Who is This Man?

First off, I think that I am a pretty nice guy. Those who have known me for a while feel that I have mellowed considerably over the years. Why? Because I have. I am a pretty good photographer and a great teacher and educator. I have been lucky but much of my luck as it often is has been the result of hard work. I have tried to be a good father to my two wonderful daughters and a good grandparent to my four little ones, two of whom are not so little. I have always been opinionated and that will never change 🙂 I will always tell you the truth unless I think that it might hurt you. There are lots of negative stories about me out there and I am proud of the fact that pretty much all of them have been generated by folks who have never met me, by folks who do not know me at all.

My very dear lady friend Denise Ippolito asked me a few weeks ago to answer some interview questions for her and I agreed. She combined my answers with her views on the real me and posted the whole shebang on her blog (A Creative Adventure) today. I have done more than my share of interviews over the years and I gotta say that it is the most honest in-depth one I have ever done. If you’d like to get to know me better check out Denise’s October 24, 2010 blog post here.

To whet your appetite, here is an excerpt from Denise’s story (as she calls it):

I learned a lot about Artie the “man.” He is a wonderful father and grandfather. He loves his 2 daughters and his grandchildren very much. Seeing him run around with them makes me see the young boy inside of him. He always reminds me of a kid with his boyish charm. He has a devilish smile and grin. He loves to read and I love it more when he reads to me. He tells me stories about everything. He is a great storyteller.

Artie is not much into style and he barely brushes his hair. His eyebrows are over grown and his T-shirts all have stains on them. He makes no concessions for the way he looks and doesn’t give a darn who cares. He wears his glasses around his neck like a necklace. I’m not fond of that look. His words sometimes cut like a knife. He doesn’t see that he can be viewed as inconsiderate by others. Sometimes in a restaurant he is curt with the wait staff. We are worlds apart when it comes to that. I don’t think he sees himself as slightly rude. He sees it as- he knows what he wants and he is ready to order and why wait? He is however very kind and sweet most of the time. He is unique in a lot of ways. He tirelessly answers all his own e-mails and some at great length. He is very stubborn, sometimes rehearsed, selfish to a certain degree, he has tunnel vision and is clearly focused, he can be confrontational, articulate, argumentative, clumsy on occasion, very gifted with words, and smart as a whip. He can be very one-dimensional, is very talented, driven, passionate, aggressive, opinionated, hard working, and timid- yes timid. He is a devoted man with a kindness that he shields.

And here is question 9 along with my answer.

9) Are there any profound experiences in your life that has affected the way you approach photography and your career?

Yes, there are two.

The first is my relationship with my late-Dad, Private First Class Robert E. Morris. Bob Morris, who loved his stamps the way I love my birds, was severely injured on Okinawa towards the end of World War II. After his death in 2001, I read his warm, loving , war-time letters to my Mom and realized that he had been profoundly affected by both the war and his war injuries. He was a typical WWII dad: a stern, cold taskmaster who was not big on either hugs or praise. I somewhat jokingly say that the nicest thing that he said to me when I was growing up was a growled “Take out the damned garbage.” And our relationship deteriorated throughout my adulthood though in the few years immediately preceding his death he did mellow some.

For as long as I can remember I have been motivated to do my very best at anything I chose to undertake. I practiced hard in my teens and became a proficient bowler and did the same in my late teens and early twenties with golf, eventually becoming a four handicapper and captain of my (not very good) college golf team. In my twenties and early thirties I would rather die than lose a game of pick-up basketball. And after a few years of struggling at the beginning of my elementary school teaching career I became a truly superb classroom teacher in the New York City system. And I have the Lesson Evaluation letters from Principal Irwin Schwartz to prove it. I firmly believe that during the middle ten years of my teaching career I was a better teacher then than I am a bird photographer today. And I do think that I am at present a pretty good bird photographer, writer, and educator. What drove me all those years and continues to drive me today? The desire to hear the praise from others that I never heard from my Dad. Before his death I did get to write him a letter thanking him for being a mean sob and explained that his actions had been largely responsible for my many successes. My younger sister Arna read him my letter and she told me that as she read to him he was smiling from ear to ear. Since his death I have come to realize that he did in fact love me a lot, he just had trouble showing it. (See: Seeing Your Life Through New Eyes; Insights to Freedom from Your Past.) And furthermore I have grown to the point where simply knowing that I am doing my best is more than enough for me. Kind words of praise from others are now viewed as icing on the cake.

The second is the death of my late-wife, Elaine Belsky Morris. I lost her and her wonderful smile on November 20, 1994. Elaine was my best friend and my biggest supporter. The love that we shared was as great as anyone could ever wish to know. Her death –as one might expect–turned out to be the single most profound experience of my life, and the most painful as well. But in the end her death led me to a newfound peace through The Work of Byron Katie. I have become a lover of what is. For seven years I wallowed in the grief of Elaine’s death. The Work taught me that my suffering was a choice and that I could easily have chosen happiness instead. (I first learned about The Work from my dear friend and health guru Dr. Cliff Oliver of San Diego. Thanks Cliff!)

Let’s do The Work on Elaine’s death: “Elaine should not have died.” Is it true? “Sure.” Do I know it to be absolutely true? “Well, no.” How do you feel when you have that thought, Elaine should not have died? “Hurt. Alone. Abandoned. Unloved. Like the victim of a great unfairness.” Who would you be without that thought? “Happy and easy going and loving life.” Can you give one sane reason for having that thought over and over again, for letting it dominate your life? “No. None.” Now let’s try to turn the original thought (“Elaine should not have died”) around and ask “Could the turn-around possibly be truer than the original thought? 1st turn-around (to the opposite): Elaine should have died. That is obviously truer than “Elaine should not have died.” Why? Because she did die. To believe otherwise is to beat your head against the wall of reality. 2nd turn around (to the self): artie shouldn’t have died. That’s an interesting thought as for seven years I was dying…. 3rd turn around: artie should have died. Not really. I am glad to be alive. In considering the turn-arounds it is possible to find peace instead of pain. I have done that and doing so has dramatically changed my approach to life in general and in turn has affected my career and the way that I approach photography as well. I am not in the huge hurry that I once was always in. I can enjoy a walk in the woods without a long lens–gotta bring a short lens though Smile emoticon. I am much more mellow than ever and much more accepting of both others and the everyday challenges that life brings to all of us on a daily basis. My approach to both photography and my career is much more relaxed. If there are no birds or I drop a lens into salt water, I simply smile and love what is. I enjoy my work more than ever and I enjoy my successes more than ever (and my failures too). I have come to realize that Elaine’s death was the best thing that could have ever happened, and I can prove it. How do I know that? Because it happened.

I do of course miss her dearly but her love is ever-present. And I have been at the point for quite some time now where I can think of the great times and love that we shared and the wonderful person that she was and smile rather than cry. And I can hear her say, “You watch. My Arthur is gonna be the best bird photographer in the world.” Now all that I do is enjoy each breath.

Thanks d for a job well done.