Aardvark Dude's Blog

The Day I Shot Richard Nixon

Dave Michael — Sat, 02 Apr 2011 07:09:28 +0000

Or My Most Historic Photograph

Forty-two years ago on April 2, 1969 at the tender age of 20 I made what may be the most historic image of my career as a photographer. I photographed President Richard Milhous Nixon on the streets of Abilene, Kansas following the funeral and interment of President Dwight David Eisenhower.

President Richard Milhous Nixon signs an autograph following the funeral and interment of President Dwight David Eisenhower in Abilene, KS.

At the time I was a journalism major at Baker University in Baldwin City, KS. Armed with only a 35mm Pentax camera, one lens and a few rolls of Tri-X film I set out for Abilene early in the morning on the not really knowing what to expect, but hoping to capture some images of the activity in this little town of about 8,000 residents which was about to be swarmed by a crowd of nearly 100,000.

When I arrived I found the U. S. Army had taken control of the town and had set up a command center in the local National Guard armory. Somehow I found my way to a desk where an officer was handing out passes to members of the press. With no documentation to back up my assertions that I was there to represent the Baker Wildcat, my university’s student newspaper, and the Baldwin Ledger, my hometown daily, I managed to persuade him to give me one of the coveted passes. I was informed the Army would deliver me along with other members of the media to the appropriate press stands when the time arrived.

As the casket bearing President Eisenhower arrived at the chapel which is his final resting place I had a prime vantage point where I could clearly view and photograph the activities of various family members and dignitaries arriving and departing. The service itself was private, was in the chapel and the press was not allowed in.

Following the departure those who had been in the chapel for the ceremony I started back, along with other members of the press, to the bus that had brought me . I was ready to get back to my car and home to begin processing film, or so I thought. Before making it back to the bus I saw the presidential limousine pause in the midst of the throngs that lined nearby streets. President Nixon exited the car and walked into the crowd where he was shaking hands and signing autographs. Naturally the mass of humanity, including most of the press, surged toward him to get a closer look.

I wanted to get close to him too, but I quickly saw how futile it would be to run toward him. I turned and saw, aside from a few men in trench coats and dark glasses, there was no one near the president’s car. I made my way to it and firmly planted myself close to the door I had seen President Nixon come out of. My strategy worked.

As the president started back toward the limo, the crowd followed. When he was close they rushed in near where I was, and I was shoved until my butt was against the rear fender. I began taking pictures, one after another as quickly as I could with a manual camera. As President Nixon was about to enter the now open door next to where I was standing, I had a clear view and was close enough I could have touched him. I continued to shoot film even as I felt the hands of two Secret Service agents slide under my armpits and begin dragging me away.

As the president disappeared inside his car the agents released me in the street, and I headed back to the bus that was waiting to return me to the armory. Once there I made my way back to my, car and began the journey home where I worked into the night processing and printing the images I had captured that day, including the close up of President Nixon posted above.

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Dad

Dave Michael — Mon, 27 Dec 2010 03:08:49 +0000

A few days ago my father’s life came to a quiet and peaceful end. While it was not a joyous occasion, neither was it one which I mourn deeply, for Dad had lived a long, eventful and productive life.

Vernon D. Michael February 9, 1914 – December 23, 2010

Dad was a complex man, and like a precious gem there were many facets to his personality. Perhaps his most obvious characteristic was his caring and concern for others. Throughout his life he was dedicated to the service of others around the world well beyond himself and his immediate family. He rarely placed his own needs above those of others.

Early in his life he began a career as a teacher in a one room country school and as a Disciples of Christ minister in small churches in Oklahoma and Kansas. He later taught science in high schools in Oakley and Minneapolis, KS. In 1940 he married Hazel Miller in Larned, KS, a marriage that lasted over 50 years and produced my sister Barbara and myself.

My earliest memories of Dad are from my preschool days when we lived in a small house in Lawrence, KS where he was pursuing his masters degree in education at the University of Kansas and working the night shift as a linotype operator setting type for the local newspaper, the Journal World. It was during this period that he began giving one of the greatest of his gifts to me, the thirst for and the love of gaining knowledge.

Through activities such as science experiments in the kitchen I learned things like what happens when you mix baking soda and vinegar even before heading off to kindergarten. On picnics and outings he taught me things like how to skip stones on water and how to make sounds blowing across a blade of grass used as a reed placed between my hands.

