Multi-tasker.

Remember when we didn't have a fax machine? A VCR? Or get this...a cell phone? Yes there was a time when we didn't have to worry about handling 2 projects at a time yet alone 6 or 7 as we do today. The other day I was driving on the highway and saw a woman texting. No big deal you say. She was texting someone next to her who was also driving; they both held up their BlackBerry's and laughed. I couldn't believe it. I didn't want to believe it.

We are in a time when doing more than one thing is not just the norm, it's the expected. How many times have you been on your computer, talking on the phone and having lunch? It might be gross to the person on the other end of the phone but we have things to get done. I have also been in private areas (think bathrooms) when people are engaged in a conversation on their phones while involved in another activity. I mean come on, do we really not have time any longer for life's necessities?

We move at a very fast rate because technology has allowed us to. We want to be in constant touch because we feel the need. We need to get over it.

That's why I loved the picture above. Here is Mr. Martin Hippie who is not only running for public office but also runs a farm stand---and his home is his campaign headquarters! Now that is a multi-tasking household. I assume if he doesn't win he still has a job as the farm stand sign appears to have been there first. I think the word "And" was added after Mr. Hippie decided to run for the County Board in District 8. (It's a different type face.)

Many of us have become very proficient at multi-tasking. As I write this blog I am watching the stock report, thinking about tomorrow's work and wondering what's going to be for dinner?

I guess we need to slow down, but what will we do with all of the free time? I'll get back to you when I have an answer, I have stuff to do.

Thanks for stopping by.

Looking at life through the rear view mirror.

Yesterday I saw my first 2010 calendar store of the year. You know the stores; you find them in malls where other stores used to be but have gone out of business or left the mall completely for a different location. They feature all of the calendars you could imagine. From your favorite dog to your favorite team to your favorite cooking style, you get it. If I had been on the ball I would have written about the "Halloween" stores but those have been up since July! (I was not writing "Snap Shot" yet.)

It's amazing how fast a year goes by. Yes, I sound like a parent, but in our busy, fast-paced world, what used to seem like a year, now at best, has been crammed into 9 months. Before we know it, the holidays (all of them excluding Valentine's Day) will be in our rear view mirror. We will be looking forward to spring which by the calendar---after the holidays---should be 4 months away. However it will get here in 6 months and then summer will zoom by in 1 and a half. I don't know how to explain it better.

In the years I have been in this body I think I have seen a lot. Many presidents, the landing on the moon, the growth of the computer, and bad things like assassinations, the current recession and the Cardinals

losing the 1968 World Series (As a 10-year old

that was very painful.) Hard to believe that same year

we lost Bobby Kennedy and Martin Luther King.

'68 was not a good year.

The picture above was taken in South Texas. We were

visiting family and I looked at one of my

daughters in the rear view

mirror of our car. I had never really seen a

photo like this and thought---I like this shot.

I took this similar picture of most of the kids,

my wife, and well---just a rear view mirror

with no one in it. I believe the symbolism

is representative of how we must look

forward----but also spend time learning what

we have been presented with in our own

individual rear view mirrors.

It's a great learning experience.

Thanks for stopping by.

In the blink of an eye.

Have you ever thought to yourself, "I better do something before I forget?" We all have. It might be to write a letter or call someone, buy that gift you have been meaning to buy, or take that picture you been thinking about taking. I can relate to taking "that" picture as I have often times been disappointed when I don't take a picture wondering what I missed.

You really can't live this way but sometimes we just do. It's the wouda, shoulda, coulda's in life.

If you have been to Kansas City you know it is a pretty contemporary town. It's not New York or LA, but as I see it that's a good thing. People in KC are very friendly and are not too serious about "non-important" things---well they do love the Kansas City Chiefs, George Brett (baseball player from long ago) and barbecue. They love barbecue. Me too.

One other thing that I find interesting in KC is their signs and outdoor advertisements. (I know, get a life!) But, they have some of the coolest signs that line the street on Broadway and Main. Some of them are retro logos of businesses still well know, yet these signs are the old ones. They also have outdoor advertisements for businesses that are no longer businesses. I guess they figured, "let's leave'em up since no one wants to buy them." They're often painted on the side of a building.

There was one for TWA that stood for more than 5 years after they had been purchased by American Airlines and the name retired. Perhaps they were hoping to bring the name back. Nope. There was also one for Reebok which has been purchased by Adidas. It was one of a basketball player for UCLA. How old was the advertisement? It was from the late 1980s--and it had not been changed in more than 20 years. I guess they liked the way it looked as it was an entire side of a building right next to the highway.

Every time I went to KC I would say, "I need to take a picture of that ad." I would always think, "it's okay, I'll get it next time." Finally the next time came. I made sure I could get the entire wall in my viewfinder and had to walk about a block to take the picture. It was that big. I love that picture and still love it today.

One might think that's the end of the story. But it's not. Turns out 6 weeks after I took the picture the building was torn down as it is now the Sprint Center. The Center is up and has been for a little more than a year. The picture is above---I have more than 40 different views. I just had to take more than one. I usually do.

If you have taken a picture of your Mom or Dad or family recently, good for you. If not, why not? You just never know when you will miss that shot. The one you wish you had taken but thought, "I'll get it next time." Make now the next time. Don't blink.

Thanks for stopping by.

So this is how you work up to Sports Illustrated

When you love photography, you know there's something magical when the shutter clicks; you look at the window on your camera back, and you know you have something. It doesn't happen with every picture---even the best will tell you it happens maybe once in a hundred or two hundred shots. Sometimes it doesn't happen in one thousand shots. Yesterday I was a field photographer at our local high school game. I was not paid like many of the other photographers. I just wanted to be where the action was---and to be where the other photographers were not. I have learned everyone usually takes the same picture when they stand together. I had probably 7 really good pictures out of 1200 shots.

How did all this happen?

When I requested a press pass I was told I would not be able to shoot photos during the playoffs (this team is really good so the playoffs are very likely) and to stay out of the way of the other "professional" photographers. I assured her I would. I actually had to do it twice; I had to call her once again to remind her about the press pass and was given the same disclaimer.

Even though I have lived in this community for more than 7 years, I have only been to two high school football games. On the field I noticed two things right away; one, these kids are huge! (I am no shrimp but compared to some of the players you would think I was a waif.) Second, the crowd is really into the game; but as into the game as they might be, you really can't hear them very well from the field. It's easy to tune out anything but what you are doing. So that's how the pros do it when they are being booed.

