I had the distinct privilege of working as a photojournalist for many years. Not only was I paid to do what I love -- make photographs -- but I also had a front row seat to Life ... births, deaths, and everything in between. I saw and experienced all facets of life: parades (you can smell the flowers on the floats at the Rose Parade), schools (and the aftermath of school shootings), all kinds of sports (from Friday night football to World Cup Soccer to Notre Dame cheerleading), maximum security prisons (I once left a lens in the prison laundry room where prisoners were working, and it was miraculously returned to me), the Dalai Lama (supreme peace), wildfires and oil refinery fires (terrifying), earthquakes (Would there be a huge aftershock while I was at the epicenter? With the gas stations closed, would I have enough gas to get back to the newspaper?), a Ringling Brothers Barnum & Bailey Clown College reunion (hilarious), police funerals (gained a newfound respect for police officers), a police ride-a-long in East St. Louis (searching for the baddest of the bad guys, and we found some), Hands Across America (but I didn’t get to hold hands, wherein I learned the harsh reality of being a photojournalist: I get to witness but not participate), and on and on.

And in so doing, countless people trusted me enough to let me in to their lives, often during their most vulnerable times, so that I could photograph them and tell their stories to our newspaper readers. I did my best to honor their trust and their stories.

I worked at newspapers all over the USA: Portland OR, West Palm Beach FL, Long Beach CA, Grand Rapids MI, and Columbia MO.