The Oregon Experience

Photographs from 2011 that mattered (mostly to me)

2011-12-30T11:13:00.001-08:00

I'm rather certain that photojournalists, i.e. those who use their minds, hearts and tools in harmony, enjoy looking at their work during the past year. I do. We are basically hunters/gatherers at heart and reviewing what we saw and photographed gives us reassurance that our efforts were productive. The downside is that acknowledgement from other sources, friends, editors, contests is ephemeral. So, the best one can really hang on to is the feeling of accomplishment without conditions.

2011 was a fine year for photojournalists, visually, but probably not financially. The Arab Spring uprisings, the Occupy (various) movement, the economic downturn, the 1%ers and the rest of us and the regular diet of sports, politics and daily life made for many great photo situations. Sadly a few died or were badly injured doing their work. Others were imprisoned and beaten or arrested in spite of their First Amendment rights.

I, like many other photographers, never got close to any of those marquee events; that's just the way it is. My biggest opportunity was spending a week in the University of Louisville Hospital documenting the staff and patients in the Burn and Stroke units and the Trauma One Care Center (the ER).

My grandkids celebrated their first birthday and my youngest son married the woman he met during the Obama inauguration. There was the beauty of central Oregon in fall, Butchart Gardens in Vancouver, B.C. and the spirited Cascade Cycling Classic criterium.

The Sisters Folk Festival provided some great moments. Sunday, September 11th. The performance that morning is always free to the public and this years' theme was a "community celebration" centered around the 10th anniversary of the 911 tragedy. Three musicians, Anais Mitchell, Tony Furtado and Willy Porter decided spontaneously to perform "Time After Time." They rehearsed it for ten minutes just before the venue was opened. It put a lump in my throat while they practiced (guess you had to be there). Martyn Joseph rocked the house and Johnsmith found inner peace during the final group song of festival.

And it was a great year for moons.

Christmas In Prison, 1977

2011-12-16T14:32:00.000-08:00

I don't pass though a holiday season without thinking of this improbable story I witnessed in 1977.

Donald Bordenkircher, the Warden of the Kentucky State Penitentiary in Eddyville, had a problem. The prison needed some major improvements and the inmates were unwilling to let the projects proceed. He formed a negotiation team to find a compromise. An agreement between the warden and the inmate representatives was eventually reached: the work project could begin and in return the inmates would be allowed to organize and hold the first-ever "open house" on Christmas Eve, 1977. Families and friends would be allowed to come in to any area of the prison, except for the maximum security wing.

The western Kentucky correspondent for the Louisville Courier-Journal got a tip about the event and was invited along with me to come in and do a story. The CJ photo department at that time had its own single engine plane. Billy Davis was the pilot. We flew from Louisville early that morning to Eddyville. I had a couple of Nikons and my Leica. Once inside I was told I could go unescorted anywhere I wanted to go. I was the only photojournalist to cover the event. Security screening for all entering the facility was conducted and it was nothing like modern security measures of today. There were guards around in street clothes. The open house was a party atmosphere in the most unlikely scenario.

For the next four hours I watched many touching moments between wives, children, parents, and the inmates. A motorcycle gang came with several "girlfriends." We flew back to Louisville in the late afternoon to make deadline for the December 25th issue of the paper.

The open house was considered a success and was held for a few more years in a much more contained environment, but never again as free-wheeling as the first one.

Day 1646

2011-12-13T19:42:00.000-08:00

The admonitions are constant: "Live every day to the fullest." "Make every day count." "You'll always remember the special things you did." On and on. However, they're all true. Problem is though, how to make all the days of your life meaningful. The other truth: not all days will be special.

I've had many good days in the nearly five years since departing California for Oregon. This particular day that I determined was 1646-post Sacramento Bee was unique. I don't know the probability of all the factors coming together on a single day that made the total lunar eclipse possible: clear skies in the west and east, the moon setting over the Cascades as the sunrise began, finding the right location to photograph the scene, windless conditions that helped even though the temperature was 13 degrees.

This scene may never happen again in my lifetime. If it does, great, but I'll always be happy I was out there at 5 a.m. on 1646.

Nutcracker Memories

2011-12-05T14:54:00.000-08:00

A former dancer with the Sacramento Ballet, Jenny Gilmore, remarked recently about how many dancers she had known had moved on to other creative endeavors or retired from the stage to pursue other important parts of their lives. She was also reflecting on the memories they all shared from performing in the annual Nutcracker. I was fortunate to photograph ten years of those productions from 1997 to 2006. My work with the company began when my daughter was given a small role as a "cherub" in 1997. Wanting to photograph her I offered to shoot the whole performance for the Sacramento Bee. I got the assignment. During the next few years my daughter had other roles as a "Mother Ginger child" and a "soldier" battling the Mouse King. I continued in my volunteer role photographing the Nutcracker for the Sacramento Ballet and virtually every other ballet the company performed including their first international tour to Shanghai and Beijing, China in 2007. I too have memories of those Nutcrackers, the incredible athletes/artists that the dancers were, the incomparable artistic directors Ron Cunningham and Carinne Binda, and Lt. Col. (Ret) Fred Shadle, the true heart and soul of the company. I dug into my film archives and digital files and put this show together. Video celebrates the dance, still photography celebrates the dancer. The Nutcracker will always be part of my holiday season and I hope yours as well.

Fall brings impressionistic palate to Clear Lake

2011-10-16T08:08:00.000-07:00

http://bit.ly/q9m3ae

Moondance

2011-10-09T15:59:00.000-07:00

"The moon is an object illuminated by the sun. Expose accordingly." - Ansel Adams

Well, that's a good starting point. The reality is that the human eye and mind is far more discerning in terms of contrast range than any camera/film/CF card will ever be. When photographing the moon under conditions like the scene I saw a few nights ago the paradox was clear. While I saw a beautiful crescent moon setting over the Three Sisters peaks near where I live I realized that the only way to capture the scene was to make several exposures of the scene and then combine them into a single image. One shot exposed for the highlighted crescent, a second for the overall scene then matched in Photoshop. I made a variety of moon and scene exposures and actually chose two frames shot only a few seconds apart. I don't recall ever using this technique before as I really prefer to not alter images however in the situation of photographing this scene, I didn't have much of a choice. There is another technique, HDR or High Dynamic Range imaging that likewise combines two or more exposures into a single image. I tried that in Photoshop but the result was still a moon with blown out highlights.

I eventually took the double exposure route, copying the small section of one image with the moon and pasting it into the overall scene, moving the crescent to align perfectly with the darker part of the moon. After a bit of smoothing out the tones around the combo moon, noise reduction and contrast improvement, I had an image of exactly what I saw in the sky.

If the rules are meant to be broken, then I confess. I broke a couple.

2011-05-01T22:40:00.000-07:00

I had a unique opportunity recently to return to Louisville, Kentucky to work with the nurses and physicians in the University of Louisville Hospital, formerly Louisville General Hospital. Twenty-five years ago I did a documentary photo project on the only Burn Intensive Care Unit in the region at that time. A woman in the Marketing department saw the old photos on my website and contacted me. Our discussion led to a plan for me to come back and revisit the Burn Unit and also the Stroke I.C.U. and the region's only Trauma 1 emergency room.

After completing the edit I thought about comparing the old photos with the new. I found several that pair together and realized that although the treatment protocols are much different now than before, the level of caring hasn't changed at all.

University of Louisville Burn Unit: 25 Years - Images by Jay Mather

The last Kodachrome day

2011-01-08T15:09:00.001-08:00

Kodachrome, the iconic color slide film, is history. The last rolls were processed December 30, 2010 at Dwayne’s Photo in Parsons, Kansas, the only remaining processing facility in the world. The news of its demise is not new or unexpected. The IBM Selectric typewriter, dial phones, lace-up ski boots went before. Life changes, stuff changes, people adapt, probably all for the better.

Anyone who made photographs with the film that has been around since 1935 knows of its color characteristics that were like no other film. Bright, vibrant, saturated images.

My use of the film over the years was not as extensive as those in the magazine business, National Geographic, Geo, and the like. During my newspaper career the dominant film was Kodak Tri-X, a black and white film that could be tweaked during the development process using various developing concoctions. Edwal, Rodinal, Kodak, often with an added 9% sodium sulfite solution that helped control the contrast range. Printing a black and white negative with both shadow and highlight detail was a rewarding process. The drawback, of course, was trying to replicate a perfect print.

Kodachrome was the film of choice for me during my Peace Corps tour in Malaysia in 1969-1971 and learning to use it correctly helped my enthusiasm for photojournalism in the first years of my career. The most important factor was to control highlight exposure. In the digital world of today that is still the case.

Kodak Tri-X, was just about opposite. Expose for the shadows without overexposing the highlights and a lot of that could be controlled during film development. Kodachrome was unforgiving. Get it right in the camera.

Throughout the remainder of the last century, I always took Kodachrome along on vacations, pictures of my children. Those images still look great, stored away in archival sleeves. There are two memories now: the subjects and the medium.

I found five rolls of Kodachrome 64, 24 exposures on eBay from a seller who promised the film had been refrigerated and that the 2007 date on the box was not an issue. The film came in the mail and I put it in the back of my fridge while I thought about how I was going to use it.

The weather around central Oregon in November was spotty, and mostly one gray day after another. I needed sparkling, crisp days. Time was becoming an issue. I didn’t want to use the film for a set of pictures of scenics. I needed more of a challenge. Could I still make credible photographs with a 35mm camera, no motor drive and manual settings in an active setting?

The USA Cyclocross Championships in Bend provided that opportunity. Sunday, December 12^th was the day. I began the day with stops at two of my favorite locations, the Metolius Wild and Scenic River, and a viewpoint of the Three Sisters peaks. One roll gone.

On to Bend for the cyclocross races in Bend. I chose to shoot the Elite women’s final using three of the remaining rolls, saving one roll for another scene at dusk. The race is on a loop course so I could move around to several locations to get a sense of what the event is about. I also tried to concentrate on the best rider, Katie Compton, who was defending her championship title. During the race that lasted about an hour I thought I was doing o.k. with exposure. Timing, light and composition were on my mind as well. One frame after another. I had about 12 frames left on the third roll and wedged my way into a spot along the barricade near the finish line with the hope of getting a decent frame of Compton as she was about to win the race. Serendipity was on my side. She cruised in front of me and raised her arms in perfect form. Did I get the frame? Was it sharp?

After the women’s race I switched my Nikon FE for the Canon digital cameras and went back to shoot the Elite men’s race. It was more apparent than I’d ever realized how digital has changed my shooting style. More latitude to take visual chances, no film canisters to change, mechanical freedom.

The last roll was used to photograph an old World War II Army ambulance that is parked outside the VFW Hall 4108 in Redmond, a few miles north of Bend. The rig is lit up for the holidays with strings of lights, Santa as the driver. It’s a melancholy scene and a fitting conclusion to my last day with Kodachrome.

The film was shipped to Dwayne’s. The lab was inundated with rolls of film coming in from all over the world so I wasn’t expecting a quick turnaround. There wasn’t. Twenty-six days later I got my five developed rolls back. I still have a small light table and a viewing loupe and I examined the individual slides slowly looking for the frames that had some merit.

The scenics looked good, the Army ambulance was nice. What I wanted to see was Katie Compton finishing the race. I found the single frame and was relieved to see exactly what I’d hoped for. Timing, light, composition. She won the championship again I had felt like I’d paid a tribute to a championship film.

Personal pictures from 2010

2010-12-31T14:31:00.000-08:00

Sisters Quilt Show 2010

2010-07-11T07:19:00.001-07:00

Oregon Ballet Theatre at Caldera Arts Cener

2010-06-22T09:39:00.000-07:00

Last week was a very special opportunity for me. With the cooperation and assistance of the Caldera Arts center folks and the Oregon Ballet Theatre I was provided the access to document the seven dancers who came to central Oregon to produce a new work and perform it and three other pieces for the local community. The new work, choreographed by one of the principal dancers, Anne Mueller, took the majority of the time since the dance was literally being constructed from scratch. The dancers along with Anne are Alison Roper, Steven Houser, Lucas Threefoot, Christian Squires, Brian Simcoe and Artur Sultanov and of course, Christopher Stowell, the artistic director. Irina Golberg, the principal accompanist, played the piano pieces and are now melodies I can't get out of my head.

Hawaiian Interlude

2010-03-24T15:21:00.000-07:00

Central Oregon has had a fairly mild winter compared to other regions of the country. Nevertheless, the continuous gray and dreary days piled up in January and February creating the urge in many around here to pack up and leave for warmer climates, if just for a week or two. Spring is slow in arriving here, two or three nice days then back to the clouds, rain, 40º temps. Our escape was to Maui for a week and that just isn't enough time. Next winter, two weeks.

Going To The Other Side

2010-02-28T20:55:00.000-08:00

Great intentions don't always produce the desired result. After changing the title of this blog I had several places I wanted to explore. The weather has been uncooperative, nearly a month of drab, endless, gray days. I also contracted a deep chest cough that evolved into the worst cold in my adult life. Photography, blogging? Forget it. Finally now there is sun and renewed will that is stronger as the coughing subsides.

We drove to Eugene today to see Allison and drop off her bike, have a good lunch and a visit. From Sisters to Eugene is about 2 hours through the Cascades, over Santiam Pass and descending along the McKenzie River 68 miles from its headwaters out into the fertile valleys and small villages of Rainbow, Blue River, Vida, Nimrod, Walterville and Springfield.

Although there is no demarcation line separating the lush forests of the west side of the Cascades and the stark, dramatic, and dry terrain of the rain shadowed eastern side, the change happens in only a few miles and a slight decrease in elevation. The McKenzie River's source is just over the crest of the range at Clear Lake. The flow through the narrow channels of the first few miles is a thundering wild child river. Three waterfalls, Sahalie, Koosah and Tamolitch punctuate the fury of the river and are assessable on a well-traveled foot path through the dense forest.

We've stopped here before yet today's visit seemed all new. The fragrance of the forest, the deafening sound of the river put us each in our own space as we hiked the short trail between the falls.

The long angular light faded as the sun dropped behind the trees. In a 45 minute walk the drabness of the past month seemed to be cast off into the river and carried away. And this all happened thirty minutes from our front door.

Moving on from Moving On

2010-01-22T20:14:00.000-08:00

After three years of writing about my personal journey of moving on from my prior life in Sacramento, it's time to move on again.
The masthead for the blog reflects what is currently interesting in my life, to me AND hopefully to you. The Oregon experience.
I have a lot going on that I'll describe in upcoming posts. Thanks for your interest.

2010 Moon Over Tollgate

2010-01-02T08:30:00.000-08:00

I had high hopes for clear skies around here to photograph the blue moon (the second full moon in December). No such luck. Nothing but gray skies and rain. Last night, January 1st was totally clear. Out with the camera, tripod and some long extension cords to control the house lights during the 25 second exposure.

Happy Holidays from Sisters, Oregon

2009-12-24T14:53:00.000-08:00

To all the viewers of my blog, faithful and occasional, my best wishes to you all for a pleasant holiday and a peaceful and fulfilling 2010.

USA Cyclocross Championships

2009-12-13T11:15:00.000-08:00

I spent a day at the USA Cyclocross Championships in Bend, Oregon. The sport is wildly popular in the Northwest and the competitions are usually held in autumn through spring when the conditions on the loop courses are often wet, muddy, ice and snow and cold. For the four-day event here all of the above have been factors in the racing and everyone seems happy about that. Aerobic capacity and bike handling skills separate the riders quickly in the timed races. Spectators line the course and ring cowbells in support of the competitors. After the races everyone heads into town for parties. No wonder cyclocross is so popular.

Veterans Day 2009

2009-11-11T08:25:00.000-08:00

If there must be trouble let it be in my day, that my child may have peace. - Thomas Paine

A daughter gets her birthday wish, her daddy comes home. Darren Stewart, a TSGT with the 6th Air Refueling Sqaudron, 60th Air Mobility Wing gives his daughter Sydney Stewart a kiss after arriving home from a 2003 tour of duty in the Persian Gulf region.

