Dub Dub - My Pet Duck

I believe it was the spring of my third grade year in elementary school when I found Dub Dub. I was walking home from school by Thurston Pond the way I usually did when I saw this large male mallard duck being attacked by a group of other ducks. I ran over and shooed the ducks aware and made sure he was alright. He looked pretty beaten, and had a lot of ruffled feathers, but otherwise he looked okay. He let me touch him which was really cool. After hanging out with him for a while, I decided it was time to head home. As I started to walk away, Dub Dub followed right behind me. 

He followed me all the way home, so I took him into the back yard which was fenced in, and then showed him to my mom. I told her what happened at the pond, and she said he could stay in the backyard. I originally named him Samson, but that really didn't stick, and my dad nicknamed him Dub Dub after seeing him swimming around in his wheelbarrow. 

Dub Dub very quickly became a part of the family. He would follow me around the backyard like a dog would and he loved playing with me, John, and Carol. He loved chasing the balls whenever we would play football or soccer in the back yard, and he was always trying to help my mom and dad in the garden. I had always wanted a dog, but Dub Dub turned out to be an awesome substitution. 

Since ducks aren't a common pet, we had to learn what to feed him, and how to take care of him. His wings appeared to be fine, but he couldn't fly. I think he was just too big to fly. I wondered if he might have grown up on a farm, and someone just dropped him at the pond. We got him cracked corn and wheat from Hertler Brothers in downtown Ann Arbor. We were worried about what would happen in the winter, but we found out that the only reason ducks migrate south is for food, and often they will stay at private ponds as long as food is provided and not fly south. Dub Dub was able to get under the deck in the backyard, and he made that his home. 

Dub Dub really enjoyed the winters. I would get all dressed up in my winters clothes that included coat, snow pants, boots, hat, and gloves and go out into the snow. Dub Dub and I would build forts in the snow and I would pull him along on the sled. He loved sliding down the snow hills that were made from shoveling the driveway. He followed me everywhere I went, and never took off without me. I have never had a dog that came when called and stayed with me the way Dub Dub did. He even tried to play fetch and other games with us. 

When I was in fourth grade, I wrote a book for a school project, and I included pictures of Dub Dub. It was called "My Friends", and my dad and I worked in the darkroom putting pictures together for the book and I typed out the pages on my dad's old manual typewriter. I colored in a cloth covered binder and taped the pages and pictures to opposing pages in the book. Considering how easy it would be to do something like that today, it was actually a lot of work back then. I turned the book in and got a really good grade on it. Then the teacher had me turn it in for a school competition and I won. I have a picture of me reading my book to Mrs Fowler's first grade class. 

We had Dub Dub for several years. The year that I went to swim camp for two weeks, I came home and Dub Dub was gone. My brother had gotten sick while I was away and he was in the hospital with pneumonia. Dub Dub had food and water, but my parents hadn't been able to pay attention to him. I thought he must have been stolen, but my dad feared he had probably been attacked and carried off by another animal. In any even, I was heartbroken to lose my pet duck who had been so instrumental in keeping me happy through those years.

I had a very difficult time in elementary school. I didn't really have any friends. At the time when I started in school, there was a big push towards mainstreaming children with special needs. Kids would be really cruel to these kids, and having a brother with downs syndrome, I would try to defend them. This made me very unpopular. When I found Dub Dub that day being beat up by the other ducks, I knew exactly how he felt. We shared a bond, and he was the closest friend I had during those years.

When I was just a baby, my parents had a dog. The neighbor kid was messing with the dog through the gate and got bit. I guess his father was a lawyer and threatened to sue my parents if they kept the dog, so my dad had him put down. My dad loved the dog and swore he would never get another one. After I lost Dub Dub, my dad finally changed his mind, and we got a collie names Senta. She was a really good dog, but she didn't come when called, and she couldn't play fetch, so Dub Dub had actually been a better dog. I loved Senta anyway, and from then on my dad always had dogs in the house. 

When I was young, John got sick several times where he had to be hospitalized. He came close to dying a couple of times. My mom explained to me that Downs Syndrome babies don't cry, so their lungs never develop. Any illness that gets in the lungs can easily become pneumonia and progress to a dangerous state. 

Historic Dundee

Last week I saw a link to an article about the Haunted Mill Museum in Dundee. I read the article and thought that would be a nice little weekend adventure to take Kat on. When we first started dating, our first weekend away was in Manistee, MI, and we discovered we both liked exploring small towns, so that has become kind of our thing. I have shown her a number of little towns around me this winter, but I had never been to downtown Dundee. I have gone to Cabelas a number of times, but that is on the outskirts right next to the freeway, so I never made it into town. 

