Endless Summer.

“Fallin' right into your hands

Like rain on the desert sand

It's the last thing you had planned

Out Of The Blue Clear Sky.”

Sometimes when you least expect it, you see something you are not sure the rest of the world is having the pleasure enjoying; for me, it is often in the form of a photograph. Not a picture, not a snapshot, but a photograph. There really is a difference---at least I believe there is.

Recently, as we were preparing to watch a beautiful sunset become a memory, I stood as far back as I could (I was right in front of the parking lot,) where I am told water usually touched at this time of day. For some reason the tide decided to stay low and I was able to absorb the incredible colors that only Mother Nature can provide. I am grateful she felt a break in the routine was in order. I owe her one.

When I was growing up, I lived by the sounds of bands like the Beach Boys who would sing about this incredible world I had never experienced. California was further than my parents cared to drive—we went to Florida---and was a mystery to me except through the voice of Mike Love and other members of this band who knew there was something about the West Coast that only people who were out there understood. This past week---I understood what they were trying to tell me loud and clear.

During our hour or so on the beach, I witnessed millions of colors in the sky, on the wet sand, and all around me; many could not be captured by my trusty Nikon as they were too subtle---so I just stood there mesmerized and did my best to take in as much as possible into my head and live in the moment. I fell way short, but was able to capture some of the experience.

One thing I really like to photograph is a silhouette; it’s not as if there is a brilliant color to experience---it is black after all---and even though you are not able to see anything more than an outline of a body, for me it tells a story.

The photo above captures an experience I could never tell in a description to anyone---only a photo could do it. As I stood on the beach, I watched as the surfers decided their day was over. They walked right in front of the dwindling daylight and at a split second, the moment was captured. I love photos like this---why? Because I have never surfed, I was blown away by the sunset, and for me living in the Midwest, I knew there was still some form of summer somewhere.

Thanks for stopping by.

Tiny Dancer.

“Hold me closer tiny dancer

Count the headlights on the highway

Lay me down in sheets of linen

you had a busy day today.”

I am long past due in writing “Snap.Shot.;” for those who have been waiting for its return, I cannot imagine there are very many, thanks for waiting for the urge to write to return. I am not sure it is 100% there, I am testing the waters once more.

It’s been an up and down few months. Some of the time I was up higher than I could imagine, and at other times, I was just not wanting to write because I just didn’t feel like it. Selfish? Yes it was---but for me, it was necessary. I really do enjoy writing—but I needed the break because I was tired and bored.

This past year, starting on January 1, I took on an assignment to write about the community I live in---I felt it would allow me to learn more about the history of Glen Ellyn, IL and I did enjoy writing a blog. What I found was, it was harder than I imagined, and was a chore I really didn’t want to perform each day.

What “Snap.Shot.” was meant to be, and I would like it to continue to be, is a snippet of life with a photo that goes along with whatever I feel like writing on that particular day. That’s why I am writing about a dancer I saw in San Francisco this past weekend.

Our family spent the holidays in Northern California; we were in both the Bay Area as well as the mountains outside Lake Tahoe. Whereas there is usually a vast difference in the climate this time of year, this year was different. It was warm in San Francisco and when we went to the mountains, there was very little snow. I think the 50-degree weather during the day played a major role in the lack of snow. That didn’t mean there was not any snow, just not enough to attract the skiers who come to the region to ski at breakneck speeds. (Last year in this exact location there was more than 12 feet of snow---this year, there was less than 8 inches.)

I honestly didn’t miss it---I don’t ski, and it allowed for more family time; however, it also provided an opportunity to take completely different photos than I took last year. There will be some in upcoming “Snap.Shots.”---as a preview, I walked down by the Golden Gate bridge, saw surfers in the cold waters outside the Bay, and was within inches of skiers doing flips and jumps off a man-made ski jump. It was cool.

The photo above was taken at one of the beaches in San Francisco---frankly, I don’t remember which one. When we drove up, we saw 2 ballerinas being photographed. It was not just a beautiful scene---it was graceful, balanced, and one that no one would have believed had I not shot 3 pictures. They were not wanting anyone to take photos except the photographer who had been hired to for the job. I couldn’t help myself---for me, shooting the unexpected is what makes photography my passion, my love, my tiny dancer who when held in your hands, is as delicate as a ballerina dancing above.

Thanks for stopping by.

It’s been two years.

Two years ago today, as I rode the train home from work, I received a phone call that changed my life.  I learned my Mom had lost her battle with brain cancer. Whereas it was not a surprise, she was very ill, you can never prepare for the words I heard on the other end of the line. “Mark, your Mom passed away.”

