True Fan.

Okay, I am not big on tattoos, but when you love a team so much you are willing to place a tattoo on your body in support, you had better never lose allegiance or pray they don’t move to a different city.

My daughter’s former t-ball coach has a Chicago Bears image on his leg. There is no missing this drawing when he wears shorts. I have to say, this guy is a Bears fan; think about it, he has to show his passion during the off-season---you don’t wear shorts to Bears games because it is so cold outside. It’s obvious he feels very connected to the Bears, this is a team that during the past several years---except one---has been at best, “in the running .”

One thing I do admire about someone who will put a team logo on their body is they are not a fair-weather fan. We have a lot of them coming out of the woodwork right now in Chicago; as the Blackhawks are in the midst of the playoffs, the interest has gone up as have the ticket prices. If you want to stand at the game it will cost you around $400. Want to sit? Oh you will have to pay an additional $200-$300…if I wanted to sit in seats where I could shoot pictures? It would be better to buy a new TV and take pictures of the TV screen. I wonder if you could tell the difference? I would have to assume if the score were on the screen that might be a give away that I was taking a picture of the TV. Who knows?

If, for some reason, the Chicago Bulls sign LeBron James this summer, you can be sure many Chicagoans will have “Bulls” logos on their arms, legs, and chest. It would probably be best to make sure he actually does sign before you make the “skin commitment.” I don’t think we will see him in a Bull’s uniform, but you never know.

The photo above was taken at a Chicago White Sox game a few years ago. With my wife and kids next to me, sitting almost at the top of the stadium, I looked down to see a Sox tattoo on this woman's back; best part of all, it’s one of the older logos from probably 20 years ago. There is no way she had this done when this logo was on the jersey’s of the players, she was too young, but I guess she feels good knowing this one will likely never go out of style. It's doubtful the Sox will leave Chicago anytime soon---they tried a number of years ago, and instead received a new stadium.

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Size matters.

No matter what you believe or have heard, it’s true…size does matter. Whether it’s in sports or every day life, if you are of size that is not of the norm, you are probably going to hear about it. It might be said directly to your face or behind your back… and it will it effect you; even if you are thick skinned.

When I was growing up I was larger than most of my friends; no check that, I was a lot larger than most of my friends. In other words, I was fat. When I was in 6^th grade, we had to be weighed by the nurse in front of the 6^th grade class. This is no big deal when you are a twig, or in great shape, but it’s a huge deal when you outweigh some of the teachers. It's not only demeaning, and embarrassing, it’s something that sticks with you for life. Even those who have lost a tremendous amount of weight will tell you how cruel people can be. Someone like Jared who stars in the “Subway” commercials will tell you he cannot forget the days when he was overweight. He would tell you the mirror is not your friend, the opposite sex is not interested in you, and worse yet, no matter what your parents say about how good you look, don’t believe them.

If you don’t believe me, ask my sister. We have spoken numerous times on this topic and I will tell you, she is the one who asked that I write about being overweight in today’s “Snap.Shot.” Since she is my favorite sister (even though she is my only one, she would likely be my favorite) I said I would be more than happy to write about how being overweight is painful. As kids we both were overweight and it still affects both of us in adult life.

Memories of being overweight just stick with you; I can still remember when my “so called” friends came up with a new name for me, “panzudo pescado.” Whereas this was a mistranslation on their part, what they were saying to me was---when I ran, I jiggled so much I looked like a fish out of water. (The translation above is actually “fish that is fat.”) Even more than 35 years later, these words still haunt me. What could be worse? They told other people what it meant and thus I was teased.

Being overweight is not fun; but either is being called the “tall guy, short guy, skinny guy, pimply guy, and dorky guy, etc.” You can substitute the word “girl” in any of these expressions and it may even be worse on their psyche …I don’t know, I have never been a girl but I sure live with a bunch of them. The bonus for our girls is…they are not too tall, to skinny, to short, and they have incredible complexions---but even with all this, the insecurities are still there.

The photo above was taken the last year the SuperSonics were in Seattle. (They moved to Oklahoma City the next year.) Kevin Durant, who was a rookie that year, listened to every word his coach P.J. Carlesimo had to say; he must have been saying the right thing because Durant has developed into one of the NBA’s best. In addition, he is one of the NBA’s most charitable players; it just goes to show, when you are a big man and very noticeable in a crowd, it isn’t what’s on the outside, it’s what’s in your heart.

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Step back in time.

What if we could go back in time?

Unless they invent a machine that really can take you back in time, the likelihood of you being able to take a photo after something has happened is not very good. I really wish you could go back for a moment, capture it and then come back unscathed. I am not sure if it would be great for a photographer because there would be little that could not be shot again.

But, what if you could? Where in time would you go?

I know I would love to re-capture some of the iconic photos that hang on walls throughout the world, but then again, with today’s digital world it would really not be worth the effort; you would have hundreds, if not thousands, of photographers all taking the same photos.

So what would I do? I would go back in time and take photos that would be important to my family. How cool would it be to have a photo of the day when my grandparents came to the U.S.? Or, a photo of my parents being born? Back then cameras may have been found in the delivery room, and even if they were, there is little if anyway chance there would be a picture available----for some reason they get lost over time.

Some of the other photos I would love to have are birthdays that I have missed, cars our family have driven, and any way to document what was a part of our family’s history. I know there are photos my father took as we grew up, but I have no idea where they are and what condition they are in. I am going to investigate one day---I just will need time.

The photo above was taken at a local park. The day my daughter and I went we were able to step into the past and experience a time when we were not only not around, but either were cameras. Of all of the inventions that have been created over time, there are many that are more important than a camera, but nothing captures moments like my Nikon.

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Take me out to the ballgame.

If you have been to a baseball, football, basketball or hockey game recently, then you are well aware of the most expensive part of being in the stands. Sure the ticket prices can be outlandish---tickets for the Blackhawks vs. Flyers Stanley Cup playoffs are topping out over $10,000 per seat---but it's the food that doubles the cost for a family to have a special night out at a “normal” game.

I enjoy going to major league sporting events; my favorite, with little doubt, is the NBA. Especially when I have a really good seat. Unlike most of the fans in the stands, I rarely if ever leave my seat---even during halftime I take photos. But there is something magical about being there, and knowing you are capturing a potential memory that might hang on your wall. For me that's what it’s all about. I think of it as a souvenir that no one else has---and even though I might not print it, I know I was doing something I have a real passion for.

There are a lot of experiences at the ball park that have changed; the vendors, it seems, now only vend the higher priced items--- and unless I have missed something, popcorn, peanuts and Cracker Jack are only available in the refreshment areas. I am not sure where I was, but one stadium has even stopped selling shelled peanuts because of their mess. Turns out shells were ending up in the hinges of the seats.

