Story
I didn’t grow up thinking “bucket list.” I just liked being with my family and carrying a camera. During my consulting years we were blessed with no-blockout annual passes to Disneyland and Disney California Adventure. I only share that to explain why we have so many pictures there—and so many good memories. The park was our long walk after a long week.
I wasn’t chasing rides. Most nights I was chasing light. My kids and my wife did their favorites, and I did mine: “it’s a small world” for the melody I can’t shake and “Soarin’” for the way it makes your heart feel bigger than your chest. Between those two, I was usually off finding a quiet corner to photograph, waiting for the crowd to thin the way a tide pulls back.
We spent more than a few Christmas Eves at the Disneyland Hotel and Christmas Day in the park—again, not to show off, just to be together somewhere that made us smile. In other seasons, when I worked with an aerospace team and later in perinatal healthcare, our groups sometimes held Christmas parties at Disneyland. I’d still slip away for a few minutes, because the castle looks different every night, and the fireworks give you one more excuse to try again.
A lot of those photos are still on old memory cards from three cameras. I know—process them already. But there’s something honest about leaving a few dreams unwrapped. The parks taught me that: you don’t need a louder life; you need a longer patience.
Walt said, “All our dreams can come true, if we have the courage to pursue them.” For me, courage looked like staying five minutes longer, carrying a tripod when my back complained, and coming back when the last shot failed. It’s a small practice, after all—but small things add up.
If you see Disney or temple photos here, that’s what they’re made of: family time, a stubborn camera strap, and the quiet belief that good light rewards people who are kind and who stay.
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