The garage.

For most people, a garage is a place where you park your car, bikes, and store odds and ends that you can keep out of doors. That’s true for this garage, but it has other stories to tell that you won’t see on its surface.

If you look on the left-hand side of the garage you will see a brick wall with a downspout affixed to it; more years than I can remember ago, my Mom was parking her car, and “accidently” as she claimed, “touched” the brickwork. Although it was a “light touch” it caused all of the bricks in the wall to fall down. Oops.

It just must be the left-hand side, but if you look at the window in the back, you will see a board on the floor. I am not sure when this was added, but it wasn’t soon enough because one of our cars went right through the window when someone pulled in too fast---I was not driving I am happy to say. Oops.

Now this is not part of the garage, but the blue containers on the right-hand side, one time a snake was waiting to completely scare the crap out of someone who walked by; that would be me, and it did. Although it has been more than 30 years, I still look at that sight every time I walk over by the door, you can’t see it in the picture, just to make sure Mr. Snake is not there waiting for me.

One thing that is missing is the second car that used to be in the garage; after my Mom passed away, my Dad decided to sell it and my brother purchased it from him. Now, I am not blaming my Mom again, but apparently there was quite a bit of damage to the bumper that was not visible to the naked eye. I know why. When you park in this garage, you have to do multi-point turns before you can pull straight into it. You back into the driveway, turn your wheels to the left, then to the right, and then pray you are straight enough to pull into the garage. If the wheels are not straight, you make adjustments so you don’t hit a wall or the other car for instance.

There were many times when I parked the car in the garage, and had performed the multi-point turns; however you would have had to be as thin as a piece of paper to get into the car parked next to the car I had just parked. Now, and this was not my fault, here's why it was a problem with the cars and not my parking ability; back in the days when no one really cared about miles per gallon or the cost to fill up the tank (my Dad’s company paid for gasoline back then anyway) we had what would be described as two “boats” that occupied the garage. That would be Si's "Dingy" and Barb's "Yacht." Have you ever tried to park a boat? Not easy. So I am not taking any blame for dings, dents, or scrapes---if we had smaller cars, we wouldn't have had this minor issue.

The photo above says it all---look at the walls and you will see the tools, mowers and shelves that made our garage when I was growing up different than the one we have “unattached” to our home. My Dad’s is organized, ours is not; no matter how hard you would try to park a car in our garage, yet alone two, you would have to move all of the junk that has taken over this space. For me, I am fine with it, because as I see it, it sure beats having to explain how I “gently touched” the sidewall when all of the bricks are on the ground.

Thanks for stopping by.

The greener thumb.

Right after the New Year, my Dad plants his garden. Not outside, but down in his basement. With tender loving care, he places the seeds of his one-day to be tomato plants under lights that make them start their journey to the garden located outside his home. I have often smiled when I have gone downstairs wondering if a surveillance plane were to fly overhead, would they suspect my Dad is growing something else in his basement? (Nothing to worry about here.)

As spring approaches, the plants start to emerge and grow toward the lamps that shine constantly above; it’s kind of hard to imagine in a few short months not only will these puny plants be several feet high, but will begin to produce the first of hundreds of tomatoes, peppers and other vegetables that are a lot better than you will find in any store.

Why are they so much better? Because my Dad grew them.

"Si’s Garden" is at the end of the house I grew up in. Located right outside the bedroom where my Mom and Dad called “their room” for nearly 47 years, I have to assume this location was ideal because it allowed my Dad to look outside when he wanted to make sure his plants were okay. There have been some bad seasons of what I recall; like any farmer, whether in Iowa, Nebraska, or Chesterfield, MO, rain, disease and animals can wreak havoc on a garden. Most years the bounty is incredible.

If my memory serves me, sometimes it does, and sometimes it doesn’t, I think there was a year my Dad tried to grow watermelons. They exploded. I guess you need very special conditions to grow this huge fruit, and when the conditions aren’t right, bam. (No, I did not blow them up with firecrackers if that’s what you are thinking---I was long gone from the house by then.)

My Dad has always enjoyed taking care of his parcel of land; whether it’s the garden, back or front yards, this was, and continues to be, my father’s pride and joy. When I was a kid, my memories of pulling weeds amongst these pesky black pointed stones--- they would dig into your knees---continues today. I hate to pull weeds and as far as I am concerned they have every right to live on this Earth instead of my pulling them and tossing them into the trash.

Now with my Mom gone, who was known for making great tomato sauce, and giving away hundreds of tomatoes to friends and family, it’s up to my Dad to deliver the harvest. I am not worried, there is no one I know who is more giving than my Pops. However, he is going to have to learn how to make sauce or it’s off to Dierberg’s (grocery store) for the jarred stuff. Not going to happen---he will learn to make sauce just like my Mom did.

The photo above is a stone you’ll find leading into the garden where Si, my Dad, performs his magic every year. Sure there’s a lot of help from sun, water, and the climate he lives in, but if it weren’t for his yearly determination to grow some of the best damn tomatoes, I wouldn’t be writing about this right now.

Thanks for stopping by.

End of an era?

New York is one of the few cities where you will still find a newsstand; a small square “shack” filled with magazines, newspapers, candy and much more. These stands are not only part of the landscape, they bring money to the city. Travel 700 + miles to the West, and land in Chicago, and you’ll find very few of them still on street corners. Sure both are big cities, but for some reason the newsstand of old is not found where we live here in the Midwest. I am not sure why they have gone away in Chicago, but I can think of 5 of them in the area where I used to walk---compared with more than 20 just a few years ago.

Where is this all heading?

One way is the digital path. It has taken time but now you see more and more Kindles, Sony Readers, and a smattering of iPads on the train. The iPad will eventually be the one that takes over, but they are still new. What do people read on them? Newspapers, books, magazines, and other material they used to buy on the way to the train, home or just to sit down and read during lunchtime. But, imagine if you could just tuck a digital pad under your arm and take it with you wherever you went---no ink coming off in your hands and smaller than a magazine, newspaper or book. (And every magazine, book or whatever, was on this little pad.)

Not everyone will be in the market for one of these products, but I sense more people will be buying them than we might think. Here’s why. As the prices go down through “good old competition” more people will buy them; as the cost of printing text books and other materials for school go up, here’s an easy option to save money and space. Purchase the digital file, load it up, and go. You can be sure the under 25 generation will be the first to truly adapt to these new “toys.” Think of the MP3 player. This was a very expensive “toy” when it came out---Apple one-ups and comes out with the iPod. The rest is history.

It’s hard to think back only 20 years ago when the digital revolution was in its infancy. Back then we had yet to meet the Palm, Handspring, or get this, the cell phone on a mass scale. Things have certainly changed in a relatively short period of time.

So who are we rooting for? The little guy who sits in a booth in all types of weather? Or technology. It really doesn’t matter---technology will win. We’ll want to be able to download our reading material from the sky no matter where we are. Want a paper, it’s there; magazine, or book, no need to walk, just push, click, pay, read. Wow.

The photo above was taken in New York. Brightly lit, the newsstand has been responsible over the years for being the place to learn about what’s going on? It’s where newspapers flew off the stand during the life changing events, where magazines informed us about which celebrities were hot and not, and of course friendship---it’s where you knew the owner who would hand you your paper before you even asked for it. I have not been to a newsstand in years---I really hope they are around for a long time, they are part of our history I would hate to see vanish thanks to technology.