When I walked on to the field about 15 minutes prior to the start of the game, I introduced myself to the photographers who already knew one another. As the new guy I got the look---it's where they wonder if you really deserve to be on the field with them. Funny, I was thinking the same thing. (This was a high school game---can you imagine the Super Bowl?) I was very aware of the need to stay out of their way---I was, after all, given the disclaimer two times. I did stay out of their way and I am glad I did.

It was amazing. I went to areas where the other photographers (newspaper photographers from several local papers and a professional who shoots for some big sports network) were nowhere to be found. In fact, I must have been 50 yards away from the closest photographer. So what happens? The plays seem to come right at me. Whether it's a 60-yard run where no one was between myself and the running back---or the sideline run where, again, no photographers were within half a field. Just me and this guy running as hard as he can straight at me, all the while looking right into my Nikon lens.

The photo above was taken during the pre-game warm up. One of the players on the opposing team saw I was taking pictures. I have no idea if he thought I was one of the pros and he

would end up in the paper or one of the "nothings" who were just there to take pictures. I guess he lost this time; his team also lost the game 41-0. Tough day. I was lucky and took about 1200 photos at the game. It was a lot of fun and I felt like I was good enough to maybe be included in the pre-game conversations with the photographers next time. Maybe.

It's going to be some time before I get the chance to shoot for SI, but for me shooting a high school football game was just fine.

Thanks for stopping by.

The Little things.

Sometimes the little things are a lot bigger than we think. Recently I have begun to work with a guy who does "voice overs" for commercials. (He also did an "app," how cool is that?) This guy has a voice; the kind of voice that's really easy to listen to and one that you hear quite often on the radio but have no idea who he is or what he looks like. He does voice over work after all.

His name is Bill Cochran and he lives in Chicago. If you live in the market you know his voice; it's on a lot of commercials that you hear on the radio. It's when you meet Bill that you have to do a double take. He looks nothing like his voice sounds. I was expecting short hair, barrel chested, and a "radio look." (For those of you who know what that means, you understand; for those of you who don't, there's a reason they are on the radio and not TV.) Bill looks like a rock star. Seriously. He has long hair, is tall, and could easily pass for someone in college. I know how long he has been in the business and it's been a while since he has been in college. The cool thing is, he's not the kind of guy who tries to look young, just to look young---his look on life fits the person who he is. I really enjoy working with him.

The other day after we had a client meeting, Bill did something I was not expecting, he opened up to me and vice-versa. I won't go into details of our conversation, but what shocked me was, this guy is big time--and well known-- and I am not. I was really honored I got to know him. We have talked a couple of other times and I am really hoping we will work together---he has a talent, I believe I have one, and together I think we can do what we both want. Build a business relationship together.

I have titled this blog "The Little Things" because there are times when we see something as "big" when actually it's just one of life's little moments. Call it life's optical illusion. The photo above has been one that has received a lot of comments from people who I know. They look at it and see something that's very much a "little thing"...it's a picture of my daughter taken through the opening of a drainage pipe. It's a pretty simple picture and even though I have always liked it, I have not understood the reaction it has received. I like it because no matter how often I look at it, it reminds me that no matter how large the opening, it's the little things that make the difference.

I guess Bill will be surprised by this blog but he has left an impression on me. A very positive one.

Thanks for stopping by and meeting Bill.

Let the games begin.

It's that time of the year. The winter professional sports teams have either begun their season or are preparing to. Saw yesterday that the Chicago Bulls (my favorite team) are starting pre-season play in London against the Utah Jazz on October 6. I won't be there. I assume the NBA is looking for new venues to support the price tags of some very highly paid athletes.

How could they possibly be worth that amount of money? I mean anyone can shoot a ball!

Wrong.

Last night, like the NBA players, about 30 of us showed up to play "hoops." Call it the first day of practice, only in our case we eliminated pre-season and jumped right into the regular season. It's a "get together league" where Dads of kids at our local grade school gather together, put on some cool reversible jerseys and step out on the court. As noted on the flyer we received, "it's a friendly pick up game where like soccer the best part are the treats afterward."

Unfortunately a lot of the "star players" were not able to make the "treats." We had 2 sprained ankles, one strained calf, a pulled hamstring and two early morning conference calls. I escaped but am very sore this morning. For 2 of the games I was covering "Brad." Really nice guy, about 15 years or so younger and 65 pounds heavier than me. Two pops to the jaw, one step on my ankle and a lot of pushing and shoving to get that elusive rebound, I did make a new friend as we were laughing afterwards and finding out if our kids were in the same class. (Imagine covering Shaq as a normal human and you get it.)

I am convinced there's a reason why people my age are in the stands at NBA games (one guy had floor seats who I was talking with) and not on the court. We didn't even play full court and after one game I was spent. I had no reason to be out there; wrong shoes, wrong ability, wrong, wrong, wrong. But I had fun.

The picture above is appropriate to this situation; Derrick Rose, the NBA rookie of the year knows how to play. He can play all 48 minutes and still walk after the game. Full court. This photo was a lucky catch. Normally when he is calling for a play he will stick up an index finger, a couple of fingers (if it is play #2 for example) but for this shot he did a "thumbs up." Maybe he was sending a signal to his coach, someone in the stands, or me. If it was to me he was suggesting I stay put and leave the basketball to him. He's right, I have no right to be playing his game. Except until next week when I put my "tennis shoes" on to play hoops again.

Shooting sports shots is my game. I love watching the game behind my camera. When other people are sipping their beers, eating a "dog" or cheering on their favorite player, I am watching the game happen through a large lens. It's an unusual way, maybe, to watch a game, but for me it is the only way.

Next Friday the city of Chicago learns if they have won the right to host the 2016 Summer Olympics at 11:57 CST. If we do win it (please!!) I will be there. I won't be in the water, on the field or in the ring---but will be where I belong, behind the lens of my camera.

Thanks for stopping by.

Kids.

Something about kids is always mind boggling to me. They start out not really saying too much, they learn to talk, and the rest is history. I noticed it the other day with our 7 year old. She is a very sweet girl, but now as she is a 1st grader it's okay to say "No." Not your average "No" like when they are toddlers, but the kind of "No" when you expect them to do what you are asking. I should know this by now, but sometimes you just hope there will be a miracle in the works. I never learn.

But there's hope.