He instilled a sense of adventure in me through such gestures as giving me my first two wheeler and teaching me to ride without training wheels a full two years before my peers gave up their tricycles. When I was only 3 years old he chartered a small plane taking me on my first venture into the air, along with the rest of the family, to see first hand from above the power of nature as one of the worst floods in the history of the Midwest was just beginning to subside. Dad always seemed to have an infinite array of interests and at least a little knowledge of nearly every subject imaginable, a trait he has passed on to me.

When I was 7 we moved to Baldwin City, KS where Dad had taken a position as a professor of education at Baker University. It turned out to be the longest job of his career. At the same time he began his pursuit of a doctorate degree. When working as a full time college instructor while still a graduate student proved more challenging than he expected, he demonstrated his tenacity. He never gave up on acquiring the higher degree until finally receiving it 17 years later.

In the diversity of an academic community Dad was surrounded with colleagues and students of widely varied ethnic, cultural and religious backgrounds. He seemed to relish the opportunity to expose my sister and me to this cross section of humanity, and by both word and example taught us not only to be tolerant but accepting of others, to find common ground with people of all walks of life and to celebrate differences rather than fear them. While I doubt he never truly regretted teaching us this lesson, later in life it did create some conflict when Barbara and I demonstrated our tolerance and acceptance by befriending people he might have preferred we hadn’t taken into our lives.

Dad held strong in his beliefs as demonstrated by his avid pacifism. He was a conscientious objector during World War II, a position that was not generally looked upon favorably by most U.S. citizens at the time and is still considered a negative by many to this day. He never wavered in his belief that it is wrong to take a human life, holding steady to his belief throughout all later military conflicts the U.S. was to become involved in. This was just one example of how he taught my sister and me to think for ourselves and not accept things simply because we were told them by people in positions of power and authority whether they be teachers, religious leaders or government officials. This too was a lesson that in later years led to some conflict when he realized that in learning to think for ourselves, Barbara and I did not always arrive at the same conclusions as he.

In recent years the ravages of age took their toll on Dad. As happens to many who live so long, his mind began declining before his body. No human is rational 100% of the time, and that becomes more apparent when dementia sets in. Many in the Michael family seem to have a unique and quirky sense of humor, and Dad was certainly no exception. He was never afraid to laugh at himself nor with others.

While other portions of his mind were failing conspicuously he retained his sense of humor. Once during the early stages of his dementia when he was still lucid enough to realize what was happening to him, I was trying to get him ready to leave for an appointment that I had reminded him of several times in previous days. After obvious initial confusion he accepted the fact that I might have previously informed him, and he just didn’t remember. He commented, “When one has dementia I guess he should expect surprises.”

Another time I was giving him a ride back to his nursing home after a brief stay in the hospital. He was conspicuously confused as he rambled about things like needing to get back to school and talking as if his parents were still living. It was a bitter cold winter day. As we passed a sign that said Michigan Street he appeared to suddenly snap into a state of lucidity. He looked at the sign and with a big smile on his face turned to me and said, “Michigan? We shouldn’t be going to Michigan on a day like this.”

On one of the last occasions I visited him in the nursing home I arrived as he was in the dining room waiting to be served dinner. A lady across the table from him who also suffered from dementia picked up a fork and began going through the motions of eating from a plate that clearly wasn’t there. Again with a grin he turned and whispered to me, “That lady is eating air with a fork.”

Dad was a good parent, not a perfect one. I have no doubt he always loved me. In his nearly 97 years he gave me much to appreciate. The important gifts I remember are not material ones, but rather the life lessons he taught me through both his good qualities and his flaws. I think one of the greatest gifts Dad gave me is an appreciation for the importance of working with others, not against them.

Even through his flaws he taught me the importance of forgiveness and an understanding that I too have flaws, some of which I recognize and some which I’m sure I don’t. It would be fruitless for me to deny being my father’s son. In many ways I am like him, both in ways I am proud to claim and a few I’d rather not.

In recognizing he was a good man and not a perfect one I hope one day others, especially my children, will be able to say the same about me. I thank Dad for his part in making me the man I am today.

To see more pictures and words about Dad click here.

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Your feedback is always appreciated. Please leave a comment by clicking here.

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Visit these related links:

The Arbor ~ Memory Care at Brandon Woods at Alvamar

Baldwin City, KS

Baker University

Whole Wheat Banana Bread

Dave Michael — Fri, 05 Nov 2010 03:35:55 +0000

It seems I’m a bit suggestible. Yesterday a Facebook friend made a couple comments about banana bread. I had some over ripe bananas that I’d put in my freezer a week or two ago, so naturally I felt the need to make banana bread.

