Merry Christmas!

Sometimes you have to work on Christmas.

Craig Hospital is located next to Swedish Medical Center in Englewood, CO, and is a 93-bed private, not-for-profit, acute care, rehabilitation and research hospital. The approach to spinal cord injury (SCI) and traumatic brain injury (TBI) is wholistic and provides an interdisciplinary approach to recovery. This means Craig provides an intensive program to helping patients and their families cope with their injuries and adjust to their change in life. Some spinal cord injured people do walk out of here; most roll out.

I've worked at Craig Hospital for about 5 years, and holidays are just another day, today is no exception. However, today there's homemade cinnamon rolls, cookies, rice pudding and breakfast burritos for those who get up at o'dark thirty and bypass the traditional morning celebrations.

A lot of people here will wish you a Merry Christmas when they walk by, but there's a few people who are not happy they have to work today. I guess taking their sadness out on others around them makes them feel better, but for those of us who are happy to spend the holiday with the friends we work with, we roll with it.

As is traditional, the auxiliary people are making their way through the hospital giving away hand-knitted afghans provided by their members who have worked throughout the year and today is the delivery day. So many spinal cord injury patients are susceptible to cold since circulation is so poor in spinal injuries and the warmth of the afghans help keep broken bodies comfortable. Patients not only get the afghans, but some Christmas cheer from the volunteers who go room to room. However, if you hated Christmas before your injury, you'll still hate it after your injury.

Volunteers also hand out Craig water bottles that share space with sugar treats and knick-knacks nestled in red fuzzy Christmas stockings. Other management team members are in the process of finding out who's bedridden and who can go downstairs to the cafeteria for Christmas lunch. The only problem with going to the cafeteria is they are using green and red fluorescent lights and they turn any food an unappetizing color.

Some of the patients here have families, and this year the hospital has a lot of kids in it. One of the moms let us know that when they came back from church services last night, there were stacks of wrapped Christmas presents in the room for the children in the family. No cards were attached. She asked me where the presents came from, did we see anyone put them in the room? I told her there was only one possible answer.

So it goes on Christmas Day at Craig.

So, remember that when you meet up with people today who are working on Christmas at theaters, ski resorts, 7-11s, restaurants or anyone you come across in your travels, make sure you wish them a Merry Christmas and say thanks. This also goes for the overworked moms who have wrapped presents, cooked huge meals, cleaned up mountainous messes, wrangled combustible children and made the holiday good for people they care about.

When they work, your world is better.

Merry Christmas!

ESS-Audio Slideshow

Click on the link and go to YouTube. Make sure to watch in High Quality.

Sunset

There was pretty bad light all day long today, but come evening time, the clouds let some sun through. This was the result.

Edmonds, WA

I flew the coop.

I managed to get ridiculous cheap ticket on Frontier Airlines and decided to take a quick trip up to Seattle, my hometown. Kenn was teasing me about starting up a travel agency because I'll book a flight to Seattle in December. Well, Kenn, It's 50 degrees here, with mostly sunny skies and no snow in sight, except on the volcanoes. So, How's the snow? Hmmm?

I drove north from Seattle to one of my favorite little towns, Edmonds, WA, Rick Steve's hometown. Edmonds is a ferry jump to the "other side" of Puget Sound and the Olympic Peninsula beyond. It's my destination tomorrow morning, and I have to check the online ferry schedule to see which boat I can catch. I'm taking my rented Pontiac G6 and heading out to Kingston, Point no Point, Port Angeles, and the Point Dungeness Lighthouse reserve. I have some people to stop and say hi to on the way, but I plan to spend most of the day out there.

Tonight I went to Claire's Restaurant, which one of the best restaurants I've ever visited. The food is awesome, they still serve breakfast at 8 pm, and the waitresses are the nicest you've ever met. I highly recommend it if you're ever in this neck of the woods.

Tonight the town is having its annual "First Dibs" night in which all the stores in the downtown area stay open until 9 pm and there's a ton of people out walking around in the "cold" listening to street madrigals sing Christmas carols under the twinkling white lights that people here seem so fond of. I went into Rick Steve's Travel Store and looked around around, and bought a set of luggage tags. Next door to his shop there's an old northwest style church (wooden, short, white) that was hosting a choir singing Christmas carols. The Candy Cane shop is around the corner and has a wild selection of candy displayed in white stacked cubbies and the owner will offer you a sample of chocolates wrapped as tiny Christmas presents. One store over is the Gardener's Shop and I bought a large brightly painted sign that says, "Trust Your Crazy Ideas" and the owners will ship purchased items for you, although they're a little worried about the odd size of the sign. It's going to hang in my living room, near the front door.

Edmonds looks the way towns did 40 years ago, with individual stores, and shop personnel that are friendly and glad to see you. Most stores have decorated bowls of water for the local dogs to drink. There weren't many dogs out tonight.

Oh no, the news says the temperature has dropped to 40 degrees.

Check out this job ad

I was cruising through UC-Berkley's website and found a link to this want ad. Take a look.


http://www.roanoke.com/editorjob/interactive.html

Mary Lou Cook

Mary Lou Cook is an iconic figure in Santa Fe. Most everyone you talk to has heard of her and at 90 years old, she's been around to affect a lot of lives. She's a gracious lady and will invite you to come and sit in her 600 square foot apartment that faces east. She's an interesting mix of profundity and eccentricity, and she has something to say about a lot of things. But it all boils down to kindness. Sappy, I know, but when a person who has lived as long as she has tells you about a way to make life easier, you tend to listen.

I don't have any old people around me anymore. My parents are long gone, and grandparents even longer gone. My father's side of the family ends with me, and even though my mother was the third oldest of 17, a good portion of the original siblings are gone. I have more than 150 first cousins, the oldest being 70 and the youngest being around 5 (hmm, think about it), but
familial peer relationships don't carry the same weight as the mom-aunt-dad-uncle thing. In my family, I'm the matriarch. That's a scary thing at 50. I'm supposed to be sandwiched somewhere between my children and their children and my parents and their parents in a cozy place where I have people who keep me in line while I keep my kids in line. It's all very confusing, but think about what being the boss would be like. I have to pull wisdom out of my own back pocket. Sometimes I wish I still had the old bittees around me telling me what to do, or that I'm wrong, blah, blah, blah. Most of you can't relate to what this feels like. It's why I love to talk to people like Mary Lou Cook.

Cook's apartment is a tiny space, and for an artist, there's very little of her work on display. She has a lot of medieval art, including a section from the Bayeaux Tapestry, a few other random drawings and one large picture of her when she was "young" taken 20 years ago. Her art is carefully catalogued away in a pine chest that has a hole in the top from the imperfection in the wood, and you've got to be patient as her tiny frame makes her way to it. As she brings out her pieces of beloved pastecraft, she'll tell the story about Des Moines, Iowa and their suspicion of her artwork, and she'll explain how she turns old tuna cans into something elegant and heavy with intention.

