A game of inches.

"Well it's, turn and face the stars and stripes

It's fightin' back them butterflies

It's call it in the air alright yes sir we want the ball

And it's knockin' heads and talkin' trash

It's slingin' mud and dirt and grass

It's I got your number, got your back

When you back's against the wall

You mess with one man, you got us all

The boys of fall"

This has been a great year for photography in Glen Ellyn, IL.  Sure the fall colors came, and went, there are new stores lining Main Street that make it look new and different--but what really made it a great year occurred less than a quarter-mile away from the trees and downtown stores. It all came to life on Saturdays at Duchon Field where our local high school football, the Glenbard West Hilltoppers, call home. 

Yes, high school is not the same as college or pro, but the way this community responded to the undefeated regular season…the Bears and state universities ranked a very distant second. 

Being a photographer on the field places you in the middle of the action without getting injured; there have been times when I thought I was too close, but when it really came to being part of the game, it felt as real is it could get. During the final game, a ball came within inches of where I was sitting—at one point I considered stopping it as it went out of bounds, but very quickly remembered how fortunate I am to be on the sidelines. You do not, in any way, ever touch the ball, speak with the coaches during the game, or do anything to interfere within the two or so hours when the game is taking place. 

Never. Period.

Last weekend I was fortunate to witness the best game of the year; if not the entire time I have been photographing the team. Unlike most games, where Glenbard West dominates and destroys any team that has the guts to step on the field, this was different. The opposing team was from my former community where I spent more than 15 years; it was a game of the top 2 teams deciding who would be moving on to the big game—the state championship.

The first 46 or so minutes of the game were all defense with only a field goal by Glenbard West. It appeared, with good reason, West was going to be playing their final game a hundred or so miles away to the south. But like any good team that has come to play, Stevenson was not going down until the last whistle blew. When it did, they had pulled out a game for the ages—one where there really were no losers on the field, just one team that had scored 4 more points than the other. It was incredible.

However, before that final whistle, there was still the need for a score; to say it was close is to say it is truly a game of inches. One of the best things about being familiar with the local team, and knowing the field, is being fortunate enough to be in the right place at the right time. I was and I was lucky.

The photo above was viewed by many different angles from other photographers, local TV coverage, and every fan who saw the play from the stands, sidelines and nearby. There was one angle that was shown, and not until the next day did I see it—was his knee down? Did the ball cross the goal line? I guess we will never know. It's all a game of inches.

Thanks for stopping by.

Five years down the road.

"When I got the news today

I didn't know what to say,

So I just hung up the phone.

I took a walk to clear my head,

This is where the walking led

Can't believe you're really gone

Don't feel like going home."

For most, today is just another day; that is until it becomes a significant moment in your life. 

Five years ago today, as I rode the Metra train from Evanston to Glen Ellyn—with a stop at the main train station to switch trains—I learned my Mom had passed away. On the train—a simple call—and she was now unreachable.

Five years is a long time until it feels like it was just yesterday and you wonder where the time went?  Death is an experience you can't get used to. It's not as if it's an event you can prepare for emotionally, it just comes, takes what it came for and is soon on its way. No hard feelings, no regret, just here and gone—leaving behind families who are grasping for an understanding.

Welcome to life. 

I suspect we've all lost something very important to us; it might be a loved one, someone you loved who went on to love someone else, or even someone you didn't realize loved you and felt the pain you didn't even know they were experiencing. Love is an incredibly powerful emotion, one I would not ever want to lose. Yes it can be painful, but it can also be wonderful. It just depends on the situation and timing.

When I learned of my Mom's passing on November 18, 2009, I really can't say I was surprised; she had been in hospice and I was pretty much told, "it was either today or tomorrow." I had spoken with her on the phone from my office that day, and although she was not able to respond, I still believe she was listening, knew my voice, and felt the love as I was letting her know we would all be "ok." Not great, not wonderful, just "ok" with her moving on. Those are the hardest words a son, daughter, grand child or spouse can ever say to someone who means so much.

Whenever I am back in St. Louis, I visit my Mom and Aunt and Uncle who are right next to her plot. I have looked for my grandparents, but they are not easy to find amongst all of the tributes to love ones who make up the cemetery. I have written before about my fraternity brother who is a few yards away from my Mom—as tough as it was losing her, knowing how young Marty was, that's just very difficult to fathom. (He died of ALS—no bucket of water poured on a head with a laugh, just a bitch of a disease.)

