I was born in Wisconsin. My childhood mentor and best friend was an orange tabby cat named Hamilton. He taught me how to hustle, to face every morning unrelenting. Evenings, I would find him sitting window-side. He looked out upon the world and its dangers didn't faze him the slightest. No, there was work to be done: Birds, mice, baby squirrels and other small mammals were yet living.

A gentle bang of the screen door and we were off, wading through the verdant lawns of suburban Milwaukee. An angry look and I knew I had stepped too loudly. As a teacher, he was firm. Quietly we approached a suspect bush. I was to shake it. What would come out? Courage, he said to me, with a loud purr and brush against my legs. He would not scare and so I trusted him. We entered the fray, and our foes did flee.

Even to his last days, he stood firm to who he was. He knew that though they may be chained and bolted, doors existed to be opened. No, he never gave up. At the very end, when he was pitifully in pain, he still pulled himself to nap near his friends. This was his way, of courage and honor. Hamilton Cat McCormick - as his prescription medicine called him – American hero.

He taught me well. I am yet of the naive belief that though our daily foes are many, at times nebulous and seemingly interminable, with perseverance there is hope and in that, victory. Believe it and you too shall find doors opened, winter passed, and the cabinet of wet food re-stocked.

from when I was an undergrad at nyu. sight and sound film, fall 2005. 16mm / kodak tri-x / arri-s