Mary Lou is world famous for her calligraphy, but since macular degeneration set it, she has put down her pens permanently. Her eyes brighten when I tell her about a sensei-teacher I had years ago who was blind from macular degeneration and had surgery to correct it and now is fully sighted. Her eyes grow distant as she realizes the chances of someone recommending her for surgery is probably nil, and she makes peace with her eyes once more.

As an author, she has many books to her credit, but the one that brings her pride to the surface is the book published that documented the stories from Santa Fe's Living Treasure Foundation. This organization was founded by Cook almost 20 years ago, and it was her labor of love. She too has a thirst to know the people who have come before, and this organization documents through photos and stories people over 70 who have made Santa Fe what it is today. My favorite story that Mary Lou told me was about the 1927 Fiesta Queen who became the Fiesta Queen because she was the only girl in the community with a formal dress.

The book, "Living Treasures" includes Cook in its pages, and as she shows me the book, she glances over her page and tells me some of the back story behind the real stories. She knew each and every person who's story is documented, and she knows who's alive and who's dead. I love to hear the back stories on things, and it feels like the time my mother told me the story about the time when my dad was dating my mom and another buxom girl at the same time in 1940, and the girls just happen to meet on a street corner in downtown Denver, started chatting and found out what my dad was doing. I always remember my dad saying, "Christ, of all the street corners in Denver, they had to meet and starting chatting." He knew he was busted. Cook's stories are filled with forgotten moments of forgotten people and she loves to breathe life into their lives if even for just a few moments.

Her real passion is her spiritual life. A Course in Miracles is a spiritual organization that many may scoff at, but since one religion doesn't fit all, I'm always curious about why people choose the spiritual path that they do. She credits her spiritual path from taking her from the dark days of abuse and sadness to a point where she says she's happy each and every day of her life. She believes we make a choice to be happy, to let either let it good to bad thoughts, and we can consciously choose our mindset and how we react when bad things come our way. For Cook, it all boils down to kindness.

Cook is an endlessly generous person, as are most people who understand where real power comes from. She's not attached to things, but is attached to spreading the message that only the elderly really truly can sell. Be kind. Anything else is a waste. Live this moment, right here, right now. Tomorrow hasn't come yet, and yesterday is dust.

Her daughter arrives bringing groceries and homemade green chili, and they chat about the menu for upcoming Thanksgiving dinner. As I take Mary Lou's picture, her daughter comes to her mother who is sitting in her chair by the kitchen and smooths her hair and tells her how pretty she looks today.

Mary Lou Cook has to get going, she has a wedding to perform today, and she has to get ready. As a Reverend, she presides over many weddings, and is sought after for such an honor. She'll continue to be teacher, poet, author, and spread her message of kindness. She's happy to sit with a college student learning the skill of interviewing and photographing, or to officiate at weddings, write a forward in a new book, or teach people it's okay to be creative and express whatever moves you.
It's safe to be around Mary Lou Cook, really, all you're going to get from her is love. It doesn't matter when love comes from someone young or old. It's just plain old love.

Her daughter was right, she did look pretty.

Tattoo Tammy

On the road between Santa Fe and Madrid (Madrid as in "mad" at you and get "rid" of that damn cat) is a little wide spot in the road. Tammy Lange has weird-assed collection of trash, highway refuse, road-kill, piano guts, halloween decorations, propane bottles, and anything else she can find. The space used to be a putt-putt course, and the green astro-turf is gone, but the Tammy has used the little structures for her own art.

Tammy sounds "eccentric" at this point, probably.

Tammy Lange, nicknamed "Tattoo Tammy" is a hard drinking, hard living woman of about 50 who wears camoflouge tights and a denim skirt with two zippers in the front, something my ex-husband used to call a "quickie" skirt. Tammy wears a leather cowboy hat the squashes down out of control hair, and her animated smile reveals the fact she's missing a lot of teeth. She has kinetic energy and waves her arms wildly when she talks and uses her laugh as punctuation. Two-Tooth Tammy isn't for the faint of heart.

Tammy is in the process of taking apart her signature on the putt putt course since a dispute with the landlord has escalated to the point where Tammy's ready to put a match to the whole lot. Saturday evening was supposed to be the night when the bonfire would start, but when we came by at sunset, Tammy was nowhere to be found, and the weird-assed collection was was still there.

Tammy shares her philosophy on life, but on her terms. Give her 20 minutes. Then she'll be ready. She'll talk your ear off, maybe even give you a hug, and then she's done. Give her 20 minutes. Then she'll be ready. She'll talk your ear off. Again. Speculation abound as to what she's doing with those 20 minute breaks when she disappears into the trailer that's had the siding taken off and sold to the recyclers for money.

Out by the arroyo that's behind the property, there's a half full bottle of Jack Daniel's and a 2-liter bottle of Coca Cola sitting on a sun-bleached picnic table and everything looks like it's been there a while. She bums a cigarette and reminds people to put money in the donation box. Money, cigarettes, whatever, she doesn't care.

One of Tammy's favorite mediums is road-kill. People bring her road-kill or tell her where it is and she goes and gets it. She laments about how hard it is to hitchhike with road-kill.

The putt putt course also comes with a river of glass, and Tammy encourages people to find a bottle and throw it into the river and she reports you'll feel better right away. She's also generous about letting people take whatever they want from her collection. A stack of skulls grace a pyramid of junk and she lets the new adopter know it's okay to rename the skulls, even though they already have names.

Locals corroborate Tammy's story about the blue-meaney landlord. She is regarded as a embarrassment by the upper-crust hotel owners and as harmless as a stray cat marking its territory by the everyday folk.

I really wanted to see the junk go up in flames.

Hats off

Scott O'Farrell is the owner of O'Farrell's Hat Shop in Santa Fe, NM. Using a device that measure the customer's unique head size and shape, O'Farrell starts the process of making a custom cowboy hat that starts in the neighborhood of $1000. Past customers include Renee Zellweger, Jennifer Tilley and Russell Crowe.

The hats are made at the little building around the corner from the main square in Santa Fe that houses the showroom upstairs and the work space downstairs. The people who make the hats are craftsmen in their own right and it can take up to 12 weeks to make one hat.

I always wore Resistol hats when I was riding my horse, Mickey in Little Britches Rodeos in the 1970's. These hats are almost too special to wear while calf-daubing or pole bending, but if you lose it in the arena, I'll bet O'Farrells would get the hoof prints off it.

Time's a Wastin'

The Amtrak train that heads east from Albuquerque makes a stop in Lamy, NM. Lamy is a hamlet consisting of a few houses, a train museum, a bar and the train station. The building at Lamy is a time-warp experience, filled with heavy wooden seats with dark green leather upholstery complimented by framed black and white photos of young old men that stare back at the lady in the cage who sells tickets to exotic destinations such as Kansas and Wyoming.

Today, the stop at Lamy is extra long due to the lateness of the coroner. An old lady with a walker and luggage with tiny purple flowers on it passed away somewhere between Lamy and Albuquerque.

Jason Small and Drew Jaynes and I were passing through Lamy when we noticed the train and the accompanying signs of delay. Children with harried mothers and Amtrack personnel who repeatedly glance at their watches hung around the platform. Everyone notices the cold wind, but it's better than staying on a waiting train.