From now until the day I join her, I plan to remember her through "Snap. Shot." I realize one day, and I really hope not too soon, there will be another person I will be writing about; there is little doubt, he's the best Dad out there and he is VERY much still with us. Please  stay that way Dad! 

The photo above is one I did not take. I am the one in the middle. Whereas my Mom was not present in the picture, she will always be present as the woman who brought me into this world, nurtured me and called me her "son." Only one person can make that claim and I sure miss hearing it.

Thanks for stopping by.

Roller Coaster.

"She had a cross around her neck

And a flower in her hand

That I picked from the side of Thomas Drive

On our way to the sand

We found an old wooden chair

Still warm from the sun

Pushed it back, gave me a kiss

With Bacardi on her lips

And I was done"

We all have memories. It's probably one of the greatest features of being a human being. We base many of our decisions off of what we have learned, but then there are the memories that are purely emotional;  those decisions, whether good or bad, are what make life and love the deepest emotions we possess.

This time of year many memories from the past coming rushing forward. As the Cardinals were in the playoffs, I remembered being 10 years old and the feeling of watching them lose in seven games to the Detroit Tigers. It's still painful. Why after more than 45 years? Because it's a memory that dug deep and molded me.

As the years have gone by, new experiences—the ones that made me who I am today—are hanging around. It might be something as trivial as wondering what time we would be leaving to Trick or Treat? Or the person who actually made me do a trick for candy. I couldn't come up with one and she said, "Sorry and closed the door." For someone who was my size—I was large—that was a loss. Crazy I still remember it.

But as time went by new memories took hold. As you might guess there was the pain and wonderment of what love actually is and how come it makes you feel so vulnerable. I will never fully understand.

It was a long time ago when I met someone who really rocked my world. It was really a long time ago; although it was very painful, when we walked our separate ways, it provided a path of what it was really like to feel that strong about another human being. One who was not a relative. Fortunately it was a learning experience that could be applied the next time my world was truly turned "upside down"—-that one turned out to be a lot better. If you know what I am talking about, I suspect right now you are glossing over "Snap.Shot." with other thoughts moving from back of the head forward.

The memories from long ago are more than just emotional—they are very visual as well. It might be the neckless worn, the scent, or just the look. Whatever was left when the moment went by, it stood around long enough to be etched forever. 

I am very fortunate to have what I believe is a fairly good memory. Sure I have forgotten a lot, but for the moments I truly want to remember, the trigger points that make them jump forward make me realize how much I have learned in life. 

The photo above was taken at Six Flags this past summer. Although, I can't recall the year, or  too much about her, one summer, one magic day, I fell in love on a roller coaster. After things didn't work out, my emotions took over and it was a ride that took a long time to exit—I am so thankful for what I learned that day, no matter how difficult it was in the end to shake off the memories.

Thanks for stopping by. 

Now I know how Rapunzel feels.

"Well, I keep on thinkin' 'bout you, Sister Golden Hair surprise

And I just can't live without you; can't you see it in my eyes?

I been one poor correspondent, and I been too, too hard to find

But it doesn't mean you ain't been on my mind."

This past weekend we were in Michigan. For a state so close, I had only been there a handful of times. I will say, the commercials you hear about "Pure Michigan" are very true—it's an experience that I am going to re-live in a month or so when the leaves turn on the color, something I assure you I am looking forward to. Especially if I can find a cool barn.

The area where we stayed was called, "Silver Lake." I don't know why it's known by this name, I didn't see any silver, but I did see some sites that made me gasp. Literally and figuratively. From the literal viewpoint, there are some pretty major dunes on one side of the lake. They look fairly innocent from a mile away (the width of the lake) but when you are challenged by your daughter to see who can make it to the top faster, do not take the challenge! 

Audrey is in very good shape. She found it to be no problem to make it to the top with only a small stop or two. Her Dad on the other hand, he needed "longer catch your breath stops" for fear of not making it—causing complete embarrassment and a lot of laughter by those below. We attempted to guess its height once I got back to the beach, it was estimated to be 200 to 250 feet up, and I suspect the angle was 70 degrees. If that was not hard enough…it was soft sand! I went, they didn't. Let them laugh.

