Waiting for the soldiers to return.

These are challenging times here in the U.S. As much as we try to focus on the future, we are often reminded of what’s going on or as some like to say, looking at the bigger picture, here and in other parts of the world. Right now, and I really hope this becomes an issue that does not become a reality we are on the verge of seeing our country go into default.

Whereas I am not smart enough to truly understand all, or even some of the dynamics, I do know, we as a country are in a spot we really don’t want to be in; I would have to assume the last time we were here was back in 1929 when the Great Depression smacked us around for more than a decade. I assume that was much worse than what is staring us in the face right now--at least I sure hope so.

But this situation appears to be different---there are a handful of individuals who may not be representing the citizens of the United States the way they promised they would when they were elected. I know this is going to seem hard to believe, but the politicians are actually more concerned---or so it appears---in their own political ambitions. I know, it’s really hard to believe---please forgive me.

So that’s the edge we stand on right now…there’s a very good likelihood we will get past these times and eventually see our economy flourish once more, but in the meantime, there will be those who may not be able to pay their bills and/or receive the help that they need at this time.

I certainly understand, all too well, the help that is needed by the unemployed, disabled and elderly---but I have read, and I hope it’s not true, that our soldiers may not be paid until Congress and the Senate decide that they have a plan that truly represents the people. Those that voted for them the last time they ran for office.

How troubling is that? These men and women are across the globe, risking their lives, and now they stand to risk not being able to provide for the family that await their safe return. To me this is a reason why every politician should be voted out of office. No matter what party they are in, how they voted on a particular issue, and/or stood for what they felt was right; I can honestly say, if I were in politics right now, I would feel very good about taking a flight out of Washington and never returning.  If for no other reason because they know they no longer represent the people who depend on them---and pay them for their service. (I suspect they will continue to be paid even if the country defaults.)

The photo above is one I have always liked; with flowers, boots and a blue-sky overhead, I see this as the way we want  to live---yet we now see there are clouds on the horizon and they don’t appear to be very friendly. I really hope those who are elected have listened to the people---because the people have listened to them and come the next time to vote they might see it has turned into a very bad connection.

Thanks for stopping by.

Remember When.

"Remember when thirty seemed so old

Now lookn' back it's just a steppin' stone

To where we are,

Where we've been

Said we'd do it all again

Remember when."

The funny thing about getting older, is the older we get the younger we seem to think we are---and the way we act shows we are fearful of getting older.  It’s okay, I just don’t want to get there too soon and what choice do we really have?

One thing I realize every time I go into a meeting, a store, or am called, “Sir or Mister,” is that I am no longer a kid, a guy, or someone who is called anything that I used to hear when I was younger. I am fine with it…but I refuse to wear Abercrombie clothing, sleeveless shirts or God forbid go shirtless. I would more than hear about that, and can’t blame anyone for getting sick to their stomach after seeing me walk around. (I do wear shorts though!)

Probably one of the most revolting sights is when I have gone to our local swimming  pool and have seen older men, and I mean older men, in Speedo’s. There is actually one guy who wears a Speedo that is so tight well you get the visual.  But as bad as this is, I have seen men in other countries wear thongs---needless to say it’s not pretty.

So why are we so concerned about getting older?

There is so much that has been gained by our experiences that make us who we are; it might be as simple as having been a parent and having the ability to apply that learning to grandkids (no I am not a grandfather)---or even with young parents who have babies and/or very young children. It’s great for photography because one thing about kids, they don’t scare me.

I really do believe life is a “stepping stone.” Without the experiences we have learned, it would be just like the movie “Groundhog Day” where the same day occurs over and over again; I really am not sure I want to relive the days I have lived before. Okay there are a few that would be kind of fun to do over, but all in all life does have many good times ahead. It had better.

The photo above is of my neighbor’s 6-week-old granddaughter. Cradled in her grandfather’s arms, she knows she is safe, secure and although very young, has so much to look forward to as she travels through life. As for me, it reassures that when you have the chance to do it all again, and hold a young child in your arms, you can hand them back to their parents.

Thanks for stopping by.

Up close and personal.

