


Now I’m a Rockies fan. A Colorado Rockies fan. I went to several games their opening season. That was 1993. They were terrible. In fact, they were terrible until last season when they went to the World Series only to be destroyed by the Red Sox. I think they are pretty much terrible again this season.
I always enjoyed playing baseball. I was terrible too. Perhaps that is why the game never meant much to me. It was always about the experience. The time of year was perfect to be outside. I remember getting Taco Bell from mom every third inning. I remember buying Big League Chew and not liking it at all. I remember the batting cages with dad. Two tokens for 25 pitches. He would tell me to bunt the first ten…then swing away. I would hit maybe 10 balls. In all my seasons I hit one home run and made All-Stars one year (the year my dad was Coach.)
My dad would take me to Rockies Games. Depending on the ticket, my hopes for catching a foul ball would be high. We would wait for autographs and buy foot-long hot dogs. He would make fun of me for putting ketchup on the dog because in New York that would never happen. Around the fourth inning I would get ice cream, dippin dots, another hot dog, or a soda. The rest of the game would be relaxing. We wouldn’t even talk much. Just sit and watch the game. I never did catch a ball.
I debated about going to the coast to cover Hurricane Ike. In the end, the decision was easy. I had no disaster experience. I had no truck. I had no connections. And possibly most important, I had no secured assignment.
The day before Ike hit evacuees started rolling into Dallas. I decided to head down to the Dallas Convention Center where 1,450 cots were positioned with health and food stations. I arrived a little after 11AM and already the place was busy. With good reason the media was not allowed inside. After speaking with the Red Cross media liaison, I was reminded that these people had just been through a traumatic experience. Considering I had no assignment, I was more than OK with their position. After all, there really was no reason for the media to get involved.
For a good half-hour I watched as families shuffled about with their lives stuffed into plastic bags. I talked with a few people, mostly from Bay Town, about what they left behind.
Things were relatively calm and I decided to shoot a few Polaroids. It is amazing how open people can be in the middle of a disaster.
I hope things turn out for them.
I never really liked country music. Let me take that back. I don’t like country music when it is overdone. I photographed a Toby Keith concert last week and I must say that I have never seen something so over the top and frankly pathetic in my life.
The guy is sponsored by Ford. Fine. But did they have to make a movie staring a truck while co-staring the musician to be presented before the show? Did they have to shoot 50,000 dollar sized ads out of a canon to start the show? Did they have to put a 20 foot Ford sign IN FRONT of the drummer? I usually don’t care about musicians selling out…but come on.
I also think Toby takes steroids. His arms are a little too big, while his stomach is as well. I wonder if his ego gets upset when the girls scream louder for the truck then him.
Now I know this picture doesn’t match my complaints. It is just the only Polaroid to come out from the show. So deal with it.
I am leaving for Mexico tomorrow. A small adventure through Copper Canyon. There should be plenty of photos to follow.
Enjoy your week.
I am going to post for you again. Really. No joke.
It’s not that I forgot about you. It just that I felt like recharging for a while.
I have one underexposed Polaroid and one blown out baseball photo. They don’t match or even play off each other. I have them. And that is all.
I promise to keep you updated more often. Don’t abandon me.
I revisited some negatives from my grandmothers funeral a couple months ago.
They were eerie…both in spirit and quality. They had the foggy visual effect made possible by the Holga camera they were shot on. Somehow that foggy idea perfectly reflects the funeral and the events that surrounded her burial. The weekend was not rainy, but may as well have been. Not because of the events taking place, but because of the hasty and muggy reactions of the present family. It wasn’t sorrow as much as an uncomfortable urgent desire to finish the funeral and move on.
These emotions aren’t so much reflected in the following photographs. Probably because I more or less wanted to just move on from the whole ordeal myself.
Regardless, my grandma was finally laid to rest next to her husband and second child, Larry, after many pain filled years leading up to a painless final departure.
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