Once at the top, I made sure of one thing—I was not coming down right away. If I made it up, I was staying to at least catch my breath. The view was exceptional—until I wondered, "How am I going to get down from here?" Audrey went first and was down in less than 30 seconds; when I eventually made the trek down, I took a different path to avoid falling and making a complete fool of myself. (No worries, that happened the next day when we went up a different path; although only about 100 feet up, and closer to 80 degrees [not the temperature]—I was up about half way, slipped and well, with a camera bag and towel bag in hand, showed everyone what it would look like to see someone fall.)

Was it worth it? Yes it was. While the family went down to the beach, I went further and watched dune buggies take advantage of what seemed to be miles of sand. Oh, and I took some photos too!

The photo above was taken from a light house that overlooked Lake Michigan. I had never been near one, yet alone up in one; this was easy to maneuver as it was only 135 steps (they tell you before hand). While up there, a woman was literally gripping the side of the wall in complete fear of tumbling to a certain death. To make up for my ridiculous journey up the dune the previous day, I gained retribution by doing what I like to do best—take a risk while photographing. I leaned over the railing as far as I could—to the fear of my family—and snapped away. That will teach them to laugh.

Thanks for stopping by.

Me, My Selfie, and I.

"Photograph, I don't want your

Photograph, I don't need your

Photograph, all I've got is a photograph

You've gone straight to my head."

It was this past fall when I learned what a "selfie" was. I was living under a rock for the past few years and it was not brought to my attention until I was in Nicaragua with my daughters. Since then, it has become an everyday expression I hear at home, in the news, and places I travel to. The selfie is huge and has gotten to the point of annoyance. 

But that's just me—it's a lot easier, cheaper, and available instead of the photo booths that for some reason feel charging five dollars or more is perfectly acceptable for a strip of photos. At that cost, it's pretty obvious why they are not seen around very often—similar to a pay phone.

Taking photos of yourself is nothing new. It's been done probably since the camera was invented. I would have to assume, however, that the selfie of yesteryear was more of a portrait taken by someone else; it would have been very difficult to hold out one of the older cameras that required you to stand under a dark piece of material and then run to get in front of the camera—all before the flash exploded.

Traveling back about 30-40 years ago, the photo booths were the way to capture a moment that was goofy, spontaneous, and permanent with friends. Growing up we would take them at the mall and wait somewhat patiently to see how they turned out. Often times one head was in front of another, or washed out from the flash, but we still took them home. They were good bookmarks for books we never read. (Probably the most recent one taken was at a wedding my sister and I attended—although the marriage didn't work out—the photo still lives on.)

I am not sure what percentage of photos taken are selfies these days, however I would be willing to bet at least 10 percent of the billions of photos taken have the owner of the smart phone or camera in them—with a background that lets them know where the picture was taken. For some reason, stadiums, a beach and/or large buildings are the most popular. 

One day, and its not in my plans, I would like to do a series of people taking selfies of them selves. I am not sure why it interests me, it's not that exciting, but it brings the camera and love of photography full circle. We have gone from capturing a moment to capturing ourselves. I guess vanity is alive and well.

The photo above was taken on Oak Street Beach in Chicago. As planes were buzzing around overhead practicing for the annual Air & Water Show, this man took it upon himself to capture a selfie; no planes, no trains, no automobiles, just a picture of himself enjoying the moment.

Thanks for stopping by.

A town in turmoil.

"Oh my God, tell me this won't last forever

Tell me that I'm not alone

Tell me this will come together

Oh my God, you know."

I grew up in the "Show Me State." Up until recently, Missouri, and specifically the city of St. Louis and its surroundings, were not what we would call a hot bed of controversy. Boy has that changed.

Being 300 miles away from my hometown, I am watching and reading the same news as others and am in amazement of how all of this has transpired. Do I know the details? Not really. I do know this is not going to end on a happy note. One child is dead, many have been wounded, and the nation is looking at what was a traditional Midwestern town a lot differently.

So how have I been kept up to date on the happenings?

My son. He is a journalist, lives in St. Louis, and is using social media to its maximum potential…as well as reporting online through his company's media channels.

The other day I was in Cleveland, OH. Another town that until recently had been rather quiet; they however had some great news and have seen what was a distraught town 4 years ago, become probably one of the proudest in the nation. All it takes is one name…"LeBron."

While I was having breakfast in Cleveland, I heard one of the customers ask the waitress if she was "going shopping in St. Louis today?" She looked at him like one would when you are 100s of miles from a city—knowing many of the same stores are available only minutes away. She said, "No why would I?" 