Jason wanted to get video of the train pulling out, Drew wanted to talk to people and take pictures of the depot. I just walked around, hoping to find something to shoot.

I ended up at the front of the train which had two engines and the platform only goes as far as the first passenger car. A customer service representative in a suit and tie nervously consumed a cup of coffee from a paper cup and I asked him about the delay. As we were talking, the conductor came walking toward us and I realized the conductor was a woman.

Martha Akeman of Albuquerque is a short compact woman with well manicured nails and a quick smile. She says she's worked for Amtrak for 26 years, with 11 years as a conductor and loves her job. Even on days like this when a passenger has a different "final destination" than the one printed on the timetable, Akeman wouldn't think of doing any other job.

The coroner arrives to take the dead old lady off the train and everyone gets ready to roll out of the station, minus one passenger. The coroner takes the old lady's walker and luggage with little purple flowers on it and puts it in the ambulance.

Jason prepares to get his video of the train pulling out and Drew talks with the conductor and the customer service representative and takes pictures of the depot. Life goes on.

Akeman consults her watch for probably the hundredth time today and even though her schedule is a train-wreck, she prepares the flyer for departure.

Minus one passenger.

Santa Fe New Mexico

New Mexico is a complex place. The foliage is harsh and dry, the skies are wide with iconic clouds and mountains refuse to line up like our Colorado mountains that stand at attention along the Front Range. There are no skyscrapers in Santa Fe, only old buildings, churches and rock formations that don't put a strain on your cardio system getting from one level to another.

People are friendly, the homeless population is highly visible and there aren't a lot of young people. Despite mild days, there aren't a lot of motorcycles on the road as there are here. Colorado's die-hard bikers would ride in the snow if tire companies made tire chains for motorcycles. Pedal bikes, runners, scooters and dog walkers are all curiously absent. Where is everyone?

One place I did find huge crowds: Whole Foods. However, Denver's Whole Foods is a "mom and pop" organization compared to the sheer size of Santa Fe's healthy alternative. Wholesome acres.

Department stores tightly pack their merchandise, but there aren't many shoppers. Sales associates are laid back and friendly, but shelves filled with Levi's denim jeans aren't in order according to size.

I saw only one of those hard-boiled, straight haired blondes, the ones who wear a size 2 on her bloated days, drives a monster SUV with 2.5 kids in the back and a non-fat latte from Starbuck's in one of the 7 cup-holders that sits next to her as she aggressively drives while practicing her religion of consumerism. All the while she's trying to find meaning in life through credit cards and scrap-booking and thinks texting is for intellectual fatties. I think Highlands Ranch is their mecca, and she'll probably try to work her way north eventually.

Santa Fe television stations have fewer commercials than Denver stations. There are fewer radio stations, but there are more choices for Spanish speaking listeners. Only one station is playing endless Christmas music. Maybe they were playing it on the Spanish stations, but I missed it.

Santa Fe has, to its credit, Baskin Robbins ice cream parlors. Apple Pie ice cream seemed to be the favorite. The El Rey is a nice hotel to stay at, filled with southwestern charm, but behind the pictures on the wall, someone has put a stencil that says, "Stolen Picture." The laundry room stays open till 10 pm. There's pop in the vending machine, but no water. Room 19 has a ghost.

Santa Fe from the outside looks pretty damn boring. It's a city you have to see by looking past it and into the lives of the people who live there. Every type of person from wise to weird lives near the surface in Santa Fe.

Oh yah, there's lots of cactus.

Photo Rescue=Magic

PhotoRescue is a miracle.

I shot some images in O'Farrell's Hat Shop just around the corner from the main square in Santa Fe, NM during the last Social Doc class this last weekend. I made the colossal mistake of mingling CF cards in my D200 and D300, and even though I format each card after each use, I've been asking for trouble. My card karma caught up with me when I was uploading the images and I realized that I was missing about 100 images. They were simply gone.

Thank goodness Josh Lawton came along on this SocDoc trip, and he reminded me about PhotoRescue. For the uninitiated, PhotoRescue is a great, $30 program that scans errant cards and pulls old data off the card and "rescues" as many of your pictures as possible. Now, it doesn't work on data that has been rewritten with new data, but it brings back as much as possible. I now have most of my pictures back.

This little program is worth $30. Here's the link:

http://www.datarescue.com/photorescue/

Thanks again, Josh

ESS

On a recent Social Documentary trip to Taos, Gabe Christus came across this story and asked me if I would go along and write the story. Gabe took the images, I produced the audio slideshow.

Disguises

Disguises is a great costume shop on Colfax at Kipling and is worth the drive out to Lakewood. I interviewed the owner of the store and followed her to go to Mt. St Vincent's Home for Children in Denver when she donated $5000 worth of costumes to the kids. We only got to meet three of little boys who were excited to model their new Spiderman costumes for us. I couldn't take any pictures of the kids before they got their costumes on, but after they donned their new prizes, the game was on. They were so happy with such a simple gift.

Disguises is kind of a gimme shoot because of all the visual overload. Body parts, wigs, costumes, jewelry, hats, make-up and everything someone could possible need for that costume genre. The employees are super-nice and will help you make choices while the canned spooky music will serenade you into the mood for spook.

Seamstresses will custom make costumes and their creative license is pretty wild. The resident black cats remain cloistered in the sewing room until after the Halloween hullabaloo is over. Make-up artists will help patrons learn how to apply make-up, scars and scabs, prosthesis, eyelashes with butterflies on them and all sorts of special effects.

The wig-wall is one of the coolest things ever.

If you want to take a walk on the wild side of your dark side, go to Disguises. Now.

Step

This was a gimme at Ranchos de Taos. I like the mood it has. It definitely looks better at 6x9 and 300 dpi.

St Francisco of Assisi at Ranchos de Taos

Thank goodness Dana and Gabe are game for pre-dawn trips to photograph stuff in the morning light. This is the church at Ranchos de Taos that has been made famous by such people as Paul Strand and Georgia O'Keefe. We didn't make it any more famous, but we'll remember it as the place that Dana fell over a tombstone.

Outside Shower Door

That's where a shower door belongs; outside. This was part of a large installation of random art that Dana and I came across during our time in Taos. We were on the High Road to Taos, and we came across this eclectic range of installation work. We pounded on the door trying to get the artist's attention and we almost gave up, but he finally came down to meet with us. It was a tough interview, and I was glad when it was over. We couldn't get him to move past the end of the house, so no great shots of him with the artwork. I did this, and if I was smart I would have put Dana on the other side of the shower door for a cool effect.

Como-After Sunrise

Years ago, Como was a destination for my parents and their friends who owned one of the few cabins on "main street." The ride up there was terrifying when my parent's friend Wes would drive, because he had a habit of sitting all the way forward in the driver's seat, holding the steering wheel to his chest, his face inches from the windshield. I remember crying once because my parents threw me under the bus and made me ride in the front seat with Wes, and I saw only a blur of passed cars and fuzzy scenery through my tears.