Thanks for stopping by.

Sparks.

This is the time of the year they say when hearts all a flutter and love blooms. This is also the time of the year when you work out to make sure when you venture out, that the love that has bloomed is not embarrassed by the body that has ballooned.

I would have to believe there is no other time in the year, except New Year’s, when people become obsessed about their appearance. The phrase, “Swimsuit Season” is one that causes panic in people. It can be a situation where when at the pool, beach, or park, the clothes get skimpy, and the problems begin. What could be worse? Age. As you get older, more of “you” wants to stay around---I know that’s my case. I have become buddies with more of my mid-section than I want to, and it seems to want to stick around.

That’s why I joined a workout facility near my office. Now, let’s be honest, when you have not worked out for more than you want to admit, it’s not like you are going to be forgiven for your laziness. I can assure you with the way I feel today, my body is not very happy with being put through the exercises it has encountered since joining. It’s really not happy---especially my mid-section.

What’s most intimidating about going to the gym is when you size your arms up with the guys next to you. For me it’s like the difference between twigs and trunks---you don’t have to be a psychic to guess which ones I have. But that’s okay, I am there trying to make myself better. I guess.

Putting all aside, when the sparks do fly, and you meet that special someone, or you just re-visit the sparks that brought you and your partner together, it’s a wonderful feeling. Just like spring, life starts up again---after a long winter---I love this time of the year.

The photo above is a couple friend---unfortunately since this picture was taken, love has lost out to reality; but the cool thing, when they saw the photo, it was one they wanted to hang in their apartment. At that point in time, love was in the air, sparks were flying and they were happy. I am sure both will find the sparks again, but in a different relationship; for me, the sparks are alive, but so is my enlarged body---one of them will have to go.

Thanks for stopping by.

That’s my spot.

Life is funny; we will often say we want to do things differently, yet when it comes to every day life, we do the same thing over and over again. Whether it’s the path I take to work, the train seat I sit in, or the lunch I eat---the way I live my life, well I guess I am one boring guy. The good news is, I know I live amongst people who are just like me. How do I know? Because I see the same people walking the same path, sitting in the same seats, and I am going to go way out on a limb but assume they might repeat their lunches during the week.

All I can hope is they change their clothes.

Some of these routines and habits come from being superstitious---if you break the cycle, you may suffer the consequences. I recently watched a movie, “The Street Stops Here,” and the coach of the best high school basketball team in history, admits he sweeps the floor before each game. His first reason is because he believes he can sweep it better than anyone else, and the second…because he is superstitious. At last count he has won more than 900 games, so I guess it’s working. I for one would take the risk and let someone else do it, but I am not a basketball coach.

It seems the world of sports has the most examples of players, and coaches, being superstitious; a basketball player will step to the free-throw line, bounce the ball 4 times, spin it 3 revolutions, and then bounce two more times. Swish…works almost every time. There are baseball pitchers who wear the same shirt under their jersey, football players who wrap their ankles and other parts of their bodies the exact same way, and hockey players who must touch the goalie’s pads with their stick--- this happens every game. Fail to do it as it was done the game before and the outcome can be disastrous.

The photo above was taken in New York City. You will find people sleeping on the street, on park benches and in bus shelters. I would have to assume when you have no other options in life, it becomes your home. What I found interesting about this picture was the man who was looking at this woman; I don’t believe he sleeps on this bench, I believe it was more of a look as to how normal she appeared to be. Perhaps it’s a habit for this woman to sleep in this bus shelter, perhaps it’s the start of something new; whatever the situation, it’s likely, just like this woman, we will all follow our habits until there is a reason to break them. Today, I am having the same sandwich, but I am 100% sure, I'm going to try a new variety of soup!

Thanks for stopping by.

Ms. Liberty.

For millions of people, the first site they saw when they came to America was the Statue of Liberty. It’s when you see it as an American for the first time, and you have lived on U.S. soil your entire life, that you appreciate how beautiful and welcoming this green statue is----and what it stands for.

I had only seen the Statue of Liberty one time---we actually flew near it on an approach, and that was my one encounter. Similar to many monuments, statues, and historical landmarks, you have to be tourist to want to see it. Whether it’s The Lincoln Memorial, Gateway Arch, or The Statue of Liberty, I only saw them when I was visitor or when I came back home and thought---“I wonder what it’s like to go up in the Arch?” This was more than 25 years after it had been built and I had never been inside.

My favorite landmark is The Lincoln Memorial in Washington DC. There is little doubt of the impact this piece of history has had on America; but it’s when you walk up those stairs and realize what this man did for our country, and you read “The Gettysburg Address” on one side of the wall, and Lincoln’s second “Inaugural Address” on the other wall, that it’s all put into perspective. This man had a lot on his plate. He was loved and he was hated---there was no middle ground. That’s a tough way to live.

I am also always amazed when I look at structures as large as these monuments and statues and think, “someone actually built this and had the vision and understanding of how to do it.” That is one heck of a feat.

The photo above is one I really wanted to take. Actually I took many photos as the boat I was on passed by, stopped and rocked up and down. My number one goal was to see it; my second goal was to get up so close that you could see people in the crown. I am happy to report both were accomplished. If you have the chance to play tourist next time you are in a new city, do it. Also, bring your camera---you never know who you will want to show the pictures to.

Thanks for stopping by.

Locks of Love.

There are many parts of the human body that truly define a person. One of them is your hair. Certainly there are more vital organs such as your heart, liver or brain, but unless you have x-ray vision, they are not highly visible to the naked eye.

The other day when I flew from New York to Chicago one of the flight attendants had a bandana on her head. Often this is a sign of hair loss or perhaps the re-growth of hair from the effects of a disease such as cancer. I had over heard her talking with one of the passengers that “yes she has cancer and was in remission;” but that her hair had not grown to a point she was comfortable with. Two things struck me about this situation. One was the guts it takes to get back on your feet after such a horrific disease, but more than that---the amount of stress and strain a profession like a flight attendant must go through on a daily basis and how with cancer, she wants to be back in the air.

The interesting thing about your hair, at least I find this to be interesting, is how much money is spent on a dead part of your body. Yes, the part of your hair that makes for a “bad hair day” or “bed head” is actually dead. Yet, we spend an unbelievable amount of money to make sure it looks shiny, manageable, and of course conditioned. It’s the part you don’t see---below the surface---that is the most important. It’s alive and well---unless your bald or losing hair, it’s just pushing out more of the locks you are so proud to show.

It’s when a situation like cancer occurs that creates the instant fear in people when they learn they are ill. I would have to believe after, “Am I going to die?” the second question is likely, “Am I going to lose my hair?” When you have a full head of hair, and it is something that defines who you are---the thought of losing it would naturally add to this whammy of a disease you have just learned about. For a man it’s bad, for a woman it must be indescribable.

The photo above is of my daughter and her aunt. During the holidays a few years back, a beauty salon was set up in our kitchen and the chopping began. I would say when you take the combined lengths of hair from the 3 daughters who had their hair cut, at least one and a half feet found a new home---on the head of another human being. “Locks of Love” is a program where hair is donated to those who have cancer---if life isn’t challenging enough, the need to find hair is a blessing when the chips aren’t just down, they are yanked away from the table.

Thanks for stopping by.

Scraping the sky.

