1,459 Days later.

"Here comes goodbye
Here comes the last time
Here comes the start of every sleepless night
The first of every tear I'm gonna cry
Here comes the pain 
Here comes me wishing things had never changed
And she was right here in my arms tonight, but here comes goodbye."

Nine out of ten times we say "good-bye" knowing we will be saying,"Hello" in just a matter of time. But what about when that "one-in-ten time" becomes the one that sticks? Never to say "Hello or Good-Bye" again, and wondering if what you said the very last time you spoke was interpreted with the passion you felt?

Four years ago tomorrow, around 2PM, I said "Good-bye" to my Mom. I was fairly certain these last moments would be the last words she would hear from me; I am happy to say even though she did not respond (it was over the phone more than 300 miles away and she was in the final stages of life), I really do believe she heard me. I sure hope so, because I meant every damn word of what I said. 

As you might suspect, I let her know my feelings about her as a Mom, Grandmother, and trusted friend; she knew me well, and even though she let me make most of the decisions that have ended up molding my life, she was there to help pick me up when I screwed up. She was that kind of person. Yes, she could be opinionated, but she had the passion and knowledge of someone who had been through a lot of life to provide good thinking. The unfortunate part, she still had plenty to give. However, she had no other options, Cancer took control of any plans she had been considering for the future and she was gone.

I often wonder if my Mom would be pleased with all that's happened in my life since her passing. How would she feel about the decisions I have made, the path I have taken, and how I have progressed since the final phone call we had? It's something I will never know; I can't even venture a guess. My thought, "I am sure she would be mixed...but supportive."

Of course one passion I hope she has noted has continued, has been my love for photography. Yes, this is only one of many passions, but it's one that has allowed me to put my heart out there for anyone who wants a look into the way I think. Scary as that might appear, it's the truth. My family knows how obsessed I can be on this topic.

Recently I have stepped back a bit, and have not been hearing the shutter click as frequently as it once did from my trusty Nikon; I still take many more photos than I did years ago, but lack of time for some reason has taken more of a front seat to everyday life. (No worries, instead of more than 200,000 photos a year, I am probably at 125,000.)

I now will often take photos, not view them, and place them on an external hard drive; promising myself I will look at them one day in the future. I am behind---thousands of photos await---yet there is one set of photos I have never looked at, and they are more than four years old. What's the topic you might be asking? They're of my Mom during the final 7 months of her life. I worked hard to capture these moments (she would not want anyone to see them) and  they are so much a part of her life---just the final few months of it. (One day, I will look.)

Move forward 4 years.

Last week I learned of a book that was recently published called, "Humans of New York;" it's actually a very interesting look at life---through the lens of a young photographer and the stories he has captured along the way on the streets of New York. It made me realize, this was something I had been doing over the past few years as well. I am not at the point to launch a book, although I have considered it. Maybe this was something my Mom sent in some way to let me know, "Mark,it's time to get back into what you really love to do." 

The photo above was taken long before my Mom left us. She was in the prime of her life, long before we had any idea there were cells splitting and re-splitting inside her healthy body---I, too, was a lot younger, such is life. Even though she is no longer available for a phone call, lunch or quick chat,  she will always be in my thoughts---even if it's 1460 days after we said "Good-bye."

Thanks for stopping by.

What is going on here?

“If tomorrow all the things were gone I'd worked for all my life,

And I had to start again with just my children and my wife,

I'd thank my lucky stars to be livin' here today,

'Cause the flag still stands for freedom and they can't take that away.”

To say we live in interesting times would be an understatement; a few days, months or years from now, we might be saying, “These were the good old days.” With the country on the verge of potential default, America still at war, and the St.Louis Cardinals batting less than .200 as a team in the baseball playoffs, it’s just a very stressful time. (Okay, maybe for the Cardinals it’s not as bad as they are up 2 games to one over the Dodgers---forget that comment.)

I am reasonably sure our government leaders will find a way to settle the current financial crisis just in the nick of time to avert default. After America has been saved, they will all sashay up to any available microphone and let their constituency know they worked incredibly hard on behalf of their districts, states and anyone who will listen about how they refused to give in. In their eyes they will be the heroes who stood their ground to save America.

Right. Whatever.

Then there are the real heroes. The Men and Women who right now are fighting for our country while their families remain home, with constant prayers and wishing they could see their loved ones walk through the front door off the battlefield and into their homes; they would also appreciate a pay check so they can live while their loved ones are serving our country.

It’s good to know our legislators are still receiving their pay and benefits while they are in battle with one another across the aisle and not the world. They will learn how people feel about this as long as voters remember when elections come around. We cannot forget the ridiculousness of what is happening although I suspect most will. I will not…I guarantee it.

The photo above is really not a photo at all. It’s a copy of a letter from Morgan to her step-brother Michael. It turns out Morgan wanted Michael to know how much she loves and misses him. She also knew one letter would be a welcome sight, but letters from her entire class would be overwhelming. In a very good way.

I was able to read several of the letters as my associate, who is married to Michael’s Dad, told me about what Morgan had done and brought in the notes.

The letters were anything but the same; the girls sent their hopes, prayers and love by telling Michael how much they admired him and wished for his safety. (He’s actually in boot camp, but he will be deployed I am told.) The boys did the same, but they also felt it was very important that Michael be brought up to speed on Pro and College sports. To read these letters reassured me that maybe these times are actually the best we will experience for these future young men and women---they are becoming aware that real heroes in America aren’t always known on a national level, you’ll find them right in out backyard. 

There’s little doubt Morgan loves her brother, and Michael loves her. I have never been a position to write an entry to “Snap. Shot.” like the one I wrote today. I know I have been silent for some time, but I also wanted to let Michael and the American soldiers across the country and the world know---we will be okay back here on American soil while you are serving the country;I just can’t say for sure if the St. Louis Cardinals will be in the World Series this year, but they'll do their best to win one for the troops!

Thanks for stopping by.

Smooth criminal. Not.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thanks for stopping by.

O.C.B.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thanks for stopping by.

All these years.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thanks for stopping by.

Our thoughts are with you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thanks for stopping by.

Home.

"No, I think you got me all wrong
I don't regret this life I chose for me
But these places and these faces are getting old
I said, these places and these faces are getting old
So, I'm going home."

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

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

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

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

Back to Izzy.

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

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

Thanks for stopping by.