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.