When 911 hit, living in a large city appeared to be a real drawback in comparison with living in a small town. On that day I was in Chicago, of course glued to the TV, but I had one small problem, I didn’t have any money with me. Or at least enough to pay for my parking. So, I walked over to an ATM and suddenly realized that to my left, not more than 3 blocks away, stood the World’s tallest building. I had one eye on the tall building I was entering, and another eye on the one I feared could be attacked.

As far as comfort levels, this was not one of my favorite moments.

Move ahead nearly 10 years and the Sears Tower is now the Willis Tower---we still don’t know who Willis is---and this past year they opened what has to be one of the most frightening and intimidating “thrills” I have ever heard of…not that I am planning to know about soon that is. It’s known as the “Ledge”; essentially it’s a glass block that was added to one of the top floors of the Tower and you can step out and experience the full 360---or more likely 270 since it is attached to the building. Up, down, and all around, nothing but glass. For those of you who have a fear of heights, you can stop perspiring; you don’t have to go up there.

I have always been kind of amazed by tall structures; when the Gateway Arch was being built, they actually had a large net across both sides to make sure no one fell to their death. For the individual who did fall into the net, it did happen as I remember, I am sure they were very thankful for this bit of forethought.

There have also been men, and few women, who I know have tried to do crazy feats. We had Spiderman here in Chicago who climbed the side of the Sears Tower (he was arrested of course), in New York acrobats walked in between the World Trade Center (prior to its opening) on a tight rope, and of course we all know about King Kong climbing to the top of the Empire State Building and fending off airplanes. What were they all thinking?

One of the interesting things I have learned about tall buildings is how their elevator systems work. When you step into some of the taller buildings in Chicago, you will see on the screen---“serving other elevator bank.” I once asked what that meant? I was told, directly above me was another car---it would stop on the floor above us. So essentially we had two elevators stacked on top of one another. Oh the wonders of mankind…who ever thought of that?

The photo above is of the Empire State Building, now the tallest building in New York. What is interesting about the building, in addition to being built in 13 months, is how for its time, it truly “scraped the sky” as they say. Still one of the most beautiful buildings in New York, it comes as no surprise it has been in more movies, more photos, and named appropriately after the states nickname---it reflects the role of the original “Empire” New York has been for our country.

Thanks for stopping by.

Meet Steve Harris.

For most, if not all, of the readers of “Snap. Shot.” you probably have no idea who Steve Harris is; but when were done, you might just tune into one of his programs. (I know he would be fine with that.)

Steve is an executive producer and director with A&E Networks. We met last week in New York. What intrigued me most about Steve was his very approachable manner. Here is someone who produced “The Jackson’s”---yes those Jacksons---and unless you probed him on what he does, you would have no idea how well he got to know the Jackson family. Even I don’t know how well he got to know them, but knowing the production was going on prior to Michael Jackson’s untimely death, and after it, I suspect he is more familiar with the family than just a passing hello.

One of the reasons I liked meeting Steve as much as I did was his genuine openness to ideas; he contacted the company I work for when he learned of what we did. He could do what we do I assume, but he has the knowledge and confidence to pull from a number of different areas to find what he wants, and deliver it to the viewers who tune in to watch the programs he is responsible for. I know I have said this before, but how cool is that?

When I followed up with him earlier this week, I was prepared to discuss some ideas and directions we “thought” fit what he was looking for; when the time we were supposed to talk went by, and I had left messages, I was a little down. Hey, it’s me after all. A few minutes later, we spoke. I have to admit I was a little anxious to talk with him because now we were at full exposure---I said,” This is what we were thinking.” Silence. I knew that one would be pushed aside. Then another thought was presented…. near silence. This was not going where I was hoping it was going to go. Then, as they say, “third times the charm.”

When I entered the business I am in, I had little or no idea about the field. Now I am happy to report, I am a little more knowledgeable about what our company does; it’s when you are involved in projects like this that you have to step back and grasp what we are talking about. It’s so different, and so unique, but it’s also something I feel very strongly about.

The photo above is a picture of Steve. Of little shock, I had my camera with me when we met. Why? Well, I had checked out of my hotel, left my luggage behind, but there was no way I was going to leave my camera with anyone. So, it came along to the meeting. I explained that I wrote a daily blog and asked if I could take his picture. I said I would send him today’s “Snap. Shot.” So, that’s a little bit about Steve Harris---want to know more about what he does or where he has been? Google his name…I did. Want to make him happy? Tune into his shows on A&E---he will be a lot happier you did this than looking up his name on Google.

Thanks for stopping by.

Reflections of days gone by.

Today’s “Snap.Shot.” is not a retro look of where we have been; it’s more about looking forward to where we could likely be in the future.

Growing up in a city like St. Louis proved to be a great “first step” toward where I would end up after I left home. It’s a large city to some, a small city to others, and the perfect one to many. I know this might sound like the story of the “Three Bears,” but there is no porridge, chairs, or beds we will be talking about.

What I learned by growing up in the heartland were values; not saying that other parts of the country don’t have values, but the Midwest tends to be seen as an area that has an over abundance of them. This can be a great ground to stand on, or it can be really boring. (There must be a reason why more people spend vacation time on the east and west coasts---the excitement of going to middle America does not seem to have the same appeal.)

But there really is a lot to be experienced growing up in the heartland---when I was in New York last week, I made a very “loaded” comment about spending time in this big city to a friend of mine who lives there. I said, “I have seen a real change in the way people are approachable here in New York--- sure it’s just as busy, but there has been a change. A really good change.” She said, “We have always been very nice and approachable. Living in New York is not that much different than living other places.” I did a triple take. I have spent enough time in other cities to know areas like New York have an image of being overly fast paced, and just maybe one with little patience---hence the phrase “New York Minute.” I have never heard “St. Louis Second” or “Minneapolis Moment”--- however, maybe I have missed something.

Having grown up in the Midwest, and specifically St. Louis, I can look back and say it has prepared me for life. I do believe anyone who has grown up anywhere in the world, can make this comment---I am glad I had the opportunity to begin my life in what would be seen as a “mid-sized” city by most standards. As I sit on the train this morning, and see kids going to school by railroad, I wonder if I would be a different person today because of a much different lifestyle. I will never know.

The photo above is all about reflection. One of the most well known structures in the Midwest, and I suspect America, The “Gateway Arch” (it’s real name) was constructed as the “Gateway to the West.” Like many monuments, and structures around the U.S. you don’t always appreciate it when you live there---but its symbol is so important for making the statement of why the people who live there are so proud.

Thanks for stopping by.

Melts in your mouth.

One of the best-known slogans, “Melts in your mouth, not in your hands” has much deeper roots than one might think. Most people I would assume are familiar with the M&M brand and the line of products they market. I am for sure.

Turns out, when the U.S. soldiers were at war in WW II, there was a real demand for chocolate. One of the big problems was heat and how it would melt before the candy was eaten. Although not a problem at times, I guess when you are at war, it makes for a messy situation. The Mars candy company came up with an idea—a candy coated chocolate that, as you might guess, “melts in your mouth…”

Move ahead nearly 70 years and you have the same great product, but with many more varieties and colors. A number of years ago, they stopped making the red M&M’s because they contained what was known back then as “Red Dye #2.” I have no idea what it was, but it was bad for you. It was replaced with another color that did not contain this particular dye, but I don’t remember what color it was.