Cambodia 1979-2009

2009-10-31T14:26:00.000-07:00

November 4, 1979. What do you remember about that day?

The major event that day was the U.S. Embassy in Tehran, Iran being overrun by student followers of Ayatollah Khomeini, the leader of Iran's fundamentalist revolutionaries. Ninety hostages were captured and fifty-two of them would remain in captivity for the next 444 days. It was the turning point in U.S. and Iran diplomatic relations.

For me, it was the day I and fellow journalist, Joel Brinkley, left for the Thailand/Cambodia border where thousands of Cambodian refugees were crossing into Thailand to escape the war between the North Vietnamese and the crumbling Khmer Rouge regime. Our efforts there were centered around a Louisville, Kentucky physician, Dr. Kenneth Rasmussen, who was on the front line of treatment for the sick and starving who survived weeks, if not months, of perilous overland travel to the safety of the camps.

This past summer Joel and I made a return trip to Cambodia, thirty years after the "Living the Cambodian Nightmare" project. We wanted to see firsthand how life for the rural population, 80% of the 13.7 million citizens of Cambodia are faring.

Frankly, all is not well. In many respects Cambodia is much as it was prior to the Khmer Rouge era, 1975-1979. Old methods of rice production are still used, the infrastructure is minimal, education is not mandatory, corruption exits at every level of life and hope is a rare commodity.

While the world centers it's attention on the Middle East, Africa and other regions of conflict, Cambodia barely registers on anyone's radar. It has become the forgotten country.

I offer the two audiovisual shows below. The first is from our 1979 journey and has been expanded from the original version to include additional photographs of Cambodians in transit to the United States and several of a family that had been sponsored by Dr. Rasmussen and his wife. The last photograph is of Sot Oung, the father, in an English language class. He is looking over his shoulder out a window to see snow falling for the first time in his life. Ironically, a sentence on the blackboard being used as an example of tenses, says "How often do you go back home?" There are several responses to use. The first is "I never go back home."

I have reconnected with Dr. Rasmussen, now retired and living in Tennessee. He remained in contact with the family for a few years. They moved to Indianapolis where Sot worked for Lear Jet and Saot, his wife, became a dental technician. The couple divorced and Dr. Rasmussen hasn't heard from anyone in the family in over ten years.

The world has witnessed additional human tragedy, genocide and despair in the past thirty years. The legacy of Khmer Rouge debacle, Cambodians killing 1.7 million fellow Cambodians, has had little effect on the country's ability to redefine itself in the 21st. century.

Kirsten Bloom, Changing Roles.

2009-10-07T22:21:00.001-07:00

For the last 14 years, Kirsten Bloom has been the most familiar face of the Sacramento Ballet. Audiences have admired and respected her abilities as a dancer and an athlete in numerous roles. She has performed in Romeo and Juliet, Giselle, Carmina Burana, A Streetcar Named Desire, Concerto Barocco, Etosha, and of course, The Nutcracker, each one demanding a different personna. Vulnerable, tender, feisty, sympathetic, headstrong, or regal, Kirsten showed the essence of the character in her dance. She partnered with Jared Nelson, Jack Hansen, Luis Napoles, Bobby Briscoe, Michael Vester in many of the dances adding the collaborative dimension to her abilities.

Kirsten will be taking on her greatest role, that of a mother next April and will begin her maternity leave after her final performance October 24th during the Capital Choreography Competition at the Crest Theatre in Sacramento. She says she is not retiring and plans to return to dance in the future.

I have been fortunate to photograph Kirsten on and offstage for most of the time she has been dancing with the company. Ron Cunningham and Carinne Binda, the Artistic Directors of the company will work with the current dancers and mold them into world-class artists as they have with Kirsten. Who will dance the role of the "Sugar Plum Fairy" in this year's edition of the Nutcracker? Whoever she is will have one of the best ever to emulate.

Mary Travers

2009-09-16T21:56:00.001-07:00

Anyone who lived the 60's or has since appreciated what happened then can't say "Peter, Paul" without adding "Mary." Mary Travers, 72, died today of the effects of chemotherapy in her battle against leukemia. The trio led the folksong revival which popularized many of Bob Dylan's songs.

I learned to finger pick a guitar by playing of "Don't Think Twice, It's All Right" endlessly at the slowest speed possible on my little record player until I could virtually match the notes. I'm sure I wasn't alone in the attempt to make my guitar sound as seamless.

The trio brought "Blowin' In The Wind," and many more, to mainstream popularity. And this is where the story gets personal for me.

In August, 1966 PP&M were scheduled to perform at the Red Rocks Amphitheatre just outside Denver, Colorado. There were high winds and rain during the afternoon, typical weather for Colorado in late summer. The concert could have been moved to an indoor venue, the Denver Coliseum, but it wasn't. Red Rocks is one of the most spectacular venues for a concert anywhere in the U.S.A. seating 9450 with unobstructed views of the stage. I arrived there in the rain with Sue, my date, and eventual first wife, two hours before the concert. We secured great seats, center, mid-venue and with an umbrella we waited.

The concert was set to begin at 7:00pm. At 6:45pm the rain stopped and a light breeze flowed over the sandstone walls through the audience. At 6:55pm the breeze intensified to a moderate wind. At 7:02pm Peter, Paul and Mary, without any introduction, came onstage and performed "Blowin' In The Wind." The soft warm wind, the acoustical perfection of the venue and the ethereal music is a moment that is one of my most enduring memories.

Years passed and I moved on from Denver to Louisville, Kentucky, the city where Mary was born. In 1985 PP&M reunited as a trio and scheduled Louisville as one of the performance cities. I was working at the Courier-Journal and submitted a request to photograph the rehearsal. I did cover the short practice session (unfortunately the b/w negatives lost) and I took the opportunity to introduce myself and I asked them about that 1966 concert at Red Rocks.

They all instantly remembered that moment. An introduction had been planned and the first song was not "Blowin' In The Wind." But, they also felt the breeze, saw the clearing sky and understood the spiritual connection between music, the audience, and the physical atmosphere. With no hesitation they changed the opening song. PP&M simply walked onstage, began the concert and mesmerized 10,000 hearts.

Mary Travers, your silky voice will always resonate in my core.

A Summer of Contrasts

2009-08-08T09:31:00.000-07:00

Cambodia and Canada. Experiences I'll never forget.

Cambodia, "The Forgotten Country."

2009-07-12T03:06:00.000-07:00

I completed my three week tour of rural Cambodia with writer Joel Brinkley.Everday was challenging and surprising for the experiences we had visiting with people who told amazing stories of thier lives, the terrible ordeal of the Khmer Rouge and how they cope with a rather dysfunctional government. We visited hospitals, small villages, government officials and often found our best stories simply by luck. I've posted these images in hopes that you will continue on to the website gallery for additional photos and information. The link to the gallery is:
http://archive.jaymather.org/c/mather/gallery-collection/Cambodia-1979-2009/P00004llkaurlo_0. Or simply click on the Photo Shelter Gallery link on the right to see all the galleries.

Face to face with Cambodia's past

2009-06-21T07:27:00.000-07:00

The Cambodian national torment is the Khmer Rouge era. In 1979 when survivors were arriving in Thailand the horrific stories they brought with them sounded unimaginable, yet true. Today, thirty years later I had the opportunity to see the places where genocide happened. One place just 15 km outside of Phnom Penh, is Choeng Ek, one of the "killing fields." Numerous mass graves have been uncovered, leaving a pock-marked landscape where victims were bludgeoned to death in order to save bullets.
People come and walk silently along the dirt paths that rim the craters. In some areas, remnants of clothing and shards of bone are visible. A monument in the center of the complex has a ten-layer repository of skulls. It is a somber, sad place.

A second is the Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum in the center of Phnom Penh. Known during the Khmer Rouge regime as S-21, the former high school was converted to a torture and execution center for anyone thought to be in opposition to the mandates of Pol Pot. Between 1975 and 1979, 10,519 people were brought from throughout Cambodia, held for several months, tortured in a myriad of despicable ways, then executed. Only two survived, one a photographer who made haunting mug shots of every inmate and an artist who promised he could portray Pol Pot in a favorable manner but also painted depictions of the torture methods.

A steady stream of people move quietly through the halls and into the rooms full of hundreds of the photographic portraits and paintings. Many are Cambodians coming with their families. They stare at the photos, reach out to touch. I'm reminded of of the respect and reverence that visitors to the Viet Nam Memorial show. S-21 is Cambodia's "Wall."

In another section of the complex rooms with stark steel bed frames and shackles that bound the prisoners remind the visitors that cruelty and crudity are inseparable. Two floors of another building are full of small cubicles constructed from brick and mortar or wood where prisoners were crammed into the spaces to await their fate.

This was a necessary tour for me, not pleasant yet as haunting and memorable as anywhere I have ever been.

Closing a circle

2009-06-10T11:00:00.000-07:00

Recently Joel Brinkley and I got together to discuss some details of our return to Cambodia next week. Although we hadn't seen each other in nearly 25 years we have been communicating through e-mails and telephone and it seemed easy to pick up where we left off so long ago. There will be a lot of time to talk about our lives in the next few weeks and how two young upstart journalists in 1979 got the biggest story of their careers.

This documentary project nearly died an early death for lack of funding. I wrote a grant proposal to the Pulitzer Center On Crisis Reporting asking for expenses but was denied. However, a local foundation here in Sisters, Oregon, the Roundhouse Foundation, agreed to fund my transportation costs. Hopefully I'll find an outlet for the photographs after my return but with most publications having little or no freelance budget and online outlets paying minimal usage fees I'm not expecting instant wealth.

Still, the opportunity to return to see how the Cambodian people live now after the Khmer Rouge, is incredible. I believe this will complete a journey within my professional life and it also may open up new possibilities as well.

Joel, a visiting Journalism professor at Stanford University, made an observation about the span of time we had working for daily newspapers. Basically, newspapers were not the crusading, risk-taking, and aggressive publications they became after the Pentagon Papers and Watergate. Those two events drew idealistic, adventurous, talented and healthy skeptics into journalism. The best years of daily journalism for newspapers also encompassed entire careers for people like Joel, me and thousands of others.

The dying newspaper industry finds many publications are cutting staffs, reducing news coverage, and publishing what people "want" instead of "need" or ceasing publication altogether. We feel very lucky to have moved on to the new phases of our lives.

One small thing bothers both of us: a lack of photos of us out in the field being journalists. While we were actually working the protocol never included stopping for a moment to make some pictures at whatever situation we were in. It seemed like grandstanding. Now we would like to have a few pictures of those times. Joel shot a few of me in Cambodia and I shot a few of him. The only roll of film that was ruined in processing had his pictures on it. I'm still irritated about that.

Joel's wife, Sabra, shot this photo of us. In the coming weeks I will be concentrating on documenting the rural Cambodian citizens. Making the photographs for Joel's book is the top priority but I won't forget this time to stop occasionally and make a few for the memory book.

Moving on sometimes requires looking back

2009-05-02T13:52:00.000-07:00

To those of you who have followed this blog I apologize for the lack of a new post. Frankly, I've been unable to find a subject that excited me. However, I have been actively continuing my project to convert many of my photographs from film to digital, a tedious yet quite rewarding effort.

Some of the negatives are 35+ years old and are as clean as the day I processed the film while other strips of film have serious degradation. I think back to the days of hand processing and know that often the film wasn't left in the hypo clearing solution or washed long enough. Archival processing was usually trumped by newspaper deadlines. Fortunately, most of the issues of pinholes, dust and scratches can be remedied in Photoshop but the process often takes hours for each image.

The reward is to see the photographs again and always better than I could have ever printed them in a darkroom. It has also been a chance to assess how my style of shooting changed and matured over the years. The most pleasant surprise in this endeavor has been the opportunity to reconnect with some of the people I photographed through internet people search engines.

I've noticed that the years 1969, 1979, 1989, 1999, and 2009 are benchmarks, connected by images I made during major projects or in special moments in my life.

1969 was the year I entered the Peace Corps and was sent to Malaysia. It was also the year I began taking photography seriously.

Ten years later, 1979, I returned to Southeast Asia to photograph Cambodian refugees coming to Thailand as the Khmer Rouge regime was collapsing and revealing the genocide of nearly 2 million citizens. (the Pulitzer Prize for International Reporting).

In 1989 I was half-way through the Yosemite Centennial project to document the human experience in the park. (a Pulitzer finalist in 1991).

1999 was the third year of my volunteer work with the Sacramento Ballet that gave me the opportunity to establish a 13-year body of work culminating in a trip to China with the company on their first foreign performing tour in 2007.

2009 finds me retired from newspaper work but certainly not from documentary photography. I chose this image of North Sister to say my photographic life has wide open possibilities.

Now, one of the greatest opportunities I've ever had is about to happen. I will be returning to Cambodia with my friend and fellow journalist Joel Brinkley, who I worked with on the "Living the Cambodian Nightmare" project thirty years ago. We will be visiting mostly in rural areas of the country to show that life for the average citizen has not seen a lot of improvement despite a resurgence of the national economy. Joel is writing a book which I will illustrate and we also hope to publish our words and pictures in print and/or online when we return.

The perspective I have now after "looking back" certainly helps inspire me to understand what "moving on" is all about.

Newspapers: going, going, gone.

2009-03-12T10:46:00.000-07:00

One of my three wishes for the Genie when he appears in front of me is to always know the exact right thing to say at the precise moment it needs to be said. The Genie has not appeared and now, when I need those perfect words, I can't find the right ones to comfort or inspire. The best I can do is go out and make a photograph. A Canadian goose in flight. Fly away and be free.

My head and heart are having trouble staying connected this week following the announcement of more layoffs of journalists at the Sacramento Bee. My head knew it was coming, my heart is not as accommodating and aches for my friends and former colleagues who are now tossed into the burgeoning ranks of the unemployed. The process, from this distant point of view, appears flawed..again. No upper management layoffs; only the folks who actually do the work of getting out on the streets to get the stories and photographs get axed. The list is there for all to see on the Sacramento Bee Guild website.

The first person I heard sound the siren of the quantum shift of news dissemination from newsprint to online was the former publisher of the Courier-Journal and Louisville Times, Barry Bingham Jr. in 1982 when the internet was barely out of the womb. His vision of people reading the news off computer screens instead of newsprint was not readily accepted. He was predicting that new world journalism be round, not flat. And he was more right than he'll ever know. He died in 2006 without seeing the current march of many major U.S. newspapers, like a herd of wildebeests plunging over a cliff in very slow-motion, to obscurity or outright oblivion.

I rarely have dreams that I recall but I had one recently that sticks in my mind. I was standing in an orchard in California and there were no bees buzzing around. The thought I had in the scene was that the collapse of the bee colonies was a siren warning that that the financial world, without the banking and credit markets pollinating as they are supposed to, would lead to world economic turmoil. The bees were fleeing, like coastal animals who sense an oncoming tsunami and move to higher ground long before humans figure out what's happening.

Awakening, I'm at a loss for words.

Iditarod sled dogs

2009-03-05T00:07:00.000-08:00

I need to get away from reading bad news. The updates on the tanked world economy and the untenable situation my former co-workers face at the Sacramento Bee with their job futures are constant, sad and unrelenting. So, I'm taking a break from it and turning my attention to something a tad more positive. The 2009 Iditarod Trail Sled Dog Race.

Sixty-seven mushers leave Anchorage, Alaska Saturday on their 1,150 mile race across the frozen tundra powered by their sled dog teams. This is the Tour de France on snow and ice but unlike the bike race there is no one to hide behind or draft off. The dogs are the princes of this sport. Forty pound bundles of muscle and exuberance. Twelve tied to a sled, running their legs off for ten to seventeen days.

I have a particular interest in this year's race since one of the entrants is a local. Rachel Scdoris along with her dad Jerry live outside Bend and operate a sled dog tour at Mt. Bachelor, 20 miles west of Bend. She is entrant #58 and I'll be watching cable and tracking her progress on the web.

