Before there were electric cars.

 

“Well, my time went so quickly

I went lickety-splitly

Out to my ol' 55

As I pulled away slowly

Feeling so holy

God knows I was feeling alive.”

This may come as a surprise, but for years I have been following oil futures; these futures contracts are what buyers and sellers of crude oil use for delivery for a particular future time frame. It’s all about predicting supply and demand and when they get it wrong, you can see prices either increase or decrease. This past year, for the first time I remember, the demand for oil was so uncertain the cost of a barrel fell below a dollar. 

I remember joking that if I went to buy a can of oil, I should ask the store for money for my taking it off their hands. I didn’t and I assure you they wouldn’t.

When I was first driving a car, my friends and I would drive up and down Olive Street Road in St. Louis; we would be out looking for girls to talk to and meet. Since we didn’t have much luck with that, we would usually end up at Denny’s and either have something to eat or coffee to see how late we could stay up. During those days so long ago, a dollar would get you about 3 gallons of gas. My friends and I would all chip in a dollar and we would have about as much gas in the tank as when we started the night. 

In addition to these ridiculously low gas prices, gas stations also gave out premiums for filling up at their station. Shell gave out steak knives and we had a bunch of them in the drawer where we kept utensils. I don’t remember which station gave out drinking glasses with the local sports team on it, but I remember we had plenty of those too. 

Obviously oil remains very much a part of our daily lives—-but as I have learned over time, oil is much more than gasoline…it’s in the plastic that wraps food, clothing and more than 6,000 products. Yes, you read that right.

The photo above was taken at home nearby; the person who owns the home collects toys and antiques. He has quite a collection of “stuff.” As you can see, gas pumps have  changed a lot since these were found at stations around the U.S. Back then you didn’t put a credit card in a slot, have a TV to entertain you while pumping, and more than likely you never left the car because someone else put the gas in the tank. 

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I can do that!

 

"I took month-long vacations in the stratosphere
And you know it's really hard to hold your breath

I swear I lost everything I ever loved or feared
I was the cosmic kid in full costume dress."

As we grow up, we sometimes think we are invincible—-check that, we do think we are invincible! That is until it is proven we are far from it.

I can say I have done some rather dumb things in my life. I “might” have gone over the speed limit, potentially have used toilet paper in other ways than what it is intended for, and have hung out with others who might have persuaded me to drink well beyond my limits. (But, I didn’t drive!)

When I turned 16, like many of my friends, we got our driver’s license…the first day I had it, I went with my parents to the store. I drove and I guess I “might” have accelerated a bit too fast and left some of the tire behind. Now, my Dad was as calm as could be, but he let me know…”if you do this again, you will not have the car.” I took him at his word and only “laid rubber” when I knew he was not around. I wonder if he ever gave consideration as to why the tires were wearing down so fast? If so, it never came up.

But there were some things I did that I am okay with. I had my first job when I was 15, woke up at 5 AM on Saturday’s to go bake bagels at a local bakery. I needed to be there at 5:30 AM; let me assure you, when you are 15 and you have to get up at that hour on a Saturday morning, you are showing commitment…and I made a whopping $1.65 an hour. 

Because I really didn’t have a defined talent, if I were to showoff, it would be obvious it was a mistake. I remember one time when I played organized hockey, I invited my friends to one of my games. What a mistake that was…I was playing defense and kept falling and the opposing players scored every time I was on the ice. Why didn’t I stop them? I couldn’t skate backwards and that’s rather important in hockey! Oh by the way, that was my last season, but I am glad I played even though I had no reason to be out there and certainly not on defense.

One reason I like to see people show off is they eventually make a fool of themselves. This is a true story: We were at a friend’s house when I was probably 15 and there was a guy who was a couple of year’s older than we were riding a mini-bike. If you are not familiar with them, they’re like smaller motorcycles; they may be smaller but they still go fast. So what did he do? He was riding like he was cool and when he went by us, he went right into a mailbox. He was okay, but we weren’t—-we could not stop laughing and he rode away slowly with his “tail between the exhaust pipes.”