I immediately knew where he was going with it as there had been looting the night before. He really thought he was funny. If that was not bad enough, the waitress starts asking customers if "they were planning to go shopping in St. Louis?" Chuckles and laughs started to wave through the restaurant. Honestly, it's an old joke. You heard it about LA, Detroit, New Orleans, and any other city that has experienced civil unrest. But, when it's your town, and people are killing each other, it's not as funny. No I don't live in St. Louis, but I certainly have a connection.

If we could travel back a few days and change the course of history, the young man who died would be heading to college in just a few days, Robin Williams would have had second thoughts, and perhaps we could say goodbye to a loved one just one more time. But you can't change history, you have to move through it. Hopefully the tensions will subside, and through the rubble the truth will come out. No matter what side you are on, shaking hands and walking away are no longer an option. Unfortunately for St. Louis and its surrounding communities, the reputations are tarnished and will take time to recover—but like any city that has taken a hit, they will be back.

The photo above was taken a few years ago. The "Gateway Arch" stands on the shores of the Mississippi River—it's the largest structure in the city and represents the "gateway to the west." Let's hope in the very near future it can continue its original mission and let St. Louis and its suburbs get back to the way they were just a few short days ago.

Thanks for stopping by.

Trust me.

"Trust in me, just in me

Shut your eyes and trust in me
You can sleep safe and sound
Knowing I am around."

There are many five letter words in our vocabulary, but few compare with the word "trust." This word has been synonymous with love, hate, and every emotion in between. Certainly we have all had trust broken in our lives; it's unfortunate it has to happen, however when a promise is made, or pact created, sometimes it breaks down. I have done it, had it done to me, and chances are it will happen again. I hope not, but I am also a realist.

In our lives, trust begins at the earliest of ages; even when we are growing inside our mother's body, we trust she will make the right choices to bring out a healthy child. I am sure, even though the information was out there, my mom likely smoked, ate something that gave her indigestion, and then passed it on to me somehow. I don't smoke, never have, so it must not have been too appealing—if she did in fact smoke.However, I do eat…and sometimes I eat foods that come back to haunt me. Sue me, I'm human.

As we move through the years, trust comes in the friendships we form. More than likely it's with new found friends in school as this is our real jumping off point outside of the home. But every day when we come back to the place we know best, we're re-connected with the ones we trust most.

Probably the ultimate test of trust comes when we meet that special person. It might be someone you have no idea is "the one," but there's a bond, connection, an overall weirdness in what you feel. How can this be someone I didn't know and now feel like I have known forever? Got me, just go with it.

Recently I have seen the "trust cycle" at work in many different ways; my nephew who was been living in California is now living with us. Long story, another time. My grandson is showing the signs of love and trust as he is now exploring the railings of his crib—specifically, how to stand, shake, and say to his parents, "Mom and Dad, look at me…can you believe it,  I'm big?" In the back of his mind, maybe the forefront, he knows if he should fall there's someone to catch him…that is how trust works.

The photo above is a phenomena here in the Midwest and other areas around the country. It's a new form of a lending library on many front lawns of homes in our community. No cost to participate, you go up, you look, you remove, and move on. No card, no late fees, just joy…all I can say is, "Trust me" it's true.

Thanks for stopping by.

Loss.

"Now there's some sad things known to man

But ain't too much sadder than

the tears of a clown

When there's no one around."

By now we are all still doing what we did last night and will likely be doing for the foreseeable future. We are mourning the loss of someone we only knew from a distance, yet we still trusted as a dear friend. The loss of Robin Williams is deeply sad and troubling. I really admired him as did millions. The difference, I suspect, he was not sure himself of how good he really was at making people adore him. 

That's part of a horrific disease known as "depression."

We all go through down times. It's called being human. But for some it never goes away, and if it does, it rears its ugly head back from time to time. Sometimes staying for days, months, years, decades—I can not imagine what it would be like to see grey when the rest of us see color? 

Robin Williams made me laugh, cry (I loved "Good Morning Vietnam") and experience countless other feelings. I was not his number one fan, I was more of an admirer who had tremendous respect for his ability to rise up and perform. I knew, based upon reports, it was who he was and heard of his personal difficulties—how is it possible someone so funny could be so sad? 

People die every day. Many decide to take their own lives; but when it is someone who we enjoyed so much, and was an escape from normalcy, it is going to be painful. Last night, as I was sipping on a scotch (only one) alone in a hotel restaurant, I could not believe when Yahoo informed me that "yes" he was gone. Gone but not forgotten. 