Here is my original, never before published, Banana Bread recipe. If you try it, I hope you enjoy. Let me know what you think.

3/4 Cup White Flour

3/4 Cup Whole Wheat Flour

1/2 tsp Salt

1 tsp Baking Soda

3/4 Cup Butter or Vegetable Shortening

1/2 Cup Sugar

1/2 Cup Brown Sugar

3 Eggs

1 Cup Mashed Bananas

1/2 tsp Cinnamon

1/2 tsp Nutmeg

1 tsp Vailla Extract

1/2 Cup Chopped Walnuts

Heat oven to 350°. Combine flour, salt and baking powder. In a separate bowl cream sugar and shortening until well blended. Add eggs, bananas, spices, vanilla and nuts and mix thoroughly. Add shortening mixture to flour and stir until mixed. Divide batter between 2 greased 8×4 bread pans and bake approximately 45 – 55 minutes or until an inserted toothpick comes out clean. Allow bread to cool at least 10 minutes. Remove from pan and store in refrigerator.

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27 Second Local Phone Call Costs $17.55

Dave Michael — Fri, 29 Oct 2010 23:17:22 +0000

When I discovered my cell phone wasn’t working I went to a pay phone. After it took $1 in change from me for a call that didn’t go through I used my debit card to make a local call. Today I discovered a charge of $17.55 against my bank account for a phone call that lasted only 27 seconds.Here are the details:

Last Sunday a friend gave me a ride to the Walmart store in Gardner, KS so I could do some grocery shopping. I needed his assistance because my truck is broken down and having been off work over a year due to medical issues and living a subsistence existence on disability insurance I have been unable to pay for repairs. Since my friend lives nearby, and I was going to be in the store for a while, the arrangement was for me to call him when I was ready to leave, and he would come back to get me.

It seemed like a simple arrangement until I attempted to make the call and discovered my cell phone was not working. I promptly found a pay phone in the customer service department, but I had no change. After waiting behind a man who was getting a refund I asked a clerk to break a dollar bill so I would be able to use the pay phone. He informed me he was unable to help me.

I then moved to a checkout lane and requested change from a cashier. While I waited and other shoppers backed up behind me the cashier called a supervisor who after explaining it is against Walmart policy to give out change to customers reluctantly helped open the register and gave me 4 quarters for a dollar bill .

Returning to the pay phone I attempted to make the needed call, and the phone took my 4 quarters for a call that did not go through. At that point I was frustrated and though concerned about unknown charges used my debit card to complete the call. This time everything worked, and my friend came to take me and my groceries home.

This morning I checked my bank statement and discovered a charge of $17.55 for the call I made from Walmart. I immediately called the 800 number listed along with the charge. After asking a few questions I was told the company responsible for billing me was I L D Corporation of San Antonio, TX. Research I have done since indicates I L D Corp is located in Florida, not Texas. I believe I was talking to a person in a call center.

The friendly person in the call center indicated there was nothing unusual about the charge and offered to give me a breakdown. He was able to quickly pull up the information on the call and told me the following:

Although my call lasted for only 27 seconds they bill for a minimum interval of 3 minutes at a rate of $2.23666 per minute for a total of $6.71. Added to that is an automated operator charge of $7.50 and a service fee and taxes at $3.34 bringing the entire charge to $17.55.

When Walmart says “ALWAYS LOW PRICES - ALWAYS” it obviously is not referring to charges by outside vendors providing services in it’s store.

I also phoned the Walmart store where I made the call, asked to speak to the manager and was transferred to a lady who identified herself as Jennifer Mason. I explained the situation and asked if she were aware of the outrageous charges on the phone in her store. She said she wasn’t, said she would look into it and would inform her boss when he arrived.

A quick Google search of ILD Corp reveals numerous reports of scams by the company and complaints against it. I will be adding my complaint to the scores already lodged against this company with Better Business Bureaus, State Attorney Generals and the Federal Communications Commission

Further I would suggest that Walmart and other companies who use the services of this and similar businesses need to be careful who they are affiliating themselves with to protect the customers who support them.

To anyone else who suddenly finds themselves without a cell phone, no change and a need to make a phone call I say, BEWARE!!

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To learn about problems others have had with ILD Corp click here.