It must have been about a year ago, but we were out with our kids at a restaurant called "Portillo's." If you live in the Chicago area you know it is a hot dog place. But it is good. Really good. We sat down and watched a family come into the restaurant. It was obvious they were a family because they all kind of looked alike. The odd part was there were 13 kids. Yes, 13 of them. Everyone was well behaved. I thought I was on Candid Camera or Punked, but I was wrong they were just there to eat. We spoke with them, and it turns out they were from out of town; I want to say Missouri. They had driven in a bus to get to Chicago...when you have 15 people in your family I suspect a Prius is out of the question.

What really was impressive was, of course, how well behaved they were---but also how going to a place like Portillo's was a real treat. You could tell by the smiles on their faces. Their Dad was a doctor, but I suspect he was a small town physician; we're not talking LA plastic surgeon here. For them, going out to dinner is something they probably do not do as often as a family of 4 might do. I would have to imagine they spent well over $125 for dinner. That's a lot of money for hot dogs and fries. However, with the way the kids were appreciating their dinners you would have thought they were eating caviar.

The picture above reinforces that whether it's a tiger or a child, giving Mom or Dad an earful is the norm. In this case it was Mom. However, she seems completely unfazed by it all. The sad part about this photo is the little tiger who is mouthing off must have done the same to his Dad in the area adjacent to the pen. Dad did not appreciate it and he killed the cub. The zoo was in shock for some time and someone or some people lost their jobs over this mistake. Apparently the male tiger is not friendly around the little ones---a very sad ending as these cubs were just beautiful.

Life is funny. So are kids. Appreciate them because before you know it they will be writing blogs like this about their kids. (Your grandkids.)

Thanks for stopping by.

Thanks for stopping by.

In the course of a lifetime we meet a lot of people. Some are memorable and you stay in contact, others are just passing ships in the night. I enjoy meeting people. All types of people; I had better as I am in sales and that’s a big part of my job.

Every once in a while you meet someone who is truly a people person. Whether you intend on being one of her friends or not, you just can’t help but enjoy her and want to see her again. She must have a million friends, but you would think you were her best one.

Meet Laurene Hinson, the owner of Sweet Maple Café located in Chicago. Laurene is a real people person and when you meet her you feel like you have entered into her home.

Her story is anything but typical. At the end of the last century (doesn’t that sound odd?) she was driving around looking for property with a real estate agent. With no intent on doing anything more than invest, the agent suggested she look at a rental property on the west side of Chicago located on the UIC campus. Now 10 years later, she has what must be the most warm, engaging, inviting restaurant I have ever been fortunate to visit. Oh and the food is beyond good.

Imagine "Cheers", where every one knows you name, for breakfast and lunch! You now understand Sweet Maple Café.

Walking in I was greeted with warmth and a genuine smile. Mind you I was there for business. However with the way I was welcomed, you would have thought I was a noted dignitary who was carrying a camera bag. I was waiting for one of my associates to join me for a recording session. (No need to explain as it’s not important to the story.)

Throughout the course of 2 hours, I met a writer who is published and knows Oprah (yes the one and only Oprah), a couple celebrating 52 years of marriage that day, the owner of the building who was dining with 3 of her friends. (She is in her 90s and I will never look that good.) And one of my favorites, a man who eats at Sweet Maple Café two times a day. Every day. (I am not sure where he eats dinner as the Café is not open past 2 P.M.)

As a photographer you get to know people. The camera is a natural ice breaker. Here’s how it works. You ask, “Is it okay if I take your picture?“ Often times you will hear, “Oh I didn’t get dressed for a photo, I look terrible.” Honestly, and this is our secret, I don’t want them to be who they are not. When you dress for a photo you are not being who you are---you are dressing up. I want realism.

By the way, no one said “No.”

What I like most about the above picture is Laurene had no idea I was taking it. She was aware of the other 40 pictures I took, but not this one. She looks great in all the other photos, this is the real person you meet when you come to the Cafe. She is just wonderful to be around.

One of the other things I loved about Laurene is she thanks everyone for coming to spend time with her. How cool is that?

Funny, I feel the same way about you the reader. Thanks for stopping by.

Does anyone really know what time it is?

For some crazy reason, and I don’t know why, I love clocks. Again, I have no idea why. When I worked at one company I actually had more than 15 clocks in my office. One had the correct time, and I always knew which one to look at when I was trying to make a meeting, catch a train, or figure out if it was lunch time.

One of the worst things about having so many clocks is when we have our time change in the fall or spring. I would come in and have to change all 15 of them. At that point they would all have the same time as I would replace the batteries—but the batteries would all die out during the 6 months until the next time change. (The one that was correct was a plug in by the way.)

What I think is interesting is how most people don’t even use clocks, or watches, any longer; they depend on their cell phones. No one else in my family wears a watch. They carry their phones and check them when they need the “correct” time. It’s not fun when they lose it or are sure that they didn’t misplace it---they always say, “someone must have taken it. “ (We have insurance on all of our phones, except mine.)

The photo above was taken at a company where I have a cube; the owner of the company is a friend of mine and she has been gracious enough to let me use her office space when needed. When you walk in you are greeted by this large clock that fits into one of the window compartments. It makes sense as the company name is SpaceTime. By the way, if you ever need media planning or placement, this is the place to call. They are real pros. (That’s a plug by the way.)

What I like most about the photo is the depth of field; you see everything. From the flower to the clock to the Trump Tower---all looking out on Chicago. One of the most beautiful cities in the world---on a nice day.

Well, it’s 8:55AM and we are pulling into train station. How do I know? I checked my clock on the computer.

Thanks for stopping by.

See ya later summer.

In a little less than 24 hours we will leave another summer behind. For some areas of the country they see little change from one season to another. In our area we see dramatic change. Some like the change; some do not. In Chicago we really don’t have a choice. You deal with it. We also look forward to those days in the middle of winter that provide the optimism that spring can’t be far away. It might be in November it might happen in February, it might not happen at all. But those are the times when “hope springs eternal.” For some reason, it usually happens when baseball spring training happens and then we freeze our you know what’s off huddling in the stands in Wrigley Field or “the Cell.” (Nice name huh?)

We had an odd summer here in Chicago. It forgot to show up. We didn’t have any of the hot sweltering days, high humidity levels, or vicious thunderstorms. We had mild days, reasonable humidity and rain. Oh well there’s always next year. Funny we say the same things about our sports teams.

For me summer has always been my favorite season. The days are long, the weather is warm, and you can live inside or outside your home depending on what you want to do. That’s not the case in the winter.