But for the vendors, it’s really good money. Sure it’s hard work lugging beer and other heavy items around a hot ballpark, but when you add tips, and the ability to sell a completely over-priced product to drunken people, who would want to carry popcorn? That's not where the money is!

One of my brother’s fraternity brothers is a vendor for the Chicago White Sox and Cubs; I am not sure if at age 55 I would want to be doing this, but then again if the money is good, and you enjoy sports, why not?

The photo above was taken at Kauffman Field in Kansas City, MO. I am not sure what’s inside a “Squishy Yard” but I suspect it’s something I would not likely drink. But for those who are looking to add a little color to their time at the ol’ ballpark, and keep the glass, all the while paying a premium price for it, this is the drink for you.

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A long way from little league.

Part of growing up when I was young was all about playing organized sports. I tried most of them except football. I was no match for that sport. Probably the one I loved most, and absolutely stunk at, was ice hockey. So, for many years I played little league baseball in our town it was called, “Khoury” league---it was named after a man I believe named George Khoury and all of my friends played. Some were much better than me, and some, not many, were at my level.

Growing up in St. Louis is all about sports, passion for sports, and humidity;no matter what order you placed them, they all seemed to work well together. Typically, unless there was a late cold snap, we would start practicing---all outdoors back then---around the April 1^st. Our arms were well rested when we would hit the field, because back then we didn’t work out in the off-season; when the season was over, we just played catch until the next season.

There are a few memories that do stand out from my little league days; one game I had 3 hits and on the last hit, my bat broke. It was like Samson losing his hair---I never had a 3-hit game after that. Another time, and I was telling a friend about this recently, the batter before me was hit in the mouth with a wild pitch. Needless to say my plate appearance was quick--I swung at every all before the pitch was thrown.

But the best moment in my “baseball life” came as a pitcher during the last game of the season; I had learned how to throw a curve ball and even though it was suggested I not throw it because it would hurt my arm, I decided not to listen. I struck out a number of batters because they could not tell where the ball was going to end up---after that game, I was never able to throw a decent curve ball again. I guess they were right---but then again it became a memory, and I wasn’t going to make the major leagues anyway.

Playing little league baseball was a right of passage; my brother played before me and I wanted to play as soon as I was able to step out on the field. I spent many years giving it my best---playing the infield, pitcher, never catcher---and then one season I explained to the coach how badly I wanted to play right field. (My favorite player on the Cardinals at the time, Bobby Tolan, was the right fielder and I was going to be like him.) What I didn’t know, and I learned that summer, was the right field position is one of the worst in little league. Unless there is a left-handed hitter, or a ball is over thrown, you just stand in the hot humid field.

The photo above was taken in Kansas City when the Chicago White Sox played the Royals. I was fortunate enough to be sitting in the front row, and was able to shoot through the netting. Something about seeing a pitcher stare down the plate brought back long ago memories of my days in little league. Knowing how fast the ball is thrown just a few years after t-ball, I knew my role was to no longer catch a fast ball, it was to catch a photograph. I am just fine with that.

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The commute.

Unless you work from home, chances are you have a commute. It might be across town, down the street, or into a different time zone, but once you leave your house for the office you are a “commuter.” I should know, I am one…every day.

When I tell people about my commute it normally will stop them in their tracks.(No pun intended since I take the train.) They say, “How do you get there, do you drive or train it?” (“Train it” is commuter lingo by the way.) When I started my job in November I had a plan as to how I was going to make this as smooth as possible; so far the plan has worked out very well. Sure there have been a few glitches, but all in all, it’s no big deal.

My day starts out at 5:02. (Why 5 AM when you can feel like you are sleeping an additional 2 minutes.) I get up, check my e-mail, make coffee, and feed the dog. Sometimes the dog wins and he gets fed before I do anything else---just depends on how tired I am. For the next 43 minutes I will either do sit ups, read something online or wish I were still sleeping. I am sure you can guess which one I would prefer and the one I never give into. It’s the same one by the way.

After my shower I am out the door at 6:15 for a walk to the train station. The train I take comes in at 6:28 and arrives into Chicago at 7:05. I then walk down to the food court, get coffee---I am still tired---and then catch the 7:25 to my office. I arrive at 7:50. If you do the math, and I have done it, my commute to the office is 1 hour 20 minutes. (Plus the walk to the train station from my house---that is what I call the “getting psyched” time.)

Oh by the way, every night I do the opposite as I did in the morning.

If you think this sound bad, I work with a guy who has an additional 20 minutes on his commute both ways. Not bad enough? For a number of years there was an on air personality in town who would commute from Dallas to Chicago every day for his radio show. He did this 5 days a week. Why didn’t he stay over? I have no idea. But I cannot imagine how hard this commute must be on your body until I figured out---it is about a 2 and ½ hour commute each way. (That’s only about an hour more than I commute each way.)

So whether you commute by car, bus, bike, train or airplane you have a routine and it is one you have to stick with or it will drive you crazy. On my commute each day, I write “Snap.Shot.” I write it on one leg of the trip and then edit it on the last leg of the trip going home. My most memorable night? On November 18^th I learned as I was catching the last train of my commute that my Mom had passed away. I believe I wrote my best blog to date that evening---it is a train ride I will never forget.

The photo above was taken outside the train station I commute from in Evanston, IL---I was at the Northwestern basketball game and wanted to make sure I was there in time for the next train. I was 20 minutes early; it was snowing and cold, but with camera in hand, I captured some photos I really enjoyed. The woman in this photo had no idea I was taking her picture. Maybe she was thinking about dinner, the warmth of being inside, or how long she had to commute?

Thanks for stopping by.

Motion. Sickness.

Often when we take off for an extended car ride, it’s not more than 30 minutes before I hear, “I’m queasy.” It usually starts off with our 12-year old and moves up and down the ranks until everyone is ready to get sick. (Except me.) Actually getting sick has only happened a few times in all of the years of driving, but we have had some close calls. I guess. I wasn’t in the bathroom after we stopped for a bathroom break.

When I was a kid, and my brother and sister are probably laughing right now, I used to get sick when we would travel to Florida or any place beyond the Missouri border. The real problem was---I didn’t like to go in what I called, “foreign toilets.” This is a huge problem when you are 700+ miles away from home and you have to go. So, my Dad, being the great guy that he is, would escort me to the bathroom and help place toilet paper on the seat before I would sit down. Thanks Dad, I am much better these days.

The only time I can remember truly experiencing motion sickness was when my Dad, brother and I went to Hannibal, MO by boat. The only thing I remember about it, besides wishing I was dead, was an older man named, “Billy” who owned the boat we were on. The saving grace, it had a bathroom; but you had to stand up when you went and your head popped through the top---my head was popping a lot that trip. Having a good memory at times is not a blessing, but it does help when I write, “Snap.Shot.”