The photo above was taken at one of the Chicago Air & Water Show weekends;  the Blue Angels were flying in formation when one of the planes flipped. Like everyone in the crowd, we “oohed and aahed”—-but you had to wonder if this pilot was showing off. The answer was “Yes” but we were really glad he did! 

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Does advertising really work?

 

“I wish I were an Oscar Mayer Weiner

That is what I truly wish to be 

cause if i were a Oscar Mayer Weiner

everyone would be in love 

oh everyone would be in love

everyone would be in love with me.”

Advertising doesn’t work. I mean if it really worked we would purchase athletic shoes that would cost more than $20, we would drink carbonated beverages instead of water, and why in the world would we need new clothes when the old one are just fine?

I have been in advertising for my entire career. I majored in it while in college, and fell in love with it my first day I entered journalism school. Probably the number one reason I went for advertising was because I was not a good writer. I know it’s a shocker, but ask my freshman

english teacher who gave me my first “F,” and she’ll confirm, I sucked. Fortunately I transferred to another university and the grade was left behind. 

When I began learning about advertising, I knew I wanted to make advertisements and write jingles. Yes, I wanted to be one of those creatives who could bring a detergent, toilet paper or potato chip to life with a song; I soon learned, so did everyone else who was in advertising. I used to watch TV and listen to the commercials—-this was before DVR—so I never knew when they were coming on and would be glued to the tube when they did. Some of my favorites were for Pepsi, Band-Aid, and McDonald’s; they were so well written and catchy, I would dream of what it would be like to be behind their creation. I felt the same way about about magazine advertisements—-but creating them would not be, I got into media sales.

When I moved to Chicago, I was in awe of being in the  same city where some of the greatest advertisements were created—-the Marlboro Man, Poppin’ Fresh, Ronald McDonald, Tony the Tiger and more all had a residence in the city at major ad agencies near or on Michigan Avenue.

Over the years I would have meetings with the clients who “owned” the characters and/or knew the individuals who created them. I remember one time when I was at Maytag, the client was telling me about the Maytag Repair Man; during one meeting, he brought in the hat Jesse White wore in commercials. I know this is going to sound dumb, but I thought I had died and gone to heaven. (I am still alive, but it was cool.)

I look back on these times and can say with all honesty…those were the days. Now with all of the options for commercials, things are not the same. I miss the days of TV, radio and magazines…they were our only options and now we have so many more that in many ways we’re on overload. Fortunately I have YouTube to relive the good ol’ days once more…it figures, I have to use new technology to see the old stuff.

The photo above was taken at The National Museum of American History in Washington D.C.; in this same location are Dorthy’s Ruby Red Slippers, Mr. Roger’s cardigan sweater, and the Star-Spangled Banner flag; just around the corners you’ll find Mr. Peanut, The California Raisin’s and Nipper “the RCA" dog…you know, on second thought, maybe advertising does work!

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This is going to hurt.

 

“And it's knocking heads and talking trash

It's slinging mud and dirt and grass

It's I got your number, I got your back when your back's against the wall

You mess with one man you got us all.”

This year’s going to be a little different. Surprise! Football is going to be taking place in the spring because it was cancelled this past fall.

For the past 11 years I was one of many who would look forward to walking and/or driving to Duchon Field in Glen Ellyn, IL; late August through November, the fans came, they cheered and no matter what the outcome, they loved what football brought to our community. (Okay, they liked it a lot better when they won, and fortunately they did a lot!)  

There is nothing like arriving at the field with a camera bag, a few lenses, and that feeling in your stomach before the game begins. I’m just a photographer, I can only imagine what the players and coaches go through! To give the team the best odds of winning from my personal point of view, I would arrive about the same time each game, through the same gate, and take the same path to get my badge for access to the field. I would like to think I bring luck to the team, however, I assure you I have no connection with anyone way upstairs who is paying attention to my pre-game habits. (Our team is that good without me.)