My parents and their friends are all long gone, and the cabin we stayed at has fallen into disrepair even for Como standards. Still, there is a pull for this little hamlet, even though some of the people are a little unfriendly and others are downright weird.

At one point, Jason, Drew, Gabe and I were referred to as "dirty hippies" when we stopped to photograph cows being loaded for their one-way trip to the slaughterhouse. Terror echoes in their wild eyes, and despite the fact that I eat meat and was raised around farms, it was a little haunting to have lunch looking at me. Later, at the restaurant, I ordered chicken.

Speaking of food, the little restaurant in town serves up good food, and I was surprised to see a big crowd waiting to get in.
We had arrived early with our party of 7 and had taken up a lot of the space in the tiny one room dining area that's heated by an ancient stove in the middle of the room. Tall windows let in the light and the view of the nearby mountains, and the pictures on the wall show Como when wooden signs hung straight.

Como Sunrise

Como is an old railroad town settled in the valley at South Park. The past two Fridays Jason Small, Drew Jaynes and I have been making the trek up there to make images of the sunrises and the surrounding area. Getting up to Como for sunrise means leaving Denver at o' dark thirty which in my world is around 4 am. Man, has it been cold up there. Last Friday we sat up on the ridge to the north of Como and it wasn't too too cold out, but yesterday it was freezing with a knife-like breeze. True to form, we retreated down to the road just past the cemetery and waited.

A lot of factors go into shooting sunrises. What a great classroom, standing in the cold wind with poor light, good friends and good equipment. My images weren't spectacular, but I opened up to using different apertures and seeing results right then and there. The biggest lesson was what you can do at f22. The second biggest was that my eyes don't work well that early in the morning. The third was don't give breakfast burritos with green chili to Jason and Drew.

PSA-Amendment 48- NO, NO

Last week I was asked to shoot the rally kicking off the fight against Amendment 48. I went down to the Tivoli's multi-cultural lounge on the Auraria Campus and just took in everything that was around. I looked at some of the literature and listened to the speakers who were explaining what was at stake. I took some photos.

Amendment 48 is real powder-keg of political and personal impact. This amendment approaches the controversy over the when life starts and like throwing a rock in a pond, the effects move outward from the center. This legislation affects complicated matters such as abortion and in-vitro fertilization, but also affects women of all ages who use birth control. This amendment would outlaw the use of birth control in that it interferes with the creation of life. Get real.

I haven't had many fears in my life, but unwanted pregnancies was at the top of the list for a long time. All my husband had to do was hang his pants too close to the bed and I got pregnant. Being pregnant is a wonderful experience, don't get me wrong, but it effectively consumes your time, attention and energy, saying nothing of raising children for an average of 20 years. That's a real fear, giving away that much time in your life, especially if you're done with the privilege of reproduction. It's time to move on to other phases in life.

Enter birth control.

Amendment 48 would make the choice of using birth control unavailable thereby throwing our society back about 100 years. It makes me cringe, thinking of my daughters being unable to control their reproductive choices. As a grandmother, I'm happy to have a passel of grandkids, as a mother I think my girls would be awesome moms, but as adult women, I'd be sad and angry if their choices were limited by narrow-minded right-wing conservative bucket-mouths.

It's like they fell out of the stupid tree and hit every branch on the way down.

This amendment puts the quality of women's lives in jeopardy. Not just women who have decided or need to terminate a pregnancy, but couples, men and women who wish to use in-vitro fertilization to create a family, and the amendment would limit research that tries to ferret out the secrets of human physiology. These are all complicated situations, with no easy answers. The answer is easy on this amendment. Like the sign says, "48, No, No."

Ink blot photography

Looks like a lab experiment or something from under the microscope. This was the last image I made, I was starting to get a little creeped out and decided to go back to watching the news.

More Night Sky

This is my view from the balcony looking across the "park."

Night Sky

I was sitting on my balcony last night watching the funky clouds go by. I grabbed my camera and made a few images. A little spooky, but the dark stuff is what makes life a little more interesting. These images were made with my D200 with my 80-200mm lens and I tried my skill at hand-holding as opposed to using a tripod. I got fair results.

I decided to try an experiment: I bought a Nikkor f1.8 50mm fixed focal length lens cheap at Camera Trader. I'm going to try and shoot using just that length lens. Kenn has been after us (Josh has too for that matter) to shoot at EITHER range of the lens. Shoot at either 18mm or 55mm. Shoot at 80mm or 200mm. Move your feet, not the lens. I'm curious to see where my meter length strength resides.

Good thing fixed focal length lenses are cheap. Cheap all right. Frickin' plastic. Argh.

Mystery Shoot #1

A couple of weeks ago my friend Travis launched the initiatory "Mystery Shoot" event. Mystery Shoot is an invitation only group that gets together on specified dates and the photographers have no idea where and what they'll be shooting. It's a fun chance to meet people, compare styles, gear and vision. Each member takes a turn "hosting" an event that hopefully will challenge and explore the participant's creative energy. It's a good time.

The first Mystery Shoot took place at the Denver Zoo, a simple way to get everyone's feet wet with plenty of subject matter. My favorites? Details shots.

Mr. Buffalo obliged.

Como

Como is a small town in the South Park area just west of Kenosha Pass. It's a magical little area that contains a flat plain of prairie grass lodged up against the surrounding mountains. Forest access roads are plentiful, with varying degrees of difficulty available for 4-wheel vehicles of all types. Today, my jeep isn't going into the back country; it's stupid to go there alone. Houses are far and few between, but Como is an ancient railway stop that sports a small community of all ages and occupations and includes a community center. It was my goal for the day, saving the bouncing ride for another time with family and friends.

More DNC thoughts

After seeing everyone's images in both the classroom and the photog's meeting at the Met today, I realized how much I missed out on by being inside on the camera stand. Funny, I'm the only one who had the camera stand pass, and I was the most isolated from all the important stuff that was going on.

Don't get me wrong, I'm very grateful for the opportunity, but when I fell back on my organizational and management skills like I usually do, I missed out on the chance to acquire new skills and be somebody different. They are hard lessons to learn, the ones when you're trying to change how you are perceived and what you want to accomplish. We're always evolving as people but if we try to venture off the beaten path, we can encounter resistance from both outside and inside ourselves. The inside resistance is the hardest to overcome.

Anyway, the images made by my 4600 class and the photogs at the Met were really special. I was stuck on the camera stand having to slyly take images at limited intervals. It wasn't about embracing being a photojournalist and the freedom of that, it was about toeing the line and doing what I saw needed to be done for the Associated Press's editing needs. Funny thing was that the other camera stand person didn't want to be outside shooting the unwashed masses, they wanted to be inside shooting the formal stuff. If there would have been better communication, I would have happily traded and spent part of the time outside. I could have done it and done it well.

Now, the opportunity is passed.

I learned a lot, don't get me wrong, and I'm most grateful to have seen what few people get to witness. I just want to see myself being successful at something other than the skills I've already spent a lifetime working on. I wanted some confidence and chances to stretch my photographic wings. These are the hardest things to ask for, those things that you have to give yourself.