This past weekend, as you may know, was the weekend the carnival came to our town. One of the things that seems to happen as you get older, is for some reason the rides we all loved when we were kids are the ones we will not step near as adults. You have the “Tilt-A-Whirl” that makes me sick just looking at it; the ride, I can’t remember it’s name, that uses centrifugal force to hold you in place as it spins around and the floor drops down; and the ride that moves back and forth until it performs a full rotation. Funny, there were no adults on that ride, wonder why?

The photo above was one I was really glad I took. As it whirled around and around, it left a streak of light that only proved once again why a carnival is for kids. To know there is a human being on board, and looking at it in this whirlig motion, is enough to make me sick.

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No face shots.

This past weekend, long after we had left the carnival in our town that afternoon, I ventured back to take some of my favorite photos---night shots. It’s amazing how the carnival transforms from one feeling to another once the sun goes down. At night the darkened skies make the complete focus on the rides, games and people. During the day, it seems much more vast and larger---I know they don’t reduce the carnival’s size at night, so I assume the darkness creates the mystery that I enjoy so much when I return.

This is the 4^th time I have done this, missed one year, and I have never walked away disappointed. However, this time I walked away with seed of doubt planted in my head---and it was not a good seed I might add. While I was walking around snapping pictures, I could see someone watching me from a distance; this has happened before but it usually ends with, “No I am not going to publish any of these pictures they are for my personal usage.”

This time was different. A man, who in a line up of which one of these people would be a carnival worker came up to me and said, “No face shots.” I said, “ I am taking photos of the rides.” He said, “No face shots.” I indicated that would not be a problem and even offered to show him the photos to prove there were no face shots in my camera. He was not interested in looking. Although I knew there were no face shots, this did not squelch the feeling I had in me after he left. My thought, “What was the motive behind this?” I am sure it was innocent, but as I looked around the crowd it became even more of an odd statement. (The night demos usually are a lot different than what you see at the carnival during the day---after the sun goes down, they are comprised of kids between the ages of 11 and 16.)

I couldn’t drop it, so as I was taking pictures of the Ferris wheel I casually mentioned this man’s comments to one of the police officers standing right by me. They are there from the start of the carnival on Wednesday to the closing on Sunday. She was a female officer, very nice, and said, “He said that to you?” I said, “He did.” She went on to explain that they do random background checks, as does a private service employed by the village, and yes they have exposed some less than desirables in the past. She felt he was probably concerned these photos might end up published. I said, “they won’t be, but that doesn’t make me feel any better especially with 4 girls at home.” Then the conversation turned to all of the drunken adults she will be encountering at the “taste” adjacent to the carnival. She didn’t seem too excited.

After taking more photos I left for home; part of me was relieved, part of me was still uncomfortable with what had happened. I thought, “this is a good blog for ‘Snap.Shot.’” and today, you have it.

The photo above does show faces but from a distance; I am reasonably sure when anyone looks at this picture they will see the colors and blur before they even realize there are 2 workers at the ride. Funny thing about it is…there is a man at the carnival who I see every year; this year he gave me his card and asked that I send him the photos---you can be sure, there won’t be any face shots!

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Step right up.

This weekend the carnival came to town. For 3 days we tried to avoid it, but on the 4^th one, we gave in. It was pretty much what I remembered. There are a few new games, one new ride and many of the same “carnies” who I remembered from last year. Oh, many of the same kids were there I am sure, but they are one year older and one year---as they seem to believe---wiser.

The carnival continues to be an attraction where the girls come to be with boys, the boys come to meet girls, and the ability to impress the girls with athletic skills rises on behalf of the boys; this usually takes place in the games area that is scattered around the carnival. Trouble is, impressionable girls really are not into pirate swords, plastic hats or squirt guns---a stuffed animal however will always get a “thank you.”

Every year, at night, I will go down to the area where the carnival is located and shoot pictures. For me it’s an opportunity to test new skills I have developed in taking pictures with movement, blur, and color. The last thing I want to take a photo of is a Ferris wheel that is stopped. It’s when these machines, you hope are safe, and are in motion, help you take better pictures that are not only colorful, but visually interesting. By the way, I have not seen a ride roll off its hinges and attack the crowd yet---doubt I will, but it would be a once-in-a-lifetime photo.

When I was growing up, the games, of what I recall, were usually around a .25 or .50 to play. You had the standards---toss a soft ball into corn bushel basket, place a ring on to a soda bottle, and of course, knock down the metal milk bottles. The problem with all of these games, and it is still as true today as it was when I was young, they are totally stacked against your winning. Now the 25 cent games have turned into the $2-$3 games. Some give you a token prize, and from some you just walk away knowing you have just been suckered. My favorite sucker game…shoot a free throw, make it, and win a prize. Here’s the problem, the rim is smaller than a traditional basketball hoop, it is placed at a higher level, and there is little or no way you are going to win. The result…2 shots, 2 bucks, too bad. Next.

The photo above is one that has probably been taken a million times. If not on film or digital file, it is for sure implanted into every brain cell of anyone who has attended a carnival. Knock down 3 of these taunting clowns and win a prize. How hard can it be? Well, if you don’t hit the clown exactly in its middle, the ball just whizzes by. What many don’t know is, the sides are very soft and will not have any impact on the clown falling down. Carnivals are part of the summer tradition and I hope they are always around; as I have gotten older, I live the memories through my kid’s eyes. When you step right up, you have to know they are waiting for you.

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Behind the wheel.

There are not too many things that truly frighten me, okay maybe sharks, snakes and bad guys, but nothing ranks up to getting into the car with a soon-to-be driver. If there is anyway to bring my nerves to the surface, this is the sure fire way to get it done.

We are at the halfway point when it comes to the number of kids who are now drivers in our family. I have to be honest, far and away my son won the award of bringing out the fear in me when it came to getting behind the wheel. When he first began driving, he asked, “Which peddle is for the gas and which is the brake?” I knew I was in for an adventure. I am happy to say, after his first year was behind him, and several dents and one accident later, he is a reliable driver. (Of course that was 10 years ago.)

My two daughters were nerve wracking---and I am sure they knew it. The imaginary brake on my side always comes out when we drive and so does the increase in speaking volume. Is it a control thing on my part? You bet it is. I like to drive, feel in more control when I drive, and 90% of the time I am the designated driver in our family. I hear that I drive too slowly, but in the end we get there.

We have all seen the driving school cars on the road and I often wonder how these men (mostly) and women handle this stress and tension. Yes these cars do have a brake on the passenger’s side, but you still have to be next to the new driver and cannot yell. At least I don’t think they are allowed to. This is one job you will never see me applying for—that’s a given.

All I know is when our last one is driving I will likely be 100% grey, frazzled and have little if any nerves left in my body that have not been stretched, exposed and frayed. Ugh.

The photo above is only the start. They climb in behind the wheel, start to twist and turn and suddenly they are driving. I am not sure if the driving age will be increased to 18 years old any time soon, but when it is, I will have 2 more years breathing room. I know kids are anxious to get “wheels,” but in the end we parents take the brunt of it all until our kids get pay back from their kids. I will be sure and remind them what they put me through.

