Mason Marsh

In Philly, Rocky stands taller than George Washington.

In New York, it seems every shot needs to be a selfie. !

My girl, Claire, has become a grappler. Last night was her first meet and she held her own against a scrappy boy from Vancouver. She drug him around the mat by his leg but couldn’t get the takedown. She lost by decision, but is learning.

Later, Belize. I’ll miss the sunshine, wildlife and the friendly people.

This is the face of a man who knows it’s a privilege to travel by air, but also knows that modern American air travel is an exercise in futility and frustration. This shot was taken at 6am Eastern time this morning. I should be in Central time, but instead I’m in Newark, New Freaking Jersey at a dingy airport Holiday Inn Express. What was supposed to be a two-flight run down to Belize for a much-needed family vacation became a 21-hour slog to Newark after our first flight avoided thunderstorms by hanging out in Oklahoma City, forcing us to miss our connection in Dallas. Once in Dallas we had to fly to New Jersey and crash for a few hours before our morning flight to Belize. Weather is weather, but a system designed to transport thousands of humans with the compassion and care afforded to cargo wears you down. I know we could do better.

Barbershop watch dog.