AP@DNC - Epilogue

Honestly, there was no way I was going to be able to post anything the last 2 days of the DNC.

The sights, sounds and colors of this adventure will stay with me forever. Luckily, the fatigue is abating and I'm getting back on my feet again.

More to come later.

AP@DNC--Day 2

Tonight's final speaker was Hillary Clinton. Did I get to see her? Nope.

Like I've mentioned before, the traffic management at the DNC is really poor. It was so bad this evening that the fire marshall ordered all portals to the main floor closed, allowing people to exit with no chance of re-entry until after the session was through. When every seat is full, there are still hundreds of people who are milling around in the aisles and walkway. This is further complicated by the endless TV crews that stop and interview people where they find them, thereby efficiently blocking any movement. People stand and gawk at these interchanges, cameras and cell phones flashing, the more "sophisticated" amateur uses digital SLRs, but regardless of equipment, they all stand there hoping to capture some important moment in Democratic history. They are blissfully ignorant and unaware of the problem they create.

I was sent on an errand inside of this human collision to retrieve cards from one of the photographers that had important images that needed to go out on the AP wire. This meant jumping into the foray and leaving my runners to fend for themselves. At this point we didn't know the exits were going to be closed, but with the photographer unable and unwilling to leave his choice location, there simply wasn't a choice. I had to go.

After many close quarter encounters with people of all sizes, shapes, colors and purse sizes and one encounter with a groper, I managed to get to a place that I thought I was home free. I ended up being stranded above the AP platform and out of reach of the photo editors, unable to re-enter due to the restrictions of the fire marshall. So, I watched Hillary Clinton through the curtains of the portal entrance which remind me of being at the Coliseum watching the Stock Show.

I heard from others that her speech was great. She was able to motivate a response from the crowd that was even better than the reaction to NPR's favorite goat candidate, Dennis Kucinich.

Still, no real photographs. Odd how almost everything about this photojournalistic internship has NOT been about shooting and cameras. It's been about time management, crowd management, getting cards straight and working with all types of personalities under difficult, trying circumstances that are aggravated by lack of breaks, food and quiet. The stress is great for everyone from photographers to editors to runners.

It takes something special to do this job on a regular basis, and it isn't about the skills I thought were most important. It's about professionalism,and not being the one that lets down the AP and its successful history of 160 years.

It's a high standard and a lot of hard work.

AP@DNC--WOW!

Well, I wasn't ready for that.

I now understand why people don't really try to explain what goes on for photographers and assistants during an event like the DNC. There are no words to describe what you see and how things unfold.

We weren't allowed to take our cameras into the convention tonight, but I snuck in my little Coolpix and got a few shots when I wasn't trying to manage cards for 2 editors, 3 runners and 4 photographers. So, I'll try to image it with words instead of pictures.

The absolute shoulder to shoulder congestion on the floor and stairs inside the Pepsi Center is spectacular. Runners tonight couldn't get through the people wall without great difficulty.

Kudos to the runners for keeping track of their photogs and keeping all the cards straight. There's one "Camera Stand" pass and I have it. It means I'm one of the few people from the AP allowed on the levels that directly face the podium, so therefore I'm up and down the stairs and have to keep a watch out for runners coming my way, as well as letting the photo editors know when "notable" people are in the vicinity. Through talking with the runners, I know where the photographers are, and I can see some of the taller shooters, so it's also my job to let the editors know if there's something needs to be shot and there isn't anyone to take the picture. Add to that the band and all the cheering and it's hard to communicate through something other than hand signals or yelling loudly.

It truly is chaos.

AP - Carpet Man

No job is too small or too unimportant at the Democratic National Convention.

AP - Random Things

Katie Couric wears flip flops while she does her sit-down broadcasts.

Anderson Cooper is friendly and signed an autograph for Natalie, one of the interns

Kenn Bisio was right; they really do edit that fast. However, they do crop the shit out of things.

Running shoes are the only sensible footwear for interns.

Interns take out trash, get water, find instructions on how to work the phone, fill the fridge and sit around.

Police radios are a great way to overhear where the "action" is.

Keep one eye on the subject, the other on the guy with the baton.

Secret Service people get a goody-bag filled with stuff we aren't allowed to see.

Don't forget extra CF cards and don't mix up the photogs CF cards.

Domke bags are awesome.

The Pepsi Center has someone who trims the carpet with a pair of scissors.

Everybody has a story including journalists.

Lose your credentials and you won't see the inside of the Pepsi Center.

When the guy with the gun asks where's a hole punch, you find one for him.

Parking is a nightmare and it's intended to be that way.

People are stupid enough to go downtown and watch the protesters like it's a spectator sport.

AP- Tomorrow's the Day

The last few days in the tech tent have been a blur of new faces, new equipment, new security procedures and the wonder of it all. The AP is a professional organization. However, when they talked about the "chaos" that will ensue in trying to capture the energy and vitality of something like this, they weren't kidding. The convention hasn't even started yet and already we are cattywumpus around the streets of Denver running cards, trying to avoid being tear-gassed, and watching the endless parade of celebrities, the infamous, and the plain old weird.

The tech tent is no longer an icebox; the place is filled with dozens of journalists and where there was time and place for the on-going Monopoly tournament, doing that now would be almost obscene. Next to the AP section of Pavilion #3, we have an oxygen bar, ready to serve. The one commodity that's scarce is food. Not sweets and junk, but real food.

Getting in and out of the DNC perimeter is fierce. It's not like you can come and go at leisure. You also can't bring a cooler filled with food either. Fruits and vegetables are a no-no, since they are low-rent tools for making political criticisms. Runners bring food ordered in from delis around the Lo-Do area, but their average delivery time is about 2 hours. Trying to pair sandwich and owner puts a lot of miles on your meal, and to add insult to injury, a sandwich runs about $8 to $10.

We lost two runners today. One had a bad reaction to food she ate, and another runner collapsed and paramedics had to be called. Heat stroke is very real in Colorado, and a combination of events put our runner on track for a visit with the mobile medics and a trip to the ER. Hydration is the key, and the downtown runners will be carrying several bottles of water in their backpacks to assist the photographers and keep them going as well as keep up their own intake. Some of the interns/runners are on bikes, and pedaling CF cards to the AP office on 14th and Wazee saves time and shoe leather. This was true today when protesters shut down streets around the Civic Center and intersections downtown. Their focus was the Light Rail and mall shuttles, effectively bringing a halt to a quick way to get the "outside" images to a card reader at an editor's desk.

My bike gets loaded up tomorrow morning and it and I will head to downtown. We are splitting shifts between being "inside" assisting the floor photographers who are a few feet away from the podium and being "outside" where the protesters, tent state and heat stroke are waiting on each corner.

We had a quick lesson today in the gas masks that the AP supplies its journalists. Somehow the demonstration of how to use one bring confrontation a little closer, it was easier to believe that the conflict is farther away.

