Days gone by.

"Well I miss Mayberry

Sitting on the porch drinking ice cold Cherry --- Coke

Where everything is black & white

Picking on a Six String

Where people pass by and you call them by their first name

Watching the clouds roll by

bye bye."

There is something to be said about the simple days we used to experience. Although it doesn’t seem that long ago, in so many ways it seems like an eternity.

The other night we attended my daughter’s “Open House” at school. It was funny because I always thought “Open House’s” occurred at the start of the year, not part way through the backend. This was a different type of event; the 3^rd graders sang to us and showed us one of the new learning tools the school had purchased. The school now has 20+ iPads for the 3^rd graders to obtain a higher education.

A friend of mine, who has a daughter in class and is actually my age, said, “I was asking her if they ever use the blackboards any longer and she gave him a puzzled look.” She said, “What’s a blackboard Dad?” Okay, it’s not like we these were from the stone age, however it turns out the blackboards of old are now the “green” boards of today. They are no longer black---some are even blue.

Move forward to last night. One of the ways to coax our girls to sleep is to tell them what is known in our household as “Daddy Stories.” These are the stories of when I was growing up; the problem is…I am running out of them as I will often ask, “Did I tell you this one, or that one?” They will tell me the story, so I assume the answer is “Yes.”

Well, as we moved into the 4^th story of the night---I told my youngest about when I was in Kindergarten and I learned of President Kennedy’s death. I didn’t get specific about the death, only the disappointment of not being able to watch my favorite TV shows that were cancelled for a period of days. She could not understand why I didn’t use the DVR or pop-in a DVD…I said, “We didn’t have them back then.” Her response, “That’s really too bad.” Yes it was…I guess.

So yes, I miss Mayberry (one of my favorite shows when I was growing up) because today we live in such a fast-paced world. One where things literally begin during the waking hours of the day---and are in the distance when we go to sleep at night.

The photo above was taken recently in San Francisco. What I liked about it was, this building has one of the greatest landmarks in its backyard--- I wonder if they ever sit on the porch and just think about days gone by.

Thanks for stopping by.

Where do broken hearts go?

“Where do broken hearts go

Can they find their way home

Back to the open arms

Of a love that's waiting there.

And if somebody loves you

Won't they always love you

I look in your eyes

And I know that you still care, for me.”

Chances are someone reading today’s “Snap. Shot.” has had what is known as a “broken heart.” It might be a situation where a loved one has left, someone you cherished has told you, you are no longer cherished, or perhaps the loss of someone special you didn’t even know.

I have experienced a broken heart. It has happened a couple of times but I am happy to report time has faded the memory. That is, until that song, movie or special situation takes that moment from the back of my head and brings it to the front.  More than likely it was an old girlfriend, but there have also been times when someone I really admired comes into my thoughts.

I remember when Sam Walton, Walmart’s founder, was scheduled to be at a local grand opening a number of years ago. I was ready to meet him. I had read the autobiographies about him---one was unauthorized where they normally spill all the dirt, and the other was written by someone he felt could tell his story---his way. I remember thinking---these two books are almost identical. The only dirt on Sam was his desire to win; he was a believer in the good of those who he worked with and he showed it by having morning cheer sessions to get people ready for the day and took care of those he belived in.

Of course there are other times when my heart has been broken---probably the most significant was when my Mother passed away a couple of years ago. It was something I had really never encountered and I felt a huge loss. It wasn’t instant, it took time to really take hold---I am not sure if this is normal, but for me, it’s how it happened.

There are other times when my heart was dented and partially split; it might be some of the girls I dated in high school. I made decisions that were not always mature (I know a guy being immature is hard to fathom) but when I look back, these were times when I learned about emotions, love, and life. In my life, this was a big learning curve.

So where do broken hearts go?

I think for many of us they go deep within us and live until they are called up again. I think it’s okay as these are the components of life that have made me, well…me.

The photo above was taken a few months ago. I think it sets the tone for today’s “Snap.Shot.” After we come into this world, we learn and experience so much after the 9 months spent inside the most comforting place we know; the place we know, as adults, we can never return to as we venture through life.

RIP Whitney.

Thanks for stopping by

Endless Summer.

“Fallin' right into your hands

Like rain on the desert sand

It's the last thing you had planned

Out Of The Blue Clear Sky.”

