer and help out the other kids. It's also how I acquired several siblings."

Her concern was sweet, but entirely unnecessary. As he glanced over to the opposite side of the room where his younger siblings were working with other volunteers to cover tables, put up decorations, and prepare papers and pens for letter writing Kristoff knew for a fact that he was one of the luckiest men alive. That he was talking to Anna and that they both seemed to be enjoying the he conversation despite it's awkward "getting to know you" was an unexpected addition to his luck.

She smiled at that and pulled apart her folding to reveal another perfectly cut snowflake. "That's really sweet you know. My family doesn't really..." She shook her head and he decided not to pry, "I'm glad you do this, and that I have the opportunity to help. It means a lot."

Kristoff grinned, "Well for the kids it means even more than you know. Thank you for coming to help out."

The soft way she reached over to touch his hand after setting down the snowflake was wholly unexpected, and it caused his heart to race in an unfamiliar way. He could feel his face warming.

“No, I mean… I’m sure it does, but I was trying to say, being able to do this means a lot for me. If that makes sense? Does that sound selfish? I’m not really…”

She trailed off and lifted her hand from his. He wasn’t really sure why he flipped his palm and caught her hand in his as she was drawing away. It was instinct, he just didn’t want her to think he thought she was selfish for feeling good about what they were doing. He thought that she was the type of person who should feel good about doing good things, he wanted her to feel good, and that was foreign.

“It does make sense,” he said looking her in the eye, secretly glad to see that he wasn’t the only one blushing. “I mean… this feels good, right?”

He was confused when he saw her eyes go wide and when she gave him a shy grin.

“It really does.”

***

Kristoff still wasn’t sure how he’d ended up catching an early dinner with her. They’d been talking, and then his mom had pulled him aside with the good news that someone had sponsored all the kids, plus some. An anonymous contribution marked “from Santa” which meant that every child would receive not just one gift, but a few. It was generous to say the least, and they hadn’t expected it.

When he’d returned to her, smiling, and feeling very good about the world, she’d mentioned needing to grab dinner before the party started and he’d said that they could go together. He had to ask himself whether it was a date. He hadn’t been on a date since high school, and that really didn’t count because it had just been once and then he’d never really seen the girl again other than in lunch. That had been all he needed to know that he was abysmally bad at dating, but now sitting across from Anna as she mowed through a burger, he really considered the idea that trying again might be worth it.

“So you’re not from around here?” he asked, knowing the answer. It was a small town, everyone knew everyone. She was new and other than the fact that he’d heard through the grapevine, AKA his mother, that she had moved into the old Arendelle place, a large empty manor house that had been in town for years, but uninhabited since before he’d been adopted.

“Well not really,” she said before poking a fry in her mouth and chewing thoughtfully, “My parents grew up here, and my sister and I lived here when I was a baby, but I don’t remember it. I was raised in the city.”

He nodded, “Must be a lot different there, I’ve only ever just driven through.”

She sighed, “Too different. Everything is so fast there…” she took another bite of her burger and with her mouth only slightly full, continued, “My sister likes it, but there’s things about the lifestyle there I’d rather… move away from? If that makes sense.”

It didn’t really make sense. He didn’t know enough about what she could be talking about for it to be making sense, but it didn’t really matter. He’d never been so interested in hearing someone speak, save for his family, and sometimes he didn’t even have an interest so much as he had a love for them that made it worthwhile.

“I can’t say I get it,” he said with a shrug, “but it is a lot slower out here, if you want to get away from something, this is the place to do it.”

She smiled, “I’m just excited to get a fresh start, you know? It’s nice to meet someone who’s so different from…” she trailed off, “Well my ex, I hope you don’t mind my brining it up, it’s just a big part of why I’m here now. I want to be a better person than who I was.”

He didn’t mind. He didn’t think there was anything she could say to him that he would mind hearing.

“I don’t think you can do that,” he said and nearly choked on his coke when he realized what he’d said versus what he’d meant.

“I mean!” he sputtered, “I don’t think you can be better because you already seem really great.”

She laughed. It was a beautiful sound, even when she snorted and covered her face with her hand.

“Well,” she said still laughing, “That’s sweet of you, but I’m afraid you don’t know me very well.”

“I’d like to.”

She grinned broadly, “I’d like that too.”

***

His sister, ten years younger than him and not even a quarter of his size, was pulling him down the hallway of the orphanage their parents had adopted them both from.

“Kris!” she said once they were far enough away from the main room where the kids were eating apple pie and writing their Christmas lists with the help of the volunteers, Anna included, and had his sister not stolen him away, the pair of them as well.

“What is it Jemma, we’re supposed to be helping the kids,” he gave what he hoped was a disapproving look, not that it ever affected any of his younger siblings. He might be the eldest, but he had no power over them. He tried to play tough, but at the end of the day they walked all over him like a doormat and he loved them too much to fight it.

“That girl you’ve been with all day, I know who she is.”

He rolled his eyes, “Yeah, we all do. Her name is Anna, she just moved here, she’s going to start teaching preschool in town once Mrs. Hollis goes off on maternity leave.”