I first "met" Robin Williams like many of us did. Well those of us who are 40+ (even way plus.) He was Mork from Ork. He was so funny and so unpredictable. It was when I learned he did a lot of impromptu work on the show that I quickly learned of his talent—this man was a genius and a bit crazy. Although not his most "popular movie," I felt he showed a very true side of himself in the movie "Patch Adams." He wore his feelings on his sleeve and I really believe we all saw them. I want to see them back again…but now it will be on the screen and he's gone.

The photo above was taken outside Sandwich, IL. Funny a place should be named "Sandwich;" what I see in this picture is something I am not sure I see everyday. I see what appears to be just flowers, but in the background there's more to the story. Kind of like how I saw Robin Williams, I only saw the foreground—not able to see what he held in back.

Thank you Robin Williams…I think Orson is calling you home to Ork!

Thanks for stopping by.

Growing up.

"I stood stone-like at midnight, suspended in my masquerade

I combed my hair till it was just right and commanded the night brigade

I was open to pain and crossed by the rain and I walked on a crooked crutch

I strolled all alone through a fallout zone and come out with my soul untouched

I hid in the clouded wrath of the crowd, but when they said, "Sit down," I stood up

Ooh... growin' up."'

I wouldn't be truthful if I claimed to be fully grown up. I am more mature than say when I was 16, but as far as 20-plus, I am not sure. I guess I would have to ask those who know me—maybe I don't want to know.

In many ways I am sure it's hard for us to believe that with each day that passes, we have gotten older. Sure it's no surprise, but when you look at the photos that were taken just a few short years ago, the changes become evident by the face you see staring back at you. But then again, what choice do we have?

Sometimes I wonder if I really look that different because even though I know I am getting older, for some reason the thoughts that race through my mind are really not always that of someone my age. Nothing that I am ashamed of, it's just the wonderment of whether or not this is something other guys my age think about? I am not going to ask—I will continue to wonder. 

For me it drifts back to when I was much younger and thoughts of whether or not the rocket I was building was actually going to fly? Or what would it be like to be a professional hockey goalie? How was this made/created? Things I don't really care about any longer, but still think about. Is this normal? For most people probably not, for me…umm…perhaps.

This past weekend, when my family was out of town, I went to see a movie called, "Boyhood." It really didn't feel like it was me on the screen…not like "The Wonder Years"…but more an amazement of how these characters really did age on the screen. No make up, no padding, this was them…it took 12 years to film the movie and it was well worth the time. The boy in the movie was probably around 6 or 7 when we first met him…as he experienced more and more…we were taken on his journey. It was a joy and painful to watch; men came in and out of his life, he was left to fend for himself when his Mom was either at work or "standing" by the men she chose as her husband(s.)

It made me realize how lucky I was on the one hand that I have my Dad and had my Mom, and how difficult it must be for the children when families split apart. I can say I have tried, and loved, and every other word I can think of—but it's not about me, it's about the kids who depend on some form of structure and consistency in their lives. 

Life is certainly not always perfect, but there are so many aspects that are really important to keep everything in perspective. For me, I have found writing "Snap.Snot." as a way of bringing out life as I have lived it. Not unlike many others, just as I know it.

The photo above is of my nephew Gavin; he is living with us this summer. He has been posed with hurdles in his young life, but he continues to jump above whatever has been dealt—it's what makes being a child so special or for Gavin, part of his boyhood.

Thanks for stopping by.

Partners in Crime. (Sort of.)

"It's friendship, friendship, 
Just a perfect blendship, 
When other friendships have ceased to jell 
Ours will still be swell!"

When you leave your home each day, if you work in an office that is, there are many consistencies that greet you when you arrive. For the past year or so, I have been fortunate to have a "partner" who really defines the term. She is someone I trust, respect, and most of all—know can help move our business forward. If you have worked in an environment where there is little or no trust, camaraderie, and/or caring on behalf of those you work with—you understand the value of a good "teammate."

When I first met Melissa, I was a little unsure if the sincerity was real. She is so damn nice, and went out of her way to help where she could; I refused to let my guard down based upon passed experiences. That lasted less than 24 hours. She is the real deal. Scary.

Together she introduced me to the people in the entire office (she knows them all) and then introduced me to her family. One husband (good thing it's only one, as it's illegal to have two) one adorable child, and a deep and abiding love for both of them. 

Ok, enough of the praise. 