Thanks for stopping by.

The Final Salute.

If a picture is truly worth a thousand words, the one above is worth an entire encyclopedia. Normally I will explain more about the photo featured at the top of “Snap. Shot.” at the closing, but this one certainly deserves more attention and focus than a regular blog.

Let me begin, I did not take this photo; it actually was part of a prize winning essay that won the “Pulitzer Prize" and was honored in the "Picture of the Year International" through the University of Missouri’s school of Journalism yearly photo contest. It’s called, " Final Salute.” It had every right to win; to me, every inch of this photo tells a story. You have the dignity of a soldier being taken back home to his or her final resting place, the soldiers who are on guard to make sure this brave individual arrives safely, and the passengers on this commercial aircraft looking out to see what’s going on. That’s why I am sure this won, it’s also why I am so engrossed with this incredible photograph.

The story behind the photo involves a photo journalist and news reporter, who for 1 year, follows U.S. Marines stationed in Colorado at Buckley Air Force Base whose duty it is to notify the families of the deaths of their sons in Iraq and then escort their bodies home for burial, the photographer's name is Todd Heisler and at the time he was with the Rocky Mountain News. He saw it all…the good, the hard and the painful. This shot, as he described it, was one of the most painful he took---I can understand why. A rare situation, he was allowed to photograph on the tarmac at a commercial airport as the soldiers placed their brother or sister into the cargo hold. Flying caskets and bodies to locations around the world is an everyday occurrence in the airline industry, capturing a photo like this is not. That’s what is so amazing about this picture, you have to look at it and wonder what everyone is thinking.

In photography we often will take a photo of our child, pet, or occasion that brings a camera out---in moments like this, “The Kiss” in Times Square by Alfred Eisenstaedt or millions of other iconic photos, these are the ones that you never get bored looking at. Seeing Aunt Millie at the beach with her goofy hat on is funny to the family, but it gets stuffed away into a photo album or maybe into a frame in the hall; it’s passed by every day and may or may not catch a passing glance. Photos like the one above speak volumes and never stop people from talking and looking at them. That’s why I love photography---when you capture the moment.

The photo above is one of my favorites; I first saw it at my son’s graduation at the University of Missouri. We were walking past the Journalism School when to my left, tucked away, were winners and nominees for Picture of the Year. There were some truly incredible photos on the wall; however, only two of them stuck with me---the other was of a greyhound race. When I did more research on this photograph, I learned it was not for sale. Not that I would want to buy an original, okay I would, but couldn’t afford it, I knew I had to have a small photo just to remind me of the power of photography. To me, this is the hand’s down winner.

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The Family Tree.

We all are part of a family tree; whether we know much about it is another story. It was not until about 10 years ago that I had any idea where my family originated. I knew it was in Europe, but was not sure where the location was; my family is from the Ukraine. That doesn’t tell me a lot, but it does provide me with a spot on the map.

I have to believe since the Internet has come on the scene that learning more about your family, from available information on the web, has to have made it easier to learn more about your its roots. I do wish we could go back in time and hear some of the stories about my Dad’s Dad’s Dad and beyond. (Did you follow me on that one?) Once my grandparents moved to the U.S. a lot was left behind; I probably will never know anything about what took place---unfortunately when they are gone, they take their history with them.

There is a new show on the air now where celebrities have the opportunity to go back and find out more about their families; where they came from, what they encountered, and what type of “bloodlines” they have. These are not pure breads, these are people---but we all have our stories. On this show---it’s hosted Lisa Kudrow who starred on “Friends”---she takes some very famous people back to the times when they were not famous, because they weren’t alive.

Our family tree is truly a hybrid of families; it’s part of the rolling of the dice when two people fall in love and decide to have a family. I know for instance my Mom’s side was made up of very tall men ---this was back in the days when six feet was considered very tall. Based upon the stories I have heard, some of my Mom’s relatives were well over 6’4.” (I am fortunate to have inherited these genes---they also had heart problems, I am hoping those passed me by.)

One of the other genes that must be present in our families is the desire to work hard; sure we have all taken many different career paths, but if you look at both sides of our family you will find artists, attorneys, real estate magnets, and many other careers deeply rooted in the tree. One other point of interest…we have all gone and graduated college. This is one area I will not let fall through the cracks with my kids---education is something that has been instilled in brother, my sister and me. We are not unique to other families this is just our tree.

The photo above is actually our family tree. It’s located in the backyard of my folk’s home where I grew up. When it was planted it was not more than 6 feet tall and today is probably more than 10 times that height. Like any family tree, you will find as time passes, it will develop deep roots and rise upward; some of the branches shoot out in crazy directions, those would be the unique characteristics that make up our family tree.

Thanks for stopping by.

Something’s never change.

The springtime brings organized sports into our world up here in the north; along with these sports bring the parents. All is well until the parents show up.

I was talking with a co-worker today who has a 7-year old son. He was explaining to me that at age 7, there is competition to make the “all-star” travelling team in his area. Yes you read that right---1^st graders are competing to be “all-stars.” I am not sure if you have been fortunate enough to watch a game of 1^st graders playing baseball, but there is a big leap between this group and the majors. You wouldn’t know it by the parents in the stands however---but there really is.

Keep in mind, these are the same kids who place their gloves on top of their heads when they are in the outfield, spin around waiting for another out to be made, and best of all, pick grass out of sheer boredom; they must feel like it’s growing under their feet as they wait on the field for someone to do something to make the game interesting, I assume that’s why they pick it.

Kids today are being pushed even harder to perform than when I was growing up. The difference with me is, and was, I was not very good. There was little reason to think I was going to be playing in the game, yet alone on an all-star team. I did play in an all-star game one time; well actually our team won the division, so we all were on the team. Not all of us played, but we were on the all-star team. Yes, I was one of the guys who had “splinters” as they say.

I know there are some kids who are certainly “ahead of the game” for their age, but when you compare the number of players, for example in little league baseball, you are competing with more than 12,000,000 kids who are competing for that last spot on the bench in the major leagues. In other words, your odds are not good. As far as being a superstar in the game, you can imagine how winning the lottery appears to be a lot brighter than it did when you began reading “Snap. Shot.” today.

The photo above was taken at my daughter’s soccer game last weekend. When you are on the sidelines waiting to go into perform your magic, you have the choice either watch and cheer your team on---or you can pick grass. I will say, the grass at the end of the game was looking well manicured that day.

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The portrait.

For most of us, when we are asked if we would like to have a portrait taken, the word, “no” cannot come out fast enough. This is one of the fun parts of being a photographer. You hear the word “no” but you “know” you are going to take the picture.

So what do you do?