Now we’re heading into fall. Probably the most beautiful season as leaves burst out to expose their “real” colors. The air has a smell that only fall can bring-- it makes you want to be in the woods (hearing the crunching of dried leaves beneath your feet), or spend time in one of the many parks we have in our area, or experience one of the greatest lakes that is attached to our city. To miss the color of the season is to miss one of nature’s most explosive displays. I love this time of the year. It also produces great photos.

The photo above was a perfect fall day. At a B&B in Galena, IL the water was still, the day was drawing to an end, and the camera was shooting and having trouble keeping up with the number of pictures I was demanding it take. This was one of those times when I couldn’t stop taking pictures because I knew fall was going to be around for a short period of time. I was not going to miss this one.

So as we see summer become a memory, I am going to spend time capturing the season---one precious photo at a time through the lens of my Nikon camera.

I hope you do the same whether you have a camera or not.

Thanks for stopping by.

A beat to a different drum.

I am an Apple guy. Yes, one of those guys. But there is a very simple reason I am, it was the first computer I ever ever used. Some could say I don't like change, some could say why don't you change?

Because I liked being a little different.

When Apple launched their "Think Different" campaign in 1997, most people didn't identify with it. But I did. I knew using an Apple was like being a left-handed person at a table where everyone else was right handed. It was okay to be a little bit different. If you recall the campaign, which I would assume many of you will not, they used words like, "here's to the misfits, the rebels, the troublemakers. The round pegs in square holes." If you know me at all, I probably would not fit the description of many of these adjectives, but I think when we look deep into ourselves, we really want to be. I want to be. Maybe I am different.

I have been fortunate to meet a lot of people in my life. Some were just your average Jane's or Joe's and some were Dylan's or Devan's. There was a distinct difference in both sets. Some would try to be who they were not, but in the end they fell into the mold they were most comfortable being. I have a very good friend who was anything but an average Joe. If he is reading this, he will know who he is. His name by the way would be seen as closer to a "Joe" than a "Dylan," however there is an interesting bit of irony there.

What was different about him? When our friends were going right he wanted to go left. When we were trying to figure out what we should be doing during a weekend, he would come up with the craziest ideas. We did them. We still talk about them today.

Probably the craziest thing he ever did was become my friend. I was conservative, not real outgoing, and would often times follow the crowd. I was 15. Thankfully a lot has changed since then. Although I probably still do have some of the labels following me around, I do believe this person allowed me to "Think Different." For that I thank him and I am truly glad he remains my friend!

The photo above was taken at the Gay Parade in Chicago. Yes, you read that correctly. I attended the parade with my wife and kids. We had a blast. It was exactly what I didn't think it was going to be. It was a small segment of Chicago coming together to express who they really are, and for me that's cool. Yes we saw some things that were a bit shocking, but I was stepping into their world, not vice versa. A big part of me was glad my kids had come to hang out where not being afraid to be expressive is the norm---to live a life that's so different than the community we live in opens their eyes. I suspect there were very few people from our neighborhood at the parade---but we were.

But, even the guy in the photo turned heads. A parade was going by and when everyone one was watching the floats with men who were at best were 5 percent clothed, this guy was off in his world. Jammin' to the music that filled his head. He may not have even realized there were thousands of people just inches away from him. But to him, he was doing what he wanted to do. Okay, this may not be something I would do, but it was fun to imagine what he was thinking about. Isn't that what makes a photograph something you want to spend time with? Come back and revisit? Or cause you to "Think Different"? It does for me.

I am going to close today's blog with a quote from the "Think Different" Apple advertisement; by the way, Richard Dreyfus was the voice over so try to imagine him saying this, "And while some may see them as the crazy ones, we see genius. Because the people who are crazy enough to think they can change the world are the ones who do." I like being a little bit different.

Thanks for stopping by...

Hands.

You can tell a lot about someone's hands. No really. I mean it. You can see hands that have lived a privileged life or ones that have worked for everything they have--- or in some cases, don't have. Neither is better than the other, they have just lived different lives.

When I was growing up my Dad used to hire men who were, as my Dad would say, "down on their luck." They were employed by the Salvation Army and would help my Dad work on the lawn and garden. From what I could tell, they were nice men but they had taken a different road in life and it had come to a dead end. At least at the time. What always amazed me about these men was their willingness to work---and work hard. You have to keep in mind when you are working outside, in St. Louis, MO during the summer, it's not pleasant. It's hot and it's humid.

How did you know they worked hard?

I would look at their hands (and faces.) It didn't require a lot of effort to see etched in their skin the roads they had taken. Deep crevices told a story that was different than the one I had to tell. They often had scars or hard memories on their hands and faces that said a lot about their lives; one they were not likely to tell a young kid. What I admired about these men was their willingness to pull themselves up by their bootstraps and try to get back up; what I learned from these men was that life can be tough when you make tough choices. I knew many of the choices they had made, and I wanted to make sure they were choices I didn't make as I got older. Maybe my Dad had an agenda here?

Because I only saw many of these men once or twice I have no idea what happened to them. I suspect some were able to get out of their deep holes they had dug, but most remained, or fell deeper, into a situation they had no way of getting out of during their lifetime.

It was a great way for me to learn about life---something I have never forgotten.

The picture above is all about generations; my daughter is holding the hands of her great, great aunt. There were 104 years between the two of them. I think. The reason why I am not sure is because her great, great aunt would only acknowledge she was 105 years old. (I knew how old my daughter was at the time but had no idea how old Aunt Lona really was.) In the end, it turned out she was really 107. I guess she didn't want to admit she was 2 years older!

When Aunt Lona died at 109, she lived in South Texas in a 2-story home without air conditioning. She lived alone, never married, and had spanned 3 centuries of life---how do I know? Without her admitting her true age, you could see it in her hands.

Have a great weekend and thanks for stopping by.

If there is a baseball God, I think he is an Albert Pujols fan.

Almost every time I have seen the St. Louis Cardinals play, Albert Pujols hits a home run. The only time he didn't hit one he was injured and did not play. I think this means he has hit one in every game I have attended then, right? Either way, the guy is one heck of a hitter and he seems like a pretty decent guy.

I like baseball, I like the St. Louis Cardinals. But living in Chicago is sometimes difficult when you are a Cardinals fan because most of the 8 million or so people who live here are not Cardinal fans. I guess sometimes it's best to keep your opinions to yourself in this instance. Because it's only a sport. Right???

Yes, until it becomes something bigger than local sports.

We have something big we're going to learn about in the next few weeks---we'll find out if Chicago was chosen to host the 2016 Summer Olympic Games. (Guess who will be there taking pictures?) Good guess.