I wouldn't tell Kat where we were going because I wanted it to be a surprise, but I did eventually tell her we were going to Dundee. I plugged in the address of the old mill into my GPS and we were off. It was only about a 30 minute drive which was really nice. We got there and mill sits next to the River Raisin where it was dammed for the mill and later for electricity generation. We entered the museum and there was a man giving an introduction to the mill to another couple, so we sat in on the rest of that. The exhibits weren't the Smithsonian, but they were actually a lot nicer than I had expected for a small town museum. 

The first floor has a large Diebold safe in one corner from the Dundee Bank, and there were other pieces of memorabilia, but it was mostly dedicated to the different phases of the dam. Originally the dam had been wood, but when Henry Ford bought the mill, he converted it to a cement dam. He also had to excavate the lower side of the dam to get the fall he needed for the generators. The previous owners had been sued by the local farmers when their fields flooded as a result of trying to raise the dam. One of the other interesting pieces on the first floor was the pictures of the graduating high school classes from Dundee High School. They had them going back to the early nineteen hundreds, and they are trying to get a copy of all of them, so it is a work in progress. It was really amazing to look at these people from over 100 years ago. The kids looked so much older than high school students today. I am sure it was the classic clothing that made them look older, but it was still pretty shocking. 

We moved to the second floor which was filled with exhibits that showed living conditions from the period. There was a kitchen, bedroom, and what looked like an office area. There was also a number of outdoor items like you would have in a shed or a barn. They even had a small lathe that I thought looked like it would work well for making pens. Kat and I really enjoyed imagining how it would be like to live in those times. We looked at a number of the pictures that were taken in a panoramic view with long groups of people. One of the pictures had people dressed in all sorts of everyday attire, and they were carrying instruments. I commented that they were probably the original Village People. 

We headed up to the third floor next where they had a Native American exhibit. As we made our way up the stairs, I pointed out a rope on the wall that was attached to a big bell the top of the stairs. Kat started pulling on the rope trying to make the bell ring "just a little", but it had a spring inside the bell that acted as a damper, and when you overcame the tension of the spring with the swing the bell would ring. In other words, you couldn't just ring it a little. All of a sudden there was a huge gong as I made it up the last few steps. I smiled as I thought how going to a museum with Kat is very similar to going to one with Forrest. 

The first exhibit on the third floor was a hand made replica of a dugout canoe with full documentation on the process. The guy who made it was a local resident, and it was really pretty cool. There were large crack in each end that must have occurred as the log dried. There was also a display of a typical home layout inside kind of a tepee. It was really kind of interesting to compare the way things were done on the second floor with technology and manufactured products with the all natural approach. Kat pointed out how cool it was that they dried our gourds and squash and cut them in a way that they could be used to eat and drink out of. We finished touring the exhibits and made our way back to the first floor where I put some cash in the donation bin and asked the docent if there were any coffee shops around. He said there was one in the triangle. Instead of a town square, Dundee has a town triangle which I really liked. 

We left the building, and headed outside. I took a number of pictures of the dam and we watched  young man catch a pike from inside the restricted area. It was pretty gray and windy day, but it wasnt too cold. I suggest we walk across the river to the triangle and get a coffee drink. We walked in back to a park first to check out where the river flowed up to the dam, then made our way over to the bridge into town. We stopped at a gazebo on the other side and I took some more pictures. As we turned to leave the gazebo, Kat suggested that we cross under the bridge and check out the river on the other side. We walked along the river and came up to a boat ramp. in the middle of the boat ramp Kat found a muscle shell that had three snail shells sitting in it. It looked like someone had left them there. She picked them up and asked me if she could keep them. For the second time that afternoon, I had the feeling I was spending the day with Forrest. I said I was okay with it, and I pointed to some stairs that would take us back to the street. Kat packed her shells in her pocket and we headed off hand in hand to find coffee.

We found what appeared to be main street that went around the triangle, and I could see the coffee shop on the opposing side. As we walked to the shop, we passed a candle, antique and soap shop. Of course we had to go in and check it out. The woman at the desk welcomed us and when she found out it was our first time there, explained that there were three floors. The third floor was estate sale items, the second floor was all candles, and the basement was antiques and soaps. I have to admit I was getting a little nervous at this point. I was already past three in the afternoon and I was afraid the coffee shop might close before we got out of this store. I didn't say anything and we proceeded upstairs. 

