Hometowns.

 

“I been there, done that

But I ain't looking back on the seeds I've sown

Saving dimes, spending too much time on the telephone

Who says you can't go home?”

For many of us, “home” is where we were born, raised, and currently live. For the rest of us, our hometown is a thing of the past.

I no longer live in my hometown, and based upon the number of years I have lived in Chicago, I have to wonder, “Has my original hometown switched to where I currently live?” That was deep, my bad. For sure, I feel more “planted” today in Chicago, but there are still certain components of St. Louis that are imbedded deep inside me. 

For example, I developed real friendships there and some are still around today. When you return to the area, no matter how long you have been gone, you are welcomed back. The Cardinals are still a much better team than the Cubs and I will NEVER wear any thing that has the Cubs logo on it. I do have a t-shirt from when they won the World Series in 2016, it sits in a drawer; I figure over the many decades until it happens again, maybe my great grandkids will be able to sell it for more than I purchased it. 

We live in much different times today than when my grandparents came to America; based upon what I experienced with my Dad, he was born in Iowa, moved to St. Louis as a young child, and never left. Same with his brother. My Mom, she was born and stayed in the city she called home as well--St. Louis is very much a part of my family.

Of my siblings, only my brother has remained in my hometown; my sister and I moved away, and as far as my kids, they are scattered all over. Fortunately none live outside the U.S. at this time, but they live far enough away that that Canada is closer than they are. 

With the help of technology, it really doesn’t matter where you live to feel like you are connected. Thanks to Zoom, smartphones, and email (it’s better than snail mail) you can feel like you are right there, even if you are not. I wonder, if in the not to distant future, will we be able to travel as close to speed of light and be in one place moments after you just left another? I am not talking from one room to another, I mean from one place hundreds of miles away. If it sounds too “Jetson’s” like, but someone, somewhere is thinking about this and might have a prototype. (We will probably see it on Shark Tank!)

The photo above was taken this past fall. It was a beautiful night in Chicago; I stood by the Shedd Aquarium, pointed my iPhone toward the skyline, and pushed the button. I will probably not retire in Chicago, but I can say with certainty, it will be the place I live the longest. I do like it here, and will always have fond memories, but I will never root for the Cubs.

Thanks for stopping by.

Blocked.

“I hid the clouded wrath of the crowd,

But when they said, “Sit down,” I stood up,

Ooh, ooh, growin’ up.”

Last night I was at the Bulls v. Wizards basketball game in Washington D.C. This week our company had what we call, “quarterly sales kick-offs” and sure enough, we had an open night; my beloved Chicago Bulls were in town to play against another below .500 team. One of my associates said, “You want to go?” He didn’t even have to get the words out before I said, “Yes.”

Now, for some reason, the seats in D.C. are a lot less expensive than the same ones would be in Chicago. Probably two-thirds less. So, I really was “IN”… as were five of my other teammates. Of no great shock, I wanted to bring my camera; I checked the website, downloaded the restrictions, went to the front desk of my hotel, measured the size of my lens, and off we went.

Getting into a stadium is not as easy as it used to be. You walk through a metal detector, unzip your jacket, smile (I always do) and walk through to the other side. That’s when I heard, “You can’t bring that in here!”  

I asked a very astute question, “Why?” 

I was told, “The lens is too long.”  I stood my ground, because what was I going to do, go back to my hotel? The guard called over one of her associates who said, “The camera is fine but the lens is not.” Once again, I stood my ground, and he said, “I know the rules.” He then called over another guard who must have said, “Let him through and off I went…there was no way I was looking back!”

The seats my associate purchased were amazing. They were 7 rows from the court, along the baseline and had a clear view of the court. I was as close to basketball heaven as I could be without putting on my Nike’s.

One of the best things about Capital One stadium is how the seats are positioned to provide a very good vantage point. The person in front of me didn’t stand a chance of blocking me unless they stood up. Which, they didn’t. I was sitting next to some Wizard’s fans, one had never been to a game before and commented, “For a first game, it does not get much better than this for seats.”

Then it happened, it was in the 2nd quarter, the Bulls were on the end of the court where I was sitting. I heard laughter and rustling of people moving to let this creature come down the stairs. Sure enough, “G-Wiz” the mascot was coming our way. He not only came our way, he sat two rows in front of us. I guess he, I assume it’s a he, knows that there are people in the stands who come to watch the game. Or in my case, watch and take pictures at the game.

So…

He stood up about a minute later and went on to distract others in the stands away from where we were sitting. So what was a distraction, turned into a photo opportunity…and in some crazy way, I am glad he came by.

The photo above is of “G-Wiz” sitting next to some other Bulls fans who had even better seats than we did. They were vocal about their allegiance to the Bulls, and some Wizards fans behind them were not real happy how they were acting. So I watched, kept my mouth shut and kept taking pictures…I already avoided having my camera confiscated, this was not going to be the next one.

Thanks for stopping by.

It's nice to be back again.

