Smooth criminal. Not.

"As He Came Into The Window
It Was The Sound Of A Crescendo
He Came Into Her Apartment
He Left The Bloodstains On The Carpet
She Ran Underneath The Table
He Could See She Was Unable
So She Ran Into The Bedroom."

There is nothing "smooth" about being a criminal. In fact, I am sure if you ever encounter one, you will likely find out it's a very lonely position to be in---especially when everyone wants you for the wrong reasons to be wanted. 

Today we have been literally glued to the news; as a fugitive is on the run in Boston, it's just amazing to think how quickly the authorities figured out who had performed this horrific crime. Whereas there have been many conflicting stories about the two men behind it, I feel fairly certain we will never get the full story of why they did it. I have this feeling that the brother on the run will not be taken into custody alive. I am fine with that. 

The most impressive thing about this manhunt, besides the authorities figuring it out so quickly, is how the city of Boston has responded to every request they have been challenged with during the last 5 days. They are told to stay at home and they stay at home; they are asked for help to find this person and they do just that---they help. I suspect any city in America would respond the same way, but here's an example where they have done it. 

I was talking with a friend today and was told, "this is probably one of the craziest weeks I have ever seen news wise. We have had a bombing in Boston, a fertilizer plant explode in Texas, floods in Chicago and the Midwest, and Janelle was voted off American Idol." (Actually she didn't say the American Idol part, I brought it up to her. We needed to laugh about something after all.)

As I sit here writing today's "Snap. Shot." I can only reflect on how many people have died and been injured in a senseless way this week. Justice will be served, families will re-build, and memories will have to take the place of someone being there. It's a very sad week indeed---but we have to move forward because there really is no other option.

The photo above was taken a couple of years ago during the Chicago Blackhawks victory parade. Whereas I am happy to report there were no problems, I learned a lot about the impact of the Chicago Police force. They are there to serve and protect, and like the Boston Police force, they did. These men and women are committed, tough, and determined....unlike the smooth criminals who think they are above the law.

Thanks for stopping by.

O.C.B.

"A bottle of red, a bottle of white
It all depends on your appetite
I'll meet you any time you want
In our Italian Restaurant."

For more than 20 years, there has been a tradition in our household; what's funny is, neither my first or current wife wanted anything to do with it. However, my kids have always seen it as a way to spend time with their Dad and to make independent choices. Although small by some standards, deciding what is going to go on your plate and mix in your stomach, is a big decision to a young child. 

Where do we go? Well, "O.C.B." Or, AKA---"Old Country Buffet."

For those of you are saying, "You have got to be kidding?" I am not. There is something about walking up to the food island and watching your son or daughter decide whether to have mac and cheese, chicken (fried or baked), or better yet---some food you have never heard of when the spoon goes in and places it on the plate. 

Going to O.C.B. is an experience. Of course you see a variety of families who are dining, but for everyone there, it's an opportunity for them to be together and that is the magic that this restaurant has. Is the food delicious? Umm....no, but it's not as bad as you might imagine. Actually their soup is pretty good.  

While we were eating last night, the manager came up and said, "Why are you texting during dinner with your daughter?" I wasn't, I was taking a photo with my iphone. I also knew that taking a photo was not something that you are supposed to do at O.C.B.---I guess they don't want anyone to steal their secret. I explained that I was not doing anything more than taking a photo to send to one of my daughters. We talked for about 15 minutes---for questioning why I was texting, he saw no problem with talking to me while my daughter sat there waiting for him to leave.

The photo above is top secret so please do not share. This is one of the food islands at O.C.B.; taken from a distance, so no one can see what is hiding in the metal containers, I can tell you, it was the choice of the evening for my daughter Audrey who so badly wanted to go and spend time with Dad. I loved every minute and forkful of spending time with her---I can't wait for my other kids to join us next time.

Thanks for stopping by.

All these years.

"All these years
Where have I been
Well I've been down the road to work and home again
And I'm still here
Until I'm gone
Don't you rub it in too hard that I've been wrong
All these years."

The one thing we all have in common is the more we try not to get older, there is no way of stopping it.

As spring is trying to approach, and remain consistent here in the Midwest, it reminds me of something that has happened every year of my life. I get one year older---my birthday just passed. It's okay, there is nothing I can do about it except not act my age. Actually, I think I do a pretty good job of that---sometimes I act older, rarely, but mostly I act much younger. Not always for the good, but still I have a difficult time looking at life through the same scope as perhaps my father did at my age. I am 100% sure, he had a much more mature outlook than I do---perhaps that's because I am the youngest in my family and even though he was as well, he is still much more mature that I will ever be.

