A Wealth of Stories

Story and Photo by Christina Campbell

One day during the Christmas season, I received a phone call from my eighty-three-year-old friend Clint Bays. His voice was strained, and there was an unusual urgency in his tone. He had fallen—seriously—and was in a Boise hospital. My heart sank with the knowledge that he would spend Christmas alone, facing surgery. I made it a priority to visit him with my daughters a few days later.

During our visit, Clint mentioned that his mother, Teresa, had just turned 103 years old. I couldn’t believe it. What a testament to resilience and longevity! I offered to take photos of the two of them together—it felt like a moment worth cherishing.

The first time I ever saw Clint, he was sitting in the back of a church. Something about him—his posture, his quiet demeanor—struck me. He looked alone, and for reasons I couldn’t quite explain, I felt a connection to him in that instant. It had been a long time since I’d been to church, and it felt daunting to step into that unfamiliar space, unsure of how I’d be received. But when my eyes landed on Clint, I felt an unspoken understanding between us.