In some instances it’s a simple explanation; you calmly explain you have been hired to take a picture and whereas you realize they don’t want to have it taken, you really need to get this done. When that doesn’t work, and it usually does not, you then turn on the charm, make them laugh, and if it gets really bad, tell them to stick out their tongues. It’s hard to believe but 99% of the people, no matter how young or how old, will do this. The kids will also jump in the air, spin around, and make funny faces. Once they have done this, and they usually will, they’re in the palm of your hand.

I really don’t like taking portraits, but I do it for 2 reasons: Mom’s and Dad’s love them, and they pay you to do it. Hey if you are going to do something you really are not as into as say…sports photography, you might as well be compensated for it. Even though I don’t love taking these types of pictures, when the set up is right, they do come out pretty darn good. We are fortunate to have the right cameras, lights, and the best trick we learned when we were studying to be wedding photographers---a white background. It makes your pictures literally jump off the paper.

Probably one of the funniest portraits I have taken recently was of an impersonator---he was dressed like Gene Simmons of the band, “KISS.” He had a fake tongue that looked like a serpent, and heels on that made him at least 6’5.” Funny thing, he actually looked like him. It was the suitcase that he wheeled around with him that let me know this was probably not the real guy. I had seen him the night before, didn’t have my camera (I know, I was shocked too) but was fortunate to find him again the next day. I asked if I could take his picture? I took at least 30. When we were done he asked me if I was a real photographer? I know it was the sound of the 30 pictures rattling off that gave away the fact I had a good camera. We spoke for a couple of minutes---he was actually a really nice guy and I might add $2.00 wealthier!

The photo above was taken during an impromptu photo session at our house. One of my daughters had to take photos of all of the women/girls in our household, we have many to choose from, and because I have trouble staying away from the camera, I snapped some of our youngest daughter. I am biased, but this is a portrait I would like to print and have in our home---trouble is, we have 10,000 others of all of the girls that I feel the same way about and no space to hang them! Maybe we just need a bigger house.

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Country Music.

For many years I was embarrassed to admit that I liked country music. People would ask, “How, and why, would you ever listen to it?” I went on to explain, “It all happened in a cab in Chicago.” If that doesn’t cause a perplexing look, nothing will.

Probably around 1990, I was riding in a cab when I asked the driver, “Who is this singing?” I was told, “It’s Randy Travis.” I had heard of him, but had never really heard anything more than his name. Listening to this song I thought, “this isn’t as bad as I thought it would be.” So, when I went home that night, or shortly thereafter, I turned the radio dial to our local country music station, US99, and gave it a further listen. I, of course, turned it back to previous station before I turned the car off---wouldn’t want anyone knowing what I was listening to. It was just a test anyway or so I thought.

One listen turned to frequency… and those early days of “casual listening” lead to country music becoming my favorite music format. As I have liked to explain it, “Country music is like scotch, it takes a while to acquire the taste.” (Yes that could be the making of a country music song!) Since that cab ride I have purchased more cassette tapes, CD’s, and music off iTunes than I ever would have thought I would. Remember, this is country music and I am a suburban Jewish guy after all. I know nothing about living in the country, having a dog named “Blue,” or driving a truck. (The last time I drove a truck was when I moved from one house to another, and while I was parking it after hours at the rental location, I scratched the side of it.)

I knew I was hooked when my daughter and I went to our local fair one summer and listened to one of the acts play---his name was Toby Keith. This fair also had rock and roll acts, but we didn’t see them---we went to see this new guy who sang a song about “wishing he were a cowboy.” Today, probably 15 years later, we still talk about that night and how much fun it was---and today, Toby Keith is one of the biggest country stars.

The photo above was taken in Las Vegas last week. It brought back memories of New York City about 10 years ago. I was there for a meeting and was in a cab travelling through Central Park. I asked, “What’s going on?” He was not sure who Garth Brooks was, but said, “This man is going to be playing in Central Park next week.” If you recall the concert, more than 1 million people showed up to experience country music in New York City. Probably unimaginable for Garth Brooks to imagine---as he was a long way from Oklahoma and the honky-tonks he played in across the southwest. For me, cabs are a part of travelling from point A to point B---since that memorable ride nearly 20 years ago, one song, in one cab, has left an imprint on my life.

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60 years ago today.

On May 16, 1950, Barbara Ellen Kessler and Simon Rosenbaum, both from St. Louis, Missouri tied the knot. Of what I am told it was a fairly simple ceremony, but the outcome turned out to be a very rich union between a man and a woman. Over several decades some amazing things happened---but I would assume, and hope, the 1950s were the decade with the most impact on their lives.

Why?

All three of their children were born---at least I hope this was a good decade for my folks!

Marriage in the 50s was the next logical step after high school and/or college; if you went to college that is. Back then the pattern seemed to go like this---you would get married (unless you were known as a “spinster”) and quickly would begin to start planning a family. These were times when many women didn’t work and the man was the sole “bread winner.”

It was not until the 1970s that our family had two incomes---this change happened when my Mom went to work at Stix, Baer & Fuller---a local retailer that was eventually purchased by Dillard’s Department Stores. My Mom worked in the ladies hosiery department and boy could that woman sell. When she would come home, she would tell us stories about the happenings at “Stix.” She was really into it.

We would hear about the hosiery sales, how many pairs she sold, and of course the best part…the latest gossip at the store. Because it would not be funny to you, and is an inside family joke, I won’t bring up stories about “Big” Jim Kinney, Mr. Bono, or—and even though he was outside the Stix family of workers---her beautician, “Dique.” These stories were probably what made us three kids come to the dinner table---that and my Mom was an excellent cook! (My Dad has now taken over that role.)

Speaking of my Dad. He worked at a dress manufacturing company known as Martha Manning, Co. His office was located about 40 miles from our home and when he was not travelling out of town, he drove there every day. My Dad is more reserved than my Mom, but we did hear some interesting stories about the people who worked at the plant. Probably one of my favorite “characters” (it’s fitting) was the self proclaimed “VP of Shipping” Ross Rodenbaugh who headed up the shipping and loading dock. Now to say Ross was a “character” is the “only” way to describe him. Here is a man who had no teeth, looked like Abe Lincoln (although he was shorter) and best of all, “claimed” to have been hit from behind by another car travelling in excess of 75 MPH---he lived. Oh by the way, I forgot to mention, Ross had a habit of exaggerating.

Ross did have a sad ending, of what he was in another auto accident and in this one, he was not quite as lucky. (I don’t recall the exact details, but I am sure he is running a loading dock up in heaven.)

The photos above have very special meaning to our family; the one on the bottom is of my Mom, her Mom and other family members. I am not 100% sure of my Mom’s family photo I am quite sure who is in the photograph on the top photo. This is a picture of my Dad and his family; he is the younger boy and next to him is his brother, my Uncle Joe, and my grandparents. This is why I love photography---because if we didn’t have these pictures we would only be able to keep their images in our memories and not a physical picture.

