If you haven’t seen the new Lincoln movie, I won’t spoil how it ends. I will tell you, however, that the film made me proud to be an American. I’m talking about the Spielberg project, not the one where Lincoln hunts vampires.
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I received a letter in the mail, not long ago, from a major University located in Wayne County, Michigan. I don’t want to name them, but I think they’re the biggest school in the county. They’re named after Major-General “Mad” Anthony Wayne. They asked me how my prostate was doing.
Seriously.
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If you don’t want tax increases, excessive government intrusion in your lives, Constitutionally mandated soul replacements and yet even more tax increases, vote for Proposal Z. Tell the politicians YOU want to decide whether or not jeggings are a crime. A vote for this candidate is a vote for Satan.
Look, I know the political season is a boon to our economy, but I just can’t wait until November 7th when all the attack ads crawl back into the holes from which they were spawned. Read More
We’re a photo flash mob.
We’ve done this every year for the past 37 Octobers.
Our founder, Mike Morse, began this endeavor back in the 70s by photographing one-room schoolhouses. They slept in chicken coops and ate baloney sandwiches. Nowadays, we rest at the Sleep Inn and eat smoked pork butt, specially made for us by a fabulous volunteer chef. Those Workshoppers from long ago would be turning over in their graves — if they were dead, that is.
They’re mostly alive, Read More
Back when I was mostly just a photographer, I always felt weird telling people, “but I’m a writer too.” Lately, I’ve gotten a weird tickle in my tummy when I tell folks, “but I’m a photographer too.”
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“Rodney Curtis is a great Detroit wedding photographer,” said the guy at the bar!
“Ha, thanks! I’ll take it,” I said.
Here are a couple samples from a wedding I shot in downtown Detroit and Belle Isle.
I don’t trust fall. It’s out there, through the window, waving at me as fake summer breezes bake the vegetables in my planter box. The willow trees we put in the ground when shorter than me, have exploded to three stories in height. They too wave at me saying, “It’s okay Rodney; winter’s miles away.”
Our friend Julie paused as she was walking up the stands to the school pool. She asked how things were going after both her son and our daughter took off to college. I said Skye was doing fine, adjusting to everything, having a blast in her new home.
“It’s not Skye I’m worried about; it’s you,” Read More