The third floor was as I expected, basically a big garage sale with primarily kitchen and children's items. We wondered through each isle, and Kat found a salt an pepper shaker that she said looked like spring and would be nice to have on the kitchen table. I nodded and we finished looking through the isles. As we started to head back down stairs, Kat spied some printing press plates from the 1930's hanging on the wall. They were a combination of lead on cherry and copper on cherry. One was for invoice terms and another was a ledger page. Kat really liked them and thought they would look cool on the walls at her condo, so she picked them up as well. I carried them downstairs, and we dropped them off at the cash register to hold while we made our way to the antiques in the basement. 

There were a couple cool things in the basement, but for the most part it was old junk as far as I was concerned. They had some old cameras, but even when they were new, they weren't good cameras, and the same was true of the tools that they had. Still it was fun looking through the stuff and seeing what was there.

At the back of the antique area was the soap section, and the soap lady was there getting ready to make a new batch of soap. Kat started talking to her and we got to hear about her passion for scents and how she had retired and was doing this as a labor of love. Then Kat said she had a little story to tell her. I have to say my heart dropped a little when she said that because my thoughts of getting coffee seemed to be drifting away with every minute. I love Kat, but she never tells a little story. I was thinking how we were at the last isle of antiques and I could see the back door. I really thought we were minutes away from coffee when my thoughts were dashed. Kat went through her story about a lavender farm just north of her condo where the woman had started the farm as therapy after her daughter died of a drug overdose. The soap lady listened to her story and she was really interested in getting Michigan made lavender. Kat decided to buy a gift box of soaps, and of course the woman threw in some extra samples and a nice wooden box.

We made our way upstairs and headed to the cashier to pay for the other items along with the soap. The printing plates were pretty heavy, so I carried them, and Kat carried the other bag, and we headed out the door to get coffee. We got to the coffee shop and they were still open, so I was really happy. I ordered my traditional mocha with extra shots of espresso and Kat got a coffee mudslide frozen drink. Both were really good, and we sat and enjoyed our coffee talking about the town and our day together. 

After leaving the coffee shop, we headed back over the bridge to our car. I took a few more pictures because the sun had come out a little, but very quickly it drifted behind the clouds again. We got to the car and loaded up the printing plates, soap, and little chick salt and pepper shakers. It was a small adventure, but we had a really nice time, and now we have another place to visit when it gets warmer. 

Takeaways from the Memorial Service for my Father

Obviously as I have gotten older, I have forgotten more and more of my childhood. Since my dad died, I have looked at pictures and tried to recall things, but seeing the video yesterday, I realized that I have forgotten so much more than I thought I had. 

Seeing Steve Zammit again was a real treat. Of all my dad's students that became friends, Steve was always my favorite. I have always related to Steve really well. He got me my first restaurant job at Delphines in Ann Arbor at the Sheraton Hotel. Talking to him was really cool after all these years. He has an amazing sense of humor, and is such a genuinely good person. We found out that we had a mutual friend in Ken Shannon which I think I may have known before but forgotten. I was able to introduce him to Kat, and they connected really well over mechanical engineering. Seeing Gary Talbot, Uncle Dean, Mrs Dubin, and Mrs Hiss again was really nice. I had a sad feeling that it was nice to see these people, but I may never see any of them again.

Having Steve start the presentation was a perfect way to begin. Steve and Gary were two of my dads closest friends, and Steve has been around longer, so it fit that he went first. When Steve started talking about the SAAB that my dad had and how he had one sitting out front, a flood of memories came to me. My dad loved that car, and I can vaguely remember him giving me rides to nursery school in that car. I remember loving that car, but my mom hated it. I am not sure if she hated it just because it was a stick shift or if there was some other reason. The next two cars we had were sticks as well, so I would have thought if that were the only reason, they would have gotten cars with automatic transmissions. 

There were so many things that Steve mentioned about my dad and their relationship that made me smile. The story about bringing in a six pack of beer and my dad with a beer in one hand and a stick of chalk in the other while teaching the last day of spring class really made me happy to think of. It reminded me of a spring physics class I took at WCC where we had beer while taking our final. Steve made the comment that my dad was never Bruce to him, it was always professor Karnopp, and that he called him that out of extreme respect. It made me think of something that my dad once said about respect being something you earn, and my dad really did earn the title of professor.

When Steve talked about Carol's wedding where he and his wife did a dual service of renewing their vows with my mom and dad, it made me realize how long Steve had been in my dads and my life. The wedding seems like such a recent memory, but it was over 15 years ago. Steve said that he went to U of M between 1980-85 which means I met him when I was 13 or 14. Watching Steve tear up at the loss of such a long time friend made me realize there was so much more to my father as a professor than I realized. My dads job was so much more than just a job, he really connected with his students, and they really loved him for everything he did for them. 