AP Prep

Few people realize how much work goes into setting an event up. Sure, wedding coordinators know it; even rave planners know it. The person I've seen who knows best is Kathy Packer. Kathy is the administrative assistant for the Denver bureau of the Associated Press and that title doesn't even begin to cover what she has to do to get not only the AP ready, but to get the interns ready as well.

Last night, right before our shift ended in the techinal equipment tent at 10 p.m., Kathy and her daughter Ginger pulled up with a mini-van filled with more than $1000 worth of water, pop, cookies, paper towels, plates, coffee and the usual trappings. The back end of her van was draggin' like she was hauling a swimming pool back there. Not only does she shop for this stuff, she transports it, unloads it, and no doubt accounts for it in the AP budget. The "T"'s are crossed, the "I"'s are dotted.

This is by no means the only shipment of staples this tent will receive. This is only to keep the crew working on setting up the computers and network BEFORE the DNC starts. Kathy does this work on her own time, and it includes such things as ordering 28 television sets and handling all of the office supplies for the huge amount of people that will be working in this tent. Tonight, it's around 8 p.m. and Kathy is out shlepping around. We expect her back in here shortly, and she says her night will go until about 10 p.m. as she sorts out the unending tangle that is the logistic of AP.

I haven't even mentioned the huge effort needed to coordinate the interns. There are about 30 of us, and one missed set of credentials can make a person's day rough. Simply it means you won't get into the Pepsi Center or surrounding area. It's not happening. I watched some guy try to talk his way into the Pepsi Center parking lot when I came in at 5 p.m. and he didn't get anything other than a chance to see if the turning radius on his car was good.

All the interns will have to delegated tasks, some of us will be matched up and mentored by other AP professionals. Some will be gophers, or hang out in the equipment tent and those schedules will have to be arranged, and of course changes will have to be made to accomodate the individual details of people's lives. At the most basic level, someone has to help familiarize the interns with the whole process of the DNC, and that someone will most likely be Kathy.

With a quick smile and teaming energy, Kathy will get all of this done. She is caring for both the human and the commodity end of the AP, and hopefully, the interns will see how dedicated she is and treat her with the respect she deserves.

If not, they'll have to answer to me.

AP Fridge

The Pepsi Center has become a tent city of structures designed to hold hi-tech media equipment used to assist the media in reporting the happenings at the DNC. Right now, the only people at the AP tent are the craftsman that design the network, install the computers, routers, wireless, phones, televisions and other media equipment. I'll introduce you to some of the master technicians in a later blog, they have stories to tell as well.

The AP branch of Frigidaire is temperature controlled and one of the coldest places I've been all summer. Gale force winds circulate air conditioning to protect the equipment, but with nothing to stop the flow of air, it's an icebox. Students like myself are already working in the tent, watching over the extensive equipment, and our shifts are both evening and overnight. Shoshona Tyler has been one of the students working the overnight shift and on Tuesday, she brought long underwear to help keep warm. I kid you not.

It's a strange mix in the AP tent of expensive electronic equipment, leaves and sprinklers. The Pavilion that houses the AP is part of the parking lot closest to the Pepsi Center and under the huge tent, complete with an indoor arboretum, all things that grow need water.

Monday night around 10 p.m. the sprinklers came on. Indoors. Right next to thousands of dollars of electronics. There were four of us there, Virginia Packer, daughter of Katherine Packer, administrative assistant at the AP, Shoshona Tyler and Dominic Graziano and myself and we scrambled fast to move boxed and unboxed computers, wrap garbage bags around the data outlets and try to find someone to shut the water off.

We notified the technicians, and they had to make a late night junket to the tent to check out the damage. Fortunately, there wasn't any, but it was entertaining nonetheless.

Tomorrow!

So I get a call late this afternoon from Kathy Packer, the administrative assistant from the AP and she asked me if I was ready to go to work as of Tuesday. Of course, I said yes.

So tomorrow I meet her at the AP office, I get MY CREDENTIALS and we walk over to the Pepsi Center and I get going. My job isn't glamorous; I'll be working in the equipment room, but technical equipment for the AP@DNC is pretty important, so we'll see what that looks like. What am I going to do, say no?

Sure, I would like for someone to walk up and say to me, "Hey, we can see it in your eyes, you're the world's best shooter," but I don't think that's going to happen. I'm willing to start somewhere!

I work the evening shift and get about 25 hours this week and get to see the operation from the ground up. That might be worth documenting, yah think?

In Kenn's Photojournalism II class this morning, he had some wisdom for those of who will be shooting the DNC or trying to get stories from the assorted venues. Communities like Tent State in La Cuchavera (spelling) park, or possibly from the homeless community that hosts rumors of bus tickets to Los Angeles and other cities to get their presence off the streets of Denver during the DNC are fertile ground for "interaction." We'll see what that looks like.

Kenn's wisdom: "If you get tear-gassed, put the camera on auto-focus and keep shooting."

Associated Press- Here we go!

On Thursday, a group of Metro students got the chance to meet with News Editor, Jim Anderson of the Associated Press bureau located here in Denver.

This wasn't just a random meeting. Many months of emails, questions, paperwork and waiting culminated in the selection of about 20 students from Metro State College to assist writers, photographers, editors and just about anyone else covering the Democratic National Convention starting at the end of August.

The office of the AP is located near 14th and Wazee in Denver, housed in one of the buildings on the site of the old Elephant Corral, an icon of Denver's historical past. The AP is on the lower level, with walls of old textured brick that document the building's age and link it to Denver's past. Fitting that the AP is in one of the oldest areas of Denver, as if to say that this bureau is rooted in Denver's past with a watchful eye on its future.

The office is small and space is a luxury, but these building are familiar to me; I used to read the gas and electric meters in this part of town when I worked for Public Service, and it's like coming to visit an old friend. I'm pretty sure I can find their big 5-dial and their demand along with a few commercials. Maybe even I'd find a closed loop on the mid-span or a DV in the BM.

This is a different time and place, and it's a different job. The main thing that concerned me was how we would be perceived by the staff at AP. This always affects me because I stand out from everyone else when I'm around my Metro peers. Sometimes it's a challenge to live life in two distinctly different worlds; successful student who knows to shut up and listen and successful adult who has navigated experiences from illness to inheritance. I was relieved they see us as part of the team and our individual talents and skills will be put to use regardless of where we are in our journey. Jim told us our experience and knowledge of Denver, its culture and community will be invaluable as the days ahead progress.

I felt like Jim and the Human Resource staff interacted with us as if we were professionals, and I have always loved that feeling. That straightforward treatment makes me want to do more, accomplish more. For me, for them. I don't mean the kind of intro you get when people want you to use the Pike Place Market method of selling fish, and what they're selling will stink like dead fish if you take it out into the workplace. I'm talking about being treated liked they're glad to see you, not that they're afraid you'll eat all the Hershey's kisses out of the candy jar leaving only yellow Jolly Ranchers.

We filled out our paperwork, had our ID's copied, and got a huge dose of excitement over our pending journey through the Democratic National Convention and the world of media communication. We're on our way.

Jim told us we're going to get a big old dose of chaos. Cool.

