I'll take 'learn some manners' for 100, Alex . . .

THIS IS A WARNING.  I AM ABOUT TO RANT.  PLEASE BE ADVISED THAT RANTING IS FORTHCOMING.  YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

Sunday was Mother's Day, a special day.  Many of us had warm experiences, surrounded by loved ones.  We are fortunate, to be sure.  I had a wonderful day.

My kids and I surprised my grandmother (their great grandmother) by showing up at her church just before the service began.  Working to get everyone ready and make our way an hour away was certainly worth it.  When I saw the look on my grandmother's face, it was clear that her Mother's Day had been made!  We were joined by my Dad, my Step-mom and my uncle, and we filled the pew where my grandmother usually sits alone.  It was a special moment.

Our afternoon went along as you might imagine . . . a big dinner, put together with love, more relatives and the following few hours filled with talks and laughs and 'shows' by the children and stories about 'the old days.'  It was the type of afternoon we don't have much anymore; a time I won't forget.  I reveled in the visiting time with the family that filled the oft-quiet living room, and I treasure the giggles on my childrens' faces as they laughed with the family members who used to make me laugh as a child.

My kids presented (they don't give gifts - they present them) our home-made gifts to the delighted Mamas in the room, and we missed the ones that were not with us.  Everyone kicked off shoes, got comfortable and savored our time together.  There were all of the ingredients to the perfect family afternoon.  It was rainy and gray outside, but cozy and satisfying in our circle in my grandmother's den.  We were all happy to give up the Sunday afternoon nap to experience the rare time together.

I loaded our left-overs and my children into our van to leave, and they quieted themselves into car activities for the rainy ride home.  I was left in the front seat with memories and thoughts and thankfulness.  I remembered a lot on the drive home.  I thought back about similar days I lived in my childhood, other times I relished in the love and closeness of family.

I thought about why the day seemed so different than so many days of the present . . . and then it hit me.

To be sure, the day was different because our group doesn't get to assemble often, and we rarely take the time to really visit with each other.  We rarely remember to stop our present to make new memories, to allow our children the safe feeling of sitting amongst a group of loved ones, listening to the stories and the memories and the funny tales.  We rarely do that, but that wasn't what made it different.  That wasn't what made me take such notice.

As I drove home on that rainy Sunday, I realized the present day menace that was missing from the day.  I realized the palm-sized communication tool which was not present.  I realized one more BIG reason that the day was different.

Our warm celebration was different because there was not a cell phone present.  Not one time during our afternoon visit did anyone take their attention away from the important people in the room to give attention to their phone.  No one checked their email.  No one looked down to answer a text.  No one absent-mindedly played a game.  No hand slipped into a pocket to grab their black security blanket.  No one.

Can you believe it?  I am struck by the huge difference that made in our day.  Our attention was actually in the room, on the people with whom we celebrated.  We were really talking to the people in the room with us.  We were a circle of adults and children without anyone sneaking a glance into a lap to attend to someone, something far away.  Nothing was more important than where we were, what we were doing.  Our emails waited.   I missed a text.  Our kids didn't play any games.

We looked at each other.  We laughed.  We snuggled.  We hugged.  We told stories.  We listened to each other.  We were there, in the room.

And that, I realized on the drive back home to the present, was a huge difference in our day.

I don't presume to suggest that I don't count on my phone.  I do.  I check my email over and over during the day.  I text many times.  I end my night, on my phone, playing word games with friends I don't even see!  I take my phone everywhere.  It is my watch, my computer, my calendar.  I'm guilty of looking at it when I shouldn't.  I have snuck it out of my pocket during boring meetings - I have.

But I'm sad, friends, about what we've allowed to happen with these new 'necessities.'  We forgot our manners; we don't remember how to be polite.  More important than that, though, we are missing the people in our presence.

I don't like it.

Sunday I had a taste of what life used to be like, and I remembered how good it felt.

Think back.  It was nice.  Imagine sitting with friends or family and having them there, in the conversation.  Imagine being with people who are actually there with you, looking into your eyes and not sneaking glances downward at their phone.

I'll stop here.  I won't go on and on.  I won't rattle off the stories about the impoliteness (at the very least) that I've witnessed in the last few years.  I want to, but I won't.