I love M&M’s; my favorites are the peanut variety which were created in 1954, long after the originals. One of the problems I have with them is what I suspect a lot of people find difficult to do when you have started eating---that would be stopping. Sometimes the reason I stop is I suddenly realize I have eaten more of the medium-size bag than I had intended to, or the bag is empty. I always regret it when I am done, but if I regretted it that much, I never would place one between my two front teeth, crack it in half, pull out the peanut and finish it all off. I actually believe if I eat it this way, it will take more time and I won’t eat as many. Nice thought, not true.

When I was in New York City last week, I went by the M&M’s store. You can’t miss it. With it’s very large round shapes placed on top of one another, they spin around slowly and are just begging you to stop in and experience what the world has known for decades. These things taste really good.

The photo above is outside the store. The marketing of the M&M guys has created something very few products can do----a real identifiable personality. Really can’t do that very well with a bottle of Pepsi, Nike shoe or even bottle of Budweiser, but you can with an M&M. That’s marketing for you. If you go to New York, you will see a very large sign, amongst all the other very large signs, where the M&M guys come to life. Ever changing, you never know what to expect once the next scene pops up. Just like my love for M&M’s I really like these little guys---no matter what time of the year, they are always welcome into my home. They don’t make it out of my home, but they are always welcome to stop by for a meal—where they are the final course.

Thanks for stopping by.

The bump, slap, and high five.

I am not exactly sure where these alternative methods of shaking hands came about, but they are very much a part of our society. The bump, slap, and high five are seen everyday---from baseball games to “Deal or No Deal,” you will find these newly created techniques of greeting a person. I can honestly say, I have really never understood the bump and have no idea if this is something that only happens in the U.S. or is it global?

In sports, showing enthusiasm is part of the game. When a player gets a key hit or does something really good, the hands go up, and they slap up and down the line. It’s more than just a rarity; it’s part of our everyday expectations. Because boys and girls like to emulate their sports heroes, you will see this same gesture on playgrounds and ballparks throughout the land. I remember when Brandi Chastain, took off her jersey when Team U.S.A. soccer won the championship---I am not sure if every one held their breath as her top came off, or whether they saw this as tomorrow’s trend. I think neither has occurred. Something tells me parents are the reason for that---I can only imagine the horror if someone in complete excitement ripped off their shirt forgetting they had little or nothing on underneath.

When I was growing up, we shook hands or gave each other “five” when something good happened. Like when we won a game we would shake hands---and for our really good friends say, “give me some skin.” Both have pretty much been pushed aside, except at the end of baseball games, you often will see the catcher approach the pitcher with an outstretched hand---then they give each other a high five and jump up hip to hip!

The photo above was taken in St. Louis a few years ago. How do I know it was a few years ago? None of these players are on the team any longer. Of what I recall, “Duncan” had made an amazing dive to grab a ball---I missed the shot of course---and when they came together, during a pitching change, Jim Edmonds held out his glove for the “touch.”
I am not sure what will be the next form of expression---people jump up in the air, they scream at one another with happiness, and much more. My hope, when it all settles down is they go back to shaking hands---a tradition that’s been with us for hundreds of years until the bump was invented.

Thanks for stopping by.

Life on the streets.

A long time ago, like nearly 30 years ago, I was an extra in a McDonald’s commercial. My role? I was to eat french fries in the background. It was actually pretty easy to do, but after at least 30 takes, I was ready to go. Unfortunately that was not part of the agreement and I stayed to collect my $50.00. (At least that’s what I think I was paid.)

One of the more memorable moments of that long evening, the McDonald’s was closed when the commercial was filmed, was the “family” who was sitting at the table next to me. They too were eating french fries and I guess the son didn’t pace himself as well as he was supposed to. During one of the takes, and I promise you this is 100% true, he threw up. It was all caught on tape; to my knowledge that portion of the commercial ended up edited on the floor right next to the….nevermind.

Since the filming of my last, and only commercial, I have not had to turn another one down; okay I have never been asked to be in another one, I guess I am just not made for the small or big screen.

In Chicago, and New York, you will see filming going on around the city. In fact, I saw “The Dark Knight” being filmed, and the water tower from “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.” For anyone who remembers the movie, it said, “Save Ferris,” It was visible from the train stop in my neighborhood and we had no idea what it meant until the movie came out.

The photo above was taken last week when I was in New York. A crowd, all visitors to the city, were gathered around the filming taking place. Because there was not a large trailer, or an extensive group of people from the production company, I suspected this was either a commercial or a very low budget movie. I was right, it was a commercial for Hershey’s chocolate; the woman, who I had no idea who she was, said the same lines at least two times. How do I know? I left the second time she said them. I guess the McDonald’s flash back, came back.

Thanks for stopping by.

Indian Ball.

Summer in St. Louis usually brings warm weather, humidity, and baseball. There are other sports played in the city, but no team has a bigger following than the St. Louis Cardinals. Walk through the city, suburbs, malls, or anywhere else, and you will find red shirts and jerseys on men, women and children.

The Cardinals have been in St. Louis since 1882, although they were originally known as the “Brown Stockings” back then. They also would not join the National League until 10 years later. It was in 1900 when they officially became the St. Louis Cardinals. What always amazes me about the Cardinals is their following around the region. Not just in Missouri, but in many states far away. How did they establish this following? When I was a kid, we would listen to KMOX radio---the official station of the St. Louis Cardinals. Long before TV, and before FM radio, KMOX had one of the most powerful signals in the Midwest. They had a 50,000 watt clear channel on AM radio.

On hot summer nights families would sit around their radios listening to Cardinal broadcasts; the devoted fans would follow the likes of Dizzy Dean, Bob Gibson, Stan Musial and others who wore the red cap back then. (They now wear blue caps during certain games.)

Today’s blog is not really about the Cardinals, it’s about the love of baseball. In our household, we loved baseball---and during the summer, my brother and neighborhood friends would play what we called, “Indian Ball.” I am not sure if this was a made up name, but we played it almost every day. It involved only 4 people to play, and as I think about it, it’s amazing we didn’t get hurt every time we played.

The game is played on the street; preferably a long narrow one. One person on your team pitches the ball to you underhand, and you hit it with all of your might either past the first line of defense who is about 20 yards away or over the head of the person who is likely 100 yards down the street. You can either strike out, get a hit by getting it past the first person on the street or place it in between the two players. Hit it over the head of the player way down the street and it's a homer. My brother was the "King" of the homer.

To make sure we didn’t go through a ball a game, we would use rubber-coated baseballs. These baseballs not only held up for more than one game, but they spun in wild directions when they hit the street. You can be sure these balls caused a few injuries during the summer “Indian Ball” baseball season on Heather Ridge Drive; they also were not very forgiving when they hit a roof, window, or car. (Luckily we didn’t hit many cars or windows, but we did hit a lot of roofs.)

The photo above is of “Indian Ball Stadium” on Heather Ridge Drive we knew so affectionately; long and narrow, the field was actually the street. If you hit the ball onto a yard, it was foul, 3 fouls and you were out. It’s been so many years since I played Indian Ball, but the memories from the days when we would play double and triple-headers, will live on and on. I know you might be thinking this is a completely made up game; but if you don’t believe me, please contact chris@chrisoleary.com. He is the President and CEO of the AIBAA. (AKA American Indian Ball Association of America---naturally he is located in St. Louis.)

Thanks for stopping by.

The lights on Broadway.