His sister looked at him like he was stupid, throwing in an eyeroll for good measure.

“No Kris, I mean I’ve seen her before, in a magazine.”

He snorted. “That gossip rag you like that Mom keeps threatening to toss out?”

She treated him with another eyeroll, and he wondered if he was half the sass she was when he was thirteen. Somehow, he seriously doubted it, but in his experience, all teens were difficult until they hit sixteen or seventeen and realized just how much they didn’t know yet. With a few exceptions, amongst which he liked to consider himself at that age, even if his mother and father might disagree.

“It’s not a…”

He shot her a look and she trailed off. Even she couldn’t deny that it was, in fact, a gossip rag.

“Fine. But shut up for a minute and listen to me. She’s an heiress. Her name is Anna Arendelle, her parents owned Arendelle industries and when they died it all went to her and her sister. No one knew much about them, but then she started dating this guy Hans Westergaard who comes from like a massive family of Hollywood agents and it became kind of a big deal because he was spotted out at parties and stuff cheating on her with other women but they were engaged and...”

He stopped her with a shake of his head, “Look Jem, I don’t know if you’ve got the right girl or not here, and even if you do, I don’t need to know her backstory, she’s just nice and she’s…”

She jumped in then, “No, you do need to know because she’s not ‘just nice’, she’s volunteers at an orphanage in the middle of nowhere and pay $100 per kid for Christmas presents nice. Also, she’s single.”

Kristoff did not like the thing that his sister was doing with her eyebrows, he also didn’t like that she was implying that he should have an interest in her that was financially motivated, but he supposed that at thirteen thinking that way was more normal.

He did his best to emulate her eyeroll and wrapped an arm around her, dragging her back down the hallway and into the fantastically decorated dining space where the party was in full swing. “Go help some kids write their letters Jem you little troublemaker and I won’t tell Mom that you snuck and found out the identity of an anonymous donor.” There was no malice in his tone, and they both knew he would do no such thing.

From across the room, Anna’s eyes met his and he couldn’t help but hold her gaze and smile.

He didn’t care that she was an heiress. He didn’t care that she had just gone through some kind of highly publicized breakup. It didn’t matter to him.

What mattered was that she was one of the only people he’d ever enjoyed talking to. What mattered was the smile she gave him from across the room and how much she’d enjoyed dinner with him, though his newfound knowledge did explain why after fighting over the check they’d gone Dutch. He didn’t care about what she had in a bank account. He cared about how the little boy sitting with her was giggling, and how when she looked at the boy and he told her something in return, he could hear her laughing too.

He crossed the room and was not particularly subtle about moving to help a child who was just a few seats from where Anna sat.

***

A couple weeks had passed, and another party was well on the horizon. This time, his mother had insisted that he and Anna finish wrapping the massive pile of toys and gifts that they’d been able to purchase with the “anonymous” donation they’d been grateful for.

Kristoff was fairly certain that only he and Jemma were really aware of who Santa was, but at the same time, he knew for a fact that his mother had set up her party plans to keep him and Anna together through the process.

So he’d helped her move some boxes into her house. So they’d gone out to dinner a couple more times since they met. He didn’t see what the big deal was given that he was just trying to be friendly. That he’d helped her fix a squeaky cupboard and thought he’d felt her eyes on his rear, and that he’d blushed furiously because he’d thought he’d felt her eyes on his rear meant nothing.

He suspected Jemma had said something to their mother about how good they looked together or something because his younger sister and mother had shoved them in a room, together, alone, for what was going to be a couple hours of work.

Anna, smiling as she wrapped, seemed to be unaware of their scheming at least.

“So I was thinking, one of the other volunteers told me that there’s a Christmas craft market in the next town over tomorrow, and you know there’s only a week until the big day and I have to find something unique for my sister and trust me, she’s the woman who has everything…”

Something he’d learned about Anna was that she was an over-explainer. When she had something to say, but was worried about how it would be received, she ran on about it for a while, trying to justify what she was saying, even if she only needed to justify it to herself.

“I’d like to go with you if that’s what you’re asking,” he replied, trying desperately to try to fix some of his crumpled wrapping to make it look even slightly attractive next to her flawless work. He thought that maybe he should only be tasked with things that could go in bags and perfect squares. Any other shapes and types of gifts were his holiday kryptonite.

She clapped her hands together and cheered, making him smile.

She plucked the gift from his hands, and he relinquished it gladly, relaxing as she masterfully straightened and primped the paper until the object resembled a gift instead of a wad of paper and tape.

“Good because I was hoping to get some things for the other volunteers and for your family and you know everyone better than I do.”

He laughed, “I think you give my social skills too much credit.”

It was sweet of her to think about getting everyone gifts. He was happy that she was starting, through their little menagerie of family and church ladies and local likeminded folk, to build some friendships in town. She was a nice girl, she deserved to have nice people around her. He still wasn’t sure if that really included him or not, but even if as she met people she was interested in him less and less, he was happy to have been one of the first people to welcome her into town.

“No, I don’t think I do,” she said with a grin, “People like you. Even if you don’t talk to them much, they really like you. The other volunteers have so many nice things to say.”