But I know one thing - I want to show my children something different.  I want them to be in the midst of adults who see them, who look into their eyes and who do not divert attention to someone more important in another town.  Who is more important?  Why can't it wait?

Sunday was special.  I want more of it.  I want you to get some, too.

I want my kids to have memories like mine.  I don't want them to remember looking at the top of or heads as we look at our phones.





And now, we have a winner to announce!  Yesterday's photo tripped up a lot of folks.  I'm impressed with your guesses!

This was the mystery photo . . .

And this is what it was . . . 

We only had four correct guesses!  Thanks for playing, friends.  The winner, drawn at random from random.org, is Rodrick B.  Way to go!  Let me know when you all are ready for your photo session on me!  

Better than chocolate bunnies . . .

A had a nice surprise when I looked back over my Easter Sunday photographs.  Sometimes in the hustle and bustle of the business part of photographing, my own personal shots get pushed on the back burner.  After a wonderful Easter celebration, I found myself quickly back to the projects that demanded my attention and not on the family and church photos.

Easter was rushed.  It was a beautiful day and the church was more flowered and festive than anything I could imagine and every child there looked like they should be starring in a big box office hit, and the service was joyous and prayerful and everything was just about perfect; but still, it was rushed.  I knew I was releasing the shutter over and over all of the day, but I wasn't thinking much about what I was doing.  I'll have to say I was on a bit of an automatic pilot mode.

Sometimes when I have taken photos without a great deal of thought, I don't find myself as anxious to view them as I usually am.  I think that's how I was after Easter.  But - as you surely know by now - I can leave the laundry undone and the den undusted, but I will never leave a memory card in a camera for long before I connect to my computer and set those images free!  And so I did.  I expected the usual, the colorful outfits on the joyful children and smiles as they searched for eggs and such.  I had those, to be sure, and they made me smile.

My biggest smiles, though, came from some surprises.  I few photos sent me immediately back to the moment they captured and reminded me again that there is magic in still photography.  There is nothing particular outstanding about these shots.  They are not photos where I spent a great deal of time on the settings, or analyzing the lights.  They did not come out of any preplanning.  These few favorites just did what I love best about photographs - they instantly transported me to another place - back to Easter morning, surrounded by loved ones in a gorgeous building.  They tell their own stories, and that's what I really dig.  Pictures telling stories . . . ah.

 . . . loved the sun flare here and looking out at the people from the safety and sacredness of the church

 . . . just loved seeing these big men walking into church with the intent of choirboys

. . . it's always good to capture the waiting and wondering and watching

          . . . . this one went quickly to the top of my all time favorite photos - again, not for it's technical perfection but for the story that it tells me, the feelings it evokes, the way I can look at this sweet lady's head and know so very very much.  She is nearing 98 and quite independent and she has always been a wearer of fancy hats.  The way she is praying there with the same bowed head of the choir members down in front, just seems like an Easter miracle!  This photo is priceless to me.  

. . . and this is the spot that invites the sun in  for just a bit of the service.  I  love it when I notice that the sun is dancing around on their hair and upon their books.

 

. . . I could eat this up - he's just spotted his grandmother in a pew in the back.  Watch his face . . . this is love.

. . . always fun to get another perspective.

. . . and again.

. . . another face.  So, so sweet.

I think you can tell the story here . . . it's time to hunt some eggs!

This was outside, towards the end of the hunt.  I had to go back into the church to get my camera bag and I heard one more story, one more message from the day . . . 

There was something meaningful for me about this sight.  Outside it was very exciting, but loud and cacophonous.  There were happy voices and shrieks everywhere.  When I re-entered the church, this quiet corner reminded me that this quiet, prayerful place is always here.  It's always the same.  It always offers us the same solace, the same escape from the crazy outside world.  It told the story of its sturdiness, the way this safe place is always and forever right here.  It's always waiting on folks from the outside to take a moment and come in for rest and refreshment and renewal.  It's just here, waiting, doing what it does.

Happy Easter.  

Chilling out and changing plans . . .

I love what I do.  I like thinking of it as an adventure.  Each day is a different leg of the adventure; I might be doing anything!  Sometimes I'm 'shooting' a giggling little baby, another occasion I might be working on a serious portrait, a business headshot, a growing family.  It's always something different, and that works perfectly with my personality.