True to chaotic form, it's back to the AP for more paperwork and social security cards that need to be copied by Monday since we are considered employees of the AP and will earn a paycheck for our service. I'm ready to get started, not because I'm getting paid, but because there's a special excitement at being part of the process of setting all this up and watching it come to fruition.

We'll see what's coming next.

PSA-MobileMe Problems

OK-
If you are unlucky enough to be a current mac.com member, you have received the countless emails hyping MobileMe.

I have the answer to the problem you are going to have if you try and renew your account through MobileMe's website. When you try to give Apple money, guess what? They won't take it. OK- enough drama.

I needed to renew my subscription to continue my mac.com email and website access. I logged into MobileMe which is now the carrier for mac.com subscribers. I entered in my credit card number and got the spinning wheel of death. The card never went through. I tried a second card, it didn't go through, either. I tried logging into my account on my PC, I tried using FireFox instead of Safari. No joy.

As I am trying all these different avenues, I'm getting emails from MobileMe saying my account has been de-activated and I need to renew. Duh.

I went to the Apple store at Aspen Grove and talked with an associate there who explained that lots of people are having problems with renewing accounts with MobileMe. He wasn't quite positive about what exactly was happening with MobileMe, but in true salesman fashion, he sold me something. While in the store, we logged into my account and tried again, unsuccessfully to renew my account. He suggested purchasing another activation key at $99 and try it right there in the store. We did. It didn't work. He refunded my money and told me to contact MobileMe support chatline. I was told to be prepared to wait a little when I get into the LiveChat.

How about 3 hours?

Waiting.

Waiting with their little minute counter that counts down how many minutes you have left to wait with the ratio of posted minutes equally about 3.5 minutes to every 1 of theirs. My count the FIRST time I entered LiveChat? Fifty-three minutes. Total time waiting? Three hours.

Did the technician help me? Yes and no. We were online trying different things to make the system take my payment (Imagine, having a hard time giving a multi-million dollar company money. Something's wrong with that picture).
I wasn't able to get the payment through, but she did tell me that the auto-renew feature built into Macs was the problem, and if she de-activated the feature it should take my payment. In 24 hours.

I tried again this morning, and still luck. Back online again, this time is was 3.5 hours of waiting. This technician told me that the problem was the auto-renew feature and since it was de-activated, I need to go back to Aspen Grove and purchase another activation key and try again. Back to Aspen Grove.

The associate who sold me my new activation key suggested I try to renew there at the store, and this time it worked. Done deal.

Here's the skinny. If you are unlucky enough to need to renew, check out the FAQ on the MobileMe page. There is a lot of interesting information on there. They are extending customer's accounts at no charge, even though the emails say something else. Ignore the emails. Pay attention to the FAQ. Unfortunately, the last time that page was updated was July 16, 2008, so good luck. This is the information age, right?

You will have to go into LiveChat and ask them to de-activate the auto-renew. You will have to go buy a new activation key in person, online won't work. At least the associate gave me MobileMe for $69 instead of $99, but I had to do some complaining to get that to happen.

Apple realizes that MobileMe is a pig's ear that'll never be a silk purse. We've come to expect a better product from Apple so disappointment is even more bitter.

Dealing with this felt like what most PC users experience when dealing with Windows Vista every single day. Ugh.

PSA-The Dark Knight

I'm rather a superhero genre fan, and I saw The Dark Knight this morning. The plot is intricate and can be hard to follow, but it has some teeth to it and is worth seeing.

The best reason to see it? Heath Ledger.

What a performance.

Archive Queen

I had a great idea; sort through the family's photographs in preparation for moving to my new apartment in Lakewood. Trim down my "collection" and divide the extra kids' photos and memorabilia into a series of albums and scrapbooks and then give these books to my kids, Kate, Jill and Paul to keep. Sounds simple, doesn't it?

There are hundreds. HUNDREDS of photos of my family, friends, homes, vacations, sporting events, pets, school photos, school functions, violin recitals, french horn recitals, award ceremonies, Hoop Shoot contests, soapbox derby races, fishing trips, hunting trips, motorcycles rides, bikes, golfing, cars, proms, weddings, home improvement and anything that stood still long enough to be photographed. It all adds up to a huge amount of paper.

The oldest photo I have is of my grandmother, Mary, from around 1905. It's the earliest photo there is of her since she left Hungary in April 1912 and photos weren't something her poor family took advantage of. On a footnote, I found her immigration record from Ellis Island that documented the day she arrived from Bremen, Germany. On her record she is just a number, with a notation that she had $75 in her pocket and a relative in New Jersey. No record of the relative was ever found. Notice the date? She arrived a few days after the Titanic sank. She was in the North Atlantic the same time that tragedy happened. Did she know?

So, I'm the keeper of the archives.

That's a loose term. It means I have dozens of boxes and albums in assorted boxes and plastic containers and sorting through it is overwhelming.

Apparently it's safe to leave your memories with me.

Movin' On

Well, my house finally sold. It was no muss, no fuss, no problem. I met the prospective buyers and they are so nice and had the decency not to go through my cabinets and drawers while I was standing right there. What a relief.

If you need a real estate agent, of course I recommend my friend, Mike Johnson. Mike and I met when we both worked at Public Service (Xcel Energy) as gas and electric meter readers in 1989 ( Wow, are there some interesting stories from the world of meter readers, but I digress). It takes two agents to make a transaction go perfectly smooth and the other player in this game is Les Pfenning. Either way, you can't lose with these two agents.

Funny, I might have listened to some of the other offers on my house if people would have been respectful and remembered that even though this house was on the market, IT'S STILL MY HOUSE. This applies to both buyers and their agents. It ended up being a good lesson for me regarding one of the Four Agreements: Don't take anything personally.

This will sound silly, but I'm glad this house will see bright eyed children on Christmas morning later this year when they come down the stairs to see what Santa left. It will also wish kids good luck on "first days of school" and pictures carefully made in class will hang on the big black side by side fridge in the kitchen. One of the 22 kids in the cult-de-sac will come by and ring the doorbell and ask if so-and-so is home and can they play.

They new buyers already have plans for the carpeting in the front room and stairs. I know how they feel; I couldn't wait to tear out the white carpet in the dining room (!!!) and the awful Pergo floor that was installed badly and looked like a picture of wood grain pasted to cardboard.

So now, I have to get my apartment lined up, and I know where I'm going and it's gorgeous. I have some navigating to do since Summer classes will be ending at the beginning of August, I have a Social Doc class going to Sante Fe that week, the Fall semester starts on August 11, and I close on the 15th and have 2 days to move. Did I mention I'm one of the students assisting at the DNC under the auspices of the Associated Press? It's a glorified gopher position, but I don't care. It looks good on a resume and it should a great place to learn. I hope they don't make me wear pantyhose.

So, the adventure begins.

Seeing the Blind

I had the chance to do some images for a slideshow presentation being put together for a group of blind people at Abundant Life church in Westminster. The organization assists people with an assortment of visual impairments with services but the most important resource is a chance to socialize and worship. Danny Harmon collected some interesting audio to go along with the images. We'll see how it turns out. Making pictures was tough; it was some of the ugliest light I've ever seen, and my flash batteries went kaput. Ah well.

