Voice from the past.

“Baby, I'll take care of you, I'll never let you down

No harm will ever come to you as long as I'm around

I am not afraid of what people say or do

The only thing I fear is being here...without you.”

Last weekend I called home to talk with my Dad. It had been a few days since we had spoken and I wanted to check on him to make sure he was not spending too much time outside. It had been over 100 degrees here in Chicago---I can only imagine how warm it had been in St. Louis. I always said, “You know we have cooler summers up north and sure enough, we were a whopping 5 degrees cooler…ahhhh.”

Over the past few months my Dad has had 24-hour care. At first he was not a fan of it, but I suspect he now could not live without it. Whereas I would like him to get to the point where he could once again live independently, I suspect that is wishful thinking on my part.

When he answered the phone he said, “There’s someone here who would like to speak with you.” I had no idea who it could be. When the voice came over the phone wire, part of me knew it was someone familiar and part of me had trouble placing it. Then it hit me. It was Anise, the woman my Mom trusted throughout the last days and weeks of her life while she lie in bed preparing for what would be the inevitable.

It was a little awkward at first; I really didn’t spend much time getting to know her as she tended to my Mom’s needs---but I felt the warmth and compassion that made her so important to our family almost 3 years ago. She was back, and whereas I hate to admit it, I suspect this might be a déjà vu. (I am really hoping I will not be writing about it soon in “Snap.Shot.”)

Trust, and giving yourself to another person who is there to help you, I suspect is difficult; sure we do it when we are born, and yes as parents we do it for our kids, but when the situation changes and it’s you, well…I just hope I can relinquish control. I doubt I will have a choice.

The photo above was the last time I saw my Mom. Right beside her, watching her every move, was a person who months prior would have just been another person I would have just said “hello it’s nice to meet you" to. It was really nice to hear a voice from the past---especially one who elected to come back and help once more.

Thanks for stopping by.

The wink.

“In this complicated world it may sound absurd,

But simple little things are the miracle cures,

Pushed to the limit or standing at the brink,

All she's gotta do is just give me that wink.”

It’s something either you can or cannot do; but if you can, it lets you communicate in a way that’s between you and one person or millions. It’s the wink. If you can’t do it, and you blink both eyes at the same time, well then I would suggest something else as you completely give it all away.

A wink is something you don’t see every day; you use it when you are letting someone know you are either kidding, attracted to them, or just being playful. It’s part of the human personality and it takes only a split second to split the lips of another individual into a smile, nod, or a better state of mind.

When I am photographing portraits, and I know the person who is facing the lens cannot wait to get out of there, I take control. Cross your eyes, jump in the air, now give me a wink---it’s all part of getting them engaged into having their photo taken. After it all starts, and then ends, they usually walk away saying, “Thank you” along with a smile on their face.

They weren’t expecting it, but I was…it works.

I am reasonably sure people winking at one another goes back to the days of Adam and Eve; I am not sure if it had the same meaning—maybe Adam got a branch slammed in his eye by Eve--- but as the wink has evolved, it is the signal that says so much without saying anything at all.

I always love to see when a couple is in love, and a wink travels across the room; you do have to be careful however, because if it is intercepted by the wrong individual, trouble begins. I am sure we have all witnessed it…and I hope for all of us we have been on the receiving end of having had someone do it to us in a warm way. That is, if you can wink without making yourself look like you have a twitch.

The photo above was taken of my youngest daughter and her friend on the first day of school last year; I was not there, but I am sure all my wife said was, “Give me a wink.”

Thanks for stopping by.

Long way from home.

"I'm going home to the place where I belong 

Where your love has always been enough for me
And I'm running from.. you know I think you got me all wrong
I don't regret this life I chose for me'
But these places and these faces are getting old
But these places and these faces are getting old
I'm going home
I'm going home."

Because we have many modes of transportation we have the ability to travel many miles away from where we call home. Sometimes we leave for a short while and other times we move away and start anew. I fall into both camps as I travel more than 30 miles to my job and live 300 miles from where I grew up.

But, there are many people who I have met who still live within the neighborhoods where they were raised. Their kids go to the same schools they did, in some instances they are very actively involved in the community and I know of a few who have businesses just steps away from their homes. I think I might struggle with that, but then again, I don’t know any better. My brother lives less than a mile from the home he grew up in---it works for him and it has really helped as my Dad has needed care.