I was talking with a friend the other day who had lost one of his parents when he was 4 years old, and the other a few years back. It was hard to imagine what it would be like not to have known, or remembered, one of your parents---no memories, no interaction, only an old photo or two. 

He went on to tell me how much in common he had with his Dad as he grew up. We were talking about Disney World, probably his favorite place in the world, and his daily actions when he and his family were there. He would get up as early as possible, arrive at the gate before Mickey and Minnie made their entrance---and would leave as they were putting the locks on for the night. They did this for 10 days---his wife and kids were spent, he was still raring to go.

Where did he learn this exhaustive behavior? From his Dad. 

Like his father, he loved roller coasters, the thrill of being pushed to the limits, and he wanted his family to do the same---whether they were ready or not. With two daughters and his wife in tow, you could just feel the love and energy of life going through him as he described the experience he had and the memories planted deep within him. The funniest part was when he described where he and his wife went on dates---"We went to Great America and had a season pass...it was great." It takes a special person to meet a special person who can understand his passion---she does.

As I reflected on the conversation we had, and the 4-month difference in age between us, it made me understand why he is someone I enjoy talking to when we see one another; it really helps that our daughters are the same age as his but it's the connection we have in our passions that complement the two of us---swapping life stories. 

I am going to visit my Dad in the next few weeks; I would like to say that aging has avoided him, but I can't. He is still the same man I have known and loved  all of my life, but now is the time to make sure I spend precious time with him; I have not seen him during the past several months and am not feeling very good about it--- I know the time together will one day be a memory. One I want to treasure and keep with me.

The photo above was taken last year at Six Flags outside of Chicago. One of the few rides I can still go on that goes in circles, I know that after "all of these years" of getting older, I can still get on board and live memories of days gone by.

Thanks for stopping by.

Our thoughts are with you.

"Hold me closer tiny dancer
Count the headlights on the highway
Lay me down in sheets of linen
you had a busy day today."

In times like yesterday's horrific moments in Boston, it once again reminds us of the need to be careful; no one could anticipate what occurred, unless you were involved. But since none of us reading "Snap. Shot." was involved---we need to be aware of our surroundings because at an event where every participant was in fabulous shape, anything can happen that can change a life forever. (Whether you were injured or not.)

As we all took in the first moments, since it was captured on video and through the thousands of cameras on site, I could not help but notice the emotions that were on the faces of those who were experiencing the worst moment of their life. If it wasn't, I don't want to know what took the blue ribbon to beat this one.

As a photographer I looked at the photos to try and understand how other photographers captured the emotions in pictures that probably would never have been anything more than snapshots---except they weren't. The photo of the runner who had fallen---and was suddenly surrounded by Boston police---that was the one I really wish I had taken. It just stopped me because it completely captured the moment. A runner down near the finish line and it had nothing to do with physical exhaustion.

These photos reminded me of the Oklahoma City Bombing, Sandy Hook, 911 and other tragic events that have been captured and published in print, online, and seen on TVs across the country and the world. As I am watching the news, there is little doubt what the topic is---but similar to other tragic events, people are reaching out to help one another to help those in need. Through Google there is a listing of rooms that people were making available to others who could not get to their hotel rooms and probably the most amazing demonstration of "we care." On Yankee Stadium there is a banner that shows the New York Yankees supporting the Boston Red Sox; if you know anything about sports rivalries, this is the biggest. Yet at the end of the day, we are united---no matter who we root for.

Unfortunately there is a good chance this will pass with time---I only wish it wouldn't. But life does move forward and day-to-day lives go right along with it. Hopefully this will be the turning point.

The photo above was taken after the birth of my youngest daughter. My wife is holding her the only way a mother can when she is holding the life she has carried for 9 months; we can never let go of these moments, because even though they become too big to hold at times, they are always our tiny dancers.

Thanks for stopping by.

Home.

"No, 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
I said, these places and these faces are getting old
So, I'm going home."

For the past 11 months, our 15 year-old daughter, Izzy, has lived with her aunt and uncle in California. As a maturing woman, she needed to take a look around and see what was out beyond the confines she was living in. In other words, as difficult as it was, we knew where she was heading was not a place we felt she deserved; she is too special, and bright, not to succeed. Fortunately, and it was not easy, we were right---rather, my wife was right.