When you visit New York, and are in the city, you quickly realize that it is a 24-hour-a-day town. Frank Sinatra sang it, and New Yorkers live it---“this town never sleeps.” What’s interesting is, when you are in an area like Times Square, it’s not just adults who are milling about; you have families, with strollers, and young children who should be in bed. This was not a spring break trip these kids are on---these are their parents having fun and they are with them.

The theater district is big time in New York; after 10 PM you will see hundreds of people walking with Playbill Magazines in their hands. What’s really amazing to me is, even though it’s nearing 11PM, there are lines outside restaurants with people who are not there for dessert. That’s New York for you.

One surprise to me was how friendly people are in New York; yes you read that right, they must have taken their “friendly pills” because since I have been travelling to New York, the ones who are truly out of line are the visitors. You will find the police posing for pictures, talking to people atop their horses, and actually helping you with directions; they want to make sure your experience in New York is one you will tell your friends about. They call it word of mouth---at one point, it was the opposite of what it is today, but today it’s the way they want you to remember their city.

While I was in Times Square I saw a police officer take off his hat, and put it on the head of another person for a picture. I don’t know if I ever would have believed this had I not seen it. I know in Chicago, there is absolutely no way an officer would do this for his own Mother, yet alone a tourist. Combine these actions with the number of tourist friendly stops found around this 12-block area, and it’s no surprise so many people are out at this hour of the evening.

The photo above is on 41^st Street right off Broadway. How do I know the location? It’s where I stayed while I was in New York. Just like the policeman who I met, and the construction workers who posed for pictures that evening, it’s no wonder why the lights are truly back on Broadway and all around the town.

Thanks for stopping by.

Dining in the Big Apple.

New York is known for some of the best food in the world---and some of the most expensive. When I was in town, I knew I was not looking to see how much I could spend, that’s not my style. I was staying off of Broadway and decided to head uptown to see what culinary delight was calling my name.

I saw Thai, Indian, Cajun, you name it…but these restaurants were calling someone else’s names because anyone who knows me would say, “you won’t find him there.”

While I was driving in from the airport I did see a deli, the Stage Deli, and was looking for it while I walked up the avenue. I obviously didn’t go far enough because I never found it. One of the reasons I wanted to dine there had to do with my being in New York prior to the 1976 Democratic Convention---my Dad took me to the Stage Deli and I wanted to see if what I remembered was true. Of what I recall they had “monster-sized” sandwiches at “monster-sized” prices. These would still be inexpensive by New York standards, but again, I didn’t find the restaurant.

So I turned around, looked in a photography store---what would you expect?

Then it caught my eye, across the street nestled between a number of “food chains” was where I was going to eat…the “Stardust Diner.” I figured, “if it’s that bad, I will just ‘gobble and go.’” I stepped in to the diner and it was a cross between Ed Debevik’s and a theater house. The waiters and waitresses were dressed up in traditional “diner garb,” but the difference was---one of them was singing to the group. I am not talking about “bad karaoke,” I mean she was really singing. It even sounded like the original. At first I was not sure if this was a great lip sync job, but then I realized I was in New York and chances are that is not going to happen with aspiring actors and actresses.

After the applause died down, I ordered my meal. Very much me---I had a Reuben sandwich and asked that they hold the “sour cream.” He looked at me and said, “You mean the sauerkraut?” I smiled and said, “Yes.” Then sure enough, this same waiter walks out from behind the wall where he had just delivered my order, and he is belting away a Beatles tune and I had to do a double take as I was sure it was Paul McCartney behind the microphone. Throughout the dinner, more of the staff sang---the only ones who were not handed the microphone were the bus boys. I don’t think they spoke English.

When I left, I took a card with me. This was a must visit again…and I need to bring my camera with me next time. I am sure many of you are in shock, but I left it at the hotel; I went back to retrieve it, but did not have the “guts” to go back and take pictures. So I took 556 others around Times Square.

The photo above is of a food cart; in Chicago you rarely see them, in New York they are on every corner and in between. I guess part of me says, “I wouldn’t eat from a food cart because I have no idea if it’s edible” but the other part says, “If they are back day after day, they must have passed quality checks.” Next time, I am going to grab a dog and mustard---for lunch---because when you visit the Big Apple, you need to live the life of the New Yorker.

Thanks for stopping by.

The first visit

I knew it would happen, and I was trying to prepare myself for the first time I was going to visit my Mom. Since it’s only been a few months since her death, I was not sure what would be greeting me when I walked up to the spot where I last said “goodbye.” I had to obtain my bearings as I was not exactly sure where she was buried. I knew she was next to my Aunt, but that did little good amongst the tombstones that lined the rows and rows of so many other people’s loved ones.

When I arrived, the flashback of that warm November day was still alive. This time there was another family who was going through the same scenario ours did just a short while ago. One big difference, and this says so much about my Mom and Dad, were the number of people present this spring day. There were likely a third of the people at this funeral in comparison with my Moms; I am not saying death is a popularity contest, but the last day I saw my Mom, there were hundreds of people saying “goodbye” to their good friend, Barbara Rosenbaum. She had loads of friends---and now at that moment in time, as I stood on the same ground where I wept, I had a feeling of calm.

I am confident my Mom knew I was there; it was probably difficult for her not to ask me to take off my shoes so I wouldn’t track dirt on to her space. Sorry Mom, but the area that will one day be grass, had yet to grow any. But I promise, the next time I visit, I will take off my shoes. What was really interesting was how difficult it was, and is, to grasp that this is where my Mom is right now. I wasn’t expecting for her to communicate with me---but as I explained to my sister last weekend, when I was in the house, I could still hear her saying things. I am not going nuts, I really didn’t hear her saying it out loud, these were the memories speaking to me from so many years of living with her.

I realize I am not the first person who has visited someone so important in one’s life---but then again, it was my first time. The funny thing about it, it didn’t feel weird or odd; for me, it was just like always, having a conversation with my Mom. I am somewhat relieved that I didn’t actually hear her voice; I am not sure anyone would have believed it, and I would have ran as fast as I could to my car looking like a complete fool. Yes, I do get startled easily.

The photo above is of my two Grandfathers. The frame is not only old, it is cracked; when I look at both of them, it seems like yesterday when I last saw them. They were really good men. Yes they had many different traits, but they had similar ones as well. Both were in the grocery business, both came from other lands far away, and most important, they are responsible for my Mom and Dad being here---and without them, there would be no “Snap.Shot.”

Thanks for stopping by.

H.A.C.

With the start of the baseball season, you will find many Dads, Moms, daughters and sons on lawns throughout America doing what I loved to do when I was a kid. Go “have a catch.” (Or as we referred to it, “H.A.C.”)

My brother and I would spend hours each day warming up our arms all with the intent of throwing curves, knucklers, and fastballs to one another. Although we only dreamed of taking it to a higher level, there was not a chance this would happen, we won many World Series games out on our front lawn. This was how we grew up during the springs and summers in St. Louis.

I have many memories of these times, but a few come to mind that I think are worth telling in “Snap.Shot.”

The first was on a Saturday; I was pitching to my Dad, who is really a “lefty” but due to my brother and I being “righty’s,” he used a glove made for a right-handed thrower. Before I wound up, I told my Dad I was going to throw a curve ball. Now, I know my Dad’s hearing is not what it used to be, but this was more than 35 years ago and I think it was in pretty good shape back then.