 

“And I can't wait to get on the road again

On the road again

Goin' places that I've never been

Seein' things that I may never see again

And I can't wait to get on the road again.”

If you have ever seen the movie, “Up in the Air,” you know the story. If you have ever experienced a pandemic, you know the same story. You stay put. Unlike the character in the movie, it turns out he was not confined to the walls of his home, for the rest of us, we had to. I am so glad this is in the rear view mirror and hope it never happens again.

I am a salesman. Hopefully not one of “those” salesman, I have been doing this for decades and it has been quite an adventure. I have been fortunate to not have to be on the road every week, but there were times when I would be “out of the office” during the month for several days. It allowed me to meet new people, see new sites, and gain weight. If you are like me, when you break routine, lack of routine breaks you.

Many years ago I used to run. I was with my boss, and these were back in the days when salesmen brought liquor with them on the road. I was not part of that generation, but my boss was. So, as he sat back after a long day, I went for a run; we were in Iowa and the temp was probably 95 degrees. As an intelligent runner, I ran on the blacktop of the highway which should have melted my Nike’s but fortunately did not. 

But, when I got back, looking like I had just taken a shower—-I hadn’t—-he asked, “Want a drink?” Since I wanted to appear invincible, I said, “sure.” The rim of the glass and first sip scotch were soon touching my lips and I drank it. Big mistake. I went back to my room and regretted it. Never again.

Starting about 20 years ago, when I traveled, I began bringing my camera with me. It was portable, I was typically driving by myself, and when I saw something I wanted to capture, I would pull over and snap away. It was the best way I knew to capture a portion of America and I didn’t have to pay to do it, the company did!  However, since I often would pull over on the side of the interstate, there were many truck drivers who did not appreciate what I was doing. Apparently, I was a distraction. Whatever.

Life on the road is back, and I could not be happier. It’s still in the “trickle stage" as Zoom and other technologies have made it much easier to be there and back in a split second—-but there is still something about being able to travel again.

The photo above was taken in Colorado. I was not traveling for business, the state is not part of my territory; but when I think back just a few years ago at this time, when no one seemed to leave their homes, I can say it’ “great to be on the road again.”

Thanks for stopping by.

What the heck was that?

 

“I’m learning to fly,

But I ain’t got wings,

Coming down is the hardest thing,

“I’m learning to fly.”

There is something that still amazes me; it’s the ability to place yourself inside a narrow tube and soar up to the sky. Fortunately for the others in the tube, I am not the pilot.

Growing up in St. Louis, we had a connection to flight. McDonnell Douglas, as it was known at the time, was based there and often times you would hear the roar of jets overhead as they tested whether or not the planes would fly. Not really, but there were individuals flying them known as “test pilots,” so it’s not that far off. We would sometimes go to the airport and see the planes near the runway, they were “beautiful birds;” with their shields up ready to be lowered soon racing to the “wild blue yonder.”

As a kid, like many, we all were in awe of airplanes. Whereas they had been around for many years, it’s a bit of a wake up call to think I was born roughly 30 years after commercial airlines were introduced as a means of travel; nothing like today…they served food on board!

It was a big deal to be able to fly. As a family, we would travel to Florida for vacation and one time, we flew. I had to dress up for the flight, be respectful, and not ask too many questions. I am not sure if I ever got “pilots wings” on my first flight, but I do know the airline that we flew was gobbled up by another one long ago. It was Eastern Airlines. It was incredible to not spend 3 days in the back of a car, cramped between my brother and sister, and be in Florida in a matter of hours.

Since those days I have flown many times. Mostly within the U.S. borders, however one time I did cross the big pond; since I have trouble sleeping on planes, it was a really long flight home. 

As I prepare to leave home today and next week for business travel, I will be stepping into the ‘tube;” it’s now something that is no longer a big deal. You don’t have to dress up, and if you ask too many questions, you are seen as a nuisance and are “tagged” by the flight attendants as someone to watch. Oh how things have changed. 

Flying is a topic I am sure will come up again in “Snap. Shot.” there are countless stories we all can relate to. Some are average and some you might scratch your head and say, “Did that really just happen?” Yes, I have some of those to tell.

The photo above was taken at the Air & Water Show this past year. I was on the shore of Lake Michigan and watched two airplanes come over the horizon; I knew there was no way they were going to crash into one another, but when I later looked at the photo, I couldn’t help but wonder what the tenants of the building were thinking. I know what I would have been wondering.

Thanks for stopping by.

Estate sales.

 

“Before you take a girl and say I do, now, 

Make sure she's in love with-a you now. 

My mama told me, "You better shop around."

If you have ever been to one, and then returned to others multiple times, you now know the addiction of going to estate sales. They suck you in, swirl you around and spit you out with items you had no idea you desperately needed. I am an estate sale addict and I am just fine with it.

The first estate sale that took a bite out of me, was in St. Louis with my Dad and sister. I had been to other garage sales and “attempted” estate sales, but this one was truly an “ESTATE SALE.” The home was huge and the items inside were very eclectic; in other words, turn the corner and you will find another amazing “wow” for sale—-and in this case, at a very fair price. (That is not always the case.)