He shrugged. Most people had good things to say about his whole family. Cliff and Bulda were good people and they did their best to raise their children well. He supposed it made sense that he’d be included amongst someone’s praises of his family.

“But yeah, thank you for agreeing to come. I’ve been really enjoying spending time with you.”

He laughed at that, “That’s a new one.”

She rolled her eyes and scoffed, “I’m serious, you’re fun to be around. You’re no strings attached and that’s nice. It’s…”

She waved her hand in the air as she searched for a word, finally landing on “refreshing.”

“Not so many blunt people in the city then?”

“No,” she said thoughtfully as she handed him a football, something neither of them were going to attempt to put in anything other than a bag. “They were blunt, but everyone always wanted something from you. They’d be blunt and rude and whatever else they thought they could get away with, but there was always an ulterior motive. They always just talked to me to get to my sister or I was a walking net worth. I wasn’t a person they wanted to get to know. I was a means to an end.”

He frowned when he heard the emotion in her voice. He was not good with crying girls, not even his sisters, so when he looked up at her and saw tears in her eyes he set the football down and scooted across the space on the floor between them and did his best to give her a comforting pat.

It just made her tears fall faster.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered as she leaned into him. They’d only known each other a short while, but already he was desperately connected to her. He’d thought that if she left his life as quickly as she’d come that he would be fine, but it was a lie, and he knew it. He was already falling for her, and that in and of itself was completely new territory.

He wrapped his arm around her as she leaned, his hand tentatively falling on her back in a comforting gesture. They were surrounded on all sides by gifts and wrapping paper and sundry and it struck him as a strange place to cry, but he didn’t think that telling her as much would help, so he just held on to her tightly.

“You shouldn’t be sorry,” she said, “You should be proud. You’re so nice to me and you don’t even get anything out of it.”

He smiled then, “I think you’re selling yourself short now. I get plenty out of being nice to you. Like you being nice to me. I don’t really have people lining up to be my friend you know, just Sven, and he’s a dog so he has to like me.”

She laughed at that, a little snort that accompanied her tears.

“But still,” she said, “I’m used to people wanting money from me… do you even know that I’m…”

“Rich?” he asked, then quickly added, “Jemma’s into gossip rags, but I don’t really care what they have to say about you. I don’t want money from you or anything like that, I just think you’re a good person Anna. Though, I will admit when we figured out you were Santa it did make me smile. What you did was very generous.”

She grinned then, still with some tears on her cheeks. “Ho, ho, ho?”

He laughed at that and pulled her in to his side a little tighter.

When she leaned up, looking determined, and asked him a question, he was surprised.

“What if I want something from you?”

He gave her a curious look. Her eyes were still a little wet, she was flushed and looked a bit nervous.

He responded quickly, because he knew the answer, “If it was something, I could give you, I would. Honestly I’ve been trying to figure out what to get you for the holidays since y—”

He didn’t get to finish what he was saying because she was shifting around and pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek. A quick one, but one that made it obvious enough what she was getting at.

He came to the sudden and sweeping realization that all the times he had asked himself whether going out with her and doing something was a date, she must have been asking herself the same.

“I don’t want to be that girl who leaves a relationship and hops right into another, but I really like you a lot Kristoff,” she said, nervously overexplaining herself again in a way he thought was beginning to find endearing, “I just think that maybe this is worth giving a shot? I think that you like me too, and if not that’s okay I think we’re good friends, and I know we’re still getting to know each other and everything but I just really want to take a chance because—”

He took a chance then too, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to her lips. When her arms wrapped around him and she leaned into the kiss, he knew he had made the right choice.

Her lips were soft against his and when their noses bumped together the soft laugh she treated him to, caused him to melt. She was perfect, and he counted himself the luckiest man on Earth that his Ma had forced him to be social a couple weeks before.

When the kiss broke, his forehead rested gently against hers and one of her hands moved from his back to card through his hair gently.

“Did you do that because you wanted to? Or because of the mistletoe?”

Though she asked the question, her voice was so full of mirth that he knew she was teasing. However, when he looked up and saw that there was, indeed, mistletoe hanging above them, he knew he had his mother and sister to thank.

When Anna started laughing though, he knew he couldn’t be mad about their interference.

“I noticed it when we walked in. I picked the spot on purpose,” she said, continuing to giggle as she spoke, her fingers leaving his hair to press against her lips as she blushed, “I was hoping you’d do that.”

He grinned in return. “I’d happily do so again… if you want me to, that is.”

She didn’t waste anytime closing the gap between them, presents at their sides forgotten for later. He’d never been so glad for a new volunteer in his entire life.

[pauldeckerus]

Worldwide Photo Walk 2018 Q&A

Above: The group shot of the local photo walk I led in Venice, Italy a couple of years ago — such a great group to walk with, which included my brother Jeff (behind me, far right), and Mimo Meidany (far left), and behind him, Italian legend of love, Roby Pisco.

Last week we announced my 11th Annual Worldwide Photo Walk (once again brought to you by our friends at Canon, and produced by KelbyOne), and today I wanted to do a quick Q&A to answer some of the questions that are already pouring in.  