When Dean got up to speak it was a little surreal. He made the comment that it was a little unnerving to have a memorial for professor Karnopp when he is also referred to as professor Karnopp, but the same could be said about watching him speak. Dean and my father look very similar, sound very similar, and also have a lot of the same mannerisms. I never knew Dean. He visited once or twice when I was young, and I have seen him a few times as an adult, but always very briefly. My dad would tell stories about him as a kid, but there was always kind of a separation in the description where they just weren't as close as you would expect. There was however, never a negative word about his brother or any of his family for that matter. 

I think Dean's talk about my dad really explained their relationship very well. Time and Space worked against them throughout their lives. At four years apart, they really weren't in the same place at the same time either physically or emotionally. His comments made me think about my relationship with Carol and how we were three years apart. We had some time together in Elementary school, but after that, were never in the same place at the same time. The interesting thing about my dad and deans life was that even though they were never in the same place at the same time, they both had the same trajectory for their education and career. Deans life was a little more exciting than my dads, but I think having a special needs child played into that a bit. 

There was a little confusion between Gary and Carol about who was to talk next, but Carol took over and did a nice remembrance of her father and family life. Her relationship was so much different than mine. She worked so hard to please my dad, and I worked so hard to show my independence. We both wanted him to be proud of us, and I am sure that Carol succeeded much better than I did. I know my dad was proud of me for who I became, but I caused him a lot more stress getting there than Carol did. Carol did a great job speaking, and I know my father would have been very proud of her for that. She isn't the shy little girl that she used to be. 

There was some jostling back and forth with the video, but they decided Gary should speak first. I have known Gary for a long time, but he came into the picture after I was out of the house, so I didn't have the same kind of relationship with him that I did with Steve, but I heard about him all the time from my dad. When my dad got sick, Gary and Forrest communicated a lot more than I did, and I think they created a special bond in the process. It was interesting hearing Gary describe his childhood in Ann Arbor and how he got to the U of M after being a mechanic. I knew a lot of this about him from my dad, and I had known him when he was a student, but hearing more details was really nice. 

When Gary described his first meeting of my dad, I really started to tear up. He had gone back to school at WCC and transferred to U of M, and my dad came up him and and asked him what he was doing there. He hassled him a little bit in a way that I could so easily imagine, then gave him his card and told him to come and see him. Gary waited a couple of hours feeling self conscious and out of place, but finally made his way to my dads office. He said my dad talked him about his history and really got to know him over several hours. Then he told him to go to his classes, do the best he can, and when he is struggling, which he would struggle, come back and see him. He did what my dad said, and my dad helped him get through. He said my dad wanted to see him make the effort, but once he did, he went out of his way to help him succeed. That was my dad in a nutshell.

One of Gary's comments that really hit home with me was when he was talking about my dad referring to him as a non traditional student. Gary had always thought that he was referring to him that way because he was in a wheelchair, but when he asked him about it once, my dad just looked at him and said, that has nothing to do with it, you're non traditional just because you are old. Gary talked about how much my dad did to encourage other non traditional students. Steve was another non traditional student who had worked in a steel mill then went to EMU to get his grades up and then went to U of M. I think my dad really liked teaching people who had real stories to tell before coming to the University. I think he had a lot of respect for them and knew how much work it really is to make changes like that in a persons life. 

The video Carol put together was really cool. There were so many pictures of things that I didn't remember. I had completely forgotten about the photography club my dad had done at St. Pauls Elementary School, and there were so many pictures that I didn't even know existed. I lost so many of my pictures from film when I moved into my house and the basement flooded, and I didn't get a digital camera until 1998, so there are so many years that I just didn't have much of. I'm sure there are some in the box that grandma sent over with Forrest, but I haven't had a chance to go through them at all. Unfortunately it was just a bin full of packets of pictures. There were no labels, no dates, and nothing to identify them. It was funny that Carol mentioned the Doors as that was one of my dad's favorite bands which seemed so out of character compared to everything else he liked. It was really a beautiful video and a wonderful tribute to our father. 