I am writing this blog today in honor of my parent’s 60^th wedding anniversary. This is the first anniversary without my Mom; but you can be sure somewhere she is telling my father how much she loves and adores him---and the coolest thing, for 60 years they have felt this way about one another.

Thanks for stopping by.

Not the trading card you want to be on.

When they come into this world, they come into it like most any other child. But as life moves forward there are twists and turns that don’t always turn out for the best. It really doesn’t matter where you go, you will always be able to find young girls (and boys) who have lost their direction. Not always their fault, but once they are on the wrong path, it’s difficult, if not impossible, to find the road home again.

Growing up in today’s times has never been more challenging; our world is no longer just the nearby community or even cross-town, it’s now global. The Internet has created the ability for people to communicate anywhere in the world. No matter how China tried to censor with Google, it’s impact didn’t work. I am not sure how we can ever rein it in from where we are today, but being careful is a very critical first step.

Hearing stories about young men and women who have gotten into trouble in far away towns is no longer that unusual. In fact, words like “pimp” are no longer just in reference to the inner city and life on the streets---you hear it from high school kids who think it’s a very funny description of someone they know. It’s only funny to a point, and when that point becomes real life, it loses all of its humor.

This week in Las Vegas I saw first hand how difficult life can be for runaways, drug addicts, and people who thought life would be so much better once they were able to get out from underneath their parents rule. I am sure as they look back, they realize how much better they might have had it. Sure there are going to be situations where being away from malicious and dangerous family members is much better for them, but I assume this is not always the case for everyone of these kids. It is just sad either way.

As you walk along the streets in Las Vegas you are constantly provided the opportunity to meet women---men and women hand out cards to anyone who will take them. The photos invite you to make a call and meet up with your “dream date.” I am reasonably sure the women on these cards are never the ones who show up at your door---but how sad this is the role they now have to live out.

The photo above is one I found to be very moving; as I stood on the sidewalk I watched people pass by dropped cards. Like a piece of trash strewn on the ground, these advertisements had little or no value to those who really didn’t care. In the end, it’s always important to remember, these women (or in many cases girls) happen to be someone’s daughter.

Thanks for stopping by.

All aboard.

In the next few weeks, the annual carnival will invade the community where I live. It will have all the usual rides, games and food for everyone to enjoy. I guess that’s the best way to look at it? The carnival arrives on Tuesday, sets up on Wednesday and is all set to go on Thursday; it’s the same way every year. One difference that occurred last year was rain and cold; the kids were crushed, the parents were too. Not really. Of course bad weather means little to kids who are determined to be at the carnival, and their determination means we parents don’t have a choice. We’re there.

Last year I saw one of the carnival workers who I photographed the year before. He remembered me. I am not sure if this is a good thing, or he was so flattered by the photo I gave him. I suspect he remembered me as the guy with the camera who was taking pictures; something tells me these guys see this all as a routine, but every once in a while something stands out---like a photographer. Who knows?

I will be back this year, as I really do enjoy photographing carnival rides; if you are ever interested in taking carnival pictures, and have a camera that adjusts speeds, F-stops and other camera “verbiage” I really don’t understand, it’s quite simple to do. You set your “film” speed up high (this would be the ISO), slow down the shutter speed and find the right F-stop (you can take practice shots) that make the pictures rich in color. You will be amazed how they come out---the photos have blur that creates motion and also makes you feel like you are really there. Sometimes it’s so real you swear you have motion sickness!

Other sites at the carnival that are fun to photograph are the game and food areas. I don’t know why, it’s probably the colors, but these always have a look and feel to them that brings the carnival to life. Best part is…you don’t have to play the games (they are not winnable anyway) and you don’t have to eat the food. (Enough said on that.)

One game/machine that up until this week I had never seen was “Zoltar” the fortune-teller machine. (If you have seen the movie “Big” you know Zoltar.) I was at an industry show in Las Vegas and as I turned the corner, who was there? You got it…Zoltar. This time he was plugged in—he wasn’t in Big---and he gave me my fortune. I hope it comes true.

The photo above was taken outside of the hotel I was staying at in Las Vegas---The New York, New York. The roller coaster takes riders on the cab ride of their life---look at the front of the first car--- with dips and twists all around the outside of the hotel. You don’t have to listen to hear if it’s coming, the screams and ground movement long before it arrives let’s you know it’s coming. This made it very easy to photograph. What I like most about this picture is—the rich color, the dramatic feel, and knowing after all the garbage I ate on this trip that I am not on it!

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Thank you very much x 2.

I would have to assume a town like Las Vegas is big enough to have more than one Elvis. In fact, last night I saw two Elvis’s, Marilyn Monroe, and a man who was dressed from head to toe in gold. I am assuming he is Jewish and goes by the name of “Goldman.” Who knows?

What’s really crazy about all this is I saw all of these characters after 11PM; that’s when things really get started on Las Vegas Blvd. When both Elvis’s appeared, they came by bus---not by limo---and found a nice place to hang out right in front of the Bellagio Hotel. I have to admit, if you are going to take up space in front of a popular gathering spot, the location where the fountains dance is a pretty good selection. It also helps you make more money.

This is really the first time I have spent time in “Vegas” and I am not sure how anxious I am to come back. The reason I am here is for business, but there’s something about the life people lead here that is really different than I am used to; it’s not bad, it’s just such an escape from life that you wonder how people spend more than a few days here. That’s probably the issue, I have been here all week!

One thing this town does offer is good food, plenty of people watching, and best of all some great photo opportunities. This past week I have seen brides---in wedding gowns-- walking around, a man dressed as Gene Simmons of KISS, and some of the wildest outfits you could ever imagine. (Both men and women.)

The photo above was taken last night---these 2 Elvis’s were the hit on the street. The guy in gold was trying to take advantage of their popularity and the money they were making. They were not real happy to see him. I am happy, and relieved, to know that Elvis is alive and well here in Las Vegas---however, I never realized he had so many identical brothers.

Thanks for stopping by.

The other side of Vegas.

Step into any hotel on the Vegas strip and you will see people of all types handing over their money at tables, slot machines and shows. The economy has definitely taken its toll on Las Vegas; one of the sure signs is the number of penny slot machines now in abundance. The last time I was here I remarked about the $20 and $50 slots, but these are no longer around; if they are, they are buried deep in another area of the casino. (I have no idea why anyone would want to play at penny slot or a $50 slot, but since I have officially given $13 to these one-armed bandits, I can see why people are into sitting, staring, and hoping for the bells to ring.)

The one thing you will find here is plenty of entertainment; whether it’s gambling, shows with top-notch entertainers, or even a shark exhibit, there is no shortage of things to do. For the first time I am staying at the New York, New York hotel. Unlike it’s name sake, the rooms are big, they are less than $75.00 a night, and it’s not noisy; maybe they should pipe in noise, shrink the rooms by 80 percent, and jack up the rates, then it would truly be New York.

