This past weekend we made our way out to our favorite tailgating spot by the National Guard Armory, a few blocks North of the stadium. Some games we have tickets and we tailgate for a bit and then head in to find our seats in time for the tunnel walk. Some games we just plan to tailgate and then watch the game at a fellow tailgater’s RV, at Brewsky’s in the haymarket, or back home once those with tickets head into the stadium.

This weekend was little Aidan’s first tailgate, and a lot of family and friends made it out. I’ll let the pictures tell the rest of the story.

“Aunt Janet, why are we stopping?”

“Because I have to get a picture of this sunset!”

Ten minutes down the road…

“Are we pulling over again?”

“Yes – the colors have changed so much – I have to get another picture!”

Another ten minutes…

“Again?!?”

“Just one more, I promise.”

As an eight year old, every road trip near dusk with my Aunt Janet resulted in the car on the shoulder of the highway, and my little brother and I looking impatiently out the window at my aunt, who was down in the ditch trying to capture yet another Nebraska sunset.  I couldn’t possibly understand why she would need so many pictures of sunsets, let alone two or three of the same one, separated by 10 minutes or so.

Sure enough, though, as my own interest began to grow, I would come home from vacations to Estes Park with 15 shots of the mountains (from my 110 film camera), differing only slightly according to the direction I [...]]]> To say that I like to take pictures is an understatement.  I would say that it is my passion, my dream job, my creative domain.  That is why starting a photography business seemed like an obvious decision, and one that should have been made years ago.  Research says it takes ten years or 10,000 hours of practice to become an expert in something.  While I haven’t been fully focused on the technical details of portraiture for ten years, my passion started back when I was a child.

“Aunt Janet, why are we stopping?”

“Because I have to get a picture of this sunset!”

Ten minutes down the road…

“Are we pulling over again?”

“Yes – the colors have changed so much – I have to get another picture!”

Another ten minutes…

“Again?!?”

“Just one more, I promise.”

As an eight year old, every road trip near dusk with my Aunt Janet resulted in the car on the shoulder of the highway, and my little brother and I looking impatiently out the window at my aunt, who was down in the ditch trying to capture yet another Nebraska sunset.  I couldn’t possibly understand why she would need so many pictures of sunsets, let alone two or three of the same one, separated by 10 minutes or so.

Sure enough, though, as my own interest began to grow, I would come home from vacations to Estes Park with 15 shots of the mountains (from my 110 film camera), differing only slightly according to the direction I was turned.  I would take a photo, rotate 15 degrees, take another, rotate again, take another…I could have put together a pretty cool panoramic view, if only Photoshop software existed in 1989.  And digital images.

My mom hated these pictures.  “Take pictures with people in them!  Nobody wants to have a hundred pictures of the same mountain!”  What I didn’t realize then was that I was developing an eye for capturing the perfect scene.

Today, my love for photography still results in lots of scenic views and sunset photos.  If my camera is with me, and the sky is painted in shades of red and gold, you can bet I will snap a photo.  We’ve come a long way from the days of 110 film, and the digital age allows me to shoot these scenes at my leisure without any penalty for a blurry shot, or wasted money on developed film that sits in a box in my closet.  My deck overlooks a field on the edge of town, and the view of the sky from there will provide picturesque sunsets until my heart is content.

Here are some recent snapshots.

We sat and talked in the living room for several hours, Aidan alternating between Grandpa, Grandma, Great Aunt Beth, mom, dad, and just sprawling on the floor. We watched the Yankees play the Red Sox on the television, talked about the family, about Aidan, about work, school, life, about Aidan, about Grandma’s cooking, about Grandma’s diagnosis of Grandpa’s “O.C.D.”, about Aidan, about paying $20 to have the lawn mowed because Grandpa can’t manage anymore, about health care reform. My oldest brother smokes, so we talked about the price of cigarettes and how expensive they’ve become. Grandpa shared a story from his time in the service. Grandpa served in the army during the Korean War, and said they used to get as many free cigarettes as they wanted. Grandpa had tins full of them, hundreds [...]]]> We recently went to visit my grandparents, Aidan’s Great-Grandma Avis and Great-Grandpa Ken. Aidan is the first Great-Grandson on the Schenk side, with an older sister and three girl cousins. There was something stirring about watching my Grandpa hold Aidan–the oldest Schenk holding the Schenk who would ensure the family’s name lived on another generation. Maybe it was the way Aidan looked at him with complete intrigue but also complete comfort, or perhaps it was seeing the pronounced difference of the nearly 80 years that separated them, Grandpa with his age spots, wrinkled neck and thick glasses, and Aidan with his big, bright blue eyes, and smooth, soft baby skin, rolled up in folds at his wrists, ankles, and knees.

We sat and talked in the living room for several hours, Aidan alternating between Grandpa, Grandma, Great Aunt Beth, mom, dad, and just sprawling on the floor. We watched the Yankees play the Red Sox on the television, talked about the family, about Aidan, about work, school, life, about Aidan, about Grandma’s cooking, about Grandma’s diagnosis of Grandpa’s “O.C.D.”, about Aidan, about paying $20 to have the lawn mowed because Grandpa can’t manage anymore, about health care reform. My oldest brother smokes, so we talked about the price of cigarettes and how expensive they’ve become. Grandpa shared a story from his time in the service. Grandpa served in the army during the Korean War, and said they used to get as many free cigarettes as they wanted. Grandpa had tins full of them, hundreds and hundreds of cigarettes, most he would just give away. Just after getting out of the service, once the free cigarette supply ran out, he began paying a quarter a pack for his habit. Driving to work one day, he lit up a cigarette to smoke on the way. A few minutes later the news on the radio reported that the price of cigarettes was jumping up to 40-cents a pack. Grandpa took the cigarette out of his mouth, tossed it out the window, then crumpled the rest of the pack and that was the last of his smoking habit.

And of course, we took some pictures