Q. When is the official Photo Walk day? A. The official date is Saturday, October 6, 2018 

Q. Scott, are you leading a Local Walk again this year? A. You bet!I’m leading a local photo walk in Innsbruck, Austria (I’ve already posted the details for my Innsbruck walk  — I hope if you live in the Innsbruck area, or like me, you’ve dreamed of going to Innsbruck, you can join me). Here’s a link to my walk. :)

Q. What do you do on a Photo Walk? A. You start by meeting with up to 50 other photographers at a central meeting point. Then a Photo Walk Leader leads the group on a leisurely paced stroll through an area that is photographically interesting; you take lots pictures; you can chat with other folks (photo walkers are very friendly by nature); you laugh, you enjoy being outside with a group of like-minded folks.  Then, after around 2-hours, you wind up at a local restaurant, pub, cafe, etc. (chosen in advance by the walk leader), where you can have a meal, some drinks, and make some new friends.

It’s a social event, and it’s really a blast (and you get to make some cool pictures, which is always good).

Q. Where do I sign up to join a walk in my city? A. Visit the official Worldwide Photo Walk Website, and click the “Find a Walk” button to see if there’s a walk set-up in a city near you. If there is, and there are spots still available, you can sign up right there for free and join that walk. If there isn’t a walk in your city, maybe you can start one and lead it yourself (more on that in a moment). And if you don’t see any in your area, keep checking back because new walks in new cities are being added every day.

Q. Why isn’t there a walk in my city? A. We don’t choose the cities. Photo walks take a place in a city because a volunteer in that city contacts us and says they are willing to form and lead a walk. Any city can have a walk — it just takes the right person in that city to volunteer to organize a walk. They can apply to lead a walk on the official site.

Q. Is there a fee to participate? A. There is no fee — it’s totally free.

Q. Does the walk have a social mission? A. Absolutely. Each year we “Walk with a Purpose” to benefit the Springs of Hope Orphanage in Nakuru, Kenya. Walkers from around the world raise funds to help the orphanage feed, clothe and care for some very wonderful children who need our help. We do it from simple one-dollar donations. This is totally optional, but when you sign up for a walk, you’ll have the option of donating just $1 to the orphanage via Paypal. 100% of your donation goes directly to the orphanage, and last year we were able to raise nearly $20,000. This year we’re trying to hit $25,000, and with your help, we can do it! You cannot imagine what a difference this makes to the orphanage (and it would mean a lot to me that you’re helping. :)

So, if you could donate just $1 when you’re on the site that would be awesome (and you’ll be helping more than you know), but again, it’s totally optional. By the way, you can give more than a buck if you’d like — some folks give a $hundred — we’ve had folks donate a $thousand, which of course, just makes our head explode with joy!

Above: Here’s the group shot from the walk I led in 2011 in Tampa, Florida. It was fairly warm, but the people were hot (and I mean that in the nicest non-naughty way possible). Kathy and Barb were there. What could go wrong? ;-)

Q. What happens when a local walk fills up? A. We have a waiting list for each sold out city, so if someone cancels, it automatically adds (and notifies) the next person on the list.

Q. How many is full? A. Each Photo Walk is limited to a maximum of 50 photographers. If that doesn’t sound like a lot, you haven’t seen 50 photographers coming down the sidewalk at the same time, and later all converging at once on a restaurant or pub. It’s more like a scary bike gang (except without the bikes, or gang, or scariness).

Q. Why do we limit each Photo Walk to just 50 photographers? A. Click here for the explanation.

Above: That’s a group shot from the walk I led in 2013 in Rome. Hey, I see Serge Ramelli next to Kalebra and me! 

Q. If I led a walk last year, can I lead a walk again this year? A. We would love that! Check your email inbox — we sent out invitations already to last year’s leaders, so keep an eye out for it.

Q. Is there a photo contest again this year? A. Absolutely! The best photo in each city (as chosen by your local Walk Leader) wins a prize (we’re working on just what that will be right now). From those local walk winners I will choose 10-finalists, who all get great prizes, and then I choose a single Grand Prize winner, who just gets an insane amount of stuff.

Q. I see on the site that Canon is the Sponsor. Does that mean the Grand Prize might include a camera and a lens? A. I would think yes! A separate post is coming on all the awesome prizes we have lined up for this year.

Q. Do the 10 Finalists win? A. You bet! I’ll be listing them in my upcoming post on all the prizes for the walk.

Q. Do I have to enter the prize competition? A. Absolutely not — it’s totally optional — you don’t have to upload even a single photo for the contest).

Above: That’s the group shot of the local photo walk I led in Sydney, Australia in 2015. We started our walk at the world famous Sydney Opera House. 

Q. Are any cities with Photo Walks organized yet? A. Yes! We already have walks set-up all over the world, with more being added every day! There are walks all over the world who would love to have you join them!

Above: That’s my group shot from my Tarpon Springs Photo Walk a few years back. My wife and I made a very dear friend in that photo walk.

Above: That’s a group shot from my London Photo Walk two years ago. Dave Willaims and Peter Treadway are in there somewhere. Two top men. My friend Bryan is in there. So is Brad. Mike is there, too! Looks like Cathy Baitson snuck in there as well. Lots of cool folks, and lots of great memories.