A sad end to Denver journalism

2009-02-13T22:24:00.001-08:00

Tomorrow, Friday, February 27, 2009 the Rocky Mountain News will publish it's final edition at the end of nearly 150 continuous years of providing Colorado and the West with great journalism. It's demise cannot be attributed to one cause, although a rotten world economy didn't help. Declining advertising revenues, information drifting to the internet where viewers expect to get their news for free, circulation drop all figure into the mix. This cocktail of economic arsenic is not happening only to the Rocky. In months to come other papers will likely disappear and many others will be reducing expenditures by terminating the jobs of the journalists and ad sales persons, reducing the number of days the paper is published, cutting retirement benefits and wages of those left to produce the content, probably by candlelight.

The Rocky Mountain News was the first newspaper I ever laid my hands on as a boy growing up in north Denver. When I was 14 I got my first job as a newspaper carrier. A delivery truck dropped the bundles of papers in front of my house at 4 a.m. My clock radio came on at 4:05 a.m. The hit song of the day in January 1960 was "Teen Angel" which always seemed to be playing. My paper route which had 120 customers was in a working class neighborhood and so the paper needed to be delivered by 6 a.m. so it could be read before people went to work. In good weather that was pretty easy. In the winter my dad would help me by driving the route in the car when the snow was too deep to pedal through.

Sometime during the three years I kept the job I began actually reading the paper and looking at the pictures. I thought it would be a cool job to be a newspaper photographer. In fact, a very talented newspaper photographer, a father of a classmate, Julia Moldvay, lived up the street from me. Albert Moldvay worked for the Denver Post and eventually was hired by National Geographic where he went on to cover numerous international stories for the magazine. I remember him showing me his cameras once and holding one of the first 35mm SLR cameras the Post photographers were using.

My interest in news photography lay dormant during my high school years and actually didn't surface until my junior year at the University of Colorado when I took two photography classes from Bob Rhode in the J-school. The Rocky and the Denver Post were around the campus and I always enjoyed every copy I could find.

My parents constantly sent me clipped articles from the Rocky during my two-year stint in the Peace Corps (Malaysia) so I could read what was going on in Denver.

I worked in Denver five years alongside the photographers from the Rocky and the Post. At that time there was a chain of weekly papers, the Sentinel Newspapers, and I had the freedom there to do things I don't believe I would have had at either of the dailies, but the important part was that I could learn by watching how other photographers worked. This was rather important because I really had no experience to go on. Barry Staver, Bill Wunsch, Dewey Howell, John Sunderland, Bill Peery, Steve Larson, David Cupp all had encouragement for me.

The Rocky matured over the past years into a strong example of what a newspaper could do with photojournalism. With commitment from management, leadership from photo editors and amazing talent by the photographers the paper published some of the most riveting stories ever seen in newsprint.

I can still recall the smell of the ink coming off the bundles and hear the sound of the paper hitting a customers front door, a perfect strike from my bike seat. How could I ever imagine that the Rocky would suffer this demise on those cool summer mornings as I pedaled down Berkeley Place with the newspapers stuffed into bags wrapped around my handlebars.

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Can the "arts" survive the recession?

2009-01-26T18:35:00.000-08:00

The economic landscape is becoming more desolate day by day. Across all continents, political boundaries, business sectors, and down to the personal level the recession deepens. Jobs are being lost, 75,000 announced in the past few days. The impact is being felt in every facet of daily life and hard choices confront us all.

The "arts" communities in many major U.S. cities are struggling to survive as patrons stop attending music, theatre and dance performances. Half of the theaters on Broadway in New York City have gone dark. In Sacramento, the Sacramento Ballet has cancelled the remainder of their performances at the Community Center and the Sacramento Theatre Company's Main stage.

The dancers in the company are still rehearsing for the performances that can be held at the company's studio and they have taken their plight to the streets and to the internet to help with fundraising.
http://www.sacballet.org/index.php/dancers_take_action

Lt. Col.,Ret. Fred Shadle who has attended every performance since 1962 summarizes the situation precisely. “In my view, we have three major-league teams in this city: the Kings, the Monarchs and the Sacramento Ballet. The ballet is the only one that wins all the time. The only time the ballet loses is when people aren’t there to keep it together."

I have worked with the ballet since 1996 when my daughter was taking ballet lessons and got a role as a "cherub" in the annual Nutcracker performance. She had other roles, Mother Ginger kid, a soldier battling the Mouse King and then moved on to soccer and school activities; I stayed with the ballet to photograph every production until I moved to Oregon in 2007.

Two dancers were always there. Kirsten Bloom and Jack Hansen. Their work ethic was incredible. Though injuries and fatigue were common factors, lack of passion was not. Carinne Binda and Ron Cunningham, the artistic directors of the company always managed to hire a corps of dancers who had passion and the desire to become better ever day. The Sacramento Ballet has always been a place where a dancer could come for a few years, train with Ron and Carinne and then move on to greater professional challenges. So many have. Jared Nelson, Amy Seiwert, Bobby Briscoe, Charlie Hodges, Easton Smith, Colby Damon to name only a few.

In my layman's view this is Ron and Carinne's greatest achievement, why the Sacramento Ballet is one of the finest companies in the country, and one of the great Sacramento community losses should the company not stay afloat.

Everyone has basic needs: food, affordable housing, clothing, education. Add to that insurance for health and property to keep the wolves from your door. Whats' left then, "discretionary income," gets parceled out until the well is dry.

What seems to me to be missing from the equation is food for the soul that comes from appreciating the cultural opportunities that exist in most communities. Why is it that in tough times, the soul seems to be neglected when the arts can bring a bit of joy and hope for a better tomorrow?

Dancers, musicians, actors, painters, ceramists, photographers are workers as well as artists. They have jobs just like Home Depot clerks, GM auto workers, Microsoft programmers, waiters, waitresses, cooks, plumbers and carpenters. One man or woman's job loss in one sector is no different than a loss in another. When a company's survival is on the line, however, the loss can mean a part of a community's identity is also gone.

I think back to early 2007 when things seemed better (we all know now that storm was already brewing in the financial oceans and heading straight for land). The Sacramento Ballet was eagerly planning and rehearsing for it's first-ever foreign tour, a two-week tour to Shanghai and Beijing, China. Ron and Carinne, Tim Orr, the company manager, twenty-three dancers, a lighting specialist, a stage manager, a newly retired photojournalist, i.e. me, and a group of ballet aficionados had a fantastic experience on the trip.

This was the Sacramento Ballet becoming a world-class company. It was their Super Bowl, Masters, Stanley Cup, Wimbledon, and Daytona 500. Enjoy the show and if you can spare a few dollars, send them to the Sacramento Ballet or to an arts organization in your neighborhood.

Watching the President Obama inauguration

2009-01-20T17:02:00.000-08:00

Like millions of Americans who couldn't be in Washington, D.C. for the Inauguration of President Barack Obama, Diane and I joined a group of friends for a celebration brunch. Everyone watched intently and was moved by the pomp
and ceremony, the size of the crowd on the Mall and at the Capitol, and the words President Obama spoke during his address. It was also memorable for the psychological emancipation that was felt all of us witnessing the inauguration. What a great way to start a day and that hopefully will result a redirection for our country. Hope lives. Dreams live.

Archiving history

2009-01-19T15:43:00.001-08:00

Thirty years ago the Amtrak Floridian passenger train that ran between Chicago and Miami was in it's final months of operation. Louisville, where I worked at the time for the Courier-Journal, would loose passenger train service.

I began a project to document the Floridian and over a few months in early 1979 I spent days in the Chicago train yards, riding the train and photographing the passengers, crew and an engineer, W.C. Roddy who drove the train between Louisville and Bowling Green, Kentucky.

There was also Henry LaSane, the porter who had worked for years on the railroad and was not sure he'd find another job. He met his daughter at a stop in Wildwood, Florida who came to see him. A sweet kiss from dad and he was back on board for the remainder of the trip.

The Floridian did cease operation later in 1979 due to budget cuts in the President Carter administration.

The black and white negatives have been stored away until recently when I bought a film scanner to begin another project, archiving the photographs I've made over the past 40 years. "Living the Cambodian Nightmare," the Floridian, "Yosemite, A Landscape of Life," The Sierra in Peril, Hunger in California, twelve years of performances by the Sacramento Ballet, and hundreds of family photographs, on and on...

State and local historical societies, university library archives, and many other repositories have been archiving material for many years. The Center For Creative Photography (CCP) at the University of Arizona houses the works of Ansel Adams and W. Eugene Smith for instance. The University of Louisville Special Collections has the 1.5 million images and was one of the first collections of documentary photographic history in the nation.

Newspapers have always had libraries and collections of photos and copies of past issues. Some newspapers hold on to photographers' negatives, some release them back to the photographer after a span of time, five years or so. Digital photography has changed everything in terms of archiving. Essentially that is great. Keeping track of digital images is a far more organized affair than film ever was and takes up a lot less space in doing so. But what of all the pre-digital age film of a community's history? What will become of that material as newspapers simply try to stay in business and produce a daily product?

I fear that many news organizations will not even know what they have and will have even less interest and resources to convert even a fraction of it to digital files.

Perhaps the saddest story is of the fate of the 40,000 negatives of the John F. Kennedy era shot by Jacques Lowe. He had them stored in a fireproof safe in a vault beneath the World Trade Center. He died a few months prior to September 11, 2001 so he will never know that the inferno following the terrorist attacks literally vaporized everything.

His daughter writes about the loss: http://www.jacqueslowe.com/lost_negatives.php

I'm really excited about Pete Souza who has been selected to be President Barack Obama's presidential photographer. He's absolutely the right man for the job of documenting the daily events in the Obama administration which will be historical in every sense of the word. This is his second tour in the White House; the first was during the Ronald Reagan years. He and his staff will be shooting digital and in fact, he made the official Obama portrait using digital, the first ever. You'll see it soon in a post office near you. He will not have the archiving issues Jacques Lowe had.

One of the keys to archiving digital photography is redundancy. Multiple copies stored in different locations. Hard drives fail. CD's get corrupted.

My intentions for my work is to scan, upload to sites out of my home, burn archival DVD's and store on good hard drives. I also have the opportunity to turn over film, transparencies, prints, and notes to some permanent archives. All of the Cambodia material is going to the CCP in Tucson and the Yosemite body of work will be housed in the Yosemite National Park's permanent archive.

Newspapers print the first draft of history, as the saying goes. Photojournalists show what was happening while that history was unfolding. We don't get the luxury of rewrite. The way we saw it is the way it will always be. I just hope that in the future there is that visual history to see.

Farewell to another little friend

2009-01-15T18:32:00.000-08:00

By Diane: Today is a sad day in our home. We lost Puss, one of our feline family members to cancer. The disease seemed to come on quickly so we had less than a week to have our last kitty time with her. Puss came into our lives when Allison’s piano teacher got another dog and the combination of two dogs to one cat just did not work. Puss had a great deal of energy and for a time we called her
Jackie Joyner Puss Kitty because she would jump over Noire and race through the house. With age and thyroid pills she settled down. Our cats, Gracie, Puss, and Noire moved with us to Oregon. Now only Noire is left. Although our cats are usually wherever we are, we would call “Pussy Puss-Puss and she would come. She was an affectionate lap cat and always took her fair share of the bed at night. We are grateful to have had the time with her and all the love she gave us. We loved her
right back and she will be missed.

Looking back at 2008

2009-01-02T21:38:00.001-08:00

..and some year it was!

Holiday Greetings 1992-2008.

2008-12-24T23:32:00.000-08:00

I began making my own holiday cards in 1992 after spending a lot of time in Yosemite and wanting to make use of some of my favorite winter imgages. The project has now evolved into a once a year cottage industry. The photographs are now a reflection of where I am in my life, central Oregon being prominent. The only image where people are involved was in 1999 when I used a Nutcracker ballet with the inside greeting "dance with glee into the 21st century." I hope you will enjoy these photos and will be surrounded by those you love today.

A Squirrel's Tough Life.

2008-12-18T15:56:00.000-08:00

Winter has arrived In central Oregon after a late start or what appeared to be late. What do I know about it? I watch the skies, feel the wind and temperature and look out the window. When it's snowing then it's winter. Fortunately the snow has been a light powder, easy for shoveling. Snow shoveling definitely falls in that activity where the law of diminishing returns applies, somewhat like beer drinking. The first one tastes great, the fourth not so much. The first 15 minutes of shoveling gets the heart rate up. An hour into the job is plain old work and not fun anymore. This morning I got to watch one of the gray squirrels that inhabits our backyard and is a constant presence around the base of the bird feeders eating the remains of what the birds drop. His efforts to get at the bird seed were
acrobatic and quite humorous. He made several attempts to shinny up the pole, stretch out and gain a foothold on the feeder. Unsuccessful, he would slide down the pole and hop over to a tree to regain his strength then return for another go at it. I think he's fairly well-fed because he does really well when the snow is not around and I suppose he's got a stash
somewhere in the yard. I haven't any doubt that he'll be back tomorrow. He's supposed to survive on his own which appears he's doing nicely. Maybe I'll sweeten the pot and sprinkle some seeds on the ground. I won't expect any help from him with the shoveling though.

It's December, where's the snow?

2008-12-09T00:08:00.000-08:00

The days of fall linger on. A year ago there had been several snowstorms and winter was upon us and stayed until late March. This year is different and most everyone is pleased that winter is taking its sweet time getting here. The annual Metolius Tree Hunt sponsored by the Deschutes Land Trust was held in 50º weather and one group of youngsters from a church youth group was heard singing carols as they carried out their tree.

I have yet to even start my holiday greeting cards although I have every intention of getting them done. After all I have a streak of 16 years going. I hung a few lights on the house, Diane found a nice tree and we decorated it, put up Allison's collection of Nutcrackers and called it done. Ho ho ho.

The Obama victory has given a little hope that the future will be better. I'm not one to go overboard and think that the ship of state will right itself any time soon. Mr. Lameduck Bush can't leave Washington fast enough.
There have been more layoffs in the newspaper industry, the Big 3 ask for bailouts, the stock market can't settle down, no one is buying anything and with Christmas a little more than two weeks away the spirit of the season is about as robust as the housing market.

I am not without some energy. In fact, I've completed a project that was long overdue. I began photographing Yosemite National Park in 1988 in advance of the 1990 centennial of this marvelous place. A book "Yosemite, A Landscape of Life" was published and I continued to shoot there for several more years. Yet, all the film, transparencies and digital files were not in a single location. A few of the best pictures had been digitally archived but the vast majority of the material was dormant. No longer. For the past month I've looked at every image and scanned the essence of a decade long project. It's a relief to know
where everything is. I've compiled a gallery on my website http://archive.jaymather.org/c/mather/gallery-list. Viewing the images is about the same as reading a short story in a magazine or an in-depth article in your Sunday newspaper. People still read don't they?

Now, if I can just get excited about the holidays...

November, the month of change.

2008-11-12T13:28:00.001-08:00

It's time for change and it's all around me. The presidential election was the finest example of a sophisticated democracy
and hope fills the air and airwaves as Obama's election is discussed endlessly. I keep wincing at the volatile stock market, the dismal decline of the newspaper industry, layoffs, corporate closings and pleas for the government to bail out the automakers.

It's all about the same thing, change, as in nothing will ever be quite the same again. It's now five weeks since my second knee replacement surgery and I could not be more satisfied with the progress and relative ease of the recovery. Visits to the physical therapist are over and progress from here on will be self-inflicted. Another change I'm ready to roll with.

Sisters, itself, is changing. For what passes as news here is the reconfiguration of an intersection in town and the opening of a new grocery store. The grand opening was today with a ribbon cutting, music and free French bread to customers. I stopped in to have a tour and overheard one man speaking to another, "I've seen more people I know in the last half hour than I've seen in the last month." You might think we're hard up for entertainment. Possibly true. There isn't any snow for skiing or other winter activities, cycling is essentially done and hiking, for those who can, is limited to the lower elevations.