Although not my biological daughter, Izzy and I have been together since she was 4 years old. I have seen her hate me, love me, and every emotion in between. There is little doubt, I am very proud of my daughter---she is one cool kid and wow can she sing and play the guitar. 

We all have genetic traits; even though there is no way she would have gotten them from me, she has the music gene deeply imbedded within her. Her father is a very talented musician and her Mom can sing. Although her father has more difficulty these days singing and playing, as he deals with the progression of Parkinson's disease, he is still pretty darn good. All you have to do is hear me at a ballgame and you know how bad a singing voice can be. Thanks Dad---I got the non-musical genes.

As I have written in "Snap. Shot." we like to gather around the television on Wednesday and Thursday nights and watch American Idol. We have done this every year since I can remember, and although I continue to say, "Not this year---I am tired of the show," sure enough I am sucked back into it again. I think the only thing that might hold me back next year are the ratings this years show is getting---it might not be back on.

Back to Izzy.

Being 2000 plus miles apart has made it difficult to experience the growth Izzy has had in music and life. But thanks to technology, we can see her on YouTube. That is when she puts up a video. She is not one to show off, but I do ask, plead and beg her to do it...she is just a natural talent. How do I know? Her music teachers have told my wife and sister in law how good she is. How do they know what they're talking about? One of them played with the Grateful Dead and the other has been a professional musician for decades. I guess that summed it up for me--they know what they're talking about.

The photo above is a moment in time. Surrounding the computer, watching Izzy play on YouTube are her Mom, her Dad, two sisters and her Dad's girlfriend. Izzy is probably not going to try out for the American Idol because it's not her style. But I can say, if I ever was wondering how far an individual can come in a short period of time, I am seeing it this week----because she is "home."

Thanks for stopping by.

Settling.

"Just like dust, we settle in this town.
On this broken merry go 'round and 'round and 'round we go
Where it stops nobody knows and it ain't slowin' down.
This merry go 'round."

It's easy to settle for something. You think, "this is good enough, or I am sure this will work well." But is it? I don't think so. At least I hope not.

Today I was reading on line about how they are looking for the "next" Steve Jobs. I thought, is there a vending machine or a store you go to in search of him? If so, boy would I like to know where to go to find him...then I would invest everything I had in his or her company. The article went on to discuss how you need someone who is very polarizing and difficult to be around. They also must yell and berate people so they end up getting their way. The funniest part, "you can only have one person in the company with these traits because they don't get along with people who are like them."

Since I will likely not be the next Steve Jobs, I think I will just settle for working on my passion and hope it ends up meaning something and being renowned. It may not be while I am alive, but if it's for my family---I am fine with that. There have been many photographers who were dirt poor and today their work is worth well...more than dirt poor. Am I there? No. But I will keep working to get better.

Probably the most difficult part of what I try to do is shoot for something that will be iconic. How ridiculous is that? Something doesn't become iconic until it has value and has captured something that is seen as a moment in time that is literally impossible to capture. The photo of Oswald shooting JFK, The Kiss in Times Square, or Cassius Clay standing over Sonny Liston; these are the photos that capture a moment that was just begging to be photographed. One day, and I don't know when it will happen (obviously), I intend to be in back of the camera that hits the trigger and captures a moment in time. If I don't, well at least you know my intentions.

Recently we have had a number of prominent people die. One who will be sorely missed in this town is Roger Ebert. He is a Chicagoan and he was certainly a symbol of the city. 

It was probably about 5 months ago when I was walking down the street and there he was. He was with another person and if you have seen his photos from the past year or two, you know he has been through some tough times. Cancer had literally taken away his jaw line and it had been replaced with a prosthetic. But there he was---out and about. Even if I had my Nikon, it would not have come out of its bag. This was not the time and place to be taking photos.

The photo above was taken at a local park. What I love about this photo is the freedom and fun these kids are having with something we did as kids. I love photography, you would be hard pressed not to realize that by now, but I also have times when I am frustrated and feel like I have settled. I am trying to make sure I shake away these thoughts---I have been having them recently. Deep down, I know I need to get off this merry-go-round and step up to the next ride that's waiting for me.

Thanks for stopping by.

Through the eyes of a soldier.

"I'm proud to be an American where at least I know I'm free, 
And I won't forget the men who died who gave that right to me, 
And I gladly stand up next to you and defend her still today, 
'Cause there ain't no doubt I love this land God Bless the U.S.A."