From the moment we come into this world, we have new encounters. From birth to death, we meet people, animals, and experience other interesting points of difference that we talk about. It might be a famous star, a horse, or a statue in the park, but if it’s different, we let people know what happened in our day.

In my last job I had the opportunity to meet celebrities. The closest I got was a “stylist” who had Sandra Bullock as a client. He referred to her as “Sandy” and discussed the devastation she went through when Jesse James pulled out his gun and moved on to the next territory. (That’s a pun by the way.) He didn’t say too much because it was a personal story, but I listened to what snippets he brought to the meeting.

I was also supposed to meet Katy Perry as she was in the process of signing a deal with Coca-Cola as a spokesperson overseas. At the last minute the deal fell through and so did the meeting; I was not planning to be star struck, I was more interested to learn about how she was as a person. Since it was going to be pretty much one-on-one meeting (3 people were invited) I thought it would be fun. Yes, I would have told people about it, but it would have been after the deal had been signed and it was public information. That is something I have learned in business----don’t be the first person to talk.

About a month ago, my oldest daughter who lives in Dallas attended the taping of “X-Factor” the new show to debut on Fox this fall. Because of her ability to finagle about anything, she sat directly behind the judges. I mean directly behind them. She spoke with Simon Cowell, Paula Abdul, and L.A. Reid (a well known producer.) Knowing Amanda, she had no fear in talking to them. How do I know? She is my daughter. Turns out she invited all of them to a Playboy party she had been invited to, along with a friend, and she said, “Dad they almost came with us.” They had another priority (supposedly)---I am sure they are somewhat protective with what they do, but then again I am sure they did give it some consideration.

As you can see, when you hear of someone having an interesting encounter with someone famous or out of the ordinary, you talk about it. I can say with 100% certainty, if I ever get the call from Sports Illustrated, and they offer to let me shoot for just one event (any event) you will be hearing about it. “Trust me” as they say.

The photo above was taken of my 8-year-old daughter at the Brookfield Zoo; obviously, and thankfully, there is a large piece of glass separating a large polar bear from a 60-pound-girl and a photographer who would make a nice meal. That’s one meal I would not be talking about after it happened.

Thanks for stopping by.

Barefoot, Blue Jean night.

“Never gonna grow up

Never gonna slow down

We were shinin' like lighters in the dark

In the middle of a rock show

We were doin' it right

We were comin' alive

Yeah, caught up in a Southern summer,

barefoot, blue jean night.”

For some reason, and I suspect it’s because of where I grew up, we lived for warm weather; it’s easy to fall back into the memories of the summer days and nights that made these number of limited days the ones that are never forgotten. It’s a feeling, emotion, real-life memory of what made us who we are today.

Growing up with a small group of friends is what made the summer; every year that went by we added something new and fresh to our memories. It started out simple---we road bikes, we stayed out eventually past dark, and when we were 16 we were suddenly mobile. That is---outside of the confines of our subdivision---I learned of an awaiting world out there.

The first concert I went to was when I was 16; it was held at the “Arena” (aka the former “Checkerdome” when it was owned by Ralston Purina in St. Louis.) We used to call it the “echodome” as the acoustics were like listening to a concert inside of a soda bottle---the lyrics all blurred together and unless you were planted in a seat in the right spot, listening to a record player was a better option. That is, if that’s all you went to concert for.

Concerts were an escape---we would get there early and listen to the buzz  as the seats filled up. Beach balls bounced around and lighters came out, and depending on who was playing, the smell of marijuana was everywhere. It was part of the experience of being around thousands of people you didn’t know, would never see again, and had only one thing in common---you were there to have fun.

My first concert I went to was when the Beach Boys and Chicago (the band) were on tour; it was really fun, we had good seats, and although I know I was on a date, I have no idea who it was. Of what I recall she was much more interested in being at the concert than being with me. The one person I do remember was Dennis Wilson, the drummer for the Beach Boys who died a few years after the concert. It was his t-shirt I remember, it said, “No Sweat” on the front---I  thought that was really cool.

The photo above was taken at our nearby lake in Glen Ellyn; for me there is nothing more that says “summer” than the fireworks that light up the darken sky. Although I have lived this many times over, I know I will always be able to travel back to the carefree days when we all sat around and shared a “barefoot blue jean night.”

Thanks for stopping by.