Over the past year, both myself and our assistant Nick, knew there was one thing Jim (her husband), Eli (her son), as well as Melissa wanted in 2014. They wanted another child. As a Dad of six, my days are long past these desires, but knowing what she went through to make this happen, it is a miracle of modern medicine. (She is due at the end of December—-she will get her gift in 2014.) 

In the business world we work with many people; so much has changed in the decades I have been in advertising. When I first started there were mostly men who were selling, and gradually more and more women have made this actually more of a female dominated business. I am fairly certain in the beginning the word "respect" was not attached to anyone but men who were smoking, drinking, and other stuff known thanks to AMC as the days of "Mad Men." Those days are long past—a very good thing as the only activity I saw early on were livers being worked to the max over lunch and productivity over with by 2PM.

Melissa and I have had the opportunity to discuss situations in business that have opened my eyes—I really didn't think that was possible after all this time. I have seen her very sweet demeanor become much "de-meaner" to those who are being very rude and difficult to deal with. Not often, but a few weeks ago one of my other associates asked me to come into her office and asked, "Wow, I have never seen her like that, what happened?" My response…"She's pissed."

The photo above was taken last summer right after we began working together. She asked, I offered, if I would take photos of her family around Chicago.? Together, they posed on a cow located off Michigan Avenue—it was only fitting that this is probably not 100% legal, but then again, we're partners in crime. (Sort. Of.)

Thanks for stopping by. 

The road.

"The long and winding road

That leads to your door

Will never disappear

I've seen that road before

It always leads me here

Lead me to you door."

We all have roads we have ventured down in life; some have lead in the right direction, others have come to a complete dead end. We know when we get there either way, and we know when we need to make a U-turn.

This time of year is often a turning point in my life. The summer is in full swing and every day I make a full attempt to appreciate what the days have to offer. But then there are times when I reflect knowing in the near future there will be a change—one I am not looking forward to. I think to myself, "Don't  worry about the future (at least the near future) and focus on today." 

In our home right now we are preparing for the winding down of summer. I asked my daughter last night, "Do you like school?" She said, "I like the day before Christmas break and Halloween." I assured her there would be many of those days in her future as she is just entering the 4th grade; I also explained, it would be a good idea to like the days in between.

So far in my life, I have travelled down many roads. Some have worked out to be the path to much better things, and some turned out to be very bumpy..in the end, I have learned from these experiences. Whether it was love, work, or life and what it has brought forward, I try to build off them. I would love to say I never harbor bad memories, but that would be a lie. I am after all human.

No matter where we travel in life, there seems to be a direction we know in our hearts is the road to something better. Right now, and it happened in a conversation today in the office—-there are some bumpy roads I have heard about with people I either know well or casually know. Some our roads I have taken in the past, and some are pathways I never hope to travel; family dynamics will be changing, health issues have occurred  and/or a mix of storm clouds are either overhead or on the horizon. The one thing I do know, and this is from personal experience, above the clouds is always something better—as long as there is a gust of wind all will improve; time really does heal all wounds, and if you believe it, it just might happen.

The photo above was taken a few weeks ago when my family was out of town. If you have ever seen me shoot, you may have noticed I am not always standing. I sit, stand, climb and often lay down on the ground for a better angle—thankfully for this photograph I made sure I was not about to become road kill!

Thanks for stopping by.

Street Pics.

"Somewhere in my closet 

There's a cardboard box just sittin' on a shelf

It's full of faded memories

And it's been there ever since the night you left." 

At last count there are a lot of people taking pictures. Probably more than in history thanks to the iEverything, point and shoot cameras, and regular cameras that use film. Just kidding—who uses film anymore? Actually people do, but they are few and far between.

Photos are being taken, sent thousands of miles away instantly and sometimes deleted just as quickly as they took to receive. (Hello Snap Chat!) A few years ago my kids were using my phone—check that they still do—and had downloaded this app called "Snap Chat." I had no idea what it did, what it was known to do, and what could be done with it. One day at lunch I learned what it's primary usage was and that puppy was gone before dessert.

Before the explosion of digital photography, I was taking photos but not as many as I do today. I used film and eventually migrated to all digital. It's cheaper, faster, and with the number of photos I was taking, instant gratification. In some ways I miss taking the film in for processing wondering if I had taken a special shot. More than 9 out of 10 times, I didn't and those pictures are buried deep in the attic.

Sometimes however the buried pictures come back to be appreciated; this is what happened when a photographers photos were found in 2007. Her name was Vivian Mauer and whereas she is deceased, her photos live on and will continue to live on in exhibitions, books and eventual sales of her images. She was a street photographer and captured life when no one was looking—at least what they thought.