I didn't know the next speakers who went up and told stories of interactions with my dad. I did really enjoy the one where my dad joked with a colleague about putting a sensor on the toilets in the bathroom to measure who would be able to fill the chair of the department. I had to glance at Forrest because he has definitely inherited a lot of his Grandpa's toilet humor. Kat kept squeezing my hand nudging me to go up and talk. I was about to when Steve called on someone else. My heart was beating in my chest because I was loosing my nerve at this point. I hadn't prepared anything, and I am not good at speaking off the cuff. I thought I could pull some things from memory from my letter that I posted on my blog right after his death, but that was going to be a stretch. The next speaker mentioned a story where my dad had been working on his dishwasher, and rather than go to the basement to find the breaker, decided to short the circuit with a screwdriver to kill the power. The really funny part of the story was when my dad described the chunk of metal missing from the tip of the screwdriver as a result of the arc and how he decided to return it to Sears and get a replacement. My dad did love Craftsman tools, and although he may have returned that particular screwdriver, there were a number of them in his set with the tell tale chunk missing with the rough carbon pattern. 

After hearing about the dishwasher, I knew I had to be next. I walked to the podium, and I cant remember whether I used the mic or not. I am not much of a public speaker, and the adrenaline coursing through my veins made the entire event seem like a dream where I am trying to recall the memories. I remember introducing myself and telling everyone that I was the more challenging kid. I explained that I had to come up after the last speaker because I had just been doing wiring around my house the week before, and my girlfriend had insisted that I not work with live wires. I had used pliers and the ground wire to short the circuit, but the effect was the same. Hearing the story about my dad reminded me of all the things like that I had learned from him. I described how we did things like that together. Then I mentioned my paper route and how he had taken it over after Steve got me the job at the Sheraton because it was cash money. I told the story of how one time we were talking after delivering papers and he told me he didn't know what I was going to do with my life, and that I hadn't taken the path he would have liked, but he knew whatever I put my mind to, I would do it well and be successful. I mentioned how I have always remembered those words and I used them with my own son when he graduated high school. 

I also mentioned in there somewhere how Carol had done things the way he would have wanted and how well she had done. I think at that point I thanked everyone for coming and returned to my seat. I know my eyes were starting to tear up, and I don't think I could have said much more without losing my composure. When I sat down, Kat squeezed my hand and told me how proud of me she was. I sat there thinking of all the things I would have liked to have said, but I guess I said what was most important.

I was a little disappointed that my mom didn't say anything. It would have been nice if she could have mentioned something about the man that she was married to for over 50 years. I tried to sit next to her during the service, but she got up and went to sit next to her handyman. I can't even imagine how someone could have such hatred for their own son that they would avoid sitting next to their own son in favor of someone they paid to be their friend. I have a lot of resentment toward this man who got all of my dads tool, cameras, furniture and a significant amount of money. Of course he is nice to her and agrees with everything she says, he has taken over my spot in the family. It is actually her loss. After the server the entire family except for my mom were sitting outside because she had to spend time with Mark. My dad loved his family more than anything and he would never have allowed this. 

After the service a woman came over to me and told me she used to work with my dad when I had my restaurant. She said her husband had been trying to start a bakery at around the same time, and my dad used to share emails from me about the restaurant. She mentioned my last email where I had said goodbye to my customers and tried to analyze the mistakes that were made. She said my dad was always so proud of me and talked about me all the time. That really made me feel good. Mrs Hiss stopped by to tell me how sorry she was that my dad had passed, and she mentioned how when I was young my dad had made a ribbon board for her daughter Meredith just like the one he made for me. 

After hanging out with Carol, Holden, and John for a little while, we helped Carol carry stuff to her car. We waved them off, then Kat and I along with Forrest and Sarah walked over to Knights restaurant and had a wonderful meal together. It was kind of a somber time together, but we shared stories and commented on how our family might come back together now that Carol and Holden live nearby. I am sure that rebuilding our family would be the one thing my dad would want more than anything.

Photography

For as long as I can remember, I have had a camera of some sort. My dad had learned photography from his uncle Wayne, and he had a darkroom in the basement and several styles of cameras. Ironically, my dad didn't take that many pictures of my sister, brother, and me, and the ones he did take were probably more because my mom told him too. He always preferred black and white photography and landscapes. I have always enjoyed landscapes, but I love taking pictures of people too. I love scrolling through memories and having the faces of people you know and love adds context to a location. 

I got my first real camera as a Christmas present when I was probably 6 or 7. It had been my moms camera when she was in college, and for the time, it was a pretty nice 35 mm, especially for a child of my age. It had fixed lens that you had to focus by estimating the distance. It didn't have a through the lens viewfinder, so if you weren't taking pictures of landscapes at infinity, it was a real crap shoot as to whether the image would be in focus or not. I loved taking pictures with this camera and sitting with my dad in the dark room loading the film into canisters for developing, then going back in to make the prints. 

