Memoir Chapter I

It's a fine day to begin something by going back in time. There isn't any certain order and I apologize for that...I am not a memoirist or novelist with intent but by nature I tell stories.

We stood outside the Arco Iris in Naco Sonora with our cameras in position, apertures right and focused on the three prostitutes outside the bar's front door. I took the best photo at the fine young age of seventeen. The two other photogs present were seasoned experts. One of them (Byrd) had studied a bit with Ansel Adams and the other(Fresina) spent years working for the Syracuse Herald Tribune and had a Master's Degree in Fine Arts. Fresina had also served as a photographer in Viet Nam and Byrd had travelled with the Beatles. My experience with cameras started with a Brownie Box that my mother dug out of our neighbor's trash and my father repaired. We sent off for the Kodak 616 film which was no longer produced by the company but still available on demand.

My first photos were of the usuall things kids take pictures of...their friends, pets and flowers in the yard. Because the old Brownie had no advanced mechanical features, those photos were blurry and naive but beautiful all the same. My next camera was a Polaroid Land Camera which produced instant pictures without negatives. One of a kinds. I'm not sure what the Arco Iris was shot with but I remember the moment it was taken as if it happened just yesterday.

I comment on it because between photo exhibit A and photo exhibit B, my innocence was lost, taken or otherwise destroyed. Such dramatic recognaissance but true all the same. The episode used to occupy my thoughts much more than it does now. This is my story and it is aimed at those who do not know that they are muslims and that Islam was meant for everyone on the planet, not just the Arabs.