In my travels, primarily through the Midwest, I have gone to many cities and towns all the while exploring them if I have time; it’s rare that I am concerned for my safety or anything like that, but it’s common, if I am taking photos to be concerned for their privacy. One of my most memorable ventures outside the lights of a big city was when I went into Amish and Mennonite areas in Iowa, Ohio and Pennsylvania. It was in Pennsylvania when I saw, and heard, my first horse and buggy.

At first I was not sure if I had heard it, but as it got closer there was no mistaking what I was about to encounter. Around the turn came a man and his wife---being drawn by a horse and carriage. It stopped me in my tracks and I really wanted to take a picture; I decided it would be best if I tried to “fake it” by staying in my car and taking it with the window down. It worked, but it also was just what I thought it would be---a snapshot. So I drove to another location, I was in a car after all, and caught them coming around the turn. I suspect this had happened before as they waved.

Later in the trip I saw another family, with their buggy to the back of me, traveling down a long road. It was the picture I wanted---in the distance were fluffy clouds, the road was as far as I could see, and it may have been a snapshot, but it turned out to be a photograph. I still have it…somewhere on an external hard drive with 1000’s of other photos.

The photo above was taken a week or so ago. It was lunchtime in downtown Chicago, and I knew a huge storm was coming toward the city; I have wanted to go up on the “ledge” of the former Sears Tower (now known as the Willis Tower) to capture a storm of this magnitude from above. I missed the storm as the elevators that take you up 1300 plus feet were delayed. While standing in line I struck up a conversation with the family in front of me. They were from Northeast Indiana on the way by train, yes train, to Montana---30 hours in a non-sleeper car. Did I ask for a photo? Nope, I didn’t feel comfortable.

Until they stepped out on the ledge with nothing between them and the ground below but a piece of very strong glass.

Thanks for stopping by.

Against the odds.

“And it's run for the roses

As fast as you can

Your fate is delivered

Your moment's at hand

It's the chance of a lifetime

In a lifetime of chance.”

I really do not enjoy going to the horse races for the same reason most others do. I have written about this and even though I have gone 4 times in the last one and a half weeks, I can say I have walked away a winner each time. Well, that is, I haven’t lost any money. It’s probably because the last 3 times I have not actually stepped inside the gates where everyone else watches the races---I have been standing near the turn outside the fence to get a different perspective and angle. Odd? It’s me.

Every time I shoot, I hope I have gotten the shot. The one that will end up on my wall or at least one I will be so proud of I will want to do something with it. I have yet to have the feeling---maybe the next time I go. I think part of my disappointment stems from not knowing the names of the horses or whether or not they run well, won the race, or are just an old nag that is thrown in to give another one competition. This is not the Kentucky Derby—I need to keep that in mind.

Hard to believe I come from a family that enjoyed going to the track. My Mom’s parents spent time and money at the track near Collinsville, IL. I don’t remember a lot about going when I went as a kid---but I do remember there were some less than desirables holding on to the ticket they believed could change their life. It’s changed over the years, at least the track we go to, because if it didn’t no one would be there. There are too many options to lose your hard-earned money just down the road.

This past weekend, as I was getting psyched up to watch the horses run, I watched the videos on YouTube of Secretariat and his Triple Crown win; I watched the Derby, Preakness and Belmont Stakes. Big mistake if I thought I would be capturing anything close to that.

When I was shooting I was trying to imagine how I would have photographed a race of such magnitude that is part of the Triple Crown. Although it was over 101 degrees outside this past week, I found myself perspiring with anxiousness and fear thinking about it---in addition to what had already started the moment I walked up to the track. What would happen if I got the shot? What would happen if I missed the shot? I don’t know if I will ever have the opportunity, but if so I figure I have some practice.

One thing I do when I shoot is to make sure (or suspect)) I have the best angle possible---knowing myself, I knew I would have self doubt up until the race was in full swing. Then it’s either hit or miss---I know both.

The photo above was taken on Friday; I probably took this photo, without horses, from 20 different angles prior to the actual race. I was not sure if I would capture what I wanted and you only have a few seconds, at best, to get it right. Miss it, and they just run by and it’s off to the next race nearly 30 “hot/sweaty ” minutes later. I didn’t feel this was  the winner, but considering how I felt like  I was going to pass out, it felt like a “place or show” for sure.

Thanks for stopping by.

Roots.

"There's still black marks on that county road, where we drag raced our pick-ups and mustangs

And weathered all the sun and rain
And to this day up on that overpass, even underneath the new paint, you can still see,
"Allie, will you marry me?"