I was never going to be drafted based upon the year I was born. But I do remember, as an early teenager, the fear those just a few years ahead of me had when they learned of their " draft number." I witnessed it when my sister went to the University of Iowa; we were at breakfast and many of the parents were comparing their son's draft numbers and the fear or relief they had based upon where it fell. It was all done by birthdate.

Those times are etched upon my memory because I was scared about going to war. If it were today, I would still be scared. 

This past January, my father-in-law and his wife moved in to our home. Having grown up in rural Mississippi, he actually had to decide---along with his brother---who would go to college, and who would not. He got the short straw that day when it was decided. He ended up enlisting in the military and went to West Point to get his college education. However, part of the agreement of going to this prestigious university is the commitment you make to the military. He did it, was proud to have done it, and served more than 5 years in Vietnam. 

Although he has Alzheimer's disease, he can talk about memories of what occurred during those years and talks about them in a very positive way. There is not a bit of hatred, there is an understanding that this was his duty to his country. 

For those who remember this war, when the soldiers came back to U.S. soil they were far from welcomed. They were often times taunted, abused, and treated as an outcast. Like they really wanted to spend time away from family, friends, and America to go to a country where they were hunted?? That was just a horrible way to treat those who defended us and made our land a safer place. Fortunately, I guess, America now understands that soldiers are heroes; we should never forget the role they play in making our country better and safer. 

I am not a fan of being at war---and I am one who sat on the sidelines because there was not a war going on during my "draftable" years---but I do have a better idea of what it was like thanks to my father-in-law. He may not have the memory he had just a few short years ago, but somethings he has not forgotten due to this horrible disease. He is a hero, he is a good man, and he is someone I will write about again.

The photo above was taken last Saturday night in Milwaukee. It was one of those scenes you see on the news. Soldier comes home, wife or kids don't know about it, and the moment of surprise is captured for all to see on video. It was one of those moments---I was so proud to capture it on my trust Nikon. Even more important, the teams (during a break in the action) watched from a much better vantage point. They clapped and had smiles on their faces; they realized, I assume, that being on the court in battle is not even close to the kind of "war" these brave men and women encounter thousands of miles away.

Thanks for stopping by.

B.M.O.C

"Through the dust and the smoke of this man-made hell
Walked a giant of a man that the miners knew well
Grabbed a saggin' timber, gave out with a groan
And like a giant oak tree he just stood there alone-Big John
(Big John, Big John) Big Bad John (Big John)."

We all know him, when we were growing up he was the big person; not always in height, sometimes it was weight---I know it well, I was the big guy and it was not based upon being tall.

Growing up as someone who was "different" is not easy. In today's world we strive to stand out, not be a wall flower, lead the pack. At least some of us do. But there are scars that are left behind and many remain until the day you "check out." As someone who was overweight, it still is something I deal with---and as I reach a new milestone in age (I was told by my wife today I am entering a new demographic tomorrow) I am sure it is something that will remain. 

I remember in school we would be weighed for some reason I still don't understand---in front of our class. I also remember it being a horrifying situation as there were countless times when I not only weighed more than my classmates, but more than the teachers, principal and probably the janitor. These are times that molded me as a person as I dealt with these issues; but I also knew there was a light at the end of the tunnel---one that was much brighter than I suspected it would be. Thankfully that is.

What I didn't realize back then was people change. Some change for the better, and some not as well as they thought they would---but they still change. Probably the best indication of change can be seen through social media; all you have to do is look on Facebook and you get a real understanding of what you remembered and how we all change. 

But as difficult as it might be to experience change---it is for the better. 

The other day I was looking online and saw before and after shots of people who had lost massive amounts of weight. Some as many as 300 or more pounds. What shocked me, and this is why they have this online, is how unrecognizable they were in the after shots. You of course are happy for them---or at least I am---but I also think about how traumatic it has been for them to deal with. 

Losing weight is one thing, but losing height is another; if you are tall, you will be known as the "tall guy." Short and it's the opposite. 

The photo above is a perfect example. This past weekend I went to Milwaukee to watch/photograph a game between the Bucks and the Oklahoma City Thunder. I could not help but notice one of the players on the Thunder---he is 7'3" and towers over all of his teammates. Watching him interact with them, I could not help but think, "I bet it was tough for him being the tall guy in class" and I bet they always asked "Do you play basketball?" He can now say, "I sure do."

Thanks for stopping by.