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The Culpepper and Merriweather Circus

Dave Michael — Sun, 05 Sep 2010 20:56:02 +0000

Yesterday I went to the circus for the first time in close to twenty years.

The Culpepper and Merriweather Circus, a small show based out of Hugo, OK, arrived in my little town of Edgerton, KS in the morning, set up a big top in Martin Park, put on two afternoon shows and departed nearly as quickly as it arrived.

While I enjoyed it I also have to admit I came away feeling a little sad. What I witnessed was evidence that another proud chapter in history is drawing near its end. I’m not faulting the performers, they did a great job of entertaining. Several of them made quick costume changes and performed in a variety of acts, but they are just a remnant of a bygone era.

The show started with a lion and tiger act in a steel cage that filled the ring then was quickly dismantled as the show continued. There were beautiful young women in shiny tight-fitting costumes swinging from a rope and a trapeze. There was a juggler, and a family on unicycles introducing the newest addition to their act, a 7 year old boy who could ride a one-wheeler nearly as well as the rest of the family.

Then of course there was a clown, yes a clown. It seems the days when 30 people in whiteface and red rubber noses crawling out of a single car are over, at least in an arena under canvas. Melvino, the clown, did a more than adequate job of entertaining the children (of all ages), but he looked a bit lonely unaccompanied by a troop of others like him.

The animal acts were limited too. There were 3 large cats, a flock of trained pigeons, and that was all unless you count the man in costume who was billed as the half human ape. It is hard to imagine a circus with no acrobatic dogs, no prancing ponies and perhaps the most conspicuous absence, a total lack of elephants.

Unlike the big shows of yester year that traveled with rail cars full of animals, hundreds of performers and had three rings full of constant activity, this show had one ring under a tent that would be considered small by the standards of the first half of the 20^th century.

It is obvious the American traveling circus is well past the glory days it enjoyed when I was a small child. I’m sad to see the decline, but I applaud the performers and the owners of this small circus who cling to a life that could be chosen only out of love for what they do and a desire to continue breathing life into a dying tradition for as long as possible. I thank you for allowing me what may well be my last glimpse at a glorious past.

Click here to see more of my photographs of the circus.

Learn more about the Culpepper and Merriweather Circus by visiting their website at www.cmcircus.com.

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On a side note: The Ringling Brothers Barnum and Bailey Circus is performing this week in Kansas City in the air-conditioned arena of the fancy new Sprint Center. I have no doubt their show will have more glitz and glamour than what Culpepper and Merriweather offered here in Edgerton, but what the small show may lack in size and shine they make up for in soul.

Culpepper and Merriweather also remains affordable, with tickets purchased in advance at $9 for adults and $6 for children. Tickets for the Ringling show in Kansas City start at $25 for nose bleed seats and range to over $100 for seats close enough to see the clowns and smell the animals.

I’m glad I gave my $9 to people who I’m betting appreciate my money more.

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Uncle Marvin – June 4, 1912 ~ August 17, 2010

Dave Michael — Mon, 30 Aug 2010 18:22:03 +0000

The beginning of the end of an era in the Michael family was marked a couple weeks ago with the passing of my father’s older brother, my Uncle Marvin at the age of 98 in Seattle, WA on August 17, 2010.

Uncle Marvin is a man I have known as much or more through stories told by my father than actual contact, as our family is and has been wide spread for many years, so time spent with him was limited. Still he did have a impact on my life, and I have vivid memories of the occasions I shared with him.

Marvin Michael was a pioneer, a term I find difficult to imagine using with regard to someone young enough for me to have known him, yet none the less one that fits him well. He was a pilot and an aeronautical engineer in the days when men who flew were regarded with at least as much, if not more esteem, than we have for the astronauts who go into space today.

I remember Uncle Marvin as a tall physically imposing man who always wore a smile and seemed to have an unending zest for life. He radiated enthusiasm in everything he did whether talking about his love of flying, his love for macaroni and cheese, or his love of God.

On one of my earlier visits in his home Seattle home with him, his wife, my Aunt Laura, and his four children, my cousins, I remember hearing him tell us the most dangerous part of flying was the drive to the airport. Crossing the Cascade Mountains during a snow storm with him at the helm of a VW Beatle convinced me he was right, but we survived and it was an adventure not lost on a young boy.

As a teenager on a later trip he gave me my first and only ride in a motorless sailplane. We were towed to an altitude of 2000 feet by another aircraft which then cut us loose, and as we soared over a rocky canyon on the eastern mountain slope of Washington state he instructed me on the fine art of catching thermals. We quietly climbed to 4000 feet in the powerless machine, and he turned the controls over to me, taking them once again after I lost the altitude we had gained.