Now don’t get me wrong, this was not my first rodeo going to sales like this…my wife and I were going to antique sales long before this venture in St. Louis. But I had yet to get the bug. With her, I went because she has a taste for antiques and the place we went, they had antiques! Another major draw, kettle corn; yes, that will get me to go places too!

Over the years, my love for “seeking the find” has increased. It now has focused on a few areas of interest, but I know there has to be something for both of us to really get the juices flowing. For me, it’s sports memorabilia and rusty things—-one is much easier to find than the other, but when you do…jackpot!

However, the best part of going to estate sales—- “find the find,“ it’s an amazing feeling.

This past year—since I began photographing still life—anything rusty or unique, that’s not expensive, is what I am seeking.  I can tell you, the saying “one man’s trash is another man’s treasure’’ is very appropriate. It’s when you visualize that trash into a photo, is when it becomes priceless. (Okay, “priceless” is not accurate, but you end up wanting it very badly.)

The photo above is the combination of 2 items I purchased; one was from Ebay, the other from a recent estate sale. The combined cost…I don’t remember, but probably no more than $10. The art piece was created about 40+ years ago by a local student who had lived in the home where I purchased it; when I saw it, I was hoping it was a treasure that had substantial value—-it didn’t. However, I really didn’t care, I just liked it and saw a second life for the piece in future photos. Ah the allure of the estate sale--on to the next one.

Thanks for stopping by.

Eyes wide shut.

 

“Taking it to the streets

No more need for running

Taking it to the streets.”

There are countless photographs that have been taken by people who roam the streets looking to capture what most people never see. Whether taken in their local towns, big cities or across the globe, the click of the shutter stops time. 

I am going to assume ever since the camera became strapped around necks, held in hands, or placed in pockets—-the intrigue of photography has only gotten stronger. During the “film” days, you had a limited number of pictures you could take; most of us now realize that number has multiplied almost a thousand fold, and there is no need to load, unload or take the film to a kiosk to get printed. Hence, the demise of Kodak and other film-based companies.

I still have my first camera. It isn’t like most cameras, it was a Minolta-16 Spy Camera Model P. My Dad brought it back from a trip he took to Japan decades ago. I still have the box and all of the components that came with it, the problem is, it took lousy pictures and I suspect the film needed is no longer available. But, I still have it and will never get rid of it.

With that camera, I perfected my talents of photographing water glasses, exit signs and other “amazing pictures.” I had no idea what to do with it, so I just used it and took pictures of nonsensical things.

It’s hard to believe how photography has evolved in my life; had it not been for some “life events,” I would never have gotten "the bug." Glad I did. Today I take more pictures than I ever thought I would; but am still not completely comfortable with street photography. There is something about walking around and taking someone’s picture without them realizing that creeps me out.

The photo above was taken on a side street in Chicago. I didn’t have to ask permission because the piece had no eyes or upper half of its face; sure it had a mouth, but I was long gone before it could let me know how they felt about my taking their picture.

Thanks for stopping by.

Getting to the pointe.

 

“Sing with me, sing for the year

Sing for the laughter and dingier the tear,

Sing with me, it’s just for today,

Maybe tomorrow the good Lord will take you away,

Dream on, dream on, dream on,

Dream until your dreams come true.”

For many young girls, the desire to place dance shoes on their feet is immense. It seems to start a few years after their first steps and at the latest after they’ve started school. Our daughters are an example, every one took dance, every one had dreams, and every one moved on to different passions. 

Why? It’s very hard on your body and the commitment is intense.

When I was much younger, I remember we would be “forced” to attend a ballet performance; I constantly looked at my watch, or at least asked “What time is it?” a number of times. I am sure I ruined the performance for whomever I was asking, but I was bored to death and wanted to leave as quickly as it was over. I had better things to do, like play sports with my friends.

Then, several years later, when my daughters began dance, I started to understand why dance was so important to them. It is an art and a beautiful one at that. Sure, I enjoy sports more, but at least I got to the point where I didn’t look at my watch and have a yearning to go play sports with my buddies. 

It was only about 7 years ago when I got the bug for dance, specifically ballet—-not as a performer, but as a photographer. My two youngest daughters were taking dance at a local school and I had been selected as the photographer for a particular event. I don’t even remember, but for sure it was not The Nutcracker. How do I know? I was “volunteered” to be one of the parents in the play—-fortunately I did not have to wear the bottom half of the traditional outfit most men wear.

As I look back on those times, I now have a much better understanding of the grace and beauty of dance. There are a few photographers I follow who have done incredible shoots—-usually with a background of “everyday scenery;” these backgrounds bring any boredom I used to experience into pure excitement. 

The photo above is a still shot—-I would never have been able to capture this image had I not seen a bag of pointe shoes in a window of a local store. No cost, I just had to let her know my plans for them. She thought it sounded like a fitting (no pun) end for them. What I saw in them were dreams—some broken, some still moving forward.

Thanks for stopping by.