The snowbirds are leaving in their fifth-wheels, motorhomes and trailers. The rest of us are figuring out what to do with the shortened days and longer nights. I took advantage today of semi-decent weather to get out of the house and explore. Twenty minutes east of town the desert sky brings a totally different perspective. On a warm and windy morning change is in the air.

Jay's website.

2008-11-01T12:43:00.000-07:00

O.K. So what have I been up to since the last post? I've ventured into the rather mysterious world of website creation. Seeing an ad on some page somewhere for a DIY website application that didn't cost an arm and a leg ($30) I bit. In the process I learned about domain name registration, hosting, FTP uploads, some html, root folders, resizing QuickTime files and importing my PhotoShelter galleries. A couple of "help me!" calls to godaddy.com the site finally appeared. I know it's not the slickest, seamless and elegant site on the web, and there are some amazing sites. It's enough bang for the buck for now or until I acquire a ton more knowledge. Please have a look and thanks! jaymather.org

The importance of documentary photography

2008-10-20T10:08:00.000-07:00

Colin Powell, on yesterday's "Meet The Press," endorsed Barack Obama to be President of the United States and referred to this photograph in his eloquent statement. More than just making an endorsement he rejected the "anti-Islamic" prejudice that pervades the negative campaign rhetoric.

Powell said, "I feel strongly about this particular point because of a picture I saw in a magazine. It was a photo-essay about troops who were serving in Iraq and Afghanistan. And one picture at the tail end of this photo essay was of a mother in Arlington Cemetery and she had her head on the headstone of her son's grave. And as the picture focused in you can see the writing on the headstone. And it gave his awards, Purple Heart, Bronze Star, showed that he died in Iraq, gave his date of birth, date of death. He was 20 years old. And then at the very top of the headstone, it didn't have a Christian cross, it didn't have a Star of David. It had a crescent and a star of the Islamic faith. And his name was Karim Rashad Sultan Khan. And he was an American, he was born in New Jersey, he was 14 at the time of 9/11 and he waited until he can go serve his country and he gave his life." Photograph for the New Yorker by Platon.

The editors at Vanity Fair have a gallery of what they consider to be the greatest "news" photographs ever made.One in the collection is this photo, left, from the Viet Nam wa by Nick Ut, Associated Press. The images are well worth seeing and contemplating their historical relevance. As with any list that attempts to define the "best of," there is plenty of room for debate. The real importance is that these images and many more like them are remembered and still being discussed. My top 25 list would include Alfred Eisenstaedt's image of the soldier kissing a nurse in Times Square, 1945, Henri Cartier-Bresson's "Gestapo Informer,"W. Eugene Smith's Minimata mother bathing her child,Stanley Forman's Pulitzer Prize image of a black man being stabbed by a white man with the American flag,, Dirck Halsted's photograph of President Clinton and Monica Lewinsky, and the Challenger shuttle explosion.
What troubles me now is that the next great news photograph may not be seen. Given the plethora of on-line 24/7 news sites that change several times a day, blogs and other means of journalistic expression, it will be harder for new photographs to enter the general consciousness. Many newspaper websites now include "pictures of the day." There are also specific websites dedicated to showing great photojournalism. The trick is that you have to know where to go to see what's being done by the world's photojournalists. http://boston.com/bigpicture/ is one of the best. The Digital Journalist is the best site displaying work of photographers out in the field today. It's published monthly. Noteworthy in this month's issue is the work by Callie Shell on the campaign trail with Barack Obama. Should he win these images will take on an even greater historical value. When you think about the value of documentary photography consider the world without it.

A season of change

2008-10-05T21:00:00.000-07:00

Central Oregon is well into the seasonal change of fall. Unlike many other regions of the country where deciduous forests show a rainbow of colors this area is limited to the yellows and reds and then only in a few locations. Yet the beauty is there especially when contrasted with the Ponderosa pines. Today I went out to find what I could since it will be my last outing for awhile. The orthopedic surgeon and I have a date tomorrow and he says he'll bring his "A" game for my knee reconstruction project. Back In June before the first surgery I went out to photograph the spring wildflower bloom so it made sense to me to get out for a shot at the fall colors. From Santiam Pass to the Metoilus River I found more than I expected. The peak hasn't arrived yet and is probably ten days away. By then I will be happy enough to simply get off the bed to walk around on the deck. I'm anxious to get on with the last of the surgeries and into a year of rehabilitation. I've had what I hoped for thus far: an unremarkable recovery. I'm expecting a repeat of that. By the time this country elects a new President, celebrates Thanksgiving and Christmas I'll be quite mobile again and relieved to that the worst is finally behind me.

The Oregon coast

2008-09-30T16:32:00.001-07:00

After Allison was settled at the University of Oregon Diane and I headed for the coast, two hours west. It was our first excursion that way and there wasn't enough time to see all the lighthouses, beaches and interesting towns so we selected to visit the Sea Lion Caves north of Florence, the Yaquina Head Lighthouse
and the magnificent Coast Aquarium in Newport, a fascinating exploration with fish and other marine life swimming around you as if you were fifty feet down in the Pacific. We stayed a couple of nights in Newport, hunkering
down to try and recover from the long process of getting Allison to school. We walked out to a bluff overlooking the Pacific and the seven-mile long Nye Beach. People strolled on the sand which I found visually interesting. We were glad to get home and have a week of completing some home tasks before I head back
to the St. Charles Medical center next Monday for my second knee reconstruction surgery.

As always, click on any image to see it full-size.

Allison begins her college life

2008-09-25T16:49:00.000-07:00

The time between Allison's high school graduation in Sacramento, a rite of passage, and her enrollment at the University of Oregon, a larger rite, has gone fast. Not fast enough for her, however, as her last days in Sisters seemed endless. Diane and I were prepared (as in weeks of preparation) and anxious for her to finally get to the campus and settled in her dorm room in Eugene. We are melancholy watching her leave home this time. It's not that we've not been down this road before as Allison has always split her time with us and her birth-mom in Sacramento. This time is different. Allison will not be living in Sacramento or Sisters. There are lumps in our throats as we ferried her things from the car to her third-floor room in the LLC (Living-Learning Center) which is across the street from Hayward Field, the iconic track and field venue. She and Diane unpack boxes and arrange he clothes in the small wardrobe. My job is to get the computer and t.v. functioning (and to make some photos of the event). Her roommate, Alesa, from nearby Springfield, is already setting up her side of the room. With the situation basically in hand we leave for the rest of the afternoon, drive to our hotel and collapse on the beds. Moving day is wearing, plain and simple.

Our plan to meet for dinner in the dining commons doesn't happen because 5,000 other kids and parents have the same idea. Our last meal together until Thanksgiving is deli sandwiches. We will see Allison once more before we leave Eugene and head further west for a few days on the coast before returning to Sisters. In my head I am still going through the years of memories: elementary school plays, ballet classes and Nutcracker performances, soccer, piano, camping, and a trip to England in 2003. I let myself go back even further to first bike rides, first day of school, a skiing accident resulting in a broken elbow, and several "brave girl dresses" she earned for enduring some of the most unpleasant days of her life. Then there is moment Allison, at age three, gets her first doll, a Christmas gift beautifully wrapped in a big box. The doll cries and it's eyes blink when it's moved. Allison has the box in her arms and waves it around and the cry is audible within the box. Her nose and eyes squish together and she innocently asks, "How a box could cry?" The question tonight is "how a Dad could cry." There is no loss here to mourn, rather a great success. It's a quiet moment of reverie as I contemplate Allison's transition into adulthood. I'm proud to shed that tear.

McKenzie Pass

2008-09-23T19:26:00.000-07:00

A guy can have small dreams, right? Today I realized one of mine. Since my first total knee replacement surgery June 23rd I've worked hard to follow the rehabilitation plan. Two months of physical therapy, lots of painful stretching, and a slow and steady return to a point when I could get on the bike and ride. At first it was just 3-mile laps around the
neighborhood, then my basic 18-mile loop and then moving on to 25-30 mile rides. In the back of my mind since day one was the plan to ride McKenzie Pass between the first and second surgeries. Initially I thought I'd never get there since my endurance was reduced to squat. Over the past few weeks, however, I've become a little stronger and today accompanied by a friend, Doug Smith, we did the ride up the pass from Sisters, 15 miles of 6%-7% grade to the summit with 2500' of elevation gain. Tonight I'm beat and upbeat. I won't have to mull over the "what if" scenario in my head all winter. I'm not a fan of self-congratulation so this post is somewhat abnormal. Just once though, I just need to hoot and holler. And, yes, I did wear a helmet.

Fires everywhere

2008-09-17T18:49:00.001-07:00

Today the whole world seems to be on fire. Financial institutions are collapsing like a house of cards, the stock market is free falling, the news out of McClatchy Newspapers is more grim by the day and after a relatively calm summer, forest fires in Oregon are blazing away. Fortunately, in my neck of the woods, so much has burned over the past few seasons, that the risk is low for imminent danger. A fire to the south, in the Crescent Lake region, is impacting this area with drifting smoke.

Allison and I went out this afternoon to see if there might be a photo to summarize what's happening. She insisted on driving up Three Creeks Road to s spot we have visited often for the spectacular view of Whychus Creek Canyon and the Three Sisters. I hesitated thinking the effort wouldn't be worth the effort. Once there the magic happened and I, once again, am reminded of serendipity. Thanks, Allison.

Over the past few days former colleagues have told me of people missing from the list. I've added them to the long list, now 81 former journalists who worked at the Sacramento Bee. I hope that anyone with other folks will let me know so I can add them as well (scroll down to the previous post to view the updated list). My intention is that no one will be left out and that on my blog, if nowhere else, they will all be named and remembered.

The news out of Sacramento continues to sound like a eulogy for an industry in demise. Perhaps it's changing for the better. I would like to believe that not only individuals but an institution like the 4th Estate can be reincarnated. Sometime down the road this evolution of how news is gathered, reported and paid for will be understood. For now, however, it's a tale of how quickly and tightly the wagons can be circled. I trust that my former co-workers and friends still inside that circle will find some job security and professional fulfillment in an ever-changing environment and for those who are now free to do whatever comes next in their lives, godspeed and good luck. The fires are raging and survival is "Job 1."

The demise of quality local journalism in Sacramento.

2008-09-12T14:03:00.000-07:00

Photograph by Jay Mather

Sacramento Bee cuts work force another 7%
By Dale Kasler - dkasler@sacbee.com

Under continued pressure to reduce costs, The Bee cut its work force on Wednesday by another 7 percent, this time through voluntary buyouts.

The Bee said 87 full- and part-time employees accepted a buyout offer that followed a previous round of layoffs and attrition in June that shrank the staff by 8 percent.

The buyouts went to 23 newsroom employees.

It wasn't clear whether that's the end of the staff cuts. At the time buyouts were offered, Publisher and President Cheryl Dell said more layoffs were possible if there weren't enough takers.

She said on Wednesday the paper won't know for a couple of weeks if the buyouts did the trick.

"I know there's anxiety with not having an answer today," she said.

The newspaper industry has been hobbled by the economic slump and competition from the Internet, prompting layoffs at almost every chain.
••••••••

The facts of the story don't tell the whole story. No one who is leaving the place where they poured their heart and soul into is named. It is those people with their own lives, families, problems and promises for a better future who need to be recognized for what they did to make Sacramento a fine place to live and be informed about the world around them. David Barton compiled most of the list and I added several more. Most of these journalists, including three Pulitzer Prize recipients, worked decades at the Bee and none would have imagined their careers ending or being drastically altered in the free fall that the newspaper industry is enduring. I worked with virtually everyone on this list at some point in my 20 years at the Bee. The names include those who have left in the past few years or so. Good luck my friends.

Mike Dunne
Janet Fullwood
Pat Rubin
Dorothy Korber
Deb Kollars
Bruce Dancis
Sarah Williams
Dan Vierra
David Favrot
Lori Richardson
Bob Sylva
Greg Endicott
Kevin McKenna
Gwen Schoen
Art Campos
Lakiesha McGhee
Milt Whaley
Ramon Coronado
Edgar Sanchez
Barbara Stubbs
Lisa Elizondo
Matt Carroll
Angie Pappas
Mark Billingsley
Matt Boudourian
Gerri Boutrarye
Janice Coleman
Fahizah Alim
Mareva Brown
Alison ApRoberts
Ralph Montano
Lisa Heyamoto
Dan Nguyen
Cameron Jahn
Christina Jewett
Kevin German
Todd Milbourn
Erica Chavez
John Hughes
Dorsey Griffith
Elizabeth Hume
Crystal Carreon
Nancy Weaver Teichert
Jocelyn Weiner
Pamela Martineau
John Williams
Edie Lau
Walt Wiley
Owen Brewer
Cynthia Craft
Judy Lin
Tom Philp
Steve Gibson
Gwendolyn Trump
Pauline Haynes
Mark Kreidler
Maria Henson
Stuart Drown
R.E. Graswich
Becky Boyd
Patricia Beach Smith
Gary Delsohn
Jim Richardson
Alexa Bluth
Clint Swett
Rick Rodriguez
David Barton
Laura Mecoy
Erhardt Krause
Amy Eckert
Emily Bazar
John Decker
Dick Schmidt
Claire Cooper
Molly Dugan
Dick Gilmore
Rasmi Simhan
Jim Jenkins
Herb Sample
Thuy-Doan Le
Jay Mather

Summer Wine

2008-09-08T10:22:00.001-07:00

Long afternoons, sun filtering through the pines, the birds still flock to the feeders. I enjoy a glass of wine and notice the light reflecting through the stem of the glass, more enjoyable at this moment than drinking the so-so Zinfandel. This is the sweet spot of summer, just for a moment.

Change in the air

2008-09-01T10:02:00.000-07:00

There is a twinge of Fall in the air around here, Labor Day weekend. The Chamber of Commerce likes to say how many days of sunshine there are each year; they are less inclined to say how many days a year residents wear fleece. For me, it absolutely beats dealing with heat and/or humidity.
This September Allison will begin her college
years at the University of Oregon in Eugene. Big change. For her and us. She has been working at the Suttle Lake resort this summer and has a couple of weeks left before packing up for the transition to life in a campus residence hall. The resort held a 50's party complete with vintage cars, an "oldies" band and a barbecue.
We went for the evening, partied a little, watched a sunset and called it good. Allison spends her off hours on the computer talking to her old high school friends about their various plans for fall and has already made friends who are entering O.U. Connectivity is everything for her.
I have a five week grace period before the second knee surgery. This is a timely gift. I'll get to help Allison move to Eugene, enjoy some riding time and potentially, take a trip to the Oregon coast. Downtime before the other "down" time.

Observations

2008-08-17T16:33:00.001-07:00

The nearly five-week absence of a an updated post to my blog was essentially because I felt I had nothing of any particular interest to write about or photograph. I did not want the blog to become a progress report on my knee replacement surgery and rehabilitation. At the outset I hope for an unremarkable recovery and that it has been. Physical therapy is done for now and I continue to work out at the Sisters Athletic Club and have returned to moderate cycling. Moderate is all I can manage since my endurance was used in recovery. Knee replacement surgery is a tough road and takes time. I'm now at 2 months and the progress will go on for a year. The second round is set for October 7th which means I should be feeling really good by early December. So, that's it in a nutshell.
While I did nothing more than workout, ice the knee and sleep a lot, we had a great water feature installed in the backyard. Diane and I sit out on the deck now more than ever and last night we both saw the face in the tree looking back at us. We had never noticed it before and now it's as clear as can be. Like the Man-In-The-Moon or the face of Tis-sa-ack on Half Dome in Yosemite, once you see it it is there forever. I take the first sighting as a small sign that everything is proceeding as it is supposed to in my life. I used the phrase "understanding the space between the leaves" as a way to learn patience. The rehabilitation from surgery has been a daily challenge to be patient. I can't make the recovery go any faster than my body will allow. The tree and I will have a lot more face time in the next few months.