The call didn’t come from my sister, brother or Dad, it came from my wife Susan. I don’t want to call it pay back, because it is anything but this when it comes to losing a loved one; but when her brother passed away 4 days after we were married, I was in the very same spot. I gave her the same news. It is not only difficult---it truly sucks.

In many ways it seems like yesterday my Mom passed away; in other ways it seems like much longer. I am not sure how you are supposed to feel when you lose someone so important to you, but it took a long time for me to believe she was actually no longer living in the home I grew up in. I have been to her grave, and trust me she is no longer physically alive; however, she has never left our hearts, thoughts and never will.

What I would like to say to my Mom two years later is, “Mom, we are all doing okay.” We think about you every day---and no matter how much it bothers me to admit to Southwest Airlines that my middle name is “Elliot” (you blessed me with that wonderful name) I think of you every time I see it on the ticket when I show it to board the plane. (It’s now information you have to give to the airline and they slap it right on the ticket for everyone to see--thanks.)

Also, Mom, you will not believe it, Dad can cook! Seriously. I know, it’s a shocker but he makes a mean chili, great barbecued chicken and really good cold cut sandwiches. Who would ever have believed it could happen?  He does need to put on some weight--- he told me the other day he has gained 10 pounds---I told him to put on 10 more. (Thought you would get a chuckle out of that.)

Gary, JoAnn and I are doing well too; we feel the vacancy when we are all together at home, but we also know you are there with us. A few updates for you. Gary’s aquarium is bigger than it was the last time you saw it (apparently it leaked several months ago when he was gone and Dawn was not a happy camper), JoAnn is spending a lot of time with Dad,Brooke is getting married, Jason has a serious girlfriend, Amanda lives in Dallas and works at Dillards, Cheney is in college at DePauw, Izzy is a freshman in high school, Audrey is the spittin’ image of Susan, Cheney and Izzy—and Sophie got her ears pierced and her hair cut for the first time in her 7 years of life.  Oh yeah, Susan and I "learned our lesson" about the photography business. (Mom, we got another dog---I was talked in to it---I should have fought harder against it because he is a pain in the butt.)

Mom, we miss you. We miss you like you cannot believe; but as I wrote 2 years ago on this very day, knowing what that damn disease was doing to you, you are in a better place not having to live with it any longer. These are the toughest words I could write---and even though I miss you---I didn’t want you to suffer one minute longer.

The photo above was taken recently at a family event. I am sorry to say everyone was not there, but I could always photo shop in any missing family members if needed.  This is a very important photo at a very important event; the last time we gathered, we learned my Mom was sick; prior to that (same event---different date), we learned my Aunt was ill, and on the very day of this celebration, we remembered the loss of my Uncle Joe who had passed away a year earlier. We miss them all and were all very relieved this one went off without a hitch.

Thanks for stopping by.

Humble.

" It seems to me, sorry seems to be the hardest word. "

-Elton John  

For the past several months, my wife and I have been challenged; I knew when we took on this role of football league photographers that it was going to be an adventure, but I never thought in my wildest dreams it was going to be this difficult. I owe a number of apologies to my wife, kids, and the parents and players we photographed. I was over my head and I found out what it’s like to drown. It’s not a lot of fun in case you are considering it.

It all started out well…things were very smooth at the first photo shoot. Then we photographed another team a month later and if it could go wrong, it did. The photographers I had hired were late, parents were not happy to wait, and the pictures came out lousy. Luckily we were able to correct many of them, but they still are not up to the personal standards I set.  That was day 1. The next day, since it was a two-day shoot, the magic returned. But I knew in the back of my mind I had bitten off way more than I could chew.

So here we are. We have heard from parents who said these were some of the worst photos they have seen---and now I am doing re-takes. Funny, the retakes are really good pictures and the parents are now saying “Thank you.”  This is not redemption---it’s embarrassment.

Whereas I thought I had hit rock bottom, and maybe I have and maybe have not, I now have 2- 3 new projects, that like a fool, I have taken on. Why did I do it? Because I needed to redeem myself---if for no one else, for me. I actually thought about hanging up my Nikon and calling it a day but have decided against it.  Now I am  much more selective of what I will photograph and if I am not comfortable with it, I won’t do it. Period.

Photography is my love, my passion, a gift that was given to me by someone very special, my wife Susan.  The project I am looking forward to most is one I am actually nervous about because I know how important it is. About a week or so ago I was asked if I would be interested in photographing a play that will be occurring at our local school. Since I have done this before, I said, “Yes.”

