Commodes

She thinks it was January of 2010 that she went for chemo.

Near the end of my five-year plan for my B.A. in Geography I took a class in American Studies. It required a paper. Unsure of a thesis, I took a bunch of photos of urinals and commodes from around campus. A couple of days before the paper was due I decided to, instead, draw analogies between Uncle Remus's tar-baby and the existential dilemma.

But out of the first attempt came a still-extant interest in the aesthetics of urinals and commodes. Here're the ones on the Cancer Center's 3rd floor GENERAL WAITING AREA.

WATERLESS
(it jus' slyyyyyds down the hole)

Please note the ethereal light from above. It's no-doubt meant to inspire if you're terminal...and on acid.

Her numbers are good. She's free & clear.  HUUUURRRAAAYYY!!!!!

THEN...

we went to the storage locker to bring home her mom's commode. 

It fit in the FIT.

That cottonwood cheerily waving in the background is a youngster of about 55 years.