When I am at a game—I am usually near the end zone following the ball on offense and defense. (By doing this, the team is usually coming at me.)  I have found if you stay in one place, you miss a lot of the shots. I have also learned being on the move can make you miss them too—so there is no sure fire way to get this done. What really irks me is when I read the play correctly, I am lined up with camera in hand, there's clicking— and the photos come out blurry.  If you’re ever at a game, and you see me with my head down after a play, you can guess what happened. The funny thing about lenses, cameras and my shooting—-the camera does all the work, and the photographer blows the shot. 

But sometimes it works. This past year, to celebrate 10 years of photographing our team from the sidelines, I made a book. It took quite a while to look at all of the photos but it also bought back a lot of memories. One of my favorite photos, however, is not one of our team’s favorites; it took place when the football team from the community where I used to live, came to our field to play…and it was a playoff game. This was a great game and one where there really was not a loser, however, one team had more points than the other and when one lost, the season was over.

As the game was well into the 4th quarter, the other team was about ready to score which would have allowed them to go ahead. They did, and they won. But, what my camera captured was not what actually happened. The player’s knee was down before the ball crossed the goal line and there was nothing that could be done to change the decision. When you are a photographer you are neutral—too bad. All I can say is..."at least it wasn’t blurry!"

The photo above was taken at a game a few years ago. In the words of any great photographer—of which I am not—-they’ll say it’s “timing, angles, and luck.” I bet you can guess which word best describes this shot. 

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So many years ago.

 

“And I wish the price of gas was low and cotton was high

I wish honky tonks didn't have no closing time

And I wish grandpas never died

I wish grandpas never died.”

I am going to make an assumption here; I am assuming most of us had grandfathers. If not, you may not want to continue reading, and if so, come along for the ride.

I was fortunate, I had two grandfathers in my life. They both came to this country about the same time of what I recall, and unless I am making this up in my mind, I want to say they both had the same birthday. Not the years, the dates. Again, I am going off my memory but for some reason October 12th sounds about right.

But the similarities don’t stop there. Both of my grandfather’s were in the grocery business. Okay, that’s about all regarding what they had in common.

My grandfather on my Mom’s side was a bit older when he got married and because of this—-when he had children; according to what I read on ancestry.com, he was 32 when my Mom was born and 35 when my Uncle Earl came into this world. My grandfather was much more of a risk taker than my other grandfather….I do know he enjoyed playing cards and for sure he loved betting on horses. I seem to remember a picture on the wall of a winning horse and he was in the photo.

Another difference between my grandparents…money. My Mom grew up in a more affluent neighborhood and I recently mentioned in “Snap. Shot.”—- my Dad was so poor “his parents couldn’t afford to give him a middle name.” That line still cracks me up.

My Dad’s parents had a grocery store in St. Louis; it was in a less-than desirable neighborhood. Let me restate that….it was in a horrible neighborhood. But that didn’t stop them from working hard and providing for their family. I remember a few things about their store. They had cigarettes and rolling papers where you checked out, the floors squeezed like crazy, and I might be wrong about this, but I want to say they had a large pickle jar with my favorite pickles floating in brine. I also remember they had a meat slicer that I think one time it sliced more than meat. (Think finger.)

Both of my grandparents are now gone, as are my parents, but it’s the moments they allowed me to experience as a young child that live within me (and my brother and sister) today. We were raised to work hard, appreciate what we had, and most important---- never forget where we came from. 

The photo above was taken at the American History Museum in Washington D.C. I took the photo because it brought back memories of my Grandparent’s store. So much has changed since those days of eating pickles and squeaky floors, but one thing has not…my Grandparents on both sides of the family made me who I am today and all I can say is “Thank You” for instilling the values you gave me.

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Spring forward.

 

“It's a beautiful morning, ah

Each bird keeps singing his own song

So long

I've got to be on my way now.”

