“Before, if you saw me, you saw my camera. It was like a hood ornament. When my wife and I were first together, she rolled onto my camera in our bed. She said, ‘It’s me or the camera.’ I never answered that, but I still have both. 

Photography started when my father sang with a musical group called Rolls Royce. I was a kid, but he asked me to record their rehearsals. The video camera was on a tripod. I just panned it left or right, but I felt powerful. I saved my money and bought my first camera–a little 110. I found my gift and took pictures of everything. 

I took a TV production class for two years in high school. I loved it and applied for an internship at a TV station in Mobile during my senior year. I didn’t get the internship. But I kept showing up at the station anyway. I didn’t have a door key, so I waited for someone to walk up and went in with them. No one knew I wasn’t supposed to be there. I learned to edit during the first month and was hooked. Sometimes I slept in the attic at the station. 

The news director called me into his office one night before the six o’clock show. They couldn’t find my paperwork. I just looked at him. He said, ‘Tim, you aren’t supposed to be here, are you?’ I came clean, thinking I was going to jail. They offered me a job, instead. I had to turn it down because I had just gotten a job at a radio station. 

Passion and hunger. I did what I had to do. I was a creative storyteller because my mother wouldn’t let me play sports. I had to stay in the apartment with her, so I made up my own games. My shoes were cheap bobos. But I didn’t get upset that other kids wore Jordans or Converse. There was abuse in my family, and I became a protector. All of this made me resilient. I promised myself that I would break the cycle: I would love my wife and not beat her; my kids would have the things I didn’t have and do what I didn’t get to do.

The day I met Adrienne, I knew she would be my wife. I was 19, she was 16. I felt responsible for her from the beginning. One of the first things she told me was, ‘You aren’t going to mess up my education.’ I worked at Pizza Hut to help feed her family when her mom was at work.

We went to college at Alabama A&M University; I did whatever it took to help Adrienne graduate. I shot pool and took pictures, hustling up money for us. I would be down to a pack of Ramen Noodles, but I walked to her dorm giving her half the pack and the seasoning. We’ve been together since 1989, and I’ve always made sure Adrienne was good. It hasn’t been perfect, but we’ve worked on it from the beginning. We keep working it out. She’s still my girl. 

Adrienne and I were at an A&M football game. It was raining. The guy shooting for the TV station had a camera on one shoulder and an umbrella on the other, trying to juggle both. Adrienne turned her head to talk with a friend. I took off, hopping the wall to the sidelines and grabbing the umbrella for the videographer. He got the video he needed and stayed dry. He offered me a job as a camera operator. And I said yes. He could have told me they were looking for a janitor to rethread brooms. I was going to work for a TV station legally this time. 

I became a news photographer in Huntsville and a couple of stations in Birmingham. I loved telling stories with a beginning, middle, and an ending and won many awards. Our family moved to Mobile in 2006 for my wife’s career. I worked for a TV station in Mobile. But the industry was changing—was less about storytelling. I shifted into real estate photography. That didn’t last long. 

I started getting sick in 2020 with numbness in my stomach. Doctors removed my gallbladder. Still numb. I was shooting pictures and got weak, almost falling while walking up a small hill. Back to the hospital. Doctors said cancer. But I didn’t believe God was taking me there yet. They did MRIs, then the diagnosis: I had one of the most severe cases of chronic inflammatory, demyelinating, polyneuropathy (CIDP) they had ever seen. I had never heard of CIDP. I asked the guy doing the nerve study if I would walk again. He didn’t answer. 

I thought I was done. I couldn’t feed myself, sit up, or stand on my own. I had always taken care of my family. Now they were altering their lives to care for me. I didn’t want to become a burden. I was okay if this was my time to go.

But what would my family be like without me? I hadn’t finished sharing with my son about being a man, father, and husband. I needed to teach my daughters more about guys. I haven’t done and said everything I wanted to with Adrienne. God showed me I still have a lot to live for and He has bigger plans for me. Nah. I wasn’t going out like this.

Thank God my family and friends are here for me. Adrienne turned our dining room into a bedroom. My son was about to go to Auburn when I went into the hospital–he put his life on hold to take care of me. My youngest daughter cooks for me. My oldest daughter makes me do physical therapy. Friends, family, and the ‘Kingdom Builders’ at City Hope Church helped me get a van that is wheelchair accessible.

Accepting my limitations makes them easier to deal with. I’m unable to walk unassisted. But I’m getting stronger and figuring out new ways to use a camera from my wheelchair. I’m becoming a photographer again. I have dexterity issues, so I put a strap and cage on my camera. If the camera slips out of my hands, it won’t fall. I can’t feel the button to take photos, so I bought a user-friendly camera with good stabilization and automatic functions. I touch the screen and snap the photo. Then wirelesslly transfer my images from the camera to the phone.

I am picking up my camera every day again, just like when I started photography. I recently got involved with the Eastern Shore Camera Club. The next thing I know, I’m president. 

Some folks give up photography or something they are passionate about because of a disability. I don’t want it to be that way for me. Or anyone else. I want to help other folks with disabilities enjoy photography. We can find new ways to do what we care about. 

I’ve learned not to put off what matters. What if I had said, ‘I’ll start training for a marathon in two years.’ Then this happened. How many marathons do you see me running now? Don’t wait to do something you love.”

Tim

These are photos by Tim.