Q. How can I lead a Photo Walk in my area? A. You apply over at the official Worldwide Photo Walk website — just click on the “Lead a Walk” button (or just click here).

Q. What does it take to become a Photo Walk Leader? A. We’re looking for people who have experience leading groups, so if you’re the president of your local camera club, or a college teacher, or photography instructor, or you run a local camera store, or you’ve lead Photo Walks in your area before, so you’re familiar with keep a group of up to 50 people happy, safe and healthy, etc., you’re likely to get accepted fast to be a leader. We ask for your qualifications on the leader application, and that’s the type of experience we’re looking for.

Q. What if my city already has a Photo Walk, but I want to lead a walk, too? A. Most big cities can accommodate more than one walk, and so as soon as one starts to fill up, we add a 2nd or even a third or fourth depending on the response and city size. Also, if the walks are held geographically far from each other but technically in the same major city, we usually add those, too. (For example, New York City could have walks in Central Park, SoHo, Chinatown, and Times Square, and probably a half dozen other locations)

Above: This is the group that I led in Ybor City, Florida back in 2009. I hated these people. Of course, I’m just kidding – they were awesome – I just wanted to see if you were paying attention. Worked, didn’t it? ;-)

  Above: That’s my group shot from my Paris, France photo walk. Yes, that’s is our friend (and Photoshop World instructor) Serge Ramelli standing next to my wife Kalebra. You get extra points if you recognized Serge from my Rome walk group shot as well. 

Q. Is there a separate Contest For Photo Walk LEADERS? A We have that, too! It’s our way of honoring the photographic work of our dedicated and talented leaders. The best image submitted from a leader will win an awesome prize package as well.

Q. Do we have cool t-shirts for Walkers & Leaders? A. You betcha! Here’s the link. (order yours right now so you can wear it during for the walk and look all cool and everything, like the model you see in the photo above — but even cooler).

100% of the profits from the sale of these t-shirts go directly to the Springs of Hope Orphanage in Kenya for the feeding, medical needs, clothing, education and care for these great kids. Last year we raised nearly $5,000 just from these t-shirt sales alone (imagine how much $5,000 alone means to a small orphanage).

Here’s the link to the t-shirt store (they come in multiple styles and colors).

NOTE: We have special LEADER shirts as well (Leaders —  we’ll be posting a link on your leader’s dashboard).

Above: OK, not exactly a posed group shot, but it is my group, seen here in a behind-the-scenes shot from the very FIRST Photo walk ever — back in 2008 – this one is in Dunedin, Florida.

Q. I want to know more about this Photo Walk thing. Where do I go? A. There’s an FAQ on the Website (here’s the link) but it’s a lot of the same stuff I have here, but there is some contact info if you need to get in touch with us directly.

Q. Where do I go for the latest Photo Walk information? A. Stay up-to-date by following us on our Twitter page and Facebook Page (If you talk about the walk on social – we would love it if you would include the hashtag #wwpw2018).

Plus, I’ll be sharing some tips and techniques videos here, along with other fun stuff to get you ready for the big walk on Saturday, October 6th, 2018.

I hope you join us this year as we “Walk with a Purpose” to help the Springs of Hope Orphanage in Kenya and as we make worldwide photographic history once again!

All my best,

-Scott

P.S. We want as many people to participate as possible, so anything you can do to help us spread the word about the walk would be greatly appreciated. Could you share it on forums, on social, with your camera clubs, and anywhere cool photographers hang out? Many thanks. :)

The post Worldwide Photo Walk 2018 Q&A appeared first on Scott Kelby's Photoshop Insider.

from Photography News https://scottkelby.com/worldwide-photo-walk-2018-qa/

[theramblingonesie]

GoFuckMe: Humility in Activism

This blog is just as embarrassing as it is enlightening me for to write.

Backstory:

On September 19th, 2017, Mexico City was rocked hard by a 7.1 earthquake, eerily occurring on the 32nd anniversary of one of the most devastating earthquakes in the city’s history.  Hundreds killed, hundreds more injured.  38 buildings collapsed, and over 300 homes, schools, hospitals and office buildings were forced to close due to damage. 9,000 schools closed, leaving thousands of children idle, and many, but not all, are slowly beginning to reopen.  

Mixed reports flew around. Most media focused on unimaginable the tragedy and destruction.  My friends all reported back that they were okay, but scared and emotional after the damage, so I didn’t want to press them for details.

I received this news while I was filming in Ireland.  I was a bit stressed because where I was located was in the middle of the woods sans T.V. or internet, but had enough cell service to push emergency texts through if need be.  It was so surreal, and I had such little information that I didn’t know how to react, until I heard a news report on the radio that 22 children had died when a school collapsed.  That was all I needed to know for my heart to break open and bleed everywhere.  