It’s kind of hard to believe when you look back just a short while back, but it’s starting to get warmer. How do I know? Well, I took a walk today and there was not as much snow as yesterday and…wait for it…in 12 days, daylight saving time starts! That is the sign I need and I suspect others do as well.

Sure it happens every year, but it never gets old; when spring comes, it is like a breath of fresh air. Literally. Suddenly we can be indoors, out-of-doors and one day soon, in any door we want as the pandemic “hopefully” becomes a thing of the past. But let’s go outside and enjoy the spring weather. If you have allergies, you will likely say, “What are you kidding?” Since I don’t have them, at least not in away that truly ruins my day, I look forward to seeing the world to come back to life.

I was reading today about baseball and spring training starting. It will be different again this year, hopefully better than last year, but it will happen! Last year on this date, I was in Phoenix, AZ watching the Chicago Cubs play baseball; it was a sure sign of spring and it felt really good to be in the warmth. Hardly did I realize that the world was about to change. 

But, things are getting better and it might be optimistic thinking, but I really believe we will see a much different spring, summer and fall. My only worry, how do we live free again? I am so used to doing things the new way, and it will be as strange to remove masks, and be amongst people like we were. Don’t get me wrong, I can re-learn being alive again, because I can’t wait.

So, as we move forward to better weather, a more open civilization, and life (in part) as we knew it…I hope everyone will remember what we went through, because should this ever happen again, we are going to need to respond fast. I know we can.

The photo above was taken on the patio of our home. A nest was built right outside our screen door and one morning when “Mama bird” was out getting some choice worms for her babies…my iPhone was taking pictures. Now, I don’t speak “bird” but I feel pretty sure these birds are saying…”I am happy it’s spring!”

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Bringing the world together.

 

“Hello, honey, it's me

What did you think when you heard me back on the radio?

What did the kids say when they knew it was their long-lost daddy-o?”

Years before Instagram, TikTok and Snapchat, we would sit in our rooms, drive in our cars, or lay in the grass with a transistor radio and listen to the radio. There was no Spotify, iTunes, or Amazon music, there were radio stations and we spent hours listening to music, the DJ, and the commercials that filled up time. 

The DJ was what it was really all about. They would actually answer the phone and talk with you. They knew their power but they also knew if the kids didn’t listen, they would be moving on. I remember spending hours listening— and several times a day, dialing as fast as I could with the hope of winning something. It could be a record, t-shirt or a pizza but when you heard the DJ say, “I’m looking for caller number blah, blah and if you’re it, you will win a record!” That’s all I needed to hear and I was dialing like a mad man.

I have written before about the day my Mom brought a push button phone into our home. It gave me such an edge over the old rotary phone. I would say on a good dialing day I could dial 3 or 4 times (yes I still got busy signals)  instead of one time with the old phone. The worst was when you would finally hear the call go through, and your excitement would reach fever pitch, only to hear you were the wrong the caller. It was brutal.

Over the years, the prizes got bigger, the opportunities less frequent, and everyone eventually had a push button phone. Then came automatic re-dial and it all started again. I remember I was driving into the city and was listening to my favorite station. They were giving away tickets to a concert and part of the prize package was a chance to meet the performer back stage. The record was by Vince Gill, a country music performer; sure enough I got through and won the CD. A few days later, I was listening and I heard my name on the air. I had won of the backstage passes with good Ol’ Vince. The problem was, I really had no interest in going to the concert or meeting him; I called the station and explained I was not available to go to the concert and asked if I could offer it to someone else? To my surprise they said, “Yes.”

I knew my assistant loved Vince Gill—-and she went. She had the time of her life and I was glad I didn’t go. It would have been awkward to be there without an interest in meeting him; now if it were Queen, The Eagles, or one of my favorite bands…I would have been there in a heart beat.  (Oh yeah, if it were Heart I would have been there too.)

The photo above was taken outside of a radio station in Nevada. There was no one visible through the window, and it was a local station with a limited radius; one thing I knew however was..there was a DJ inside that darken space who brought the world together—-and it all happened on the radio.

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