Years ago I worked for a master acupuncturist as his assistant and apprentice. That's right, I know how to use really sharp needles to make you do things. Emmett was legally blind and used a guide dog, her name was Bacall. At times he would ask that if I ran an errand or needed to get out of the office, would I take Bacall. He told me that at times he just needed to be alone and not be "guided." It's interesting trying to wind your way through a store that she knows and she would work hard to "guide" me. Dogs.

I was introduced to the world of the blind while working with Emmett, and learned how a world without sight functions. I became a whiz at tongue diagnosis (an important aspect of oriental medicine) only because you have to be able to see to use this particular empirical to accurately diagnosis Qi problems. He had several "apprenti," and we all took turns assisting in the management of his life and practice, and at times, we did resent it. In all fairness, he made a huge effort to make sure we were compensated for our time and effort, but it was hard nonetheless.

I have had a lot of people in my life who have a disability of some kind. My ex-sister-in-law Cathy is deaf, and the rest of that family hard of hearing. This usually meant the TV was up loud all the time and there was a lot of yelling anytime you went over to their house. I learned American Sign Language (ASL) out of self-defense, because they would talk about you right in front of you, and you couldn't understand a word they were saying. I understand now. I became so proficient in ASL that I would translate for Cathy when she would get a ticket and have to go to court. Interpreting in a legal setting is high pressure to be sure. You can make big bucks doing it, but it wasn't for me.

So anyway, it was interesting to see this little slice of life at Abundant Life church. They are a pretty tight knit group and provide support for each other. They welcomed me openly and I had a good time. I just wish that the sighted people who were around would have stopped saying to my prospective subjects, "Smile! She's taking your picture!"

Some of the participants said they could "feel" my flash; others said they had no hint of bright light. It's interesting to think about, especially in light of the fact I couldn't do what I love without my eyes.

Weird-city

Do you know how weird it is to be standing in your kitchen and have TOTAL strangers looking through your kitchen cabinets? I hate the whole selling-the-house-lookey-loo-I-don't-like-your-color-carpet-can-you-give-me-$10,000-in-seller-assistance-because-I-don't-have-money-to-buy-your-house-but-I'm-entitled.....

Lordy.

Rocky Mountain News Tour

I had an opportunity today to take a tour of the 5th floor of the Rocky Mountain News with the Beginning Reporting class at Metro.  We were met by a 24-year veteran of journalism who guided us around and told the Rocky's history and recent proud accomplishments. 

Once you wind your way past the sweeping security desk framed by historical front page framed art and a gallery of photographer's work you are escorted to elevators that take you to the 5th floor, a sort of mecca for would-be journalists.  That floor is where the reporters have their low-walled shades of gray cubicles and produce the articles and stories that are read in the newspaper everyday.   

Overhead large flat screen TV sets silently report the news from major news sources and local Denver stations.  We are introduced to several people, a columnist here, a photo editor there.  Most desks consist of PILES of paper: old newspapers, new newspapers, post-it notes, cards, work-up copies, magazines, just an endless prairie of paper.  

The photographer's area?  Deserted. 

People are pleasant yet distant.  I've had enough "newcomer" tours in my working tenure to recognize the faces of people who know the lay of the land and they're not eager to share the terrible secrets.  

Empty desks are few and far between, giving the area a bustling, busy look, but it turns out the empty desks are further back, around the corner.  There are groups of them that sit empty having been vacated by "experience" that no longer is at the Rocky.  

One can feel the newness of the place.  

Newness - the people in the online section don't make eye contact.  They are absorbed in the computer news-void and you can wonder about that generation's social skill level.  Newness - the street sign that says "Gene Amole Blvd" looks out of place and like it's covering a spot on the wall.  The place doesn't have that lived in feel just yet.  Or how a house feels when you stop being sure you can pay the mortgage.   

If you pay attention, you can feel the ancient excitement of journalism that has nothing to do with the rise or decline of anything.  I don't think the spirit of writing, communication and connecting with a single person or diverse concept can be kept down by worries of circulation numbers.  People will keep writing and interpreting our world and what we as readers can't see because we can't be all places at once. 

There's more - the visceral need of mankind to document its presence on whatever surface it can find.  It will continue.  The caves in France from 15,000 BCE, "Kilroy was here" from World War II, and whoever is writing "Stop the Oil War" on idle trains in the Burlington Northern rail-yard in Denver. 

The group of people we saw today help form the opinion of the city of Denver and how we view what goes on around us.  As I looked into the faces of some of the editors and columnists I know that the news isn't something that you come in and do fresh off the farm.  It isn't like working at a job that can be learned in a few days.  I understand what "experience" means when it comes to journalism.  Time and attention.  

Still, there's that nagging question about where print media is heading.  Who knows?  People a lot more intelligent than me are bringing together the information that are like bricks that pave the road to the future, but what kind of road those bricks will make when they are all put together is still a mystery.  Whatever the outcome, journalism will survive, however it may take different forms.  

We were told today that there are plenty of jobs to be had in journalism.  You'd better be good at more than just writing, though.  You better know how to shoot, edit audio, take and edit video and make audio slideshows.  Some of the students had a far away look in their eyes when they realize that they are going to have to work a whole lot harder than the man who gave us the tour.  

Times have changed, that's for sure.  

Maybe what the "Gene Amole Blvd" sign covers is the writing on the wall about the future of print news.  

We'll see.

Here's two photos of about the same position looking west from the my garage.  Little bit of a difference. 

Summer Storm - 2007

This is from the Castlewood Canyon last summer. This wall of summer storm came over and I just waited for it to come my way.  

This is from the Botanic Gardens last year.  Travis and I went there early one morning to get some nice macro stuff.  

Bode and Bella

Last semester I did a terrible final project for photojournalism on a family that lives near me who was in the process of adopting two children from Ethiopia.  After a very long process, Brant and Karen Schelhaas went there to pick up Bode and Bella and brought them home to Highlands Ranch.  Karen says that the language issue is slowly being worked through and mostly communication happens through a charades-like pantomime to get the point across.













Today was the first day Bode and Bella have been out to play in the cul-de-sac with the other neighbor children.  Bode is all boy and loves to kick a ball around soccer-style.  Bella is fascinated by bikes and wants to ride, but mostly she wants to be with Karen, holding her hand or just being held.  They both smile for the camera, but after a few seconds their eyes mist over in a faraway glaze and one can't help but wonder what they are thinking.












Bode is around 2, Bella around 5, but no one is really sure. It is easy to compare them to the children playing in the yards around their house, but only their birth parents know for sure, and the are a long long way away not only in distance, but in language and culture as well.

Welcome to the neighborhood kids!

Graduation 2008

It was fun going to graduation, even with all the names that had to be read! I was able to watch friends graduate and it gives you the energy to keep going until YOU graduate.  I got to spend some time with my friend, Stephanie Overbeck who graduated cum laude with a degree in psychology.  She's off to Alaska to wait through the graduate school process and I miss her already.