I’ve been living back and forth between the U.S. and Mexico for the better part of the last year while working on The Scarlet Tongue Project.  Prior to my move, I had traveled to Mexico for a couple visits, once to meet the organizers of Ambulante, and then to meet Katia Tirado, who is now a deeply important artist in the film, as well as my Mexican mom, mentor, and dear friend.  It seemed pretty clear that Mexico had sunk her teeth into me, and that I wouldn’t be getting away anytime soon.  The abundance, perspective, experience, and massive life overhaul I’ve experienced since being here is beyond anything I could have imagined prior, and I owe so much to this country and the people here.  

Upon hearing that this city I love was in pain, I knew I had to give back.  But %$#@*&^% how?? I didn’t have any money at the time (because if you ever want to take a financial security laxative, produce an independent film that requires travel), so I wasn’t able to give much to any organizations.  I did, however, have a beautiful empty apartment that remained in-tact after the quake.  “Ah-ha, there it is. Direct action. I have a thing. I am not using it. There are people who lost their homes. They can use my house while they transition into long-term housing.  Katia can give them the key. Done.”

I went from feeling powerless and overwhelmed to focused and energized.  I passed the word on to friends to let me know if they knew of anyone in need.  I got in touch with my roommate to get the okay from her, we put our minds together, finalized a plan that would work for both of us, and hit launch on a GoFundMe campaign to make it all happen.  Right before we hit go, Katia called to say she had two friends who had lost their home and had been sleeping on the street who wanted to move into our space immediately. Okay, this was important.

Within two weeks, we reached our goal.  We just needed enough of a boost to make the house hospitable to guests.  At the start of the campaign, we didn’t have a fridge, kitchenware, bedding, towels, shelving, curtains, nothing.  When either my roommate or I are in town, we live that ultimate college freshman bachelor life—bed, clothes, a lamp, and takeout for every meal.  It didn’t sit right with us to open our home to people suffering trauma, only to have them sit and pass the time in a space that offered little more than a towel-less hot shower in a jail cell.

I had already been booked to come back to Mexico, but I changed my flight for a little later than originally planned because everyone cautioned me not to arrive in the middle of the aftershock period.  Finally, mid-October, I arrived, money in hand, ready to hit the ground running. Admittedly, I was confused when I was in the taxi from the airport to my house.  Things looked…..normal.  Business in my neighborhood seemed up and running as usual.  And I found out that the people who needed our house ended up finding an immediate long-term housing situation.

Huh. Well, great! But also, this is awkward…..

I had spent so much time leading up to this trip preparing myself to enter a full-blown crisis.  I thought my neighborhood would look something like a zombie apocalypse scene.  Okay, not quite that dramatic, but that’s how the news made it sound.

I took this as an opportunity to gain new perspective and be informed by the local people, now that I was actually on the scene.  The first 24 hours were spent in full action mode.  Even if we had lost our first set of tenants, I was so sure that if I built it, the people would come.  I went to various stores and the local market to check off our required item list, even being that crazy tiny person walking down the street carrying tables and shelves. My mind was in movie/storybook mode—surely if I put in this much effort and powered through, the plan would still come together.  I would have a house full of babies and moms, cooking dinner, feeling safe, and taking the time they needed to recuperate and transition into their new lives. I was so sure.

But the days were passing, and no news.   I started getting really nervous, and then mildly depressed, so I suspended spending while I awaited any word that my efforts were even necessary.  I wasn’t ready to give up, especially while I was holding the responsibility of using other people’s generous donations, so I began neurotically doing research.  I knew that somewhere, someone had to be in need.  I’ve never lived anywhere where someone didn’t need some help.   I sent countless emails to any organization I could find that was working on the local disaster relief, letting them know that I had available temporary shelter.  I google searched myself cross-eyed looking for local centers and shelters who might need help with extra food or housing.  I posted the apartment to Airbnb’s Open House branch, which lists free houses in crisis areas.

Any American organization just did what most Americans do best, and just said “I dunno” or passed me off to someone else who might care, and then that person would say “thanks, no thanks”, if they even responded at all. Airbnb never turned up any results. I emailed them twice asking if my listing had even gone through, because they were desperately begging for homes on their site, so the fact that I wasn’t getting any requests seemed strange to me. They replied to me with little more than a sentiment of “probably!”  Many of the local Mexican centers didn’t respond (probably because my subpar Spanish makes me sound like a crazy person), except an orphanage that would be delighted to have me come hold babies and teach English….provided that I could commit to volunteering one day every week consistently for a year.  I absolutely 1000% agree with and understand that policy, but sadly I am unable to be anywhere consistently for a year right now.

How was this possible? They said everything was awful?? I’m not connecting something….

Upon reading updated news articles, I discovered that what the media didn’t want to cover is how absolutely beautiful, compassionate, hard-working, fast-working, and community/family-oriented Mexicans are.  By the time I had arrived on the scene, much of the work was taken care of.  Most folks were taken in by their families and close friends while searching for housing.  When the call for supplies and volunteers went out, most organizations became overwhelmed and had to send people away, because there were too many volunteers and too many supplies. Every bleeding heart in this city of 22 million people felt a personal duty to step up and be in service, presenting a new “problem” for these organizations needing to find ways to schedule and rotate volunteers in order to accommodate the abundance of available help.  Even restaurants all over the city were offering free meals, and donating percentages of what they brought in to various local relief agencies.  