As I got older, I inherited several cameras from my dad. The first one I got was a Yashica twin lens reflex, and I finally was able to focus through a similar lens. This improved the pictures I took of people significantly. My dad upgraded to a Mamiya camera at that time. He also gave me a tripod to go with my camera, so I was starting to have a pretty nice kit especially since I was still in elementary school. 

The next camera I receive from my Dad was his Minolta SRT 101. My dad preferred larger format cameras, but he always had a couple of 35 mm cameras too. The SRT 101 was the last manual focus camera he had in the Minolta line. He eventually moved up to a 7000 and even got a digital Minolta right before they went out of business. My Dad didn't just give me this camera though. We were on vacation in Canada visiting some friends of his who were from Australia but living in Canada for a couple of years. They were a really nice couple named Eva and Momo, and they had a daughter, Tara. Eva was making dinner for us one night, and me being a really picky eater was nervous about what she was making. My dad bribed me with the camera telling me if I ate whatever she made without complaint, I could have the camera. I remember it was baked chicken, and I really liked it, so it turned out to be a really good deal for me. 

I really liked the SRT 101, and I preferred it to the twin lens reflex for a couple of reasons. The first was that the light meter worked in the SRT where the one in my Yashica had always been broken. The main reason I liked it was because I could load up a roll of film that held 36 pictures which was so much more convenient than the 12 exposures that the Yashica had. The main drawbacks to using 35 mm was that the negatives were smaller, so the images aren't as crisp and loading the developing cartridges could be really tough. I used my SRT 101 for many years, and I learned a lot with this camera.

In the late 80's, I got my first new camera for Christmas. My Dad gave me a brand new in the box Minolta Maxxum camera. The Maxxum's were the first auto focus cameras in the world. It had a lighter more plastic body, but it took amazing pictures. I took a lot of pictures with that camera, but the cost of film was always a limitation, and if I did color, it cost money to process too.

In my first apartment, I setup a darkroom in a closet right off the kitchen. I was hired by the dart league I was on to take the team photos, and I developed them and printed them in my little darkroom. My dad had given me his old enlarger, so I had everything I needed. The room would get really hot with me inside, and this made the prints develop really quickly, so it was difficult to do the printing without over developing the prints, but I got pretty good at it. 

When I moved into my house, I never setup a darkroom, and a flood in my basement destroyed most of my equipment and prints that I had in storage containers that weren't waterproof. From that point on, I only shot in color, and it was mostly family events and snapshots. I kind of lost interest in the technical side of photography until the digital age. 

In 1998 I bought my first digital camera. It was a little Ricoh RDC-2 camera that took images at a resolution of 768 x 576. The images were pretty grainy and not very high quality, but you could take as many as you wanted as long as you had memory to hold them. I loved this little camera, and I took tons of pictures of the kids with it. My next camera was a Kodak that was 1.2 megapixel, and the images were significantly better. A 5x7 print was looking very close to what you could get in film. I upgraded to another Kodak that was over 2 megapixel, and now I could print 8x10's that looked really nice. 

My next big jump was the Olympus E10 camera. It was a 4.3 megapixel camera with F2 zoom lens attached to it. The lens wasn't interchangeable, but there were lens attachments available for it. The images it produced were fantastic, and I loved having a real camera body in my hands again. I started getting back into the technical side of photography trying to learn all I had forgotten about f-stops, iso, and speed. I took thousands of pictures with that camera and became involved in several online users groups. At one point me and another guy developed a website and created an even called E-10 day where users in the group would take pictures on a specific date all around the world and upload them to our site. It was a huge success and we ended up with thousands of pictures from that day. We tried to do it again a year later, but as technology advanced, people weren't as excited about the camera the following year and the project kind of fizzled away. 

My next big jump was a Canon  EOS D60 digital camera. This was Canon's second entry into the prosumer digital camera, and it had a 6 megapixel sensor and interchangeable lenses. This was a real digital camera, and I was hooked. I took it with me everywhere. I had bought several zoom lenses in different ranges and different speeds. I started learning more and more about photography and being able to experiment without worrying about buying film made it so nice. I think Forrest was probably one of the most photographed kids on the planet. I always had my camera with me at every event he was involved in. 

My dad eventually bought a digital camera, but he was never a convert the way I was. He loved his darkroom and the smell of hypo when he was developing. Even though we were using different formats, having a real camera again made it so we would have long conversations about techniques and the more technical aspects of the hobby. Between 2002 and 2005 I think I talked to my dad more than any other time in our relationship. He always had questions for me about his computers, and I always had questions for him about photography. We would share our images with each other, and he always had really good constructive comments on mine.  