Daughters.

“That's my daughter in the water,

who'd have ever thought her?

Who'd have ever thought?

That's my daughter in the water,

I lost every time I fought her

Yea, I lost every time.”

If anyone is familiar with females, it’s me. It’s not that I understand them, I am just familiar with my being completely different from the way they are. In other words, what is going on in their heads that’s not going on in mine? That would be plenty.

From the moment they come into our lives, whether it’s birth, blending of families, or dating/marriage, it’s obvious (at least to me) that there is a reason why we guys are confused. Because of the make up of our family, I see many things in our home that let me know I am the minority. From the magazines they read, to the TV shows they watch, to the Facebook chatter I am not supposed to be a part of---looking at life from the other side is always an awakening for me.

When I was growing up I had no idea these thoughts were going on in their heads; no idea they would have the guts to make the comments they do to boys who are so intimidated and so much less physically mature---and I guess mentally as well---that it’s no wonder they have us where they want us.  As I hear often, “girls rule and boys drool.” I try to counteract it, but am always given “the look.” It's the one where it's obvious I am not going to win with any return comment.

It’s the look that also makes us wilt; it’s the look of needing us when they want something they know they can have by simply “wrapping us around any one of 8 fingers and 2 thumbs.” With 5 daughters in my life it’s understandable why when I want to do something it’s a negotiation. Yesterday I did win (honest) as I wanted to see one movie of which the rest did not---or was not appropriate for them to see. So I showed them…I saw that darn movie. They didn’t, I did. They went to see the movie they wanted to see—I think they liked theirs much more than I liked mine. Darn.

For the rest of my life I am going to do what I can to understand women and girls; I am reasonably sure I will never fully understand why they don’t have to pick up towels, must take 30 minute showers, or let us know that what we think is cool is anything but that. But should I pick up some insight that is truly monumental, I will share it with the other guys. I am sure they will be grateful for my bringing such insight to them---and they will still remain as confused as possible.

The photo above is of our 14-year-old daughter; she is not my biological daughter but you would never know. The way she has me wrapped around her “right” finger, it’s understandable why there is nothing “left” for me when it comes to hot water in the shower and much more.

Thanks for stopping by.

Discovery.

“Little miss done on love

Little miss, I give up

Little miss, I'll get tough,

Don't you worry about me anymore

Little miss checkered dress

Little miss, one big mess

Little miss, I'll take less

When I always give so much more.”

Sometimes we have to find who we are; not who other people feel we should be, but who we deep inside really are as a person. It happens to women, it happens to men—it’s when you discover the life that awaits you, and not for those who want you to be a certain way, but for who you are at this time.  That’s when you really discover what, and who, you were meant to be.

Discovery happens in many different ways; you suddenly find a feeling or thought deep within your soul and you want to find out why it lurks. Sometimes it’s nothing more than an “I wonder if I could? Or would people think I was crazy? Or just a simple, is it right for me?” One of the best things we all have is choice; we can do what we want, provided of course it’s not illegal or hurtful in a way that can never be repaired. But even situations that are questioned, such as wanting to be more independent, these in the long run, are better for everyone.

Why?

Because we have the opportunity to branch out, play adult, and come home when we want and show what we have done to our family, friends, and even strangers.

Of no great shock for me it’s photography; when I first decided I liked to take pictures, it was very intimidating. Just going to the camera store (they still have those by the way) was somewhat overwhelming for me. These were the experts who knew everything about a camera and had most of the answers I still often times don’t understand. Cameras require reading manuals and I am not a manual kind of guy. But I can take photos.

But then as I became more comfortable---having branched out---I knew it was okay to fall in love, to understand the passion of why people “schlep” their cameras with them wherever they go. It’s when you have to make a stand with how far you want this to go, like anything in life, when you are forced to carve out time for you; because it’s no longer just a passion, it’s part of who you are. How cool is that? That’s discovery.

The best part of finding more about ourselves is how it broadens us; makes us more interesting, something new to talk about, something that opens our eyes whether there is interest on the receiving end or not. Hopefully there is---but not always. Luckily there is on my end.