What’s amazing about this place is the way the nighttime transforms it from kind of a sleepy town during the day to as active of a location as you can ever imagine once the sun goes down. The casinos fill up, the food and drink start to flow, and you can walk anywhere you want at practically any time of the evening and find people milling about all over the place.

But there is a different side of life that is never promoted in Las Vegas marketing; there are many homeless and misplaced souls. Last night I overheard two security guards talking and one was commenting about the job market; to quote him, “it’s almost impossible to find a job these days.” I also saw on the news that 80% of all homes are what they call, “under water”---meaning they are worth less than their mortgages. This complete reversal of wealth took less than 3 years to occur.

The photo above was taken last night. As a photographer it’s important to look beyond the buildings and sunny climate. Of course I asked this individual before I took the photos, and paid him for letting me take the pictures. Looking into his eyes you could see the sadness that has taken over his body, mind and soul. For him, lady luck has completely left him at the curb.

Thanks for stopping by.

If cars could talk.

Cars, as we know, can serve as a status symbol of where you have been, where you are going, and where you want to go; placed all together, I am reasonably sure when Henry Ford rolled out the Model A, he had no idea how cars would impact American culture beyond going from one point to another. (Oh by the way, Henry Ford did not invent the automobile it’s credited to Karl Benz of Germany---Ford perfected the mass production of the automobile.)

One of the most important roles of the automobile was the freedom it offered; before the car, we lived in cities close to the hub of industry. If you couldn’t drive or travel to the suburbs, you lived close to where you worked or would never be at work on time. But, once the automobile arrived, the opportunity to travel further than you ever thought imaginable, allowed people the freedom to move around. Of course this didn’t happen for some time---you still needed mass production and the essential pathway called a "road." But it was not too long after, that more and more cars were seen being driven around. A few years later, teenagers could get their licenses, malls popped up in the suburbs and the term "mall rat" was born. (All this from a car...kind of amazing.)

So what about the bumper sticker? Once again, you can pretty much credit Henry Ford for it. The first bumper stickers were made of cardboard and metal, and were placed on the bumper of Ford automobiles. Turns out the bumper became part of the car after mass production was perfected; with no surprise, the more cars that were on the road, the greater the chances of them bumping into one another. With the addition of the bumper came the bumper sticker. The first bumper stickers were affixed with wire and string; if you know anything about Henry Ford, you are well aware of his political views and obsession for free speech; this was how he started taking his points to he streets. This did not always help his reputation.

Probably one of the funniest bumper stickers I can remember was one I saw when I was a teenager. It obviously has been etched into my mind as that was a long time ago. I was driving down the road and saw a car that at best should not have been on the road. It was rusted, battered, and noisy; a guy, who was about my age was driving it. The bumper sticker said, “Don’t laugh, your daughter might be in this car.” It truly put in perspective how funny and entertaining these pieces of American culture can be-- and how scary it is to think that yes your daughter might be hanging out with someone who drives a car like this.

The photo above was taken this past weekend in Indiana. If Henry Ford envisioned freedom of speech as the role of the bumper sticker, he would have been proud of this car. With stickers ranging from Apple Computers, to witchcraft, to AAA, and more—the license plate says it all--"B Kind." In the end we can be who we want, drive what we have, and say what makes us feel good, and we can do this all from point A to point B.

Thanks for stopping by.

Out on their own.

It seems very hard to believe that another one of my kids is heading out into the real world. It shouldn’t be all that surprising since she has been away at college for 4 years, but it still is hard to comprehend where the time has gone. I know every parent says this when a milestone occurs. I know this is not the only graduation we are going to experience; our youngest daughter is graduating pre-school this week. (Although not technically the same as college, it’s one of the first steppingstones to being out on her own.)

Today’s “Snap. Shot.” is not all about taking a look back, it’s actually about taking a look around you and to see how you have performed as you move on to the next milestone.

This past weekend brought forth a lot of thoughts and emotions. Sure seeing your daughter graduate is a thought provoking moment, but there were many others. It made me take a look as to how all of our children have grown in a short period of time; it’s all relative because in some instances it has been a whopping 25 years of growth, working its way down to a mere 5 years. (Don’t tell that to our 5-year old.) My son has been out of school for 4 years---he has matured, found his path, and is now seeing a very nice woman who I can tell he has very deep feelings for.

As we move down the line, my oldest daughter has just graduated (see above if you missed it) so her agenda is laid out for her at this time; but you can be sure there will be some twists and turns along the way---it’s called life. Then we have our teenagers, in order of priority they are into friends, boys, friends, and boys---they go to school, but they live for the weekends and their friends. Sound familiar? They will find over time their priorities change, but for now, they are exactly what the “raising your kids book says”---“the teenage years are some of the most challenging, for you and them. Just deal with it.”

That brings us to our youngest; they are best friends yet like all siblings they really give it to one another when one pulls away something they want or is listening to something they feel they should be listening to on an iPod for example and to hear them argue is actually kind of funny. They will verbally duke it out and then tell each other they love each other. This is great, but they will be like the teenagers above in no time. That’s when reality strikes.

The photo above is from my daughter’s graduation---the one from college. What’s funny about this picture is not only the signs they have on their caps, but the guy in the sombrero. As ridiculous as this might appear, it made finding my daughter very easy as thousands of graduates walked in to the hall. It’s a good thing it wasn’t about finding the person using a cell phone---she’s talking on hers---that would have made finding her impossible.

Thanks for stopping by.

Without them, you wouldn’t be reading this.

In order to come into this world, it’s rather important to have a mother. Sure, it helps to have a father, but for some reason you don’t see the word “Dad” written on many men’s arms so I guess “Mom” ranks a bit higher in the order of priority. That’s okay, I fully agree. For those of you who were not aware, and either was I, Mother’s Day actually dates back to the Greek and Roman days, but it was in 1914, when President Woodrow Wilson proclaimed Mother’s Day to be a national holiday. (It’s only fitting that Father’s Day became a national holiday more than 50 years later.)

I have never been a Mom nor do I plan to be, but I do know the amount of work they do for the family. Sure husband’s, father’s and we Dad’s add to the household, but we really don’t have the right stuff to be a Mom. Whether it’s the obvious stuff, or just the patience it takes to raise children, deal with home matters, or show real interest in whether the color of the walls are ecru, white or mauve.

If you are a regular reader of “Snap. Shot.” you probably know there was one less phone call I made today; this is the first Mother’s Day I did not call my Mom. It’s not like we didn’t have a conversation telepathically, we just didn’t need to use Ma Bell. It is very odd knowing my Mom is in another place and I am not able to wish her “Happy Mother’s Day”---but I do believe wherever she is and whatever she is making (maybe her famous rice dish, mushroom and barley soup, or one of many great meals) someone is eating very well tonight.