The opinion throughout the city is mixed as to whether or not we should be spending the money to host the games. If my point of view counts, I say "bring it on!" Hosting an event like the Olympics makes a city stop in its tracks; sure some could say this means there will be congestion, traffic, and high taxes. What I am saying is it brings incredible civic pride and life to our city. I love Chicago and I really hope we get it. (I also wouldn't mind having Albert Pujols on the Cubs or Sox, but that's not relevant to this blog.)

So if there is a baseball God, I am really hoping there is one for the Olympics as well. I am hoping he is smiling down on Chicago when they make the announcement.

The photo above was taken at Miller Park in Milwaukee, WI. I am not sure why players point to the sky when they cross home plate after hitting a home run, or after making an incredible catch or perhaps striking out a hitter who is one of the best in the league. Perhaps they are trying to make contact with the baseball God, I really don't know. What was interesting about this photo is something you didn't see--- when Pujols ran back to the dug out, he was genuinely excited. I mean he was really happy. He gave big bear hugs, high fives and chest bumps. It's not like it was his first in the majors or even the first that day (he hit two) but he was one happy guy. I never found out why, but I suspect he knew and other players knew but we fans really had no idea.

As we come down to the end of the baseball season Chicagoans know the year is over for its 2 baseball teams. The focus now is on the Chicago Bears. But not me, I am going to watch the Cardinals move into the playoffs and hopefully watch the city of Chicago be awarded the 2016 Olympics. And you can bet, when they announce who will be hosting the games , I am going to be there with my camera catching every moment.

So what happens is if we don't get it? I'll take pictures. Emotions are very powerful and make great pictures---"the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat."

If there is an Olympic God, I hope he is having good thoughts about the "City of Big Shoulders;" I want to be in the stands when the games open, I want to say I was there. I also want to take a picture that just might end up in Sports Illustrated!

Thanks for stopping by and enjoy your weekend.

We all have our heroes.

I would have to travel way back in time, but I do remember the assignment about writing about the person "who is your hero." I think today it might be "someone you admire, look up to, or have tremendous respect for as an individual." The word , "hero" may no longer be PC.

If you read my blog on a regular basis, or have read it just one time, you know I will often tell a real story and then focus on the photo that accompanies the blog. Today, for this one time only, I am going to change the order of things.

The photo above was taken at a Chicago Bull's game earlier this year. My reason for being at the game was 2 fold; I wanted to watch the Bulls play the Detroit Pistons (one of the better teams in the league at that point in time---although they folded late in the season) and to take pictures. Unbeknownst to me, the night was also about honoring one of Chicago's heroes, Johnny "Red" Kerr. "Red" Kerr was a sportscaster, player and former coach of the Bulls---I had had the opportunity to meet Mr. Kerr a number of times as he had a restaurant near our office for many years. The food was good enough that he actually ate there all of the time! In the picture, he is the one in the wheel chair. Also, in the crowd that night were Michael Jordan (in the green jacket to the left), Scottie Pippen, and on screen, President Barack Obama. For many Chicagoans, as well as millions around the world, these men serve as heroes.

That night the person who I look up to most was not in the United Center, he was at home 317 miles away.

When we were given the assignment in grade school I honestly don't remember who I wrote about. Chances are it was a St. Louis Cardinal or St. Louis Blues player. When you are younger, these are the heroes in your life. As you grow up, and we all do, we often change our perspective on who we deem as a "hero." It might still be someone in sports, a religious leader, celebrity (need to be careful on who you select these days) or the President of the United States no matter your political affiliation.

For me, it's my Dad.

My Dad exemplifies the "strong silent type." For most of my life my Dad has been the constant in our lives; he was a loving husband, a provider and someone you could sit down and talk with about "most" any topics. Just "most topics" as I am not sure I have discussed everything with him. Sorry Dad.

When my Mom became ill earlier this year, my Dad moved to the forefront in the household and still continued his other commitments. Why? He knew his role, and knew my Mom, who had been the cook, bill payer and primary social calendar setter, was no longer going to be able to handle any of these responsibilities---most likely ever again. My Dad was always a proficient barbecuer and vegetable grower, but beyond that, his cooking was fairly limited. No longer. The guy can cook!

During these past 5 months my Dad has remained rock solid. Sure he has had his moments when he sheds tears, needs to talk, or be a human being (we all have these times), but if you ask him "how he is doing?" he consistently says, "I am doing fine." He then asks, "How are you doing?" His question provides the assurance that someone is "minding the store." In addition to my Dad taking on a leading role, my brother has done the same. (You deserve the recognition bro whether you think so or not.) But this blog is not about you, it's about Dad :)

Being a Father happens. You know that when a baby comes into your life that it's for a lifetime, and you will always be their father; being a Dad (or Mom) on the other hand is different. It's a role you choose; one you have to constantly work at for a lifetime. You are the one your kids look up to, depend on, and seek advice from when challenges are thrown their way. By the way, these are the same kids who also yell and criticize you and are sure you don't have the brains to understand what is really happening. Good news is, they learn the truth when they become a parent.

For me, my Dad continues to be someone who I need as my role model, confidant, and rock that I lean on. This weekend marks the start of the new year in our religion. Whether it's applicable to your beliefs or not, I want to wish my Dad a Happy New Year with hopes that it turns out better than this past one. If for some reason it turns out to be just as challenging, I know one thing---my Dad is up for the task.

Thanks Dad. You are my hero.

Thanks for stopping by.

Off into the wild blue yonder.

For any of you who have flown in an open cockpit stunt plane over the Pacific Ocean this will be repetitive. For those who have not, it's quite a bit different from what you might experience on a Boeing 727.

It was more than 20 years ago, but the memory is still fresh. I was on what was called a "Westernization" while I worked with Sunset Magazine. About 20 of my associates and I were there to experience the West, because most of us lived East of the Rockies. The belief is, " how can you possibly sell 'Life in The West' when you live in Chicago, NYC, and Atlanta??"

The day started fairly normal; we went to Disneyland before the park opened and rode as many rides as we could the hour before "guests" started to arrive. I think we probably rode 5 to 7 rides---we did not hit it's a Small World, we went on the big people rides. It was fun, however my stomach was not having as much fun---but then again, it had had a long night the night before.

After we said good bye to Mickey and Goofy, it was off to the next adventure.