Winning and remembering

2008-07-11T08:35:00.000-07:00

Matt Wilson outsprints Tom Wilson at the end of Stage 2 of the Cascade Cycling Classic. His victory in the 80-mile road race from Bend to the finish at the Three Creeks Sno-Park, eleven miles up a steep climb from Sisters was bittersweet, however, as he constantly thought about his teammate Ben Brooks who was critically injured in a crash during the first stage on Wednesday. Motivation often comes with a backstory. Wilson and Brooks are long-time friends, training partners and teammates from Australia. After the race Wilson went directly to the hospital in Bend to see his friend. For me, the race was an opportunity to get out of the house and attempt to maneuver with the walker and a couple of cameras. It was strange to cover an event albeit with self-imposed restrictions. There wasn't a lot of running around after the race to find a nice moment. I am just grateful to be out and making the attempt to get back to normalcy.

Backyard residents

2008-07-07T16:09:00.000-07:00

It has been suggested to me that it is time to change the blog from the "Insomnia" entry to something lighter. Don't get me wrong, the insomnia post was meant to be somewhat humorous and certainly doesn't reflect my overall positive attitude about my rehabilitation since the knee surgery two weeks ago. Actually, the rehab is progressing right on schedule. The physical therapist and a nurse practitioner who works with my ortho doc say the window of opportunity lasts six weeks for me to gain as much range of motion as possible. After that, the progress is minimal. I already have total extension of the leg. Flexion, the degree the knee can bend, needs to get to 120º and that is the tough task ahead. I got to 100º in P.T. today which is a big improvement from 85º last Thursday. Bending and stretching the knee to break up the scar tissues stings like hell. And my choice is what? There are stories of some who couldn't or wouldn't do the work and had to undergo joint manipulation under anaesthesia. That is not an acceptable alternative. It defeats my goal of a totally unremarkable experience. I'll deal with the pain which actually subsides rather quickly. Lots of walking around with the aid of a walker (my neighbor has started calling me Jaywalker). My recreation and escape off the bed is to sit on the deck and watch the chipmunks, squirrels and birds come to the feeders. While my former work cohorts are involved in 24/7 hand-wringing over the death spiral the newspaper industry seems to be in and all the online discussion of solutions, suggestions and blame throwing, I can escape to the decks and simply sit and do nothing. I have knee rehabilitation as my only and most important job. And, in October, I get to do this all again on the other knee. Winter will be coming on and I'll need to be a lot more creative when I can't get outside as much. I'll be thinking about that.

Insomnia

2008-07-01T04:30:00.001-07:00

"Miles from nowhere
I guess I'll take my time
Oh yeah, to reach there

Look up at the mountain
I have to climb
Oh yeah, to reach there.

Lord my body has been a good friend
But I won't need it when I reach the end."

- Cat Stevens, 1970

A week into my long recovery and rehabilitation from knee reconstruction surgery I've learned a few things: improvement is slow, the pain manageable with meds, stretching is excruciating, and tomorrow may be better than today but no guarantees. My sleeping patterns coincide with pain management

so I'm usually awake in the early morning. This is the time when all the committee's in mind decide to meet to rehash topics I have no control over. Nothing, of course, is ever resolved and after an hour or so I start to relax and get on with the second half of the night's sleep pattern.

A central Oregon bouquet

2008-06-22T12:35:00.000-07:00

I went on my last bike ride for awhile yesterday, cruising easily along the bucolic Metolius River where the old summer cabins along the bank are occupied with seasonal guests. The campgrounds are full and the wonderful scent
of wood fires float across the road. I'm in no hurry as I want to savor this day and contemplate what lies ahead with my knee surgeries. It's strange to be at peace with the constant dull pain that now does not subside even when I'm on the bike like it used to. Change is coming.
I carried my Canon point-and shoot camera in the hope of making a couple of pictures. On the gradual ascent out of the Camp Sherman basin the wildflowers became increasingly abundant and colorful. Central Oregon is in the midst of a wildflower bloom that has not been seen in many years. The long winter and
schizophrenic spring have given back in a fantastic spread of Lupine, Indian Paintbrush, Monkeyflower, sunflowers and a myriad of other tiny species. As I was nearing the top of the final hill before the last five miles from home I spotted a large spread of lupine in an area where a controlled burn happened a couple of years ago. I went back this morning with Diane to photograph the scene. It occurred to me that I was walking through gift of flowers before the surgery. I prefer that to a bouquet in a hospital room. By the time I'm mobile again the bloom will be gone. In time I will be able to hike into the wilderness to see more of the beauty of this area. For now, the wildflower field will sustain me.

There is one big downside to this surgery event: I will have little to photograph or write about. I cannot imagine that anyone really cares
to hear very much about molybdenum/plastic knees, physical therapy and rehabilitation or the countless number of sports programs and old movies I'll watch. Actually, I am looking forward to watching the Tour de France, Wimbeldon and the Olympics. That's a fair line-up of acceptable television options. I'll also entertain weird and off-beat suggestions from those who just can't pass up the opportunity to poke fun at a stationary target.

How did I get here?

2008-06-14T20:36:00.000-07:00

One year ago I began this blog as my personal method of deciphering what "retirement" is all about. I had no grand design or preconceived notion about what I would show or say to anyone who might have the slightest passing interest. As this blog evolved I realized that there were people out there who would read the blog if it was thoughtful,
conscientious and combined with documentary photography. So, that being said, this posting takes an abrupt inward turn; it is about me, rather than what's around me. One week from now my life will never be the same. Actually, every day is like that but the subtle daily changes everyone's lives are barely noticed. Back to my point: On June 23rd I will have the first of two total knee joint replacement surgeries. Degeneratve arthritis in both knees has progresses to the point where the procedure is imperative. That a solution is available and is done regularly with a high success rate is incredible. I wince at the thought of the predicament people were in 10 or 20 years ago or longer. Did they just finally give up, sit in a wheelchair or suffer silently until they died of something else?
Modern medicine is my version of a miracle. I have been reflecting for a long
time about what occurred to bring me to this moment when I am willing and eager to let a surgeon essentially amputate my leg, remove the knee joint and insert a titanium replacement. I went back through some old photographs of me (there aren't all that many) because I know I have led a exuberant and energetic life. Perhaps I

should have acted on the advice of a physical therapist in my college days who said that I should not be a runner because I had such lousy knees and flat feet. My favorite quote rings in my head, "the years teach what the days can never know." Yet, I don't regret a minute of the places I've been and the great people who were there with me at the time. The photographs I've chosen represent periods in my physical life. (1) an instructor in the Colorado Outward Bound School, summer 1972; photographing the EA Ranch in North Park. Colorado, the homestead of my long-time friend Ed Howard, summer 1974; at the Kentucky Derby Balloon festival, May 1977; running around Lake Union in Seattle during a trip to cover the University of Kentucky men's basketball team in the Final Four, March 1984; the last day of the ascent of El Capitan in Yosemite National Park when I was photographing Mark Wellman, the first paraplegic climber to make the summit; completing my second (and last) Markleeville Death Ride, a one-day, 15,000' of elevation gain over during a 130 mile cycling event, July 2005. What comforts me is that the last of the disciplines I've enjoyed (cycling, mountaineering, climbing, running, skiing, and a rigorous professional life) cycling is what saved me from the operating table for at least five years. I kept my quadriceps strong which supported the knee joints, allowing me to continue working and riding. I rode to live, to work, to eat, to rest and ride again. I did save the best for last. It was hard to give up running yet an obvious decision when knee pain overtakes the will to put on the shoes and head out to the road. Cycling was more than a substitute; it became a passion. Cycling was the only time I could actually be pain free, at least in the knees. Completing centuries was easier than walking a half-mile. I have one job now for the rest of 2008. Rehab. Everything else is behind me now. The home projects are done, Allison is here and working. Our plan which began almost four years ago is still real and happening, day by day. I am totally ready of for the next phase of "moving on."

We'll not pass this way again.

2008-06-07T07:40:00.000-07:00

June, 1964. I graduated from North High School at a ceremony at the Denver Auditorium. Fast forward to June 6, 2008 and the commencement tradition continues. Allison graduates from C.K. McClatchy High School at a ceremony at the Sacramento Memorial Auditorium. Forty-four years in the interim with all the life of ups and downs that the commencement
speeches predicted. The valedictory addresses stay on the same theme and the passing of time will enforce the wave of changes that the speakers ask the Class of 2008 to embrace. I realize this is the final high school graduation ceremony for my children I'll attend with so many memories attached. My sons, Jesse
and Josh graduated from schools in Louisville, Kentucky years ago and I have photographs of those times. There are no pictures from my 1964 ceremony so I only have fading memories of that day. I recall my group of friends I went out with after the event. Steve Holmes, Mike Mapelli, Dave Wendelin and Gene Heinemeyer. We bought some beer, went out to golf course and
sat on the 15th green, looked at the stars and laughed about all the crazy things we'd done. We were chased off by a guard and all went home. I never saw any of them again. Allison was surrounded by her cadre of friends and calling others she can't find in the crowd on her cell phone. Parents and friends are constantly snapping group of seniors who may never be this close again. The gravity of the moment and the relentless change that all of the
seniors will experience is not being considered. The good-byes begin one hug at a time. One of the speakers said that he was looking forward to reunions in 20 and 40 years to see how his classmates managed their lives. He's got it right. The end of high school is the beginning of adult life. Yea, there is still college, mainly supported by parents, but the shift toward independency begins, for most, after the senior year in high school. I remember leaving two days after graduation for the summer to attend an rigorous instructor training course at the Colorado Outward Bound School. I stayed on there to work in course support and logistics and then came back to Denver two days before entering the University of Colorado at Boulder. I never missed high school like Allison will. I only looked back at my high school days at the 10, 20 and 40 year reunions and at each succeeding one it was clear that the only journey that I could fully connect with was my own. As a parent I can only watch and sometimes advise and bring my perspective to Jesse, Josh and Allison who are also "moving on."

...could it be?

2008-05-29T22:44:00.000-07:00

It has occurred to me that there is actually a fifth season in central Oregon: Springter. The region has been teased with a few isolated days of actual spring-like conditons and even a day or two of near-summer temps. Then the rains and cold return and everyone goes about
their activities mumbling to themselves. Fortunately I've had a lot of inside work to do on the master bath renovation, the downside is the opportunities to get out on the bike have been limited. Then, yesterday, the large cold front hanging over the northwest began to move east and you could feel the change.
I watched the clouds dissipate over the 3 Sisters and then in the late afternoon while on my way to a social function with the Deschutes Land Trust I saw the full-on beauty of Mt. Jefferson. For me the season has certainly moved into what's left of Spring. There are other changes happening as well. Allison finished her McClatchy high school days in Sacramento and will graduate next week. We'll attend and then help her relocate to Sisters and her summer job, then on to the University of Oregon in September. My first TKR (total knee replacement) is three weeks away and the new master bath with the walk-in shower will get a lot of use. Change is upon us and it feels great.

Sisters of the Quilt

2008-05-23T12:32:00.000-07:00

Oh, had I a golden Thread
And needle so fine
I've weave a magic strand
Of rainbow design
Of rainbow design.

In it I'd weave the bravery
Of women giving birth,
In it I would weave the innocence
Of children over all the earth,
Children of all earth.

Far over the waters
I'd reach my magic band
Through foreign cities,
To every single land,
To every land.

Show my brothers and sisters
My rainbow design,
Bind up this sorry world
With hand and heart and mind,
Hand and heart and mind.

Far over the waters
I'd reach my magic band
To every human being
So they would understand,
So they'd understand.

Words and music by Pete Seeger, 1958

Sisters, Oregon, May 22, 2008.
A room in the home of Jan Sims is filled with lively chatter over whirring sewing machines. Colorful strips of fabric, mostly in the patriotic colors of red, white and blue, are being cut, pieced together, sewn and ironed. This group of women, and they are among many across the country, are Hero Quilters.

The American Hero Quilts began in the Seattle area in 2004 as a way to say thanks and provide a bit of comfort for Iraq war soldiers recovering from battle injuries. The movement has spread nationally. Sisters, Oregon, known for it's scenic beauty, artistic community and exquisite quilting was a natural fit for the women who volunteer their time, and most often their money, to make the Hero Quilts. During the weekly sessions, there isn't talk of politics, the war or other issues that get in the way of the work. It's all about the quilts and the thoughts of who will receive them.

One-hundred-four quilts have been donated in the 18 months the group has been active. Another 30 or so await the computerized quilting process and the women keep on cutting and sewing. Their reward is knowing that the veterans who receive them find comfort and a tribute to their sacrifice.

The group received a letter recently from a mother of a wounded son.

Dear American Hero Quilt Ladies,
My name is Ranae Simmons. Last week at the Warrior Transition Battalion you
presented my son with a hero quilt. I am writing to tell you about my son and
that quilt. My son did not want to come and get his quilt. His Sgt. said they
had to make it an order that he come down to the common room. He was one of
the last to receive a quilt as you were packing up. Perhaps you remember him,
he is the the very quiet man with haunted eyes. On Friday he had rather
extensive surgery with several bone grafts and skin grafts. My husband and I
were stunned when he appeared at the hospital with his quilt. He has not
shown an interest in anything or anyone since he was injured. The last thing
he asked before they wheeled him away was that we keep his quilt with us and
make sure nothing happened to it. When he woke up his first words to us were
not how glad he was to see us, it was "do you have my quilt?" He asked that it
was immediately put on him, he said he was cold.

I have been thinking a lot about that quilt and my son. We thought we had lost
him emotionally and we despaired of ever getting him back. He was not connecting
with anyone in our family, not even his nephew who he has adored since our little
guy was born. This quilt seems to give him comfort, warmth and is the first sign
that maybe our son will come back to us. This quilt is clearly something that
you spent a great deal of time on. I just wanted to let you know that to us,
this quilt is hope and to our son it is priceless.

Thank you so much for the honor you have done to my son. From our family, thank
you for helping bring our son back to us.

Ranae Simmons.

This is Memorial Day weekend, the traditional first weekend of summer. Despite gas prices the traffic over the Cascades on Highway 20 is heavy. People going on with their lives, to have fun, recreate, enjoy the freedoms that are essentially taken for granted. For the veterans who are dealing with their injuries in hospitals and in their homes, the concept of freedom and it's cost cannot be displaced by a long weekend of camping and fishing. The best result is that a beautiful quilt from the Hero Quilters will begin to say "thank you." Hearts and hands can bind up and bring hope to a sorry world to those who saw their duty to make the world a better place to live.

Moving On, Vol.2

2008-05-21T20:00:00.000-07:00

After the overwhelming response to my first compilation CD,

Moving On, Songs In Transition

yes, all two copies, I've forged ahead with

Moving On, Vol. 2: Music for the Journey.

(Laugh here). Now, seriously, the music I listen to is varied, acoustic based, and contemplative. The tracks on the new album, all instrumental, have relevance to me and hopefully you, another listener.

The tracks are:

The Hymn Of Ordinary Motion: J. Douglas, R. Barenberg, E. Meyer

Over the Rainbow: Tommy Emmanuel

Big Bug Shuffle: Jerry Douglas, Russ Barenberg, Edgar Meyer

Send In The Clowns: Tony Rice & John Carlini

Pastorale: Ray Lynch

Take Five: Dave Brubeck Quartet

You Deserve Flowers: Chris Thile

California Quail: Joe Weed

Mendelssohn: Songs Without Words,
Book I, Op.19, Andante con moto: Luba Edlina

Vivaldi: Concerto In D Major For Lute, Strings & Continuo: Frederic Hand

Three/Quarter North: Leo Kottke

Ashokan Farewell: Jay Ungar & Molly Mason

Arms Of Mary: Leo Kottke

Bygone Days: Eileen Ivers

A Whiter Shade of Pale: David Lanz

Deep At Night: Alex de Grassi

The Dark Island: Neal Hellman - Joe Weed

Closing: Linda Ronstadt and Ann Savoy

Goodnight Irene: George Winston

There are two reasons for this album: One, each track reminds me of a particular point in my life when the music was absolutely perfect for the moment. I can (and will on request) describe the event(s) that made the piece a part of my audio archive. Just one for example: Bygone Days. I heard this piece while enroute to Grass Valley, CA to photograph a memorial service for Adam Strain, a Grass Valley high school graduate and star football player and an Iraq war causualty. It was being played on KVMR, the public radio station there. I later contacted Brian Terhorst, the d.j. on the program "Harmony Ridge" who told me that he played the song because he was thinking about his father he never knew who died in the Korean War.