The photo above was taken a few years ago at the Ringling Bros circus. As she hangs literally by a thread this is a metaphor of life; we have to find out who we are before we can really be whole. I look at this woman and think one of two things: either she is ready to give up, or this is her passion and she is one of the best. I like to think she is in love what she is doing. (I sure hope so.)

Thanks for stopping by.

Giving.

In some way we have all given our time for something where we were not paid or compensated in any way besides a “thank you” for helping out. Some people do it on a regular basis, some because it’s an obligation that comes with being part of an organization, team or some other group where your help is needed and/or expected.

I can say with all honesty, we are not big volunteers; it’s not as if we don’t want to help, we just for some reason are not asked on a regular basis to volunteer. Sure we help out in watching other people’s kids for play dates, or helping someone move something within their home, garden, or whatever---but as far as being in an organization where we are a permanent fixture, that’s not us.

But there are many who do give and they do it on a regular basis. My wife’s ex-husband Bill is disabled; he lives in a nursing home. There are a number of people from the church he attends that help him by bringing him to church, men’s club, or other events where his attendance is something they like and want him to be there. There is one guy, his name is Rob, who is probably the nicest person I have met from the group. Rob always has a smile on his face, is always there to help when he can, and never and I mean never forgets his “personal” obligation to helping Bill.

Rob is a really good guy.

This coming fall we will be photographing a number of football teams in the local area; whereas we are being compensated for our shooting, we have volunteers (Mom’s and Dad’s) who will be helping during the photo shoots happening on those hot August days. They don’t have to, they want to. This past weekend during the swim meet from hell, there were volunteers who worked for 8+ hours helping kids find where they were supposed to be before during and after the race. Compared to what we had to do as a volunteer parent---we put stickers on ribbons the kids won---we should be penalized for lack of effort or praised for getting the easiest job. 

Volunteering in some way always feels good; it might not at the time you are doing it, but when you are through and heading home to an air-conditioned or comfortable home, you can’t help but smile knowing you did something for the common good.

The photo above was taken last weekend during the fire that destroyed a garage to a neighbor’s home. What you would not know is we have an all-volunteer fire department where we live. Yes, they have state of the art equipment, and yes they are trained, but they are not compensated. They care about the community and they will drop everything and anything to help out---even risking their lives. For those men and women, in comparison with my helping to place stickers on winning ribbon, I have two words for you. “Thank you.”

Thanks for stopping by.

Long road home.

“You leave home

 and you move on

 and you do the best you can.


I got lost in this old world

 and forgot who I am.”

It’s probably this time of year when the memories of growing up flood forward. It was summer, we were free for more than 2 months---sometimes three---and so much happened during that time that are still etched upon my mind.

Of course we can never really travel physically back in time, but the mind is a very powerful machine that let’s us travel anywhere we want; without a charge for baggage, food or a seat upgrade. For some they feel it’s a secret world, for others it’s an opportunity reminisce on what was.

In the 18 years I spent at home before leaving for college, everyday seemed to be a blur when it was happening. Life, for me, really did reflect the “Wonder Years;” I had friends who I hung out with every day. I hung on practically every word they said, and they did the same---we learned from each other, we grew up, we trusted. It was what life was all about. We didn’t have the opportunity to reach across the world, state or even to the next town, to meet people we may have never had the chance to meet in person.

Since I began writing “Snap.Shot.” I have had the chance to take the “way back mental machine” wherever I care to travel. I don’t have to tell anyone, or I can write about it and let the entire “small readership” world of this blog know what it was like so many years ago. But the “long road home,” the trip many of us take often, is something I believe is very healthy to keep balance. I am some one who tends to look forward, but sometimes the road back is just what I need for that day, moment, or situation.

For many years after college, and when I entered the “real world,” I became lost---I needed to find who I really was…and as crazy as it seems, one of the most important roads I took was the road with the Nikon street sign. Photography has allowed me to capture something physical---okay digital---and whenever I need to travel back, whether it’s a day, month or a year, I have found the road back home. I am so lucky.

The photo above was taken last weekend; for me, it’s a bridge, road, or step back in time. Sure the colors are vibrant, it’s summertime; but whether it’s winter, spring, summer or fall, I know whenever I need to take a trip back to the place I need to re-visit it’s there waiting for me.

Thanks for stopping by.