It was almost 10 years ago, when my Dad was about to turn 75 and I ventured back to the town where he was born. It was relatively easy to find, it was 10 miles from Pella, Iowa, and I had a meeting at Pella Window Company. If you know anything about windows, you know they make very good ones.

Because I wanted to make sure I was going to find Monroe, Iowa, I asked for directions after my meeting had ended. I had explained I was going to visit the birthplace of my Dad. The people I was meeting with all thought it was very cool that I was going to do this---no one thought it was any cooler than I did. I wanted to walk in my Dad’s footsteps; okay, he left when he was very young, but I still think it’s something every son or daughter should do if they have the opportunity. Especially if they live in a town far away---this qualified.

The timing was right because this was when the photography bug had ventured into my life and was getting ready to take a huge bite. This was before I had a digital camera and every shot had to count—it was film after all. I traveled back home, knowing I was going to have them processed, when I accidently opened the camera body and exposed the film. True story and one I feel stupid telling. 

Fortunately many of the pictures were not exposed—but I guess many were. I will never really know.

I am really not a small-town guy, however I have always been attracted to them. Maybe it was when we would spend vacations visiting my Dad’s family in Colfax, Iowa, or growing up in an area that was once farmland but had been leveled and made into a housing development. One of my most vivid memories is when we would line up at the bus stop in our subdivision and hear the farmer chopping away. I won’t provide too many details, but let’s just say they weren’t laying any more eggs, and they really do run around with their heads cut off.

Throughout the years I have traveled to some of America’s best-known farming states and I have enjoyed every minute being there. Probably one of my favorites was when I went to New Hampshire and Ohio---they have beautiful farms, fences and farmland. Especially during the fall when the leaves turn colors.

The photo above was taken recently in Western Illinois---I was photographing barns, and as I backed up I looked in the side mirror to make sure I was not going to hit anything such as a cow. I saw the farm in the background and the words, “Objects in mirror are closer than they appear.” Oh how right the mirror turned out to be.

Thanks for stopping by.

At the corner of tradition and memories.

“But you went away,

How dare you?

I miss you.

They say I'll be okay,

But I'm not going to ever get over you.”

If you have ever read the book “The Giving Tree,” then you know how an inanimate object can take on a very significant meaning in your life. It doesn’t have to be a tree, it can be song, a place or anything in between that brings a memory from the back of your mind to the forefront.

For some reason, and I have to believe it’s because I feel so much more alive this time of year, but summer really brings out a different person in me. I feel the moments that made me who I am today come rushing forth---and for some crazy reason they arrive much faster than they do when we are in the dead of winter. Perhaps my brain is too cold, however based upon the heat wave we are experiencing, it should be just as challenged.

Today I watched a video on YouTube that was created by a 12 year-old-boy and 32 year-old-man; they were having a very detailed conversation. The interesting thing, they were one and the same person separated by 20 years. When this man was younger, he videotaped himself, all with the knowledge that one day he would do it once again after he had “grown up.” Whereas it was very creative, and extremely well thought out, the turning point was when he was asked by his younger self if “he was still drawing?” The pain on his face let us all know he was not---he had let one of the most important aspects of his life take a back seat.

It made me think about how we have so many important details in our life that we put aside and often forget to pick back up. Whether it’s a long-lost friend who you have not spoken to in years, a hobby that used to consume your life, or even that lost love that was constantly on your mind, new distractions pull you away, and the memories are often lost until something reminds you of what you have been missing.

There is little doubt this time of the year brings back big-time memories for me; when I was growing up in St. Louis, with summer vacations, spending time with friends, and having no idea what the future would entail---I witnessed life through glasses with a much different strength than I wear today. Now, many decades later, I think about the times I experienced and how they have been etched upon who I am today. I am very fortunate.

This past week something changed; I spent the 4^th of July without my family---it has been decades since this has happened. Everything is fine, they are just out of town visiting family and I am left with the house, the pooch and the heat. (They had worse heat; they were in Mississippi and now Texas visiting family.)

I was not sure what I was going to do on my favorite holiday. Should I go to the local parade and fireworks show as I have for all of these years? I was pulled in the direction of “Yes and No.” Finally I decided to let “Yes” win. However, I did break the tradition of not going to the exact spot where I normally would sit for both activities. What a bold move on my part!