As I wound up, gripped the ball to place the proper spin on it, it left my hand with beautiful rotation. The ball spun through the air and headed to the catcher’s mitt waiting on my Dad’s left hand. He was following it, and it broke from its height of one level, downward as most curve balls do. However, he was not ready and it smacked him right in the forehead. I heard the thud. As the ball rolled toward me, I knew he had gotten it, and it had to hurt. I ran up asking, “Dad are you okay?” and noticed an “imprint” of the seams of the ball, from where it him, on his forehead. They were literally planted right above the eyebrow and below the hairline. Luckily he was okay, but that was the end of pitching for the day.

One other time, my brother and I were playing catch and “somehow” a throw went from our yard to our neighbor’s yard. Not a big deal of course, but his throw was so wild it broke the glass of our neighbor’s gas lamp located in their front yard. (These were a decorative part of every home where we grew up, however most no longer work.) Of course, since I am the younger brother, I had to go explain what happened. It was my fault according to my brother, because I missed the ball. (He was just as logical back then as he is today.)

The photo above is the first basemen’s “mitt” we used when I was growing up. The big difference is the ball in the glove. This ball was used by my niece who played softball for many years. I have played catch with her, as well as all of my daughters, and it brought back great memories. My son, well, that’s a different story---baseball was not his thing. I am really happy it’s spring, I am not a fan of winter, and when I walked home from the train last night, I saw a Dad and his daughter playing catch. The memories of “H.A.C.” came roaring back---and if my brother were not 300 miles away I am sure we would be out on the lawn playing catch.

Thanks for stopping by.

Brothers.

Some of us have them, some of us don’t. I have one and a sister too. Although we live in separate areas of the country, we have the common link that lets us know we are a family. That common link, amongst many others, is our Dad. He is our number 1 concern as he grasps life without my Mom.

But today’s “Snap. Shot.” is not about my Dad, it’s about siblings. There have been times when I have not said the nicest things about my brother; it may have been a while back, but when I was getting hit with hockey pucks in the head and other areas of my body, punched in the face during a fight we had (I lost by the way), plus other moments, I think I let him know how I felt. I may not remember my exact words, but they were not terms of endearment. But through it all, I knew and continue to know, we have a bond. My sister on the other hand is someone I don’t really recall having too many fights with; I suspect it’s because of her being 6 years older, a girl, and her not being a hockey player. She also would not pack much of a punch if we were to have gotten into a fight---we didn’t by the way.

Through it all however, we have stayed in contact and we see each other as often as we can.

If you were to have turned the clock back just a few years ago I think I would be writing the same blog, but there would have been a little less to talk about. Why the change? We had family challenges and we came back together in a much stronger way; probably stronger than I ever could have, or would have, imagined. Like brothers and sisters we lived in our own worlds with our own families; there is nothing wrong with this as I know a lot of people who can’t tell you anything new about their siblings, parents, cousins, etc.

What’s most important about the relationship we have is our ability to spend quality time together, drift back in time to the memories that molded us, and now talk about “adult topics.” Stuff that I never thought I would be talking about, but deep down knew I would have to. Like, what happens when a parent becomes ill? Nothing, and I mean nothing, brought us to our senses like when my Mom became ill; we knew what to do, but we did it based upon the help of one another making critical decisions for her. That is real life.

The photo above is the ultimate bond. My father and my uncle have both witnessed their partners of more than 50 years pass away in the last few years. Now my uncle is having his challenges, and who is there---in addition to his children of course---his brother. My Dad. No matter how mad you get at your brother or sister, as they say, “when the going gets tough, you can always count on your family.”

Thanks for stopping by.

The Chair.

This past weekend I spent time with my Dad. Although I had recently seen him, I was able to spend a quality weekend, and it was well worth it. These are the times you know are not only special, but the most memorable. As they say, “these are the good old days.”

Staying at the home where I grew up is always an awakening for me. When I walk into the kitchen, I always smile because I can look on top of the refrigerator with out standing on a chair or my tip toes, while I suspect I am the only one in the house who can do this in our family. When I walk through the house I feel the floors below my feet. That may sound odd, but these are the same floors my Mom used to “buff” almost everyday. They are in impeccable shape for wood that is nearly 50 years old. Even though she is no longer alive, you know the time and love she put into maintaining the home that she was so proud of. She loved her floors---and she loved the bathrooms she designed several years back.

Walking around the home, I took note of memories I had while growing up in this place I called home for 13 years prior to leaving for college. The basement, which at one point was a hockey rink for my brother where we both to slide around, or the TV room that even today is where everyone congregates. Downstairs, we still have the same TV we watched more than 30 years ago---even though it is plugged in, and the numbers still blink, I know it is no longer able to deliver the news, the comedies, or the cartoons I grew up watching on that Sony TV.

One of my favorite moments was walking into the area of the basement that is not built out. You will see the wooden storage areas that hold luggage, boxes and at one point tires. But the best is the area where my Dad has planted his tomatoes that will be gracefully moved from the basement up to the garden in the backyard. There are some summers where these plants will deliver nearly 500 tomatoes---friends and family await the bounty as my Mom and Dad always gave away their tomatoes. They did it with pride.

The photo above has special meaning. These chairs, although they are seeing the last of their lives here on the patio, have been sat in by more than 4 generations of family. Both sets of my grandparents, my parents, yours truly, and my kids have all sat in these red wood chairs. Be careful not to turn to quickly or you might get a splinter. For me, nothing is like going home and taking in the memories of home---like a great novel, there are always great stories to be found just when you least expect it.

Thanks for stopping by.

Roots.

We all have them, sometimes we wish we could change them, but they do make up who we are and where we have been. Our family trees, which have many deep roots associated with them, is what “Snap.Shot” is all about. Looking for that nugget that tells a story---the one you are not concerned about the world knowing (the world of probably 10 readers that is) and feeling good about it.

This weekend I am back home where I grew up; I am spending the weekend in the home where I was raised, in the bedroom I lived in for a large majority of my life---I actually lived in 2 bedrooms in the house---when my brother went to college, I took over his larger bedroom. He never asked for it back and it’s a good thing because it was now mine. I remember one time I was so mad when I learned, by measuring it, that indeed his bedroom was larger---a little story from our family’s roots.

The roots of our family started out in the Ukraine; I really don’t know too much before that time, but I do know my Dad’s parents settled in Monroe, Iowa (where my Dad was born) and my Mom’s parents, St. Louis, MO. We had a family reunion a number of years ago and that’s when I learned about the background of my Dad’s family. I really don’t know too much about my Mom’s family I am sorry to say. I do know my grandmother’s side had very tall men, I picked up that gene, and many died at a young age, I hope I don’t pick up that trait. (They died from heart attacks and other natural causes of what I am told---I didn’t really know them.)

There is something very interesting about uncovering your roots. The other day I learned of a new show that was on one of the networks. It is about tracing your family roots; Lisa Kudrow, who was on the show, “Friends”, hosts it, I believe. The show takes some well-known athletes and celebrities back in time, to uncover their roots. On that show, Brooke Shields, Emmett Smith, and Lisa Kudrow, were taken on this incredible journey. It was very interesting and in the typical TV manner, engaging to watch. From slavery, to royalty, to the horrors of Nazism, it was all there. Mouths were open, tears flowed, and emotions were completely exposed.