I could go on about my memories of a man who in my mind ranks with the likes of Charles Lindbergh, and if the heaven he believed in exists I have no doubt he is now teaching young angels how to fly, but I’m going to turn this story over to someone who knew him far better than I. Following is the eulogy given at the memorial service for Marvin Lowell Michael by his youngest son, my cousin Larry Michael.

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Marvin Lowell Michael

by his son Larry Michael

Tenacious, persevering, dedicated, focused and, yes, stubborn. How else can you describe a man who lived to 98 years. But there are many other examples of these qualities besides longevity that my father demonstrated.

Born the oldest of 3 children of a pastor, dad learned responsibility at an early age. He endured the Great Depression through frugality and hard work. During his early, years his fascination for aviation developed. His “Passion for Flying” became unwavering and the hallmark of his identity as most people knew him.

But I believe his love of flying was but one dedicated activity. He also was committed to his exercise. He regularly went to the gym, even convinced me to go with him when I was a kid when stationary bike riding was just silly. I now regularly go to the gym myself and use the silly elliptical. I remember his early morning deep knee bends. I swear he could have become a successful sales person of the Rebounder, you know, those little trampolines. I’m still in shock at seeing him jumping on his rebounder at 6:30 in the morning in less than full attire.

Dad also valued healthy food intake: salads, fish cranberry juice, fruits, vegetables – for a time the health benefits of seaweed were touted. And yes, he loved his vitamins. I remember one evening he was relentless in getting mom to take her B12 shot. Still, there was always room for ice cream.

The list goes on for unusually focused activities:

Chewing food. He called himself the world’s slowest eater. I

never knew anyone else besides Dad who chewed a milkshake.

Collecting coins. He was certain gold was the hedge against a failing economy. We all received coins at Christmas.

Writing his book. He was consumed with attending writing classes and producing and editing chapters of what turned out to be his successful memoir.

When growing up I thought that some of these activities were a bit different and over the top. Now I see that these unusual activities are reflections of quite admirable qualities that made Marvin, my father, a very accomplished man.

He was an aeronautical engineer/Boeing test pilot. An early aviation pioneer- represented in the Boeing Museum. He completed his autobiography, a great read. He flew famine relief in Ethiopia.

He never would have achieved these accomplishments were it not for this focused determination. But he was also a loving, caring, and gentle man.

I’ll never forget when he told me as a teenager that he loved me unconditionally. *He loved all of us kids. When I wanted to be a roller derby star, he took me roller-skating every other Friday night.

For Mike it was camping, the outdoors

For Gwen it was traveling to Ecuador and East Africa

For Carol it was hiking into the Olympic Mountains

He loved God. I will always remember his prayer list. He religiously wore his tattered overcoat, went to the living room daily and knelt next to the sofa. He had a list of people and organizations divided into 7 columns by day of the week for which he prayed. Mom and kids got a special column; we were prayed for every day. I’ll miss that. He was a prayer warrior infinitely committed to his Lord and Savior.

Dad always wanted to make it to 100 years old. His body was not tenacious or persevering – or stubborn enough. That was one achievement he did not accomplish. I think we will all forgive him for that.

But his spirit and soul are with the one he loved for 65 years on Earth. “I miss Laura terribly,” he often said. I am comforted in knowing that he is home with mom and with his Lord. A focused, dedicated and caring life on earth, well done.

More information about Marvin Michael is available: Click Here.

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A Different Direction

Dave Michael — Sun, 29 Aug 2010 18:08:53 +0000

When I started this endeavor I said, “This blog will have a central theme of art, cooking, politics, philosophy and religion (from a non-religious point of view). Other topics may be introduced at my whim.”

One of those topics I haven’t approached here yet is cooking. Today that changes. Those of you know me either in person or through reading my previous posts know photography is a major part of my life. Cooking may take a close second place to photography. I’ve been stirring things up in the kitchen at least as long (actually longer I think) as I’ve been making images with a camera. Although I have never cooked professionally nor even worked for any type of food service, I have published and sold a few of my recipes under the name The Heartland Chef.

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Yeast Pancakes – A Kitchen Experiment

Dave Michael — Sun, 29 Aug 2010 18:07:16 +0000

Although I have a ton of cookbooks I often avoid them completely or use them for inspiration and modify recipes to my own tastes. I frequently experiment in the kitchen and when I do I usually make notes on what I do, not so much so I can duplicate them myself, but so I can share my successes with others. Being a photographer I also like to document my culinary experiments visually.