We have a lot of Mom’s in our family---the best part about them is, they all have taken their role as Mom as serious as my Mom did. They are very compassionate, loving, and they have more patience than I will ever have. The funniest part about them is, they all have total control over their spouses. Sorry, guys, but we all know it’s true---and we don’t dare admit anything different or we will regret it. Okay, maybe we will be able to live to see tomorrow, but we will certainly wish we could have taken back those words.

The photo above was the last picture taken of all of the Mom’s in our family at the same time. This date has been brought up in “Snap. Shot.” a number of times---it was not only my birthday, but has now become a very special day I will never forget, for me, “it’s now Mother’s Day.” Mom, I miss you very much, I am sure wherever you are, you’re eating bridge mix and playing Mah-jongg with your friends.

Thanks for stopping by.

I do.

With spring in full bloom, more and more couples are coming together and setting a date---unlike going to the movies, dinner, or to the park, this one is the date called, “forever.” As wonderful of a time it is for these couples, there is something that makes me “shutter” in some ways. No pun intended, this is called being the wedding photographer. It's stressful, but actually fun.

Last year, my wife and I were trained to become wedding photographers. This was not our first time shooting a wedding, but what we learned from these months of classes did open your eyes about this profession---and it is a profession! In order to be very good, you have to be artistic, patient, and a very good negotiator.

From the artistic point of view, this part is pretty easy to understand, but there are many tricks you learn to make the photos come out better. For example, “Got large arms?” Don’t let the bride or guests turn to the side, their arms will look like tree trunks. If a guest thinks it looks good when they don’t smile and look like they don’t want their picture taken, you’re right it looks good...to them. Certainly not to the bride and groom who have hired a very expensive photographer and want the best pictures taken. (Wasted time is expensive.)

Once you have the creativity down, the next step is learning patience. Why? You have to wait for the bride to put on her make up, the groom to show up for pictures with all of his potentially “buzzed” buddies, or both families to make their way to the "designated" photo area for the family shots. You want tension? These bring on tension. To get it down, it takes an ability to bring a lot of people on your side, and the best part is---everyone thinks they are the photographer and love to give you tips. They do and you smile and explain you are there to do a job. You really have to demonstrate patience when you get some idiotic friend of the bride or groom who is sure he is the life of the party; he pops up in pictures and will require some serious editing to get him out of there. Who ever invented Photoshop, you are my best friend.

Now with both the creative and patience down, the negotiations round it all out. From the moment you meet the bride (she pretty much runs the show as you might guess) to the pricing to making sure you get the right photos, there are going to be bumps along the way. I have found if you are nice to people, and get them on your side, you will get what you want done. If you have the personality of a rock or dead twig, you get the results that demonstrate you have the personality of a rock or dead twig. Get them to smile and interact with you, and the photos actually do come out better. One of my favorite things to loosen them up---have them stick out their tongues, cross their eyes or better yet, jump in the air. They may not want to do it, but bet they will---people will do whatever the photographer wants. It's amazing.

That’s what I learned about being a wedding photographer; also it’s very important to have a good camera.

The photo above was taken at the first wedding we ever shot. With no pressure, we offered to take photos at my nephew’s wedding. A family event and we offer to take pictures? Yes, I needed to have my head examined. We shot at every event and we took a ton of photos; I was very glad we offered because it was a lot of fun. The best part about it all was being with family---the most difficult part? I am smart enough not to have any because it's a family event and they read "Snap. Shot."

Thanks for stopping by.

It’s racing season.

I assume once the Kentucky Derby runs, it’s racing season. Known as the “Sport of Kings” this is probably one of the most beautiful sports I have ever photographed. When a man and/or woman climb aboard an animal of such massive size, and they run at the pace that would makes you understand where the term “horsepower” came from---it really puts it all into perspective.

Probably the most amazing part of horseracing would have to be the strength of the horses; their toned muscles and huge body stay balanced on very narrow legs. How they can handle the weight, running and pace is what makes this sport as spectacular as it is---and dangerous for both the horse and the rider.

As a photographer you would think you have a lot of time to snap the picture---after all you have plenty of forewarning; if you can’t see the horses, I assure you they can be heard. But, catching them at the right moment is much more difficult than many sports I have shot. Either you have trouble following the horses when they are at full gallop, or better yet, someone steps in front of you. At Arlington Race Track, where I have photographed races, there is probably no better layout to take pictures---I have asked if I could take photos from the infield and almost was allowed access. However, a few weeks later a photographer was shooting and it spooked one of the horses---and that was the end of that. They do not allow photographers anywhere but outside the fence.

Certainly vantage points are critical and what I have found works—practice makes for better pictures. Fortunately there is more than one race so you can practice on one and then go for it in later races. I am sure if I were at the Kentucky Derby I would practice on every race leading up to the “Run for the Roses.” I was not aware that on “Derby Day” there are about 10 races with the Kentucky Derby running second from last. Oh what we learn in “Snap.Shot.”

The photo above was taken at the start of one of the latter races the day I was at Arlington Race track. I was determined to catch the horses coming out of the gate as they say, and was very fortunate to have a camera that takes 7 frames a second. If I had a point and shoot it would have been a blur or just missed. I really like horseracing…I only wish Sports Illustrated would ask me to photograph at one of the Triple Crown Races, I would love to show you the pictures.

Thanks for stopping by.

They’re back.

After the snow melts and the mud begins to turn to dirt, the weeds start to pop up and take over areas that were barren just a few weeks earlier. It’s interesting because with all of the love and care people put behind the plants they want, weeds show up without an invitation.

There are some things about weeds that will not change. For instance, they will usually show up on your lawn and not your neighbors, no matter how many times you fertilize they seem to get more resilient over time, and kids love to blow the seeds into the air. As we all know, those seeds are what start the process moving forward again and again.

This past weekend, as two of my daughters were looking at the tulips that have shown up, and as I explained they will soon be leaving us, one of them picked up a weed. I asked them not to blow the seeds around; that would be like saying, “I know you like ice cream, but will you not have any today?” As the seeds went floating off, the other daughter had to get in on the fun---she took 2 of them and started to blow. If I were to do a quick calculation I would say we just created between 75 to 100 new weeds.

If you read “Snap.Shot.” on a regular basis, you may know my feelings about weeds. I don’t like them. I really don’t like the ones that are prickly, they put up the greatest fight and really hurt when you step on them. We have some weeds in our backyard and I believe they could actually penetrate your shoe if you stepped on them the wrong way.

The photo above was taken last year as our Chicago summer was in full swing. With orange flowers everywhere, this lone weed was determined to stick around. Yes it was on the fringe, but it was also “fully loaded” and ready to send out its seeds to create some friends for the future. All it needed was a gust of wind or one of my kids, and I am reasonably sure they would be off on their way; I know weeds will for ever be in our lives, but as far as I am concerned I wish they would find a new home elsewhere and not near mine.

Thanks for stopping by.