Yesterday I saw a movie based upon this discovery—it's a cross between the show "Storage Wars" and the movie "Titanic." A major discovery not even realized to be hiding in a murky storage locker that went to auction. What a find.

If you know her story, the film takes you as deep into her life as she will let you go; if not, you will be fascinated. At least I was. What she captured on film is priceless—there has been nothing like it found in the past, and even though billions of photos are now being taken, people will likely be more skeptical when they see someone pointing a camera. It's not as easy as it looks to take iconic photos—I doubt I will ever be so lucky.

The photo above was taken this past spring at an ice dance practice. I was taking a course at our local college, College of DuPage, and one of our projects was to all go and shoot ice dancing—I had no idea what I was about to encounter with every one of my classmates shooting the same topic from the same location at the rink. One thing I learned was it's ok to lay down on the job; my head was sticking out from the door from an opening in the boards—- fortunately it stayed in tact to capture a memory.

Thanks for stopping by.

If the shoe fits.

"Put on your high-heel sneakers, lordy 
Wear your wig-hat on your head 
Put on your high-heel sneakers, child 
Wear your wig-hat on your head 
Ya know you're looking mighty fine, baby 
I'm pretty sure you're gonna knock 'em dead"

Many years ago, actually one of my first jobs, was working in the ladies shoe department at Stix, Baer and Fuller in St. Louis. How long ago? Really long ago as "Stix" is now Dillard's and has been for decades.

My Mom had worked at Stix and knew the right people to help her 17-year-old son land a job selling shoes to women who had only one thing on their minds—try on as many shoes as possible and "possibly" buy at most one pair. Most times they walked away without a bag in their hand and probably thinking, "that young man was one of the worst sellers I have encountered." I was not in it to win it, I was in it to meet girls. Sue me, I was seventeen.

I was recently re-reading one of my favorite books on the service industry called, "It's not my department." The book is yellowed, ripped and just as valuable of a read as it was 20 years ago when I purchased it. In the book there are a number of stories about service—some good, some bad, some heroic—-one story is about Nordstrom and how they train their employees to bring out 3-plus pairs of shoes each time a guest comes into the shoe department. Since Nordstrom started out selling only shoes, and today are one of the most respected retailers in the service industry, I assume they know how to build a business. 

It must have been around Easter time, and Stix was having a big sale; mulling about the shoe department a woman came in (I think she was a woman) and asked if there were any shoes that could fit her feet. I looked down and almost started to laugh—very professional, huh? Her feet were long, wide, and gigantic…almost like a brick of cement with toes. I said, "I think we might, let me check after measuring her foot." (At least of what I recall.) I came back and placed some shoe boxes on the floor; it was just disgusting to look at her feet. "These are the closest we would have to your size, but they might be a little tight." That was an understatement—it was like fitting a mack truck into a compact parking space. She tried desperately to get them on her foot. The shoe material was saying, "This is not going to work."  Sadly she walked away—I felt really bad for her.

It was not long after I learned my days of ladies shoes sales were coming to an end; I was relieved in some ways, but I knew I was going to miss the money I was making. It was not much, but it was something. A few days after I left the first floor, I received a call asking if I would like a seasonal position? I learned I was going to be in the "trim and tree" department—Christmas had come early in the form of a job I knew nothing about. The one thing I remember about that venture was my opportunity to watch a professional shop lifter rip us off big time. At least that's what they thought they were doing. The in-store security was right on top of her; they had come up to me and said, "Do not approach her, we are on it." It was so cool to watch—yet, so sad to know what was going to happen.

Move forward nearly 40 years and today I am still in sales; no I don't work in retail, but I did learn a lot from those years at Stix. One of the most valuable lessons—don't do what you have no business doing. Amen.

The photo above was taken in Western Illinois a few weeks ago. Out in the middle of nowhere was a boot on top of a pole. Who put it there, why would only one boot be on a pole? I have no idea, but for sure, this boot fit better on the pole than the shoes did on that poor woman's foot.

Thanks for stopping by.

What's on your plate?

"Cause I'm on my way to Tennessee

Singing "Georgia On My Mind"

Chasing what they say's a dream

Thinking maybe it ain't mine."