We headed to a small airport where we were going to be trying out one of that month's articles in the magazine. It was all about how you can fly in an open cockpit stunt plane; I don't remember how much it cost (it would be in the article circa 1986) but I am sure it was not cheap. We, being on a sales trip, didn't pay for anything.

These planes hold 2 people plus the pilot who rides in back of you. They are legit bi-planes. I was not the first person to get on the plane as I needed to make sure my stomach was ready. I doubt the lunch prior to getting on the plane helped much as they eat some pretty funky food out West, but I knew I was going to fly that day one way or the other.

Finally it was my turn and I got on with a friend of mine who I had worked with for a couple of years. My feeling, if you think death may be close, at least know the person who you are going to die with! Trying to look brave I asked the pilot if I could "wing walk?" He gave me a look. The look of, "don't be an idiot." I must not have understood "the look," because I then asked if we could fly upside down. He explained that it was against the law to do that unless you are flying alone without passengers, but he assured us it would be a memorable ride. I did not ask any more questions.

We took off and flew over Pacific Palisades; if you ever watched "Knots Landing" we flew over the area where they filmed the opening segment. (if you have not seen the show, then disregard.) About 5 minutes into the trip I noticed something. I noticed that the ocean was below my head. We had done some twists and turns, but the final turn kept us upside down over the water. If it were not for the seat belts strapping us in, and the head gear, think WWI, with goggles, I am sure you would have seen the fear on my face. I was terrified. But I was having fun, just a different kind of fun. We did dips and twirls in the sky but it was when we went vertical and literally stood up in the sky that I did not know if I was going to be able to contain myself. My hands had lost all of their color. They were grey. But that was not what scared me the most. We stalled. For those of you who know what that means, and most of you probably do, it means the engine cut out. Or at least I had thought it did.

We were heading downward, and fast. The pilot was screaming. He never used the word "crash" thankfully, but he did make it appear that my associate and I were going to be lunch for some of the local fish waiting for feeding time.

It was probably about 200 feet above the ocean when the pilot started laughing and we pulled away up into the sky. He asked if we would like to do it again. We both shook our heads. No.

The picture above was taken at the Chicago Air and Water Show. I can not say for sure this is what our plane looked like as we reached the pinnacle before the engine stalled, but I am going to assume it's close. That day I learned I was never meant to be a pilot (or an ichthyologist, see the blog from 9/15) but this ride is one I will never forget. My associate likely has not forgotten as well. When we landed she ran to the ladies room. I don't know the details but I assume she was probably not too happy about my questioning the pilot about flying upside down.

Since that flight I have flown only on commercial jets. I think I will stick to it.

Thanks for stopping by and taking a ride with me.

The end of an icon.

When I was growing up, my Dad and I would often spend our Friday nights going shopping. Not grocery shopping or to a mall (they really didn’t have them back then) but to G-E-M, E.J. Korvettes and Sears in St. Louis. The first 2 stores have been gone for many years but no matter what, they stood for well spent time with my Dad.

I liked Sears because they had the best popcorn.

Every time we went to Sears, my Dad and I would buy a large box and walk around with a lot of the kernels hitting my mouth and then found strewn on the floor creating a a path to where I was in the store. My Dad would go to the hardware area and look at the latest Craftsman tools and lawnmowers, and I would go to the sporting goods area and literally drool over the Ted Williams baseball gloves, bats and baseballs. I am not sure many people even remember Ted Williams, but when I was growing up he was big time.

It’s hard for me to imagine the U.S. landscape without Sears, however there has been a lot of press recently that they are standing on their last leg.

I have worked on the Sears advertising business in the past and it was very clear when I went to a store to do an “exploratory” that they were not in good shape. Doesn’t this sound like I was doing something really important? It wasn’t. A team of us all went together to get a feel of what we knew about Sears--- which was pretty much nothing. I stopped going to Sears when they no longer sold popcorn---however Target does!

So back to the “exploratory”--- for those of you with a good memory we went to several stores when Sears launched a campaign known as the “Softer Side of Sears.” It was a fantastic campaign, with a catchy jingle, and because our publishing group had a contract with Sears we were getting a boatload of their business. Probably a good idea to go make a visit and capture a memory.

Unfortunately the experience in the store did not live up to the campaign.

The “Softer Side” was all about bringing Sears into the contemporary world of fashion---all the while reminding consumers that they still sold Kenmore, Craftsman and other Sears brands. (Ted Williams was long gone.) I knew something was amiss when we were going up the escalator and noticed a mannequin wearing one of the featured outfits from one of their advertisements. It really did look good; only problem was her head was not screwed on properly and she had a slit across her neck. I suspect they didn’t sell many of those outfits that day.

The photo above is probably not the future of Sears---but knowing Sears’ roots, you just never know. We were in Galena, IL driving along when I noticed this building; it had a lot of antiques in front of it. (For those of you who are not into antiquing---it is also known as “someone else’s trash.") On the top of the building was a “Sears, Roebuck and CO” sign, but what really caught my attention was the lone cowboy boot on the pole. I had to have this photo!! I have more pictures of this boot than you will ever want to see, but I just needed to make sure it was clear---from the boot to the building and all of “someone else’s trash.” (Oops I mean antiques.) I wonder, if like the mannequin's outfit, the boot is still there?

I do miss going to Sears with my Dad. We now go to Dillard’s and Macy’s when I am in town----however, neither sells popcorn. Darn.

Just a quick note to Eddie Lampert, the CEO of Sears. Would you please sell popcorn again? I promise to come back and buy some and maybe a Ted Williams baseball glove if you have any in the storeroom.

I am going to have some popcorn today. Thanks for stopping by.

On June 20, 1975 my life changed.

For many of you June 25, 1975 means little or nothing. Especially if you were not alive. But I was. In fact, I had a date that night. We went to a movie theater on Olive Street Road in St. Louis, it was torn down years ago to make room for a big theater, to see a movie that had come out that night.

We went to see the movie, "Jaws."

I had seen the previews on TV and thought it looked like a fun movie. I was wrong. It scared me and still bothers me to this day. If it were not for my date holding my "sweaty" hand I think I would have left the theater; but I am glad I didn't because when we were leaving, I found a $5.00 bill on the ground. (Paid for the date!)

The remaining Jaws series of films never lived up to the original but I would not know. I never saw them and don't plan on seeing them!

Now 34 years later I still do not like going into the ocean; I have been at max probably chest deep but will get out as soon as it gets murky. And I'll be darned if I don't start hearing the Jaws theme sound when I am in the water---somethings just stick with you for life. What makes this traumatic experience even worse is, at one point I wanted to be an ichthyologist; for those of you who have no idea what one is, I will save you the time in looking it up. It's a fish biologist. My father laughed much harder than you probably did.