In 2005 we bought the restaurant, and that pretty much brought all my hobbies to an end. I did use my camera to take pictures of the food for the menus and the website, but I had very little opportunity to get away from the place just to take pictures. I did upgrade my camera to a Canon 50D for use at the restaurant, and even though it was a significant upgrade, it didn't have the excitement of my previous cameras. 

A couple of weeks ago Sarah asked me if I could help her get into photography. She said she had been looking to get into a new hobby and thought photography would be a good one. She got several of my dad's prints right before he died, and she really loves them. Even though I have been out of the cafe for 6 years, I hadn't gotten back into photography. I bought a really nice rugged camera, and I have taken a lot of pictures of my adventures, but I hadn't pulled out an SLR in quite a while. I dug through all my old stuff and found the D60 and the 50D. I put together a couple of lenses to go with the D60 and gave them to Sarah. 

The camera is 15 years old now, so it is on its last leg, but she was able to use it while we went to Northville to visit a historic village and take some pictures. I had a wonderful time with my 50D in hand, and I got some decent shots. More than anything I had a great time hanging out with Sarah and Kat enjoying a hobby together. Photography is about sharing memories, and building memories with family that you record and share for a lifetime is what really makes me happy. 

Joe D Galloway - My Maternal Grandfather

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Swimming Life

There are a number of regrets I have had in my life, but quitting competitive swimming when I was twelve is one of my bigger regrets. In 1972 Mark Spitz won 7 gold medals at the summer Olympics. After seeing that, I wanted to be just like him. I had already learned to swim at that point and spent a great deal of time at the local swimming pool. The local pool allowed you to swim without a parent present once you passed your test. The test was being able to competently swim two lengths of the pool. Once passing your test, you were also allowed to go in the deep end and use the big slide. Neither of which are deep or big by today's standards, but it was a pretty big deal back then. I spent most of my summers as a child in nothing but a swimsuit. I would hop on my bike with a towel around my neck and ride down to the pool whenever I could. 

I believe I was 6 years old when I joined the swim team and started swimming in 8 and under events. I don't think I won any events that first year, but in the winter my parents put me in the Ann Arbor Swim Club (AASC) and I started swimming in AAU events. When I was seven, I started placing in events, and my dad made me my first ribbon board. He painted it light blue and labeled each ribbon with the date and location of each meet with press on lettering he had in his office. I started swimming with different coaches and at different locations. 

One of the first coaches I had was named Greg, and he coached at Clague Middle School near my house. I don't remember him all that well, but I remember liking him. I think the group there was a beginner group, so as I improved, I got moved to a different workout. I remember years later that Greg went camping with his girlfriend and their tent got hit by lightning. I believe his girlfriend died and he was deaf afterward. I never heard whether his hearing came back or not. 

The next coach I had was named Laura, and I initially did workouts at Mack Pool on the west side of Ann Arbor. Laura had qualified for the Olympics, and she specialized in the backstroke. She taught me to do the old style pivot turn for backstroke. Back in those days it was illegal to turn over on your front the way they do it today. I became really good at the backstroke and at the age of ten, I came in 20th in the state in the 100 meter back. That was the peak of my swimming career. 

In the summer when I was nine years old, my dad took me to swim camp in Vincennes, Indiana. I spent a week at the camp, and I think it was the first time I was away from home alone. I remember "Rich Girl" by Hall and Oats was the number one song on the radio. At home my dad always listened to classical and opera, so I didn't have a lot of musical exposure and that song really stuck in my mind. I was always socially awkward, so I had some trouble sharing a room with three other kids whom I didn't know and were older than I was. I remember being really homesick and wanting to go home in the middle of the week. The other kids had found a care package my mom had sent with me, and they stole all my snacks and I caught them eating them. I did make it through the week though, and I think I enjoyed the experience. I remember really liking pizza and movie night at the end of the week. 

The workouts at camp were really tough. We had to get up in the morning and swim, then we would go to breakfast. After breakfast we would have a clinic of some type that was out of the water. Then we would swim again before lunch. I think we had a break in the afternoon where we would do some kind of other activity. Then we would swim again before dinner. After dinner we had free time until it was time to go to bed. Most of these memories are very cloudy, but the number one memory was one of the coaches who when you were doing something wrong would throw a kick board at you. I was amazed at his skill and accuracy across an eight lane pool being able to hit a moving target. I really enjoyed watching him launch these pieces of water logged foam across the pool and pummel an unsuspecting swimmer. 