This year I sat at a corner near the cross streets where I live to watch the annual parade pass by. There was a spot just waiting for me along with my trusty Nikon as I walked up just as the parade was scheduled to begin. Next to me were a man and his dog. We struck up a conversation. I learned that on this very spot that I was “invading”---was where he and his family spent 4^th of July watching the parade for decades. I didn’t know if I was invading or allowed to be there? I sat down and travelled back in time with him.

The photo above is of Dave Wentz  (No relation to Pete Wentz) and his dog Sunny. I assume I spelled the dog's name right as Sunny is a she. We talked for some time, he knew many of the local politicians in town, and I was permitted to live the memories he experienced long before I lived in the community. He and his family have since moved, but it was obvious he needed to once again spend time at the corner of “tradition and memories.”

Thanks for stopping by.

190 M.P.H.

“Here he comes, here comes Speed Racer

He's a demon on wheels

He's a demon and he's gonna be chasing after someone

He's gaining on you so you better look alive

He's busy revving up the powerful Mach Five.”

There is little doubt, when I know nothing about something I am going to photograph I start to wonder, “Why am I doing this?” My quick response to myself, “got me?”

A few weeks ago I was invited to an auto race in Milwaukee, WI by a friend of ours. I was unfamiliar with the race---I actually had no idea Milwaukee even had a race track---I of course said, “I would love to go.” By the way, the racetrack is considered relatively small by Indianapolis 500 standards, but you would be hard pressed to say that’s the case once you get there. It's a one-mile oval track that fit a carnival, thousands of people and all of the cars and gear needed to run a race with “Indy cars” whipping around it inside the oval grass area. It was cool, actually hot, and it was noisy.

I was in my glory.

Before we all went up to Milwaukee (it became a multi-family event) I researched auto racing, Indy cars, and even looked up the race track to determine where I would want to be photographing. I learned about as much as I could in a very short time, except where I thought I wanted to be was not where I would end up taking pictures.

Here's why.

We arrived on Friday afternoon for the Saturday race; they were doing trial runs and as I stood in the pit (yes I was right there by the track) and I knew I had gauged it all wrong. The cars were going more than 150 MPH and even though my trusty Nikon shoots 7 pictures a second, it was no match for what I was experiencing. (I would push the shutter, click, click, click, etc. and saw, nothing, nothing, nothing, the back tire of a car, and nothing, nothing, nothing.) These would be awesome photos if you wanted to shoot the wall that surrounded the course--woo who.

I figured the pits were out of the question and went to one of the turns where the cars come racing down the track. These cars go fast and I figured I needed to make sure I could see them before they zoomed by; this gave me about a whopping 2-3 seconds to focus and shoot.

To make it more challenging, I wanted the photos to be clear and sharp---not a complete blur as they sped by. I did it, but the problem was, I was shooting at such a high shutter speed that it now looked like the cars were standing still on the track; you could actually read the lettering on the tires. 

I was now really concerned as I had made promises to myself and my friend that I would deliver cool pictures.

On Saturday I ventured over to the same spot where I stood the day before; I was determined to get photos of speeding machines with tires and background in a blur. The cars, however, had to be clear; this was my personal challenge and I knew I was screwed at that point. I had no idea what to do, so I did the unthinkable “guy” move---I asked another photographer for help.  This is tech talk for, “I have no idea what I am doing and how I am going to do this?”

He was really nice about it and helped me out.  I said, “Why aren’t you wearing earplugs?” as the noise level was unbearable. He screamed and said, “I forgot them.” It was payback time---I had an extra pair with me. That was the last I saw of him as I took to shooting ridiculously fast cars.

The photo above was taken at the turn as cars sped by; I was there to take photos of Graham Rahal for our friend who knows the family quite well. (Some of the Rahal family live in our community---I guess you could call this my 15 minutes of fame from afar.)

On the 4^th of July, a few weeks after the race, I was at our same friend’s home and met Mr and Mrs. Rahal Sr. (The parents and grandparents of these racing legends); I was told they liked my photos--I was honored---as I had dropped a few off photos as a way of saying "thank you" to my friend for including us a very fun weekend. Mrs. Rahal asked, “If I took racing photos often?” I said, “No but it was a lot of fun and would love to one day do it again.” I then went on to boldly say how I would one day like to take photos prior to a race while their grandson is alone and mentally preparing to go 200-plus MPH. Her response, “I can do that for you.” More to follow---maybe.

Thanks for stopping by.