Holy shit, I had no idea. This was inspiring beyond anything I had ever seen on such a large scale.

This is where my heart and ego split.

Ego:

“OMG, I am sitting on hundreds of dollars from donors who trusted me to follow through with this project. I just ran a fraudulent campaign. No one is ever going to trust me again for anything.”

“I have to give this money back. They’re all gonna think I’m a thief.”

“Someone has to be suffering. Someone. I don’t believe this. I WILL FIND A FAMILY WHO NEEDS ME.”

“This is my fucking legacy: ‘Here lies Sam, she who makes giant claims only to cry wolf and run off with other people’s money. Failed artist, failed activist. May her eyeballs be eaten by worms for all eternity.’”

“I can do better. It’s not over yet. I made a promise. It’s not over. Keep researching.”

“I just suck and can’t do anything right.”

“Nobody needs you. Was this even about anyone else but yourself?”

Heart:

“Wow, this is amazing. What a stunning display of community and family commitment. Mexicans are beautiful, giving humans.”

“If no one is reaching out, it means that their needs are met.  That is excellent news.”

“I am so happy to see that life is returning to the city, and that people can repair their lives and heal from this tragedy.”

“You really went above and beyond to do your best. Be proud. It’s okay. Other people have it under control.”

“Surrender and be grateful.”

Because I was left with no choice but to stop and sit still, I got to take a good look at these two pieces of myself.  In the end, my heart won out.  As I told a few others, I am not about to pray for the suffering others so that I, as a white American who had the privilege of being far away when the disaster stuck and had no friends or family who were hurt or displaced, can look good in a small campaign.  If I am truly not needed and know that I did my best, then it is my responsibility to surrender and be honest.

What do I mean when I say it’s “my responsibility to surrender and be honest”?  A few things.  Some of which I knew previously, but this experience certainly opened my eyes and really drove it home.  I’ll begin with a quick story:

About 5 or 6 years ago, I traveled with a group of wonderful and accomplished women to Guatemala for a week-long internship as part of a “Women Leading Change” program.  Our mission was to meet with local, impoverished village women to discuss plans for building a women’s shelter there.  We were all white, American, and mostly far above the poverty line.  We were, by many standards, the faces of first world privilege.  I’ll never forget the one big meeting, where a room filled up with local women to hear our proposal, and then give us feedback.  And this was the feedback:

“We don’t want your shelter. We need money.  Give us money so we can support ourselves.”

This was an unparalleled humbling experience, I think for many of us in the group.  It led to a more authentic discussion, and the leader of our group took this information, went to several other smaller meetings, and revised her plan in a way that it would truly benefit these women as they had informed us.  I was very inspired by the grace and energy behind our leader, and her humility in allowing the original plan to die and be rebirthed as something that actually honored the requests of the women who needed help.

This is a frequent error of Americans, particularly white Americans.  Even in our activism, we can slip into being know-it-alls, status driven, stubborn, deaf, and even bullies.  We, more often than we’d like to admit, exploit these other cultures for whatever personal gain, and then turn around and brag about how giving we are. Research the Peace Corps, NGOs, and philanthropic organizations.  Research missionary organizations.  Many of them are not who they want you to think they are, and they’re not exactly doing what you think they’re doing.

See: shit white people do.

See: blind spots

See: we can do better.

I knew in my mind and my heart that I needed to surrender and let Mexico inform me on what She needed. I saw how dangerously close I was to developing a White American Savior complex, and I goddamn knew better than to do that.  Mexico didn’t need me in the way I thought, and I needed to back off and respect that. My heart kept me in check, and I was able to replace my paranoia and insecurities with relief, softness, and mindfulness.

I will say, however, that I am glad for my ego.  I used to subscribe to the ego-death camp.  The only way one can truly find bliss and truth is through killing your ego!!! Mm, sure.  What I later came to find is that the only way one can truly find bliss and truth is not to kill the ego, but to give it a real job.  I’m learning, through my anxiety (haha), that the ego is the part of us that keeps our bodies safe.  If you wanna look at it from a “spiritual” perspective, I believe that our bodies are the meat cars that transport our souls and allow us to experience the world and live our truest will.  No body = no earth experience.  I also find that our egos are the parts of us that push us to honor our contracts with others.  It’s the healthy fear and respect that make us show up on time, honor our relationships, keep our promises, tell the truth, and try hard to reach our goals.  When I combined my heart feels with the healthy power of my ego, I was able to stand down, humble myself, and wait to be informed rather than push to take the lead.  I was able to free up space in my body to remember to smile and be genuinely kind.  I was able to give thanks for the support and security I was seeing and reading about. I was also able to be honest, upfront and transparent with my donors.  