If you ever walk through an enormous parking lot at a mall—especially during the holidays—you will find there are many people who have travelled a long distance to shop. Today's "Snap. Shot" is not about shopping—I don't enjoy shopping—it's about letting people know where you come from, a nick name, or a favorite passion your support. It's what you will find on many license plates.

Here in Illinois we are determined to remind anyone who wants to know, this is "The Land of Lincoln." Of course our 16th President was not born here, but we have let everyone know, he lived here. If he had not won the presidency, and I believe it was close, I assume we would have "Land of corrupt politicians" or something like that on our plates. 

Having grown up in the "Show-Me State," I remember many times when the plates were removed and hung in our garage. This was when they changed the colors of the plates frequently; now they just give you a sticker to peel and place on the corner or in the middle to show you have paid the fee.

States like Vermont have "Green Mountain State" on their license—you can tell I have not spent much time in the state, I really don't know anything about "Green Mountain" or Louisiana being "The Sportsman's Paradise," and/or Pennsylvania who provides the URL code to discover more about what the state has to offer. If you have to get that close to the plate to write it down when you're driving, chances are you will meet someone very quickly who lives there and then exchange insurance information because of the fender bender you created.

Because I am a Bull's fan, I have thought about applying for a custom plate with the Bull's logo and recognition that "I am a FAN." I would suspect when I travel to Milwaukee, Indianapolis, or even Minnesota and attend a game—it might be easy to find my car. It also might be the one with the smashed windows when I return. Don't laugh, I went to Iowa many years ago and my tires were slashed as I slept in a hotel. Why? Illinois was playing Iowa and let's say there was a rivalry. When I asked at the front desk they said, "Yes we heard something outside, but we didn't investigate." That was the last time I stayed at that hotel.

The photo above was taken in Maine. It was on the outside wall of a restaurant we had eaten at and I just thought, "How cool is this?" Probably my favorite on the wall is from Saskatchewan; with pride, this province of Canada, let's everyone know, they are the "Wheat Province!"

Thanks for stopping by.

Hit the road jack.

"Up with the sun, gone with the wind

She always said I was lazy

Leavin' my home, leavin' my friends

Runnin' when things get too crazy

Out to the road, out 'neath the stars

Feelin' the breeze, passin' the cars."

There are many reasons to be on the road. Some have to do with escape, others have to do with making money…I am sure there are dozens in-between.  Whatever the reason, there is something about seeing and being a "part of the journey," no matter where it takes you in life.

This past week most of my family has been away from home; everyone except my self and our dog, Cash. My venture each day was to Chicago and back with a side trip last weekend to Sandwich, IL—-I went to take a few photos of barns. 

I was not around back at the turn of the century—not that last one—the one before it. But it must have been both exhilarating and frightening at the same time, to walk away from the farm, the city or where you called home to discover what was "out there." For many, I am sure they found out it was nothing like they had imagined or wanted to be a part of; for others it was probably the greatest thing to happen to them.

As part of my job responsibilities, I travel. Some would say traveling around the Midwest is anything but glamorous, but think about something—if I traveled to all of the exotic places in the world, and had to work while I was there, what would be the difference between Des Moines and Dubai? The only differences I can come up with are—jet lag, air miles earned, and missing out on family activities. (I have missed more than a few.) So, if air miles are worth it—hit the road.

If you have seen the movie, "Up in the Air" you get an understanding of what a "road warrior" is all about. It's learning the tricks of getting through security faster, having meals alone, and if you're really lucky, earning some perks to share with your family. The perk that I use most are the air miles—sometimes the free hotel nights. 

Recently on a flight back home, I met two people on my Southwest flight heading from Minneapolis to Chicago; one was a man, the other a woman. Both were road warriors, however one made the decision that family was more important than the road and elected to leave consulting and take a job closer to home. It was the guy. He had lived in California and for a long period of time, as he described it, "I passed through our home to the next location." He made good money (I believe him) but had a "bad" life. 

The woman worked for the Hard Rock Hotel chain and was literally on the road 5+ days a week. Three marriages down and one on the way, she was trying to figure out if it was all worth it?  At the end of the flight—she said, "it was." I was surprised by her response but I suspect this is just who she is and who she will be until her last flight.

I don't travel nearly as much as these two people did and/or do—but I can say, when my family is out of town, I get a real taste of what it must be like when I am gone. It's just plain weird. 

The photo above was taken on Michigan Avenue in Chicago. For some reason, it reminded me of how glamorous it is to travel. Sit, wait, stand in line, and wait. Ahh…the beauty of travel.

Thanks for stopping by.