The following summer when I was ten, I went to the swim camp again. This time I stayed for two weeks, and I had a friend with me for at least one of the weeks. I think his name was Nicolas. I believe Carol also went that year, but for only one week. I don't really remember much from that year except that the "Just A Song Before I Go" from Crosby Stills, and Nash was the number one on the radio. I also remember that prior to going to camp, I couldn't swim the butterfly without getting disqualified, and afterward I was able to. I can't swim it at all today, but I do remember that when I finally figured it out it was just about getting the rhythm of the kick and arms right. 

There were a couple of other coaches that I worked out with at the AASC that I don't really remember, but the head coach of the swim team the entire time I was there was Johanna High. She was a tough coach to swim for. I think she was also the Huron High School coach. She really didn't seem to like kids very much, and I rarely ever saw her smile. After doing well in the state championships, I got put her group. The problem with age groups is that you do well when you are at the top of one, but the following year you are at the bottom of another. When I was eleven, I was in the 11-12 age group and didn't do very well. 

Carol was still in the 8 & under group and doing very well, so my parents had to split their time between the two of us. I wasn't enjoying swimming very much anymore and there were a lot of things going on in my life at that point, so I really stopped trying. My dad had suggested that I join the swim team in junior high, but I never did. I didn't fit in at all in Junior High school and I avoided anything that had to do with school. I had thought I would try football, but after the first day someone had broken into my locker and stolen my shoes, so I had to quit. It was hard enough to find the first pair of size 14 cleats, I couldn't go through that again. 

After the age of twelve I never swam competitively or played any team sports again. Up until that time, I had been skinny as a rail, and I never thought I would gain weight. By the time I got to high school, I was one of the fat kids, and I have struggled with weight every since. I often wonder if I had joined the swim team and made an effort if that would have made a difference in my academic success as well as my overall fitness. When I think about all the bad decisions that I made after that that might have been avoided, it makes me really wonder how different things would have been.

I still enjoy swimming and doing anything in the water. I have even done a number of triathlons in the past few years, but in reality, I was just competing with myself. I still have decent technique with the front crawl and breast stroke, but I can't do backstroke or butterfly at all anymore. I can still swim over a mile without stopping and it makes me happy. Like everything else, I just have to find the time to do it.

282 Minutes

One place I always fail in social situations is keeping up with current entertainment and advertising. In meetings at work or discussions around the water cooler, people are always discussing sports or some show they saw on TV. I looked it up, and the average American watches 82 minutes of television a day. That is almost 5 hours sitting in front of the TV. I cannot even begin to wrap my brain around how much time that is. There are months where I don't watch that much TV in an entire month. My idea of binge watching a show would be to watch a couple of episodes of the Big Bang Theory. I tend to avoid shows that are longer than 20 minutes because I get anxious if I sit that long. I often have trouble sitting through an entire movie at home, so I watch very few movies. 

One of the issues I have is that I get really stiff and sore if I sit too long. Typically after about an hour of sitting my hips and knees will start to ache. I have the same problem sitting on airplane flights or going to concerts. I spend so much time at work sitting, that if I am not working, I prefer to be standing and moving around. At work I am able to move my legs more freely, so the stiffness isn't as noticeable, but I still notice it when I get up and start to move around. 

More than the physical discomfort though is the fact that I get extremely anxious just sitting around. I don't like wasting time in my life, and there are so many things I want to do on a daily basis that sitting in front of the TV seems like an utter and complete waste of time. Even when I find a show entertaining, I feel anxious because there are so many other things I could be doing. I am very goal and accomplishment driven, so wasting time in front of the TV makes me feel guilty and it brings me down. 

When I was young, in the days before streaming, there were shows that I would enjoy watching, but it always turned out that I would miss a show and get out of step in a series or something. I hated being tied to a schedule to watch TV, and I was always much happier doing some kind of activity instead. Even with the advent of streaming, I have a lot of difficulty getting into a show that requires any commitment. There are times where I will be in the mood to watch something and scroll through all the options and end up not watching anything because all the shows are too long or they require being willing to commit to watching a season.

I have never had any interest in video games or taking naps for the same reasons. I have so many interests that I don't have time to pursue, and wasting my life being a spectator isn't something I am willing to do. There may be a point in my life where I wont be able to be as active as I like, and then maybe I will spend time in front of the television, but until that time, I want to pack in as many activities in a day as I can possibly fit. There is the old saying that "There will be plenty of time to sleep when you are dead". I have always felt that was an appropriate way of looking at life.