The photo above was taken at Shedd Aquarium in Chicago. It was really cold outside when I took this---that's why no one is around because few were crazy enough to go an aquarium during the week in January---and I just loved how the light was shining down into the tank.

I felt fairly safe as I took this picture as I was 15 feet away from the glass which I believe is nearly 3 feet thick. But as secure as I felt, I still knew where the exit was located just in case I needed a quick escape. Like I had a chance to get away from several hundred thousand gallons of water, and sharks, if the glass were to have broken. I have such guts, huh?

Fish and aquariums have always been part of my life. It started when I was young and up until this winter I had aquariums for most of my 51 years. I am over them as I just don't have time to take care of the mess and spend time looking at fish. My brother on the other hand has kept on the tradition---I won't discuss it here as I don't want to discuss a future blog. You won't believe that blog when I write it.

For those of you who have been reading Snap Shot on a regular basis thank you; for those who are new, welcome and thanks for stopping by.

Table for one.

There have been many days and nights when I am on the road and have been asked when I enter a restaurant, "How many are in my party?" I am not sure where this question evolved because I have often found it's really not a party when you go to lunch or dinner. I have said, "Just a table for one." I am not sure if the big "L" on my forehead sends a sign of a loser, loner, or lost person but for me, I am okay with it. When I am on the road I like to work, eat and take pictures. (My camera is my date.)

My family thinks this is odd. Especially at professional sporting events. Sure I like to be with other people, there are times when I am with 50,000 of them. I just don't know them or care to know them. But at the end of most games I'll turn to those around me and ask..."Would you like a CD of the pictures from the game?" Most are so shocked when I ask. Their response, "How much do you want for them?" I always reply, "You were so nice by not saying I was bugging or blocking your view that it's my pleasure." You make friends really quick that way. So, in a crowd of 50,000 fans...I know a few of them when I leave. Oh and I do send the disc.

It's different however when I go out to dinner or lunch. I don't take pictures---I just eat.

So on to the photo above...

This picture was taken in downtown Chicago. I have no idea who the person is, I was not going to disturb his lunch, and he would likely have not been able to talk with the mouthful he was about to engage for a good one and a half minutes of chewing anyway. What struck me as funny was how he used the car as his table. I am 100% sure he did not own the car or know the owner of the car. I would like to see the face of the owner when they come back and find lettuce, tomato and other condiments on the passenger side.

I like taking pictures when people have no idea I am taking a picture of them. It might be a construction worker, a homeless person (I give them money after I take their photo), or just someone or a group of people doing normal activities. Like eating for example.

The next time you are out for a walk, pull out the digital camera from your purse, pocket or on your iphone. It's fun to capture the moment---to me that's what photography is all about. Whether you are with a crowd of people or just at a table for one.

It's lunch time, I think I will have a sandwich. Thanks for stopping by.

Just for today you can be 6 years old again.

I have a secret. In our household my wife and I are the Tooth Fairy, Santa, Chanukah Harry and the Easter Bunny. Sure it was fun when we were young and believed, but it is much more fun when you know the truth and become these "wanted guests."

The most difficult part about being the Tooth Fairy is remembering to remove the letter and tooth and then replacing it with the money that is expected to be there when they wake. This last tooth was removed at 5:02 AM when I awoke, with a start, and thought "OMG did we do it??" I was not sure if my co-Tooth Fairy had taken care of the task, but if worse came to worse, there would be more of a reward for that little tiny tooth. I was the lone Tooth Fairy for this last tooth. When I was growing up a dime or quarter was found waiting under my pillow the next morning. Today, I have heard of 5's, 10's and even 20's being gently slipped under their pillows. Inflation.

Growing up seems to be a lot tougher these days in comparison with when I was a boy growing up in St. Louis. We didn't have as many distractions back then; my Mom didn't work (not until I was well into school), I spent a lot of my time with my friends playing street hockey, baseball, or football and we collected and actually traded baseball, football and Beatles' cards. They were a "buck a box" back then---today I think you get a third of a pack for a dollar.

You might be asking where these cards are today? In a landfill as my Mom figured I would have little or no interest in them once I discovered girls.

Unlike most of the photos so far in the blog "Snap Shot," this picture is a set up. But still a capture of a very important moment for our family. The note to the Tooth Fairy is often lost in the clutter---I want to make sure it is digitized forever. (Oh, by the way, if you look closely at the tip of the bobby pin, there it is!)

I still have one from my son written nearly 20 years ago; he seemed to be a little more "green focused" back then as he asked the "Tooth Fairy to take care of the Earth." I was really proud he made this request-- however he also asked for money. I guess somethings never change. Maybe this was his way to get more money by kissing up to the Tooth Fairy. I don't recall if it worked or not.

If you are a Mom, Dad, Grandparent, Aunt or Uncle---then you know how excited kids get when they start having gaping holes in their mouths. My favorite is when they lose their 2 front teeth. I call this the "straw look" as a straw fits right between their two eye teeth. (We are entering that phase as one of the front teeth is loose and the other can't be far behind!)

Today's blog is our secret; if you know my younger daughters please don't spoil it for them. If you know my older daughters or my son, and they don't know the truth yet, feel free to burst their bubble!

Enjoy your weekend and thanks for stopping by.

TMI

School has started, friends have not seen friends for a few months, and new boys are coming into our 5 daughter’s lives; luckily, only 1 of the 5 is involved in what would be deemed a "real relationship" and she is in college. (I am not sure how I am going to be able to handle 5 when they all come home and say, "I have met the one.") Gasp. Or maybe, the shotgun will come in handy.

Let me begin by explaining there are times when our phone can't keep up with the calls---that's why they have cell phones. Right? Since we have called ID I know who is calling based upon last names, or a company name, as one of my daughters' friends has a company name listed on his caller ID. I always have to let him know that "yes, she really will call you back! I promise." Suddenly it becomes my responsibility to have them call---a trick I learned when I was a kid. Having been in their shoes, I know talking to Dads is not fun, and worse yet having to ask them to PLEASE have “her” call me back---often results in stumbling and a quick desire to get off the phone. By them.