The photo above was taken in downtown St. Louis; what I liked about it was the exposed roots of the tree. Little was hidden, there was a story to tell---I am sure some of these tree roots were around when St. Louis was a much different place, I wish I knew. I am sure my family has some stories I don’t know about---maybe this might be my next venture after “Snap. Shot.” is completed. For now, I will keep looking for the photo that tells a story---and as always…

Thanks for stopping by.

No clone.

We all have our differences, some are obvious, and others are because of our culture, religion, and/or location of where we live. For some it’s difficult to accept, for others it’s what makes America the melting pot that it is known to be.

This past week I sent out e-mails to a company we work with here in the U.S. The only difference was, this time I sent the e-mails out all over the world. I sent them to Germany, Belgium, Denmark, and countless others. In the e-mail I explained why I was writing, and the work we have done with their home office. My concern, would they be able to read what I wrote it in the only language I speak..English. In the back of my mind I knew they would be able to correspond back to me because many countries around the globe know English, and speak it, whereas we are really not able to say the same.

A woman from Quebec wrote me and started the note, “Bonjour;” luckily the rest of the note was in perfect English. I wrote back thanking her for her help and just to let her know I recognized her usage of “Bonjour” wished her the same in her native tongue. I did explain very quickly that my French is at best poor, I took it in 7^th grade, and would not want to embarrass myself by making any attempt to write her back in her primary language. I have not heard back from her, but I suspect she appreciated my acknowledgment and openness about how she was well spoken in English, and how I was very honest about my deficiency in French.

I do have the opportunity to travel around the U.S. and have been pretty open about the people I meet. Yesterday is a perfect example. I was on the train and sat across from a young woman who was taking a picture of herself with her phone. (It had a camera as part of it as do most phones these days.) I asked her if she would like me to take her picture with it? She was so happy I asked. We talked the entire ride in to Chicago. I learned that she was a recovering drug addict who had been sober for 2 months, had 2 children with a father who was still in the picture. He had been sober for 7 months and she was very proud to say she was on her way. She was so well spoken, but she had run into the evils of drug usage. She had a job, was looking for a second one, and when I said “good bye” to her, I very pointedly said, “Stay sober, if not for you, for your kids.” She thanked me for not being judgmental.

The photo above was one of those special moments that do not come along every day. Today while I was in between meetings, I went down to the river where the Arch is located in St. Louis. When I saw this group coming, and I am do not know if they are Amish or Mennonite, I knew I had to take pictures. I was as discreet as one can be with a gigantic lens on the camera, but I was also very careful not to invade. I have always been very intrigued by these two groups---I am sure they knew I was photographing them. I have learned a lot through the lens; I have learned that we live in a wonderful country made up of all types of people, and from where I stand, I am very thankful to be able to photograph them and talk about it here on “Snap. Shot.”

Thanks for stopping by.

One of those days.

We all have them, at least I do. I am having one of those days. The ones when if it can go wrong, it has a very good chance of happening.

It all started this morning when I was heading out to catch the train. Because I am wearing a black pair of pants and grey and black sweater, it’s probably a good idea to wear black shoes. I have little fashion sense at times, but I do know the basics. The problem that arose was I could only find one of my black shoes, and if I was planning to wear either a matching pair or only one shoe and sock, this was a problem. So, yes I do have brown shoes on today. If anyone asks, I will explain. If they still ask more questions, I will ask, “Ever have one of those days?” Bet they have.

Barely making the train, because my Wall Street Journal decided not to make an appearance at the end of the driveway (yesterday’s was there but that would do me little good), I raced to the train. Of course on the way, my shoelaces, on my brown shoes, untied---2 times. I did grab another newspaper because it contains a crossword puzzle; as you might guess, the words that were coming together must have been in a different language because they made no sense to me. I tossed it in the trash; I attributed it to having one of those days.

Everyday, and this is a pattern, I head to McDonald’s to get a medium coffee, one cream two Equals, and sometimes like today, a yogurt parfait. All was going well as I slid into the seat of the second train I take to get to work that I catch in Chicago. Sounds like things are getting better, right? Well it was until my briefcase hit the coffee causing it to tip over. I did clean up as much as I could, but right now I am watching the “snake” of brown liquid make its way around the train car. Yes, they know it’s mine. Worst part, I take this train every day and sit in the same area---not the next time, I am switching cars.

So yes I am having one of those days. But writing it out in “Snap.Shot.” is helping put a smile on my face. I know the shoelaces are tied, I made both trains, the next crossword puzzle will be there tomorrow (as will perhaps tomorrow’s Wall Street Journal) and my coffee, well there’s always another cup at the office.

The photo above was taken at Brookfield Zoo outside Chicago. A very large brown bear appeared to be having one of those days. Not that I was going to get close enough to ask, suspected since Mrs. Bear was nowhere to be found, he was just bored. Unlike the brown bear, I know every day changes---here’s hoping tomorrow isn’t just another one of those days.

Thanks for stopping by.

Time Travel.

What if you could travel back in time and change the outcome of your life? Would you do it? Would you make changes you knew would enhance your life so it would be perfect, or would you still want to experience mistakes along the way? I think it’s a tough question.

What if you didn’t marry that “special someone” and you never knew your kids? What if you could predict all of the events that were going to happen and you stepped in to literally “save the day?” You would certainly be the most popular person in the history of the world, but you might not like it either.

Last night I saw a movie called, “Hot Tub Time Machine.” Yes I am that kind of person who likes these kinds of movies, which are referred to in our household as, “movies you see by yourself.” I did. Just like Back to The Future, Peggy Sue Got Married, It’s a Wonderful Life and countless other movies where time travel occurs, it does make you think, “What would you do?” Since I am reasonably confident Hollywood does not emulate real life at times, these are just thoughts, I am not going nuts.

But, if I were able to go back in time, just for a day, week or month, I might make some dramatic decisions that I believe would affect the outcome of my life. Some are personal, some are not; I will stick with the non-personal ones. First I would have started exercising long before my 20s, I would have listened to the advice of my parents as I do realize they were indeed correct more than I had given them credit for, and I would have invented the Internet before Al Gore did. (Just kidding on this one, but I would have for sure not given up photography at a young age like I did.)

Other things I would have done include not studying as hard as I did---I am in sales it really doesn’t matter when I look back on it---but I would have taken more marketing and arts courses. Also, I probably would have invested in companies I could have guessed would have done well. I didn’t understand investments back then, so this would have been seen as “dumb luck.” So be it---Wal-Mart, Apple, Starbucks, and other iconic brands took guts to invest in, but I would have found a way to explain why I did it.

One thing I would not do is change the outcome of the kids who are in my world; I can’t imagine what it would be like to not know them, have them as a part of my life, and vice versa. (Wonder if they would say the same?)

The photo above was my dream when I was young. I wanted to be a goalie in the NHL. I never knew what got into me to think I would have been able to do this, as I was hurt so many times when I played. Whether it was the slap shot to the head that took away my hearing for 6 months in one ear, the bruises that lined my arms, stomach and legs, or just the wonderful feeling of getting yelled at for letting a shot get by me---I still wanted to be a pro. If I could travel back in time I would still want to be close to the puck in hockey, but instead of being in goal I would want to be behind it taking pictures.

Thanks for stopping by.

Here comes goodbye.

With all of the travel done every day here in the U.S. and throughout the world, it’s never easy to say goodbye. Even though we often know we are going to be back soon, it’s still a struggle leaving people who are so important to you at home ---I assume I am not alone.