So, the job to photograph a beautiful church pipe organ for a magazine cover was another perfect part of the adventure!  An organ, I thought . . . it won't run away, I won't have to worry about blinking or about one of the kids looking the wrong way or skin tones or outfit changes.  This would be fun.  I would enjoy considering the lighting needs, the different artistic angles, deciding on the way to 'paint the picture' of this majestic instrument for the people who would see the images.

And it was enjoyable.  I spent a couple of hours in the church with the organ company's artistic designer, and got hundreds of shots.  It turned out that lighting was our biggest problem.  Natural light was a must, as any flash or spotlights made a mess of the beautiful pipes.  We were happy with all of the angles except one, and I needed to go back to get this one last picture before the magazine layout was completed.  It was clear what needed to be done.  I knew exactly what I had to do.  It would be easy, really, just took a bit of planning with the folks at the church.  I set it up through the secretary, blocked out two hours for my work, checked and rechecked the day and got there ready to check off this last part of the list.  I was ready.

Here is the shot I needed:

Easy, right?  Yeah, easy.

Here is what I saw when I arrived, gear over my shoulder, at the church:

Sorry you cannot see the little man in the top of the cherry picker.  

I needed one set of dim lights on, all over the space.

     All of the lights were disconnected for servicing.

I needed the space stripped of everything; clean and clear.

     There was trash all over, scaffolding set up and this large monstrosity balanced in the center aisle.

There was one place where I could stand for the shot I needed.

     The monstrosity was in the one spot.

I need to be relaxed to do my best work.

     I was not relaxed.

Am I successfully painting this picture?  

Two people, with two different missions, had talked to the secretary.

Two people, with two different missions, had secured the time on the church calendar.

Two people were serious about their missions.

Two people were very frustrated.

The little man on the top of the cherry picker and I did not start off well.  Our friendship was not built on a happy first impression.  The little man and I were mad.

We both began explaining why we each belonged there.  We each attempted to tell the other the reason our work was the most important.  We got stern and made our voices serious to make our points.  We began to try to figure out 'whose fault' this whole thing was.

While we did these things, the lights of that beautiful space did not get cleaned and fixed.

While we did these things, the photograph to highlight this organ was not taken.

We spent a few minutes in that space.  Somehow then a little miracle happened.  I honestly don't know who spoke to stop the craziness.  Somehow we tried something different.  We dropped trying to figure out whose fault it was.  We decided not to go to the church office to 'figure out' what happened.  We started devising a plan.  That's when we became friends.  That's when things started looking up, when we got to what we were both there to do.

In our new space, the light man started thinking about how he could do the center area first and then get his assistant to help him move his massive climbing structure.  

In this new place, I began to assemble my equipment and readying everything to get the photos quickly when I could.  

Mr. Light Guy decided that he could re-activate electric power for just a few minutes while he moved his equipment.

I decided I could get the photos quickly because I would be ready.

He finished what he needed to do.  I got ready to do what I needed to do.  He moved the equipment and returned the room to light.  I quickly moved to the spot and began taking the needed photos.  We asked each other some casual questions about what we each did.  We laughed about the whole mix-up. It got almost fun to try to figure out how to make it all work, to work together to accomplish two goals. I got more relaxed.  

It all worked and it didn't take long.  I left the church long before the light fixer-uppers, but they seemed to be working along just like they needed to.  I met a nice guy, a guy who works on lighting for all sorts of different places and spaces.  I learned about all of the places he has 'done the lights.'  

Mr. Light Guy learned about what I do and why I do it.  

It all worked out.  

I entered that beautiful space with a tight chest, frustrated about the entire situation, assuming I wouldn't be able to get the shot I had only one day to get.  

I left that beautiful space with a smile.  I did what I needed to do and met another guy doing what he needed to do.  

I hate to think about how it would have (not) worked out if we had stayed where we were in those initial moments.  What if we had stayed in that place where we were spending our energy on whose fault it was?  What if we had stayed angry?  

Whew, it makes me wonder about other times I might stay in that place.  Makes me think about how much more creative and effective I can be when I'm not worrying about what everyone else is doing or how what they do is 'messing me up.'  This whole thing has me thinking about how good things are when we stop blaming and start working.  It's all got me wondering.

I'm actually thankful that I saw this:

                                                                                                       when I wanted to see this:

Had any similar experiences?  Makes us think, huh.