Should you be adventurous, all I need is an e-mail address so we can connect and go from there. The album is free, a gift from me to the visitors of my blog.

Photography and writing is the core of my blog. The music is the third dimension.

The Big Picture

2008-05-17T19:30:00.001-07:00

It hasn't been since completing the deck refinishing project last summer that I've felt every ache and pain from a big home project. My sleep and my motivation to keep going is impacted. I'm nearly done with building the new vanity and linen cabinet in the bathroom remodeling project and it's not any too soon. I'm glad I don't do THAT for a living. I took a short break yesterday to make a few images for the Deschutes Land Trust of the Oregon Game & Fish Dept. planting steelehead fry in Whyshcus Creek where it flows through Camp Polk Meadow. The photograph of the guy hauling the fish upstream is exactly how I feel these days. Trying to make progress going upstream.

The concept I need to remind myself is of the "big picture." The issues of daily life, sometimes trivial, irritating, painful, or quite serious for many reasons, are all part of that. A researcher who has studied how some segments of the world's population live long lives (to 100 +) has published a book and newspapers are picking up the story. I read about his research in the Bend Bulletin.

Common to all the groups are nine factors. Dan Buettner’s nine tips for longer life, from his book “The Blue Zones”:

1. Move Naturally. Be active without having to think about it.
2. Hara Hachi Bu. Painlessly cut calories by 20 percent.
3. Plant Slant. Avoid meat and processed food.
4. Grapes of Life. Drink red wine (in moderation).
5. Purpose Now. Take time to see the big picture.
6. Down Shift. Take time to relieve stress.
7. Belong. Participate in a spiritual community.
8. Loved Ones First. Make family a priority.
9. Right Tribe. Be surrounded by those who share Blue Zone values.

I think I'm right there on most of these points (maybe not so much of 7 or 9) and it is not surprising that taking time to understand the big picture is akin to understanding the "space between the leaves," that Carlos Castenada wrote about. Considering then the overall sceanrio of my life allows me to share that
Diane and I celebrated our 12th anniversary recently. It is not about the number of years, it's more of how we got to this point in our lives separately, then together. That is a big picture. We decided to get married and had a little personal ceremony in Yosemite National Park in 1995. That's the photo on the left. We're 13 years later posing for our camera along Tuamlo Creek near Bend, Oregon. There are great stories and wonderful moments between those two photographs. Our lives move together easily and allow us both to try to live like were are in a "Blue Zone." I don't expect to live to 100 though. Just another 30 please?

A convenient collaboration

2008-05-08T20:27:00.000-07:00

I have a saying, "Work is what you do when you wish you were doing something else." So I must simply be tired from not working. I took a break from my cabinet making and went to the Sisters Athletic Club for an hour spin class and then went out toward Redmond to see how Dayton was doing.
He was just finishing carving around the bear's feet. That completes the rough profile of the 15' sculpture. From now on the work will be far more detailed and days will pass before there are obvious changes. Fatigue is one of our common bonds and we acknowledge that. Dayton is first to say that he appreciates my company and that my time with him has
motivated him. My response is that I like being around and watching his progress. I know that our separate arts are meant to be together for this project. I am more fortunate. Being new to central Oregon I've looked for ways to continue my photographic journey, my life's work (there's that word again). My days with Brent McGregor, the dancers of the Sacramento Ballet, the Deschutes Land Trust have brought many nice moments.
Also, the spin class two days a week brings a good dose of wellness and more opportunities to expand friendships outside of photography.

In six weeks, however, the whole scene is going to change. My first knee replacement is June 23rd. I'll be pressed to find interesting topics to write about or photograph and I will not bore anyone with endless accounts of my recovery. I'm just hoping that I can have Diane drive me out to see Dayton. I'd hate to miss too much of the convenient collaboration we have going.

Oh, by the way, just to answer the old question, "does a bear shit in the woods?" Yes. And carved bears drop huge piles of sawdust. Dayton knows. He gets to shovel the latter.

Philosophy and a chain saw

2008-05-06T22:23:00.001-07:00

For two years Dayton has been planning this project and for the past nine days he has begun to reveal his vision. The platform has been lowered as he carves his way down the log. The bear has come out of redwood hibernation. Dayton after the first pass through the log is tired.
The chainsaw, an older Stihl model, is heavy and he feels the effort every night. During the carving
his mind races ahead to where the carving will go. And, there is an unexpected thought as he pauses and walks away from the platform to get a fresh perspective, to study the scale and plan for the next round of cuts.

He shared with me that he contemplates how many millions of years it took to produce the gasoline and oil he uses in his saw, the evolution of man and the technology necessary to place him in front of the massive redwood log at this moment in time to carve his bear, the epitome of wildness in an era when the Earth's viability is in jeopardy.

In that regard I think about my place in this little drama on the high desert of Central Oregon: The web of life, all the years of photojournalism that taught me to recognize a good story in my own backyard and the sequence of events, professional and personal that led me here as well.

Wind in the sails

2008-05-04T20:34:00.001-07:00

It has been a week since the slightest amount of snow flurries. I've been deep into the demolition of our old master bathroom and trying at the same time to keep up with the incredible progress Dayton is making on his bear sculpture. He captured the essence of how this week has gone for both of us. "I've got wind in my sails." This is the
artist fully involved, concentrating as he slices into the log that will become the epitome of a wild creature. Within another week he will have completed the first layer of cuts. The platform will be raised back to the top of the bear's head and he will work more intricately to define the face, mouth, belly, arms and legs. It is only a matter of time and energy before the
bear looks less like Winnie the Poo and more like a well-fed, cantankerous bear with a serious attitude. So, despite the bathroom renovation, Dayton's project, weird sleep patterns, daily life continues to be exactly what I expect: no day is the same and that suits me just fine.

Dayton Lanphear, bear sculptor

2008-04-28T06:59:00.001-07:00

Meet Dayton Lanphear, an artist with huge vision. His basic tool is a chainsaw and he has begun to carve a majestic grizzly bear out of a 15-foot, 4-ton trunk of a redwood tree.
Before you scoff at the
idea of using such a valuable tree consider how the massive trunk landed in central Oregon where ponderosas and junipers rule the landscape.

On the west side of the Cascades land was being parceled for a housing development and the tree was in the way. The trunk was offered to Dayton who snapped it up along with a second tree. The trees were put on a truck and driven to Dayton's studio at a considerable expense. Months were spent designing and building a support structure around the trunk, now inverted, so Dayton could access the whole log during the carving process. A forklift will lower the platform to any level.

Finally, on April 27th, Dayton fired up the chainsaw and made the first cut into the log. The shavings flew everywhere, the noise, of course, was loud. Dayton has a plan only in his head. No drawings, detailed sketches. There are a couple of photographs of a ceramic bear he owns sitting off to the side next to the cans of oil and gasoline.

The bear will be revealed over time. He envisions a bear with an oversized head because the viewer will be looking at it from the ground and so the scale needs to be adjusted.
As this project continues I will be updating on this blog. You can also follow Dayton's website to see his past works.

Strength and Grace

2008-04-24T14:18:00.000-07:00

Diane and I drove to Sacramento on Tuesday, the 22nd, my 62nd birthday. I did not care that it was still snowing and blowing all the way into Califiornia's central valley. We were going to see Allison, my daughter, have a nice dinner to celebrate her 18th birthday as well.

I'm also on a photographic mission. Ron Cunningham has been the artistic director for 20 years and there is a special gala
performance Friday evening with a party afterwards. The following night is another event, the annual Modern Masters series. So, this week is intensive for Ron and the dancers with two dress rehearsals and seven upcoming performances. The gala rehearsal was last night and once again I was amazed by the athleticism and artistic beauty of the dancers.

However, the story does not end here. Behind the fluid movements on stage, the dancers are dealing constantly with injuries and pain. They do not let it show, they endure and go on. Their strength and grace comes from years of commitment to their art. Jack Hansen has plantar fasciitis and Ilana Goldman has dealt with many injuries over the course of her career. The list of injuries dancers incur rival those of athletes in any professional sport.

Earlier in the day I spent awhile with my friend Geno Masuda. His strength and grace since the sudden death of his wife, Patti, April 4th, towers above anything else imaginable. With his closest friends he has let the pain show and now he has begun his recovery and deciding what life will be for him. "It's relationships and memories," he says. "Things don't matter."

I had not thought about how dancers and Geno were similar until I was out on a bike ride this morning. The when and where is relevant here. Eight days after Patti's death Geno had a wonderful epiphany after his first ride. He realized he was going to be all right. Geno and the dancers and many others in this world who are faced with major obstacles persevere, work through pain and stay committed to a way of life based on relationships and memories. Some ride into the future, some dance. The journey for us all goes on, every day lived to the fullest, and there will be no whining.

A Schizophrenic Spring

2008-04-19T20:06:00.001-07:00

I do not usually dwell on weather. It's what happens every day. "The weather is here, wish you were beautiful" is a favorite saying. My years in daily newspaper photography were filled with redundant assignments to make a photograph of the weather. Now, I am conflicted.
It is mid-April and it is snowing in Sisters. In fact it has snowed four times today. Unseasonable squalls make it over the Cascades and drop a layer of gloom. Earlier in the day the sun was out and blasting through the skylights. The cats, heat-seeking mammals, found their spots and reveled in the warmth of a geometric space. I spent the day in the
garage/workshop wearing gloves, cap and two layers of fleece. It was all I could do to divert my attention to the task of finally getting the space suitable for efficient work. Racks for lumber, storage bins for hundreds of screws, nails, and a unique assortment of "things I
might need someday." Outside the weird day continues. Snow, sleet, sun, snow and sun, plenty of wind. I skipped town for an hour, went to Home Depot in Bend, got stuff to finish the organization project and then made my first trip to the new Trader Joe's which opened two weeks ago for a bottle of "Two-buck Chuck." What's there to complain about?

Déja vu all over again

2008-04-14T18:17:00.000-07:00

The news is not good on the world's food supply, especially in impoverished countries, where prices for rice and other basic food supplies have risen so high that families are spending 80% or more of their income just to survive. "This is the world's big story," said Jeffrey Sachs, director of Columbia University's Earth Institute.

As far as I can remember, this issue has always been the world's big story. A photojournalist knows there are many themes and recurring stories. Poverty, homelessness, hunger, disease, war, health, the disparity between the haves and the have nots. It appears all the photos and stories have not made any damn difference, at least on a global scale.

I began photographing in my college years and then as a Peace Corps Volunteer in Malaysia in 1969 and the image of the sleeping boy with the empty rice bowl was one of those photographs that gave me a push and also opened my mind to the problem of hunger, a topic I revisited many times in my career. In 1986 I spent the better part of a year photographing people for a major project "Hunger in California." From soup kitchens to homeless camps and transient hotels in San Francisco, the story was the same. Not enough to eat, no jobs, no place to call home, bureaucracy to battle.

Perhaps all the stories and photos have some redeeming value. Awareness was raised, some action or assistance became available. Maybe a few people had life improve just a bit. On a global level though, the pictures don't feed people, money from major countries might. The world economic picture is not pretty either. I am no expert on world economics or hunger or the intricate political issues that prevent solutions to complex problems. I do wonder though how the United States might have been more of a problem solver without the financial burden of a protracted war in Iraq.

An hour on the Metolius

2008-04-06T20:02:00.001-07:00

The Metolius River, just 20 minutes away, is one of the most peaceful places I know. A half-mile downstream from confluence of Canyon Creek and the Metolius water flows out of the hillside from an underground source.

I sit there and watch and listen; the water becomes eloquent white noise and allows my mind to slow down, reflect.

The last two days thoughts were about loss. I know I'm particularly sensitive to this and is the one emotion that is the closest to the surface of my being.

Injustice is a close second.

A walk along the river is calming. The Metolius flows from an underground aquifer, continuous and predictable in flow and

temperature. As such it becomes my physical metaphor for reassurance that there is constancy. Then I remember that the only constant is change which, in the past two days has been unpredictable. The song in my head:

" 'til the rivers all run dry,

'til the sun falls from the sky,

'til life on Earth is through

I'll be needing you."

-Don Williams.

With life comes loss

2008-04-04T22:51:00.000-07:00

The last twenty-four hours have reminded me of how fragile life is. Two people lost their spouses, one in Willamsport, Pennsylvania, the other in Sacramento, California. In each instance, the death was totally unexpected making their loss immeasurably tragic and hard to understand. No one has words sufficient for comfort or resolution. The burden of grief has no time limit and the loss is eternal. For me it is that reminder, repeated often, that the present is all that matters. Say "I love you" today to any and all I care about. Tomorrow may not come.

I understand more keenly as I get older how my mother felt when my father died on the operating table during surgery for kidney stones in August 1984. She never got the chance to say good-bye. Sixteen months later she was no longer able to stay in the house they had lived in since 1948 and as she finished packing for a move to a senior citizen home I photographed her final moments in their small north Denver house. They were married 55 years. She lived another twelve years and was buried beside my dad, reunited, as she hoped.

I wrangle, cajole, tease, laugh and cry with Diane. We are more entwined every day and do try to say the important things to each other. Words are wonderful, doing loving things are better. In the end it's both that matter and I have to believe both spouses had that.

What will you and I do to take love, caring, respect, compassion a little deeper? There may be an opportunity tomorrow but how may tomorrows are there?

Bill Clinton stumps in Bend

2008-04-01T07:15:00.000-07:00

I was included in the "tight pool" of photojournalists covering President Bill Clinton and Vice President Al Gore during an environmental summit at Lake Tahoe in July, 1997. Since then I have been trying to get this particular image signed by Clinton.

I nearly was successful several years ago when he came to a symposium at the University of California/Davis. He was given two prints to sign but the instructions on who to sign them for were misinterpreted and neither of them was signed to me. I also thought about sending a print to his office in Harlem but I never got around to doing that. Then, last weekend an announcement was made that he was coming to Bend to stump for Hillary. I got a plan in my head and had an 11x14 print made at Costco.

My best chance to get the print to Clinton was to get to the event very early at Bend High School, find one of his advance team members and ask them to have him sign it, rather than hoping for an opportunity in the crush of people after the speech. I drove into the school parking lot just as students were leaving at 3pm. With print and one camera in hand and my old Sacramento Bee press identification card in my pocket I headed to the gym where people were already lining up.

A TV reporter told me where the media check-in was and after securing a spot in the line I walked around to the back of the school where all the TV satellite trucks were lined up. Inside the building was the press table and one advance team woman, Cindy O'Leary, was instructing a few volunteers on the media sign-in procedure. I started talking to her about my quest, showed her the old Bee I.D. and she agreed to take the print with no guarantees. The situation was looking good I thought. I returned to my spot in the crowd and began to wait.

In my years of covering political events waiting for hours is not uncommon. As a working photographer, however, I was able to be inside the venue, warm and sitting. Today I was just another Joe Citizen standing in the line. The number of people that came to event far exceeded the capacity of the school gymnasium. The two-hour wait was difficult, the weather was cold and brisk. One woman said that winter in central Oregon is nature's way of reminding us why there are no cockroaches. Another woman, Cris Woodard wore her patriotic denim jacket with a red/white/blue scarf and brought postcards of Bill and Hillary she hoped to get signed.
Inside the gym I got a seat where I could see the podium and most of the crowd. The people around me were many of the teachers at the school. A woman next to me was an English teacher, a graduate of Del Oro High School in the Sacramento area. Small world. Her comment about the wait to get in was "think of it as waiting in line for a Disneyland ride."
The Bend event was Clinton's fourth of the day so it was not surprising that he was nearly an hour late. When he began his speech the cell phone and point-and-shoot cameras were aimed at the stage. He spoke for over an hour, eloquently and passionately about Hillary's candidacy. The speech, to me, was a down-home "state of the world" address that could only come from a man who has seen the issues from the rare perspective of having had the most important public service job in the world.
Flanked by three Secret Service agents Clinton worked his way slowly and deliberately through the crowd at the edge of the podium. I was able to get as close as I wanted to photograph. Since I wasn't "media" my access was better than most any other situation I'd been in as a working journalist. I also got to do something I would never have done before: I called out to him, shook his hand and asked if he would be sure to sign my print. He looked straight at me and said," I already have." I made a few more frames of him in the crowd then got out of the crush. It took nearly another hour for the gym to clear and the Clinton motorcade to leave for the Redmond airport. I found the woman who had my large envelope and print. I pulled out the photograph and sure enough the signature was there. "For Jay Mather. Thanks. Bill Clinton."