Though my tail was tucked, I knew the situation was out of my control, and I owed it to the people who invested in me to tell them what was up.  I also thank my ego for not allowing me to stop at just enough.  I found alternatives for my donors to select where they wanted their gifts transferred to if they didn’t want a refund.  At this point, what is mostly needed is millions of dollars to rebuild the lost and damaged buildings.  The government claims that what is needed is past their disaster relief budget, so projects are looking outward to others, both in Mexico and internationally to help fund this.  I waited until I was absolutely certain that my personal mission wasn’t going to be fulfilled at this time, because I didn’t want to defeat my efforts prematurely, and then wrote to my donors to explain everything. While I still haven’t heard back from everyone, I am incredibly grateful and relieved by the kindness and understanding I’ve received back.  Both my heart and ego are aligned with the knowing that I did everything I could with all of the information and resources I had, and followed through in integrity when it didn’t manifest.  

With the frustration, personal evolution, and sudden free time I had during this experience, I reflected on what ingredients go into good activism, and what real altruism looks like. I think that to get things done, ego is important.  As I said above—it keeps you motivated and committed.  I even see the benefit of having fame and popularity as activists, as well as the use of strong marketing practices, because this allows you a louder voice and larger audience for sharing your passion and mission.  At the same time, it’s important not to lose your heart or your footing in reality.  If your need to be seen as “good” begins to outweigh the positive impact you’re having on your community or particular cause, it’s important to check back in with yourself.  When I found myself being angry that no one needed my house, I knew I was out of alignment. When my embarrassment of my perceived failure took me out of the flow of really understanding what was happening, I knew I needed to have a come-to-Jesus moment.  The greatest thing I learned in all of this:

You don’t need to be a hero to make a difference.  For me, I feel good when I can give something physical and direct, whether it’s materials or a personal service, because I don’t often have money to donate.  But if nobody needs what you’re offering, and you don’t have extra money to donate to a cause, what else can you do?

1.       Spend your money on the local economy.  Are you going to an area in economic crisis or struggle?  Give them your dollars.  Don’t haggle.  Pay full cost.  Buy your food from local vendors and restaurants. Tip at least 20%.  Buy your clothes and furniture from local vendors. Local local local (except the bougie boutiques that settle into low-income areas and sell products that no one who lives there could actually afford. Eff those guys).

2.       Get involved with local organizations already hard at work.  Don’t be a White First-World Hero, unless your vision is truly informed, authentic, and beneficial.  If your cause puts someone else local out of business, overpowers the voice of the oppressed, or prevents people from getting other resources they may need, seriously rethink.  If your cause is exploiting or pulling more away from the local economy than contributing, rethink.  Be okay with working under someone else who knows what they’re doing and is already making a real, positive impact.  While my cause was based off a resource I already had that I could directly offer, I tipped dangerously close toward ignoring other organizations in favor my own work when it looked like I might not be able to follow through.  Not cool.  I turned it around, but damn was that a humbling look at my own privilege shadows.

3.       Smile.  Be kind.  No, this is not encouragement to appeal to misogyny.  You’re smiling and being kind because kindness matters, the world is in pain, we are all overworked and stressed, and we could all use a lot more love.  If you are a person of privilege, the last thing the world needs is more of your (our) cranky, consumer, elitist, insensitive behavior or demands.  People of privilege already raise a red flag of being unsafe.  Try on the face and mannerisms of someone who comes in peace.  Important note: Do not leave yourself open and try to exude flowery-love in dangerous situations.  Keep your head down and get thee to safety.

4.       Start conversations and bring awareness to issues.  Engage in conversations already happening.  Give credit to minds that inspired you so others can follow their hard work.  Educate yourself, help educate others, and learn how to be a better ally.

5.       Work on you. Work on being the best you that you can possibly be.  Work on your heart.  Work on your dream.  When people feel fulfilled, they are more inclined to love, share, listen, and be honest. When people feel fulfilled, they are less likely to hurt others.  If you can do nothing else, do your part to not add more hurt to the world.

6.       Don’t litter. Really. Ugh, gross.

I’m very grateful for my dumb personal crisis with this attempted housing project, because it forced me to sit down, breathe, and re-evaluate.  It gave me both the energy, space and quiet to educate myself and understand what was really going on, what was needed, and other areas I could get involved.  I found new strength in the humility.  I ended up having a meeting with a local birthing center that’s going to let me volunteer in exchange for classes, and I’m so excited for how this will further my career, which will further the ways I’ll be qualified to be in service to a wider variety of communities.  I also sat with the reasons why I have my apartment in Mexico, and whether I need to figure out a plan to use it to somehow give back to the community, or let it go so I’m not hoarding a space I’m only in a few months out of the year while there are other people here who need permanent, full-time housing.  Is this a luxury, or is there a greater plan?  If there’s a plan, it needs to kick into action, because we are not living in times where we can energetically afford to be selfish or idle.  I feel less like of a failure and more like a fool who’s a little wet behind the ears, and that’s okay.  It’s a reminder that no matter how much you think you know, there will always been an infinite amount to learn and discover.  I��m glad I got to have this experience, because if I truly want to align with being helpful, then I need to learn what that really means.

I hope this inspires you to get out there and tip the scales back to some kind of balance, because we’re living in a really ugly world right now.  At the same time, there is incredible love and incredible beauty out there still, and that’s worth acknowledging.  Your efforts are not futile; you may simply need to shift gears and plans like I did. As I remind myself—every little bit counts.  You just have to try <3

Thanks for reading and for sharing your light in the world!