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.