I left the parking lot after a five hour episode of waiting, laughing with folks, meeting teachers and a most helpful advance team member, Cindy O'Leary, and 15 seconds with President Clinton. I call that a great day.

Spring?

2008-03-28T20:10:00.001-07:00

I've kept myself buried in my "photo cave" since returning from my quick trip to Sacramento last week. After a couple of successful book projects, one for Diane from her retirement odyssey last spring and another for Jesse and Carmen's wedding in July I launched into a third book from my trip last May with the Sacramento Ballet to China, a much broader endeavor. There is a purpose to my hermitic behavior which needs to remain undisclosed for awhile. Suffice to say, the editing of photos, layout, type, copy editing and overall proofing of the product was difficult yet amazingly efficient even though I've been at it for a week. Think about that: taking a collection of photos from a two-week, non-stop experience and converting it all into a ready-to-publish book in seven days on a Mac. The production details almost made me forget what was happening outside, a wild spring snowstorm that has dumped about 6" here at the foot of the Cascades. Snow in the Willamette Valley? Much more in the higher elevations. I've conceded defeat and just can't bring myself to shovel the driveway at the end of March. A trip to the mailbox adds insult: spring and summer catalogues from L.L. Bean and R.E.I. with glorious covers of lazy days I think will not be seen here anytime soon. After the book was uploaded and out of my computer I grabbed a camera and got out of the house to see what my mushy brain and eye would concoct. The fence was perfect in it's graphic symbolism of getting over a barrier and back into the real world. Hellloo!

Once Upon A Time

2008-03-22T07:21:00.000-07:00

I just returned from a couple of days on the road to see friends from my days in Sacramento. Kirsten Bloom, the prima ballerina with the Sacramento Ballet, was performing the lead role in "Sleeping Beauty," a full-length production that challenged the entire company in it's complexity. Suffice to say, the performance was exquisite. Kirsten and I have know each other for the past 12 years. I've photographed her in many different dancing roles, in rehearsals, the studio and recently during the tour to China. She is the only dancer who has been in the company throughout my tenure. I never tire of watching her dance. Paul Kitagaki and Renée Byer are two of my former co-workers at the Sacramento Bee. It's a bit strange returning to a city where one lived for 20+ years. Everything is familiar yet I see the city through a much different perspective. The comforting part staying with Paul and Renée. The common link between Kirsten and them is the "once upon a time" factor. Kirsten dances to fairy tales, Paul and Renée are photographic artists. They pursue their careers with passion and total commitment and I think about my years doing the same thing alongside them. I enjoy the occasional trip to Sacramento as a reminder of my crazy life as a photojournalist. I'm reinforced in my decision to retire and carry on a smaller version of photojournalism, yet there is a reverie for my Sacramento days that are still so close and real yet far, far away in another time and place.

The Circle of LIfe

2008-03-12T20:44:00.001-07:00

With Spring approaching the high desert in central Oregon the circle of life is in full swing. For Gayle Baker and her herd of cattle, the "girls," as she calls them calving season is a busy time of year. She watches carefully as each cow proceeds through the birthing process and for the most part, all has gone well. One calf was born with very low birth weight and was not feeding with her momma so Gayle used a substitute milk formula to get the calf through the first few days of life.

I have been out on the bike a couple of times when the weather was temperate enough for comfortable riding. I do still attend two spin classes a week which are 60 minutes of near-threshold work. With the surgery date now three months away I am more intent on getting as strong as possible. I think a lot about the pace of my life in a time-space continuum manner. Space being a three dimensional concept is understandable; time, the forth dimension is more difficult to comprehend in relation to space until I'm on the bike traveling through time and space as an ordinary activity. This is probably not what physicists would affirm. Life does move that way for me in most instances and probably for Gayle and her girls as well. Castenada's observation didn't mention the time it takes to understand the space one occupies at any given time. That one's on me.

Space

2008-03-06T19:15:00.000-08:00

Diane and I went to a concert in town last Friday night. Tracy Grammer, a great folk singer, played her Martin D-28 and sang two hours plus of soulful and personal songs. During her performance she referred to her former singing partner Dave Carter a lot. They were becoming the new faces of modern folk music when Dave died suddenly of a heart attack at the age of 49 in 2002. He died in her arms in a Massachusetts hotel following a run. She is still coming to terms with the space of time and loss since his death. The concept of "space" is so vague until it affects your daily life. Instantly Carlos Castenada's philosophical perceptions of space between tree leaves become much more intimate. Space, for Tracy Grammer, is the perpetual absence of closeness of someone gone, so dear and important in her life. That void is immeasurable. My issue of space is on a quieter and less traumatic level. For several days now I have been in a vacuum between recent and upcoming activities. In short, not much to do. That space used to be nerve wracking. One of my fears of retirement is that I'd be bored and at a loss without work. I have not felt that way (yet) and have accepted stillness and temporary inactivity as one of the ebbs and flows of life in my post-career life. It took me two days to realize that and the reason I hadn't written on this blog was I was in that "space," the invisible elephant in the middle of the room. The part of "space" that drives me a little nuts is that I don't have to do anything about it. Restlessness is a way of telling me to get comfortable with being uncomfortable and if I don't like it, then do something about it...when I'm ready. In the meantime I think about the things that are in my space (having nothing to do with the mega-internet site): Allison's high school graduation and my knee surgery in June, daylight savings time beginning this weekend, a trip to Sacramento in a couple of weeks and cycling in warmer weather, a home remodeling project. These are easy days and my superficial discontent is not in the same league as life changing events that I know will come. That is the space I will not understand until the day it happens. My favorite quote comes to mind: "The years teach what the days can never know."

Moving On, Looking Back

2008-02-28T20:18:00.000-08:00

It's hard to believe that it has been one year since I left the Sacramento Bee. The purpose of this blog has been, for the most part, a way to look ahead, to savor my moments as much as I enjoyed photographing other's. However, today I am remembering the good times and the kind words and gestures from my friends and co-workers during my last days as a worker Bee.

The Chinook come home

2008-02-26T15:02:00.000-08:00

Welcome back and greetings to new readers of this blog. This installment is a bonus "two-fer." I had planned on a single blog about the release of Chinook into a small stream near my home on Monday. Plans changed when my friend Brent McGregor asked me this afternoon to go ride with him on his "new and improved" snowmobile up to MacKenzie Pass, 8 miles beyond the end of the plowed road, to see of there might be the possibility of a winter sunset. Oh, and there was. So, today's entry is the result of two exceptional photographic days. If you have an aversion to mountain sunset photographs, now's the time to hit your back button.

Since 2004 major stream restoration in the Deschutes River watershed has been in progress to allow the re-introduction of Chinook salmon and steelhead that haven't swum freely in some of these waters for 40 years. Relicensing the dams on the Deschutes, Portland General Electric and tribes had to improve fish habitat, a project begun since 2004. The Deschutes Basin Land Trust has been working to ensure that there will be habitat for the fish for this day and days in the future. Monday, about 10,000 Chinook fry were released in Lake Creek, a tributary to the Metolius and the Deschutes. It was a great and unheralded moment. No media, no fanfare. Several groups led by Oregon Fish and Wildlife trekked through the snow to the streams, measured water temperature, acclimated the fish and then were scooped out of a plastic Ace Hardware bucket and placed gently into quiet sections along the stream bank.

Mt. Jefferson

North and South Sister

A night for howling

2008-02-20T20:44:00.000-08:00

There are times in life when you just need to let out a hoot. Tonight I got to do that watching a lunar eclipse over the central Oregon high desert. All day clouds rolled over the Cascades with the opportunity to see the celestial event in question until late in the day when the sky began to clear. By 6pm the only clouds were on the eastern horizon acting like a curtain for the upcoming show. When the moon reached the full eclipse it was well above the horizon and glowed like a copper penny for nearly an hour. I hope wherever you were tonight that the sky was clear and you got to see the moon. I viewed the eclipse with my photographer buddy Brent McGregor and as we stood with our tripods and cameras we were amazed not only by the moon but also the amazing starlit night, the Milky Way directly overhead. We wondered how many other photographers were photographing the scene and how many others went home frustrated by bad weather conditions. We felt truly lucky.

The Camp Sherman Quilt Show

2008-02-17T12:38:00.001-08:00

The beauty of central Oregon is not limited to the natural landscape. The communities of Sisters and Camp Sherman have numerous artists. Painters and photographers are well represented, however, this area is equally known for the quilting work being done. Twice each year the Pine Needlers, a group of about 200 women hold a show in the Camp Sherman Community Hall where quilts are hung from the rafters of the building. Each quilt is unique and often has a long family history or a personal story of it's creation. This is museum quality on a down-home level. The quilts aren't for sale so a modest entrance fee, small quilted potholders, and snacks, sold by the "Pine Nuts" (husbands of the quilters) give the Pine Needlers a little profit which funds a scholarship fund for local students. The other show is held in conjunction with the Sisters Quilt Show in July when the streets in town are closed to traffic and thousands come to see the magnificent creations that cloth, thread and artistic vision create.

Moving On...the CD

2008-02-13T20:08:00.001-08:00

A recent Google user inititiated a web search using the words "moving on songs" and was directed to this blog. It's not surprising to me that others are seeking the therapeutic power and soul of music to sustain themselves in a period of life where door and windows open and close in philosophical frames. I dug into my music library and compiled a playlist of songs that have assisted me in my transition during the past year. The "Moving On" CD has 19 tracks, basically acoustic music from contemporary artists, John Denver, Dan Fogelberg, Rosanne Cash, Richard Thompson, Richard Shindell, John Gorka, James Taylor, Alison Krauss, Mary Chapin Carpenter, Lucky Kaplansky, Carrie Newcomer, Jackie Greene, Bela Fleck and Jerry Douglas and several others. If the music interests you let me know and I'll make it possible for you to get the disk.

Valentine haiku

2008-02-13T14:35:00.000-08:00

Sliding clouds love's kiss
Constant change yet much remains
For a life lived full.

Tracks

2008-02-08T10:17:00.001-08:00

There are silent visitors to my world and I’m curious about the tracks they leave as they pass by. A little research determines the identity of the four-legged creature that walks across my snowy driveway. It’s a raccoon. There are also rabbit and deer tracks. I enjoy their company. The raccoon and the rabbit take shelter under the back deck; the deer are migrating through their winter range seeking anything edible not buried in snow. There are also the visitors to this blog. The number at the bottom of the page indicates how many have visited the site, a miniscule number considering some sites get thousands or millions of hits each day. I’m grateful that anyone reads the blog in the first place. I use a website that shows me the “tracks” blog viewers leave. This is where it gets interesting. The stats of a viewer are broken down into many categories: IP address, city, state, country, the URL that got you to my blog, keywords on a search engine, and the length of time spent on the site. I recognize a few visitors as easily as recognizing a rabbit track. The rest, however, are obscure and ephemeral and that tweaks my curiosity. There have been readers from the U.S.A., the U.K., Australia and the Netherlands. I began this blogging effort as a way to describe my efforts to lay down new tracks in Oregon after years of familiar ones in California. I’m beginning to realize that writing and photographing for this journey will be basically a one-sided conversation. Although there is a way to leave comments most visitors to "Moving On" do not. That’s o.k. I look at a lot of other blogs and don’t often write comments either. It’s easier to remain anonymous. I respect that and whatever viewer information I glean will never be disclosed, period. If you’d care to drop a note or a comment, thanks in advance. I’ll throw a virtual party for the 1000th viewer. You can track that one yourself.

The spirit lives on, doesn't it?

2008-02-05T18:16:00.000-08:00

Even on a "down" day there is some redeeming element; that was a photograph I made a couple of days ago and thought I'd hold for future use. Today, as it turns out, is a fine time to use it since it's been a fairly lousy day for me. I canceled a trip to Sacramento (a weather-related precaution) so I attended my regular cycling spin class. Never in many weeks have my knees screamed so defiantly. I tapered off and finished a 60-minute session in pain. That set the tone to match the gray-brown, slushy world outside. Back home, the lid on the mayonaise jar was not on tight and the jar dropped to the floor spewing the contents on the refrigerator door. Now I'm seriously bummed. My sour mood continued the rest of the day until I figured out that the blog will come to the rescue. Write it down, it will get better. When I remembered the photo of the holiday tree still lit out in Camp Sherman I got a visual smack upside the head. Get over it and be content. It's still a beautiful place out there, perhaps not so much here today and that will change. Like my mood.

...and it's only February

2008-02-02T15:53:00.000-08:00

This is a day to hunker down and wait out another blast of winter conditions in central Oregon. It has snowed all day and forecasts predict snow through tomorrow, a slight break on Monday and another punch on Tuesday. The meteorological wizards who predicted a big wet La Niña winter have been accurate. Damn. Wherever you are today and tomorrow, may your spirits be high in spite of things one cannot change.

The White Forest

2008-01-31T20:31:00.000-08:00

Winter slammed Central Oregon as hard as any day this winter. Right up front here I'll apologize for being on the weather theme for another day, however, it was only late in the afternoon as I was working on a book project for Diane when I made the effort to get out of the house and out into the the thick of it. Snow, unlike rain in Sacramento that disappears down a storm drain, is simply beautiful. It stays around and dresses the trees in fluffy gowns and, when the wind is benign, a magical calm occurs in the forest. Highway 20 west of Sisters was closed for avalanches on Santiam Pass and the only traffic heading toward the roadblock was the locals going home to Black Butte Ranch or Camp Sherman. Hello February, the quiet month.

Getting out, white-out.

2008-01-29T17:30:00.000-08:00

This winter has not disappointed those in the area who love the snow. Since my trip last week up Gobbler Knob the sun hasn't been seen much. It's continued to be cold and snowy. Today was rougher than days past. Trucks were stopped just outside town taking off tire chains after making it over Santiam Pass as the snow and wind turned the scene into a white-out within a few minutes. Just an hour before I was in a cycling spin class at the Sisters Athletic Club looking out the window and there wasn't any snow falling. The Cascades have a major effect on storms and once over the crest of the range the full fury is unleashed. It's ironic that I now describe weather events in the area when I detested the amount of newsprint and manpower that my former employer used on a daily basis to report the same thing. I chuckle to myself but keep shooting knowing that I can't photograph scenics or weather exclusively (many photogs around here do). I am working on a project that involves people, however, it's not appropriate to post them yet. For now then, the winter scenes are beautiful and I photograph with my inner purpose of documenting whatever happens as I move on in my life.

Gobbler's Knob

2008-01-23T19:53:00.000-08:00

Temperature, -2º. No wind, so being out actually is not uncomfortable as Brent McGregor and I tromp through the hard crusty snow up a small hill known to some locals as " Gobbler's Knob." I can't tell from being there why it's callled that. Suffice to say that it's the best view of the mountains within 30 minutes of my front door. Our purpose for going out was to watch the full moon set over the Cascades but a low cloud bank scuttled that. To the east, however, was a magnificent sunrise and to the south of the clouds Mt. Washington glowed in the early alpenglow. I've slept late many mornings this winter, so getting out at 6:30am, seeing a new place in the neighborhood, and being back in the comfort of a warm living room by 8:30am is a great start to the day.