The dating game, no not the one I grew up with host Jim Lange, has really not changed. It has just gotten a lot bolder than what I remember. Boys call girls, girls call boys, girls call girls to tell them what boys said about them and so on. Nothing has changed. But one thing has. The amount of information they know; there’s little I could say that would shock or surprise our older daughters, however there is plenty they could say that would shock me. Where did they find this out? The street? Friends? Certainly not magazines because reading is just not cool. They have the combination to this vault of information. I think I know the combination, but in case they are reading this, I don’t want them to know that I know what they think I don’t know because I do know. (With me?)

The photo above is nothing more than 2 brothers chillin’. Cash and Carter both came from the same Mom, and for a while they both lived in our home. It’s a long story but Carter has a new family (they are friends of ours) who love him as much as we did. The day I took the picture, the two of them were lying around in our kitchen when I walked in and saw Cash with his paw/leg around Carter. Certainly it’s a funny photo, but what I love most is the expressions on their faces. My interpretation, “can’t you see were busy talking Dad, get out of here!” What amazes me is their ability to pick up our own household chemistry as this is exactly the same response I get from our daughters. Case in point, when I walk in and “disrupt” their time---whether it’s with one another as they are playing, or with friends over, or when they are watching their favorite TV show--- I get the look, gesture, or question, “Isn’t there some place else in the house you can go??” There is and I leave. Yes I am out numbered.

If you have children, you probably don’t have as many as I have. If you do have as many as I have, and five of them happen to be female, you are in the same amount of trouble as I am. My suggestion, load up the shotgun, because the boys are coming and they have the same thoughts you and I had when we were growing up. (If you are a Mom, wife or daughter, prepare your Dad, husband, or boyfriend for what’s going to happen because you have lived through it. They will appreciate it!)

Enjoy your weekend and thanks for stopping by.

The unexpected call.

The first words I heard were, "Mark, your Mom would like to talk with you." The words were not from my Dad, sister, or brother, but from Anise, my Mom's caregiver. I was shocked. As you may recall, my Mom has stage 4 brain cancer and is in hospice at a local nursing home. Even though she is aware of all that has occurred in the past 5 months, she is no longer able to have the conversations we have all come to know and love when we call home or visit her. You can probably understand why I was surprised by the phone call.

We had a nice talk, short, but still wonderful just the same for about 90 seconds. I then spoke with Anise again, and thanked her for making this call happen.

You might be thinking today's blog is all about my Mom, brain cancer, or phone calls...no, it's about Anise. This woman has a gift; the gift of being able to care for someone who is not a family member or someone she has known for many years. But someone who needs her care, her compassion, her trust. Sure she is paid to do this, she works for a company called "Martha's Hands," but in the end you can't pay for people like Anise. She is priceless. Anise has the ability to make people feel good again; make them feel like they have regained some of the daily functions that have been taken away because of a situation they had no control over, moreover she makes them feel comfortable.

Most of us live in fear of our parents or some special loved one becoming ill and in need of daily assistance. This is what Anise does best. She has the ability to walk into a difficult situation for a family and make them feel that all is going to be better. Because she is there to help---to provide the "helping hands." (At least for a while as the disease my Mom has an end result and it's not always good.)

After talking with my Mom, Anise came back on the phone and said, "We are going to play BINGO so we need to leave." My Mom has always loved BINGO and what a special way to spend her day. (I told my Mom to win big!)

The picture above was taken at the Smithsonian Institution in Washington DC. I can not tell you what building it was on the Mall, but when I saw it I knew it was cool and something I wanted to capture in a photo. In today's world, phone booths are a thing of the past. Retro. Graffiti laden. Barren. Cellphones, iphones, and BlackBerry's on the other hand are now found in pockets, purses and hands of millions of American's. It's hard to believe that my kids, and my kid's kids, will visit the Smithsonian and see this exhibit and ask, "What's that?" At the same time they will be texting, tweeting, and talking on their phones---letting their friends know they are bored or missing them and can't wait to get back home. I like this picture, it reminds me of the good ol' days.

I miss talking with my Mom. I miss hearing about stocks, the Cardinals, and all that I have known to grow and love about her and the conversations we have had. My Mom has changed, but she is still the same woman I have known for all of these years; she is just in the middle rounds of the fight of her life. Lucky for our family we have Anise in our corner as she can provide what we need---the care and compassion of someone who has the talent to transfer love and compassion to a complete stranger. This only lasts for a few minutes because once you have met her, and seen her in action, she becomes a member of the family. Anise is an extension of my Mom, what better compliment can you say about someone who less than 4 months ago was a stranger you would pass by on the street.

Thank you Anise.

Thanks for stopping by and meeting Anise.

You know it's fall when these guys arrive.

It's almost like an alarm goes off and there they are. Those pesky bees that for some reason love to find the right time to make their presence known. For me, and I have no idea why, they love to hang around our local train station when you are heading into the city for a day in the office. It's not as if there is a lot of food left around or a bee bar (if there such a thing---nahhh) but when you are waiting for the train to go into town, they are there with you. Just doing what they do best...bugging you. And yes, they have taken the train into town before. That's actually fun to watch. The reactions from people who are trying to sleep, read or better yet talk on the phone. (The talking on the phone is the topic of a future blog so I won't get into that right now.)

My son still hates bees and it has been more than 20 years since he was stung at a local arboretum while running around. You would have thought he had lost a limb or broken something by his response---but in some respects this was worse as he gained a fear of bees. It has always been with him and likely always will be.

It has been a number of years since I have been stung, but I have to admit when it happens, it really does hurt! I think to a child it's much more traumatic unless of course you are allergic to bee stings and then it really doesn't matter how old you are!

When I took the above picture I was a little concerned if taking this picture would result in a bee sting. There was an entire field of sunflowers about 20 miles from our home and when I saw them I thought---"you just don't see this every day." So, I pulled over and walked into the field. I guess I didn't realize the amount of mud these plants require for growth but it was worth it. The shoes did not survive, but the photo did! I took a number of pictures that day with bees swirling around. I saw this one bee sitting on one of the largest plants and wondered if, unlike its brothers and sister bees, it would sit still for a long enough time for me to take a picture. It actually did. But not for long.

When you are out in a sunflower field it's actually hard to leave. You keep telling yourself, "okay that's enough" and then you take one more look and see another opportunity and take more. That happens to me often. It doesn't really bother me...but I know it really ticks off my family. Probably one of the reasons I like to shoot pictures by myself. (Tough to do when you are taking family photos however.)

So if this picture evoked memories of darting bees and bee stings, I am sorry. But it is much better to have it in print than have a bee making you miserable.

Enjoy your day and like always, thanks for stopping by.