I then received a note from a woman who at that point in time I had not met, but I photographed her daughter at the last performance. She was very nice and asked if I would make sure to take photos of her daughter again. I said, “Sure.” Then she asked if we took family photos? I said “Yes.”  I didn’t hear back from her for a couple of days and when she wrote back it stopped me in my tracks. She said, “I am looking for a photographer with a sense of humor”…okay, I think I have one…and that “she has breast cancer.” I assume it is really not going well. I wrote back and said, “I would be honored to take photographs of you and your family.” Now you know why I am nervous---these could be the last photos ever taken of her, or the beginning of a new life for her where she will be able to look back and say, “I made it and look at me now.”

I hope it’s the latter more than you can believe.

The photo above is of my daughter Sophie; it was taken when we went apple picking a few weeks ago---I went to take a photo of a barn and she wanted to come with me. Once she was there she was bored and I said, “You can sit over there on the wagon” She said, “Really?" with a real excitement in her voice.

The photos I went to take turned out to be snapshots, then I saw her sitting there on the wagon and I knew I had the photo I was looking for; I felt the magic again. I am no magician, I have a passion---and for those who I let down, one day I hope to make you much happier. For the past 3 months, I have truly let myself down---I will do everything to never let this happen again.

Thanks for stopping by.

Out of the Blue Clear Sky.

“Fallin' right into your hands

Like rain on the desert sand

It's the last thing you had planned

Out Of The Blue Clear Sky”

There is something about a fall day that I can’t explain. There is the crispness of the leaves that allow you hold part of it in your hand knowing if you drop it, it will blow away and not be seen again until next year. The air feels fresher, the lack of humidity is welcome, and when you think it can last forever---or hope that it does---we know what’s behind it.

Every fall I am amazed by the colors; not just of the plants and trees, but also the sky. It is brighter, deeper blue, and it seems to go on forever. I love these days.

Since taking up photography I have come to appreciate the changing of seasons. Whether it’s spring to summer, summer to fall, or even the dreaded winter---there is something about catching Mother Nature at her best. When she is showing off, letting us know she controls our emotions. She does. Figures it’s a woman who has such control.

This time of the year, as I believe I explained a long time ago in an early “Snap.Shot.” used to be a very difficult time for me. I won’t go into specifics, but just like the lyrics above…”The last thing you had planned out of the blue clear sky.” For me, it could not have been better and fall has gone from my least favorite to probably my favorite season of the year. Funny how things change.

The photo above was one that I had to take. Down to my last few frames on my media card, I made sure I saved a couple for this moment that was saying, “Take my Picture.” I did and I am very glad I did. If for no other reason, as I ventured back to this spot a few weeks ago, the scenery has changed---out of the blue clear sky.

Thanks for stopping by.

What will your camera capture?

“There's an old Kodak camera in my dresser drawer

I ran across it just this afternoon

And I realized that I don't ever use it anymore

In fact last time I did I think it was with you.”

--Brad Paisley

There is something to be said about the camera; for many it’s something they carry around inside their phone or pocket---for me, it’s anything but that---mine is heavy, bulky, and my best “non-human” friend. (Depending on the day.)

When I was young, I had an Instamatic camera. It was made by Kodak and you simply popped film inside, twisted the wheel a few times, and took pictures of whatever you felt needed to be taken. Sometimes it was an exit sign, a pitcher of water, or my favorite---a person taking a picture of another person. How creative. What’s funny is, I still see these photos when I down load pictures from when my younger kids grab their cameras. However, it’s different with my older daughters---they are really gifted photographers carrying with them some pretty sophisticated equipment.

But the picture is changing. It appears that Kodak is experiencing some very rough times; nothing that should surprise anyone, but when you think back, it was not long ago where film was king, and Kodak was bigger than big. They missed a very important boat when it left the harbor. I am sorry to say.

Recently I found a memory card that for some reason had not been downloaded. Just like that roll of film that had gathered dust, having not been taken in to get processed, what it held inside were memories of another day. It’s kind of amazing when you uncover a gem like that---all those memories in a card that is no larger than a stamp. I had no idea what I was missing---and then they were right there in front of me on my computer.

The photo above was taken at a recent event I attended. It’s one of the new running options---it’s called a “Mud Run.” New to me, I must be living under a rock because every time I bring it up to someone has either run in one, or is planning to. Provided they run of course—otherwise it’s a spectator sport. You will be seeing more photos from the mud run in “Snap. Shot.” As I said to the race organizer, these will be some of the “dirtiest” pictures I will ever take.

Thanks for stopping by.