A small adventure

2008-01-19T11:44:00.000-08:00

With a series of winter storms passed, sunny days have pervaded over central Oregon. Although temperatures aren't much more than low 40's, yesterday was a day to get out of the house and overcome that creeping sensation of cabin fever. My friend, Brent McGregor, invited me to go out on his snowmobile in the late afternoon to photograph the sunset from Big Lake located on the crest of the Cascades. The lake is frozen solid and provides access and views impossible in other seasons unless you're sitting in a boat. The adventure was on. Some background on Brent and his snowmobile: Brent is an fantastic woodworker (juniper is his specialty), seasoned mountaineer, and exquisite landscape photographer. On a recent trip to Canada he was offered a 30-year-old snowmobile for $200. He gladly bought it thinking he could use it to get to places in the winter, normally inaccessible or, at best, extremely time consuming to photograph the wondrous Cascades. I know nothing about snowmobiles and I was intrigued by going out to Big Lake. I'd never get there in winter on my own. The lake is about 2+ miles from a parking area near the summit of Santiam Pass, one of the major routes over the Cascades. We packed a sled behind the snowmobile with our photo gear and headed off. It was immediately apparent that snowmobile technology has evolved tremendously as newer and faster machines with much wider ski base passed us with ease on the groomed trail to the lake. Our ride was meandering and at one point where the track was slightly angled we made a slow-motion rollover, losing nothing but a small bit of pride. Once out onto the lake we got what we came for. Magnificent views of Mt. Washington and Three-Fingered Jack. The unexpected bonus was a layer of mist on the lake from an inversion layer that acted as a diffusion filter. The alpenglow light on Three-Fingered Jack was mesmerizing. We repacked the sled and headed back across the lake and then the rest of the adventure began. A footnote: my definition of adventure is a "well-planned trip gone bad." Brent and I have each experienced that more than once. As soon as the snowmobile made it to the edge of the lake, the engine sputtered, smoked and quit. No amount of coaxing or minor repairs could get the engine running. Our good fortune, however, was the appearance of two other men on their machines from the youth bible camp on the other side of the lake who were out for a twilight run. They offered their mechanical knowledge to no avail and watched the final indignity when Brent pulled the starter rope and it snapped off in his hand. There is an unwritten pact among snowmobilers, so we're told, that you help out anyone in need. And they did. Brent took the nylon cord used to lash the gear to the sled and made a tow rope. One of our rescuers towed Brent and the sled and I rode on the second machine back to the cars in the darkness. On the way back to Sisters we could laugh about the experience. You can do that when everything turns out o.k. The situation could have been far more unpleasant. Although we had snowshoes, the trek out on foot would have been tortuous for me on my feeble knees. We are grateful to the two guys who saved our butts.

Sir Edmund Hillary, 1919-2008

2008-01-10T20:27:00.001-08:00

Namaste,
Sir Edmund Hillary, the man who made the first ascent of Mt. Everest, the highest mountain in the world, died today. He was 88. I never met him and yet he still he had a major influence on the course of my life. Certainly he had had that effect on countless numbers of people, many who more vastly benefited by his accomplishments as a mountaineer and humanitarian. When he and Tenzing Norgay, his Nepalese Sherpa, became the first to climb Mt. Everest in 1953 the face of mountaineering changed forever. No summit anywhere was impossible. The feat was celebrated throughout the world and I learned of it through radio and National Geographic magazine. My parents, fenced in by their Protestant and dutiful lives of post World War II, did not notice the achievement, however, they did subscribe to to the NGS magazine. I know that my mother, who always yearned to see more than north Denver, mandated the magazine's monthly arrival in our mailbox. When the issue describing Hillary and Norgay's ascent of Everest arrived, I read it over and over began to look at maps of Nepal and the Himalayas. I memorized the heights of the 10 highest peaks in the range and dreamed of the day I would set foot in Nepal and see for myself the biggest mountain range on Earth. In the ensuing years I developed a deep love of geography and wild places. My father took me fishing with him on our family vacations in western Colorado, and no pun intended, I was hooked. I was a student in the first Outward Bound School course in North America in 1962 and then an instructor in 1971 after my Peace Corps tour of duty.

Yes, I did get to Nepal. In 1970 I trekked up the Kali Gandaki valley through Jomsom and Muktinath and back to Pokhara. The views of Annapurna and Dhaulagiri were mesmerizing. I never got on a Himalayan expedition and quite frankly my mountaineering career was unremarkable. I continued to climb in Colorado and Wyoming with my old climbing partner, George Bracksieck in the 70's. When I moved to Louisvlle, KY my climbing went dormant. There was a brief resurgence in 1989 through 1991 when I had opportunities during my book project to climb on El Cap and Lost Arrow Spire in Yosemite. I will always remember those nights in my Denver home reading with awe about Hillary and Norgay on Everest. I was even more entranced with the accounts of the American Everest Expedition in 1963, especially the astounding West Ridge ascent by Willi Unsoeld and Tom Hornbein. Geography, adventure, exploring the world through photojournalism, for me, all began with Sir Edmund Hillary. Thank you, thank you, Sir.

Winter absolutely

2008-01-07T19:24:00.000-08:00

The holidays are done. Some of our neighbors have packed their mobile homes and headed south. The "year-rounders" remain and most are excited with the prospect of more snow. "Bring it on," deeper is better" they say. This is a mind-set I'm not used to hearing coming from a place where the worst winter weather flowed out through storm drains. Yea, I grew up in Colorado, spent years in the Ohio valley where cold clammy winters weren't unusual so I'm still getting used to the concept that people here are invigorated by the forecast of big snowfall. January doldrums? Not here. Central Oregon was spared the wrath of the recent storms that pummeled California. Tonight may be a different story. Snowshoeing, cross-country and downhill skiing discussions are overheard in the grocery store checkout lines. There may be ominous skies overhead but there is optimism in the air.

Resolutions

2008-01-02T19:16:00.000-08:00

New Year's resolutions are, for the most part, ephemeral. Like a hickory wind they blow in with hope tinged with an underlying truth that not much will change. Jenny Craig, Weight Watchers and Bowflex dangle personality carrots to entice their potential customers. The regular list of resolutions always include better relationships with family and friends, financial gain, and a more diligent pursuit of health and happiness. For those of you who know me, including a few skeptics, the issue that has dominated my personal and professional quality of life, is my arthritic knees. In the past five years the contest has been between the gradual deterioration to the total absence of knee cartilage and my efforts to minimize the discomfort and pain with meds and exercise. Cycling has saved my knees thus far yet the eventual outcome was always going to be total knee joint replacements; it was simply a matter of when I felt that surgical risks would be worth a greatly improved life style. That decision occurred rather nonchalantly at a New Year's Eve dinner party with friends as we talked about the special things we want to do, rafting through the Grand Canyon being at the top of our lists. I want to fully enjoy that experience and two good knees are as imperative as a good boatman. I realized that I'm tired of talking about the pros and cons of waiting another two or three years. Today I scheduled the surgeries for both knees this year, June and October. My New Year's resolution is to become bionic. How often does one get to do that?

My favorite images from 2007

2007-12-30T15:38:00.000-08:00

The Amgen cycling Tour of California zipped through Davis, CA in February and it marked the end of my 20-year tenure at the Sacramento Bee. In May I documented the Sacramento Ballet on it's first-ever foreign tour to Shanghai and Beijing, China. As soon as I returned home Diane retired from the University of California at Davis and a great party was held in her honor by her colleagues. Her three sisters came for the event but it was the unannounced arrival of her brother Bill that completely surprised her. After our move to Oregon we attended another surprise 50th birthday party in Portland for Randy Olson, then to Louisville, KY in July for Jesse and Carmen's wedding. They visited us in September with Alton and we took a a "little tyke" hike on the Metolius River. The dramatic weather changed in October and through the end of the year and photographing that was fascinating.

Flutograph

2007-12-28T19:28:00.000-08:00

Got a flu shot in October. Got the flu today. No sympathy necessary. I've got nowhere to go, snow is piling up outside and there is non-stop football on t.v. This too shall pass.

Enchanted forest

2007-12-25T03:00:00.000-08:00

The Monday morning snowstorm subsided leaving a blanket of pristine powder. Allison and I drove out to Camp Sherman and along the Metolius River. The wind in the trees kept blowing the snow off the branches and with the sunlight filtering through to the forest floor the scenes were magnificent. I'm still getting used to the fact that I live in an area where the environment is in constant flux. I was hoping to photograph the full moon and got up very early for two days only to have the cloud cover obscure everything. Yesterday was the reward for perseverance. Here's to a Merry Christmas from central Oregon.

White Christmas

2007-12-24T08:58:00.000-08:00

Snow has arrived for Christmas. Allison came from Sacramento yesterday and was disappointed that it was only raining so she is excited this morning waking and looking out to the white forest from her upstairs bedroom. Last night was the annual cookie baking event. Several of the cookies were unaccounted for and presumed lost in the operation. We are going out later this afternoon on a photo expedition. Allison is taking a photography class and will get an individual tutoring session.

Winter solstice

2007-12-22T04:36:00.000-08:00

After leaving a friend's home last night following a winer solstice dinner I couldn't resist grabbing the Canon 5D and a wide angle lens to make a photograph of the night sky. The moon is not full until the 24th though the photograph makes it appear full. I had plans to go out this morning to photograph the moon setting over the Cascades from a spot called Cline Buttes. However, in the 5 hours since I made this image the clouds rolled in and obscured the sky. If you want to see the picture larger just click on it and it opens up.

Songs of the season

2007-12-19T16:31:00.001-08:00

Photo by Henry Dilz
The holiday season brings out all the traditional symbols including all the music you only hear during this time of year. My head and heart have been full of songs but not "Silent Night," I'll Be Home For Christmas," or..., well you know them all. Instead, I'm hearing all the songs of Dan Folgelberg, the singer and songwriter who produced twenty great albums from 1972 to 2003. The leader of the "soft rock" generation died last Sunday at his home after battling prostate cancer. He was 56. I've been playing all his songs constantly for the past few days to hear the quiet simplicity of his voice and the eloquent lyrics that still choke me up. I'm saddened again as I was when other music artists I've enjoyed over the years have died too early: John Lennon, George Harrison, Jim Croce, John Denver and Kate Wolf. I wanted to hear them write and sing about the changes in their lives as they got older and wiser in order to help me along my own aging path. What we are left with though is no small gift. The music of Dan Fogelberg and all the past great artists is there to hear anytime and the truths in the songs will not change. Unfortunately, there is no season especially for the musicians I think of as kindred souls. This year "fa la la la la" and "pa rumpa pa pum" don't resonate. I prefer this song in particular to describe this season of music for me:

"Only The Heart May Know," a duet with Emmylou Harris:

Silent sea
Tell this to me:
Where are the children that we used to be?
Silent sea:
At picture shows
Where nobody goes
And only the heart can see.
Starry skies
Soft lullabies
Where do they go when their melodies die?
Starry skies:
To a day
Far, far away
That only the heart may know.
Friends we knew
Follow us through
All of the days of our lives
Love we shared
Waits for us there
Where our wishes forever reside.
Falling tears
Memories' mirrors
Where are summers
Oh, where are the years?
Falling tears:
Carried far
To a wandering star
That only the heart may know.
Friends we knew
Follow us through
All of the days of our lives
Love we shared
Waits for us there
Where our wishes forever reside.
Starry skies
Soft lullabies
Where do they go when their melodies die?
To a day
Far, far away
That only the heart may know.

Thanks Dan.

Dancing with the clouds

2007-12-14T21:05:00.000-08:00

I live in a Ponderosa forest, the sweet spot between the juniper covered high desert and the Cascade mountains. The majestic peaks are just out of view for the most part. I can walk out to a spot on the road bordering my home where a peek-a-boo view of North Sister is sometimes visible. So, if I really want to see the mountains I have to get out and away from the trees. Today, I had some errands in town and on the way in (all of three miles) I could see the cloud and mountain dance in full swing. I turned around, returned home, got the cameras, and headed out to a location I know to watch an approaching storm front from the northwest make it's way over the peaks. Three-Fingered Jack on the north, Mt. Washington, then North, South and Middle Sister and Broken Top on the southern end of the panorama dealt with the clouds in their own way. Diane has been suggesting I get out to photograph the mountains for several days and I kept saying that although they were striking with blue skies the visual potential wasn't there yet. No drama in the sky. Today the grandeur of Central Oregon reminds me once again of the special place I live.

Sixteen years of holiday images

2007-12-12T14:57:00.000-08:00

I began making personalized holiday greeting cards to send to family and friends in 1992. I had a good selection of seasonal photographs from Yosemite National Park since completing my book "Yosemite, A Landscape of Life" in 1990 and I continued to add to that body of work over the next few years. For the 1999 card I chose a photograph from a Sacramento Ballet performance of the Nutcracker and entitled it "Dancing With Glee Into The 21st Century." So far it has been the only image of people. Some years have been hard to select an image, mainly due to my old residence in Sacramento where winter doesn't look very nice. A rare snow event in the Sacramento Valley saved the 2003 edition. Diane accompanied me on a snowmobile for the 2000 and 2001 photos and also alerted me to the incredible rainbow which became the 2004 image. Allison was with me for the 2005 and 2006 pictures made near our home here in Sisters. The moody image of Mt. Jefferson above the fog was quite unusual as the region was covered in an ice-fog but for just a moment the clouds moved and the mountain was visible. This year's photo was another lucky break when the geese became airborne as I approached the flock with my camera. The process of making the cards has become one of the most pleasant parts of the holidays for me and now that I live where future images will be easier to find I'm excited about continuing the tradition. To see larger images of all sixteen photographs move your mouse pointer over the lower right-hand corner of the slide show and click on the link to the Picasa web album. Happy Holidays to all!

The holiday cat

2007-12-11T22:08:00.000-08:00

The tree is up and our little wild one lost no time in claiming the apron as the new best place in the house to hang out. I think I need to get out of the house more regularly.

Goodbye little friend

2007-12-05T14:30:00.000-08:00

Our oldest cat, Gracie, a companion for 16+ years, has been in the final stage stages of her life in recent months. Although she would have hung on, we knew it was time and did not want her to suffer. Our littlest friend is gone.

Gracie came into my life in 1991 in Sacramento when I found her at an animal shelter while on a "pet of the week" photo assignment. She was 10 weeks old and all gray so I didn't know she'd turn out to be a calico. I named her "Gracie."

Gracie was always as much Allison's cat as mine. She loved to sleep on Allison's bed throughout the day and kept her company while she did her homework. Gracie was quite playful in her early years and constantly tolerated my playing "cat hat" with her. When we acquired our other cats, Noire and Puss, she became somewhat jealous and mischievous. It was her way to tell us she was the queen of the house and we'd best not forget it.

It is hard to see an animal decline in health knowing the outcome. The vet looked at her and said we were right in our decision. We held her and stroked her head and ears as we said farewell. We kept telling her she was a good kitty.

Cute sweet Gracie, you are in our thoughts and memories tonight and forever.

A minor anniversary

2007-12-02T09:21:00.000-08:00

Six months ago on a hot June morning we unloaded the 26' U-Haul and the cat-transporting Subaru at our new home. A long list of home repairs are completed, we've entertained visitors and family, traveled a bit and now enter the holiday season grateful to be here. Our home is comfortable and peaceful. Stringing the lights in sub-freezing temperatures, however, was a bit challenging. Such is life in a four-season environment.

One of the predominant factors of life in Central Oregon is the weather, like it or not. In summer there is always fire danger; in winter its snow, rain and ice. It's been 21 years since I live in a place where snow is guaranteed. While Sacramento had it's share of weather issues, snow was not one of them. What was peculiar was mowing grass in January. The most interesting aspect of the weather is watching the storms try to get over the Cascades immediately to the west. The "rain shadow" effect caused by the mountains gives us our dryer and colder environment. Last week was typical with the clouds and mountains performing their meterological pas de deux.

Yesterday I went out to the Metolius Preserve where members of the Deschutes Basin Land Trust were cutting trees for their holiday celebrations. For a $10 donation people wandered out into the forest to find "wild" trees unlike the "farmed" variety. The most heard comment was "this really begins our holiday season." Although our house has been decorated, we still don't have our tree yet. Maybe today...