Dec
17
Rodney’s razor, midway through it’s too-short lifespan.
Pike Place Market: They toss fish back and forth here to tourist’s delight, but a neon flying fish remains stationary on the roof.
Mid-November, mid-50s, completely unexpected Seattle brilliance. This is the worst month to visit Seattle, or so the internet tells us. So much for all the rain, all the gray, “put your tourism on hold for now” advisements.
The autumn sun shines down, setting a gentle lens flare on one of the Hopewell Mounds.
It’s a first-frost-on-your-windshield kind of fall day. The sun creaks above the horizon and the frozen blades of grass quickly melt onto my shoes. Walking out among the mounds, I step back in time.
I wasn’t allowed to express my opinions.
I’ve photographed some of the best and brightest politicians — Bill Clinton and Al Gore — and some of the least auspicious, like the fun mayor of Concord, New Hampshire, who moonlighted as my Social Work professor, while I was working on my Master’s degree.
When I photographed politicians and political campaigns in the past, I had to be objective and not let my own personal preferences sway my journalistic integrity. Spending so much time traipsing around the Granite State during The New Hampshire Primaries, I did indeed form opinions about the candidates I covered. But I had to keep those opinions to myself.
Aug
09
The missileers gave us a test printout from their old thermal printer, which is still in use. Note the face circled in the code at the bottom.
The alarm beep, beep, beeps and we jump behind the curtain shielding us from sensitive, Top Secret information coming in over the Comm system.
30 seconds later, the curtain slides back open and the missileers — one man and one woman — continue explaining their roles in this bunker, this completely secured capsule dozens of feet beneath the … where, I can’t tell you.
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It’s a far cry from THEN to NOW in New York City apartments. Photo at left of tenement life by Jacob Riis. Photo at right of my daughter and roommate by me.
I think it was somewhere during my sixth or seventh trip up or down my daughter’s East Harlem apartment stairs that I realized just how lucky we are, how good we have it. Living on the fifth floor of an old building with terrible heat and no air conditioning, my daughter attended grad school at Columbia for two years.
The lack of heat wasn’t an issue as we moved her, though; outside it was 91 degrees. Inside it felt even hotter. But I can’t believe how fortunate we were, we are.Read More
My two classes in one month, writing and photography. ABOVE: I snap a panoramic while the class writes. BELOW: The photo class poses for their own panoramic.
The email came it at 4:06 pm Wednesday, “Call me as soon as you can. Need to discuss something with you.“
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See that little slot on the left? That was my path. See that chasm on the right?
There should’ve been a sign at the beginning.
Right at the trailhead — right when it was do or die time — the sign should’ve said something like “WARNING: Middle-aged Suburban Guys Should Probably Stay Back In The Gift Shop.”
On the main level at Balcony House, the ranger points out fascinating facts while I cling to the back wall.
You’d think I would’ve gotten the memo.
Hiking a perilous trail (well, perilous to me) and surviving the journey, would alert some people to the fact that maybe sheer cliff walls and tight rock tunnel passageways might be better left to other, more intrepid national park visitors. Especially since I’ve just miraculously reached the end of that trail before lunchtime.
On a lovely spring afternoon in California, Keith and Judy Turner tied the knot.
During a winery tour before their wedding day, Judy and Keith pause for a pose.