In a tropical childhood that colorfully rumbled through chaos, sunburn, clouds of bougainvillea, and mass perspiration I was blessed with devoted parents. My father, “the coach,” pushed me to become a swimmer even before I could store memories. I am blessed by that shove, but also his later willingness to share his hobby with me. He loved photography, even to the point of converting one of our small rooms into a dark room where he taught me to brew negatives and make prints.

He passed a year ago, suddenly, and he’s been on my mind ever since. Last August, on what would have been is 86th birthday, I spread his ashes in the Spokane River, where many of these photos were taken. So, yes, this collection is dedicated to him, with gratitude and a whole heart.

all images (c) copyright, 2018, Tim Connor