The reality of life, captured and honored on video tape

It was an early July morning when we made it our mission to get out of Los Angeles and settle into something a bit more tranquil 100 miles up the Pacific Coast.Although it would only be a day trip, I was ripe with excitement. Along the Ventura Free-way we drove toward Santa Barbara to Alicia's home. Depending on the mercy of the Southern California freeway system we might have time to grab breakfast.

Instead rush hour traffic got in the way. But I didn't care. Finally, this was the opportunity to see the concept in action.

I knew more about her story than the others in our three-person crew.

From the production office, I was the one who took the phone calls, typed up the notes and responded to her e-mail. Originally from the Imperial Valley down near the Mexican border, Alicia was a 57 year-old mother, wife, grandmother and caregiver. After her father had succumbed to Alzheimer's two years ago, Alicia, as the sole daughter in a patriarchal family, held the responsibility to take care of her ailing 93 year-old mother, Cleo.

At 8:47 a.m. we arrived at Alicia's home and quickly set-up camp. The city was doing road construction near Cleo's apartment, making it difficult for car accessibility; therefore we had asked that Cleo stay at Alicia's home the night prior to our arrival.

Our shoot schedule was tight. In a few minutes we had our B-roll by establishing external shots of the home, Cleo engaged in her morning rituals, the medicine cabinet, the family dog and Alicia scrambling eggs.

My job was to make sure everything went smoothly. If anything went wrong, it is the unspoken rule that the production assistant is always the first to blame. As a PA, my mission was to be the eyes and ears of the operation. It was a bill I was comfortable with because it was a project that I cared about. I had never spent extensive time among elderly people and this documentary provided an opportunity to glimpse into a world entirely unlike my own: that of the caregiver.

Throughout the day, I was consistently amazed with the kindness and generosity Alicia bestowed upon the cameraman, producer and me. She had arranged a special family barbeque so that we could film the extended family and friends that provided a critical matrix of love and support. It takes a high level of trust to allow the camera into your life, a real everyday human life, and document it. There is no script, flashy lights or makeup. Truth lies bare before the lens.

As we accompanied Alicia and Cleo on their daily excursion to the adult day care center, I realized the ephemeral nature of my own corporeality. Although Alicia's reality of nursing homes, support groups and doctor's appointments had become a normalized part of her existence, they gradually became a part of my vocabulary too.

After the barbeque the crew and I slowly ambled up the mountain with Alicia and her poem in hand. After all, it was the poem that had touched us and put into eloquent prose the essence of our mission. "Why Should I Cry" was read before the camera at sunset on a small private hilltop overlooking the ocean.

In one day Alicia showed us her reality and it was an honor that she served graciously and with utmost trust. Her mission in allowing us to be there was to tell the truth and let others know that they are not alone in their role as provider of love. Our mission is to be her mouthpiece. I will do her honor.