Sometimes when you least expect it, you see something you are not sure the rest of the world is having the pleasure enjoying; for me, it is often in the form of a photograph. Not a picture, not a snapshot, but a photograph. There really is a difference---at least I believe there is.

Recently, as we were preparing to watch a beautiful sunset become a memory, I stood as far back as I could (I was right in front of the parking lot,) where I am told water usually touched at this time of day. For some reason the tide decided to stay low and I was able to absorb the incredible colors that only Mother Nature can provide. I am grateful she felt a break in the routine was in order. I owe her one.

When I was growing up, I lived by the sounds of bands like the Beach Boys who would sing about this incredible world I had never experienced. California was further than my parents cared to drive—we went to Florida---and was a mystery to me except through the voice of Mike Love and other members of this band who knew there was something about the West Coast that only people who were out there understood. This past week---I understood what they were trying to tell me loud and clear.

During our hour or so on the beach, I witnessed millions of colors in the sky, on the wet sand, and all around me; many could not be captured by my trusty Nikon as they were too subtle---so I just stood there mesmerized and did my best to take in as much as possible into my head and live in the moment. I fell way short, but was able to capture some of the experience.

One thing I really like to photograph is a silhouette; it’s not as if there is a brilliant color to experience---it is black after all---and even though you are not able to see anything more than an outline of a body, for me it tells a story.

The photo above captures an experience I could never tell in a description to anyone---only a photo could do it. As I stood on the beach, I watched as the surfers decided their day was over. They walked right in front of the dwindling daylight and at a split second, the moment was captured. I love photos like this---why? Because I have never surfed, I was blown away by the sunset, and for me living in the Midwest, I knew there was still some form of summer somewhere.

Thanks for stopping by.

Tiny Dancer.

“Hold me closer tiny dancer

Count the headlights on the highway

Lay me down in sheets of linen

you had a busy day today.”

I am long past due in writing “Snap.Shot.;” for those who have been waiting for its return, I cannot imagine there are very many, thanks for waiting for the urge to write to return. I am not sure it is 100% there, I am testing the waters once more.

It’s been an up and down few months. Some of the time I was up higher than I could imagine, and at other times, I was just not wanting to write because I just didn’t feel like it. Selfish? Yes it was---but for me, it was necessary. I really do enjoy writing—but I needed the break because I was tired and bored.

This past year, starting on January 1, I took on an assignment to write about the community I live in---I felt it would allow me to learn more about the history of Glen Ellyn, IL and I did enjoy writing a blog. What I found was, it was harder than I imagined, and was a chore I really didn’t want to perform each day.

What “Snap.Shot.” was meant to be, and I would like it to continue to be, is a snippet of life with a photo that goes along with whatever I feel like writing on that particular day. That’s why I am writing about a dancer I saw in San Francisco this past weekend.

Our family spent the holidays in Northern California; we were in both the Bay Area as well as the mountains outside Lake Tahoe. Whereas there is usually a vast difference in the climate this time of year, this year was different. It was warm in San Francisco and when we went to the mountains, there was very little snow. I think the 50-degree weather during the day played a major role in the lack of snow. That didn’t mean there was not any snow, just not enough to attract the skiers who come to the region to ski at breakneck speeds. (Last year in this exact location there was more than 12 feet of snow---this year, there was less than 8 inches.)

I honestly didn’t miss it---I don’t ski, and it allowed for more family time; however, it also provided an opportunity to take completely different photos than I took last year. There will be some in upcoming “Snap.Shots.”---as a preview, I walked down by the Golden Gate bridge, saw surfers in the cold waters outside the Bay, and was within inches of skiers doing flips and jumps off a man-made ski jump. It was cool.

The photo above was taken at one of the beaches in San Francisco---frankly, I don’t remember which one. When we drove up, we saw 2 ballerinas being photographed. It was not just a beautiful scene---it was graceful, balanced, and one that no one would have believed had I not shot 3 pictures. They were not wanting anyone to take photos except the photographer who had been hired to for the job. I couldn’t help myself---for me, shooting the unexpected is what makes photography my passion, my love, my tiny dancer who when held in your hands, is as delicate as a ballerina dancing above.

Thanks for stopping by.