Today is a different day for me. This time I am not doing the travelling; it’s my two youngest daughters. They are leaving to fly overseas with our sitter, we know him very well, and they will meet up with my wife and other daughters in Thailand. All combined, there will be 12 people together ---I am tending to work and our dog. Yes, I drew the short straw. But I have to be honest, the thought of flying for almost 20 hours is about as appealing as going to the dentist and having a root canal. (Without Novocain.)

There is one bonus to being in Thailand and that’s the weather, food (I guess) and photo opportunities. Of course being with family is a great part of it, but we can do that in the states; okay, I do wish I were there. Who wouldn’t want to be?

Knowing our girls, and my wife, are going to experience the trip of a lifetime makes me very happy. But as a parent and spouse, I still deal with the unknown. What if? Suppose? Why? I will only feel complete again when everyone is back on our soil in our home.

If I am being weak or sappy, I just am; family is that important to me.

When I travel next I know one of the things I am planning to do; I will be taking pictures of one of the best-known landmarks in the world. I will not discuss it because it will likely be seen in “Snap.Shot.” but even when I am taking these photos I will know I am feeling some emptiness. As of next month one of my daughters will be joining the working ranks forever---and my son is already there. I think this is one of the most difficult parts of growing up----from the young father to the older one. There is pride, but there will always be concern.

The photo above is actually a sunrise and not a sunset. It looks like it could be either one, but it was taken in Padre Island, TX very early one morning. I wanted to be up when the sun made its entrance and it sure did; I will be taking my children to the airport today, and as their plane takes off headed west into the sunset, I will likely be playing the song, “Here Comes Goodbye” from Rascal Flatts in my head.

Thanks for stopping by.

Gimme the dirt.

It’s the time of year we wait for, yet in some ways we dread. When springtime hits, the world comes back to life; plants come out of hiding, temperatures soar above freezing, and people venture out of their homes to discover that life is not over as thought---it’s springtime.

With all of this wonderment, the mud comes with it. Just look at our kid’s shoes and our dog’s paws. Only one can be left at the door and not tracked in to the house---dogs must stop and have their paws cleaned.

Even with the mud, I love springtime. It does bring about the feeling of hope, new adventures, and photo opportunities. Okay, so maybe photo opp’s are not the most commonly thought of part of spring---but tell me how many times you’ve taken pictures of flowers or the buds on the trees and shown people. I haven’t, but I know other people who have taken their fair share.

Spring also brings out another type of dirt that creates a lot of interest in people. It’s called “gossip, the poop, dirty laundry” and this year it’s in abundance. Think about Tiger Woods, Jesse James (Sandra Bullock’s husband), or countless other celebrities; I know there is local dirt, but since I am not often kept in the loop, or wish to be involved, I know more about celebrities than the individuals who live nearby. The one thing about anyone who has dirt on them, remember they are all human and they have judgment strewn all over them. It’s not fun to be in that kind of limelight---but sometimes bad judgment brings about bad publicity. (They do say that any type of publicity is better than none at all.)

Today all over the Internet was the news about Tiger Woods first interview prior to the start of the Master’s Tournament. After the number of times he has said, “I am really sorry,” I have to believe he cannot wait to get this first tournament past him. Unfortunately the dirt is going to stay for a while because in the sports world (and real world) this was a big deal. Unless he wins and then it will likely go to the back burner. (He did say he had 5 stitches in his mouth after the accident he had last Thanksgiving---I guess a 5 iron can do that.) Just kidding.

The photo above was taken this past weekend at the St. Louis Zoo. A Rhino was rolling around in the mud and was happy as could be. I think they enjoy it because it cools them off---I actually have no idea. I can say for sure, when they are finished with their mud bath, they need a real one.

Thanks for stopping by.

4/4

When you are born, that day becomes your day for the rest of your life. When you are young, it’s the most important date, and for some when that date comes along as they get older, well it’s not as important.

One other fact you learn is that other people have your same birth date. Yes you have to share this special date. Here’s some news you might be interested in…give or take few hundred thousand people, on average you share the date with more than 18 million people around the globe. Also, you sometimes share the date with events that have significance with this very important day of your life. When I was 10 years old, as Bono has sung many times in the song, “Pride (In The Name Of Love”---Martin Luther King lost his life, it happened on my birthday in 1968.

This year, Easter fell on my birthday and other years Passover; Bob Costas and other sports stars, celebrities and even my first cousin all were born on this date. Actually my cousin Alan has first right to the day as he is older than me.

What other incredible events have happened on April 4? Well, John Tesh married Connie Selleca in 1992, and are you ready for this? In 1993 at Wrestlemania IX, Hulk Hogan pinned Yokozuna—how much better does it get than that?

As important as Hulk Hogan pinning his opponent, and Connie and John hooking up, this date has substantial meaning to me. On April 4, 2009 we learned my Mom was sick. What we had hoped was the cause of her facial droop was not what he had prayed for---it was much worse. Combine learning this on my birthday and my cousin’s birthday---we all attended a family event that entire day. One I can tell you I had no interest attending once I learned something was wrong and only the doctors knew what it was; or at least what they suspected. They were right unfortunately.

We all have special days in our lives and once they are attached to you, they will always remain. I am very happy to have a date associated with memories---personal and global. I feel like I am truly blessed to have this special date as one that’s mine and shared with 18 million others.

The photo above is actually one of my favorites. The words “Happy and Day” are blocked but the word “birth” is visible. When it’s your day, it helps to know that it all started with the birth of another human being. For me it is not only the celebration of my birthday, but also the day I will always remember how my Mom was going to spend some of her last days with us.

Thanks for stopping by.

A right of passage.

When we are growing up, there is the fear that when your parents go out they might never come back. A babysitter comes to your house and you think, “Why is she here?” I don’t want Mom and Dad to leave and then the crying and tantrum starts.

But then something funny happens. You as a parent come home and sure enough the crying has stopped, the nightlight is on in the darkened room, and there is light breathing coming from your child’s bed. All is safe and you as a parent got the night off. Yes it cost you $9.00 per hour, no taxes of course for the sitter, but it was worth the $50 to $60 for the break. (Plus the cost of whatever you did…okay, it was worth the $150.00 for the evening.)

I was not much of a baby sitter when I was young. In fact I think I only did it one time if I recall---and that was enough for me. I believe I made either .25 or .50 per hour. Can you believe that? I probably maxed out for the afternoon at $1.50. That doesn’t even buy you a soda or coffee at times. Yet I got to deal with that headache. I knew my babysitting career was over and I wasn’t going to do it again---or at least I thought. Now I do it for free as I am the Dad.

Two of our daughters have hit the babysitting age. One is on the outside in the age area and one is smack dab in the middle of being the right demographic. She is really good with kids, not always her sisters, but she is good with kids. Our older one is excellent with other people’s children and we have been told she is just an angel to have as a sitter. I have to sit back and think to myself, “Are we talking about the same child?” Oh, it must be the money that motivates her. I should have thought even though we give her money to spend, but that doesn’t count and we do see a different side of her angelic personality at times. A much different side.

The photo above was taken tonight; it’s of my two youngest daughters watching the movie, “Home Alone.” They loved the movie--- it was the amount of giggling coming from the room that confirmed it. What I find amazing about this “right of passage” is when you are finally old enough to stay home alone, you don’t want to be alone. You want as many people around as possible. Yes they might be your friends---and let’s face it a party is a great way to spend time when Mom and Dad are out.

Thanks for stopping by.