Pancakes are one of my favorite breakfast foods, and I am also fond of baking bread. I love the rich yeasty taste of fresh bread and for some time have been wondering if I could make pancakes leavened with yeast instead of baking powder. A couple weeks ago I tried it. It worked and today I share the recipe with you.

Whole Wheat Yeast Pancakes

1 Cup Water

2 Tbsp. Sugar

1 Tbsp. Yeast

1 Cup Milk

1 Cup Vegetable Oil

½ Tsp. Salt

1 Cup White Flour

1 Cup Whole Wheat Flour

In a medium bowl combine the water (should be warm, around 100 F) sugar and yeast. Mix it well and then allow it to sit for about 10 minutes in a warm place until it becomes foamy.

After allowing the yeast to work, stir in the milk and vegetable oil. Add the salt and begin adding the flour a little at a time stirring with a whisk or large spoon. I like to alternate between the white and whole wheat flours as I add them to make sure they are thoroughly blended. If you use an electric mixer, keep it on the lowest speed and do not over mix.

Once the ingredients are all combined allow the mix to sit and rise another 5 to 10 minutes and then spoon the batter onto a lightly greased hot griddle and fry as you would any other pancakes.

Serve with butter and syrup or the topping of your choice while still hot. If you have leftovers, they can be sealed I a large ziplock bag and refrigerated for about a week then reheated on a warm griddle or in a toaster.

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Jim And My First Medium Format Camera

Dave Michael — Sat, 28 Aug 2010 17:34:27 +0000

When my interest in photography grew into a passion during the middle of my college career one of the things that fanned the flames and kept them burning was my discovery that professional photographers are generally very willing to share their knowledge with aspiring photographers and newcomers. Whenever I was out and about, if I spotted a studio, I would stop to check out the images on display in the window, and if the business were open I would often go inside to see what was displayed there.

Me with my first professional quality medium format camera, a Mamiya Press 23 with a 6cm X 7cm roll film back that worked with either 120 or 220 film. The photograph was made by my cousin Gary Burge at my first portrait and wedding studio, Dave’s Studio, at 731 New Hampshire, Lawrence, KS shortly after opening in 1973.

In most cases I was greeted warmly by studio staff members and often if the owner, who was usually also the photographer, were available he would take an interest in the college student / beginning photographer and spend some time talking to me about his studio operation and sometimes share technical information or tips on running a business. This contact with working professionals was no small part of my education for what was to become a career.

One such person was a man I now remember only as Jim. Jim ran a small camera store and camera repair service in what is known as the Argentine District in Kansas City, KS. I met him while shopping for a medium format camera. For those of you who are unfamiliar with photographic terms that would be a camera that produces a negative larger than 35 mm and smaller than a 4” X 5”.

As this was during a time long before the advent of the internet I had studied Magazines like Popular Photography and Modern Photography for information on various cameras that might suit my need. I had photographed one wedding and wanted to photograph more. The first was on 35mm film, but the accepted practice in the business was to use cameras that produced a larger negative which in turn produced higher quality prints. Before meeting Jim I had settled on purchasing a Yashicamat which was a camera I believed would suit my needs and was affordable on my limited budget.

While searching for the best price o the camera of my choice I stopped by Jim’s store, explained what I was looking for and why. It took little time for him to persuade me had set my sights too low as he showed me the camera I should be getting, a Mamiya Press 23 with a roll film back, and he also persuaded me I needed a Honeywell Strobonar electronic flash to go with it. The dilemma this presented was the outfit was a little over $400 which was more than 4 times what I had budgeted for my new equipment purchase. That was no small amount of money for a college student working a part time campus job and occasionally selling some photographs, but I left Jim convinced he was right and determined to find a way to consummate the purchase.

My next stop was the Baldwin State Bank where I somehow managed to convince the loan officer I was credit worthy and walked away with a 12 month note and sufficient cash in my account to purchase the desired camera. The next day I was able to pay a return visit to Jim and purchase the desired new piece of equipment.

As Jim ran through some of the finer points of using my new camera he made an offer that looking back was probably worth far more than the money I had borrowed to buy equipment, he offered to take me along as he photographed a wedding and show me the methods of an experienced professional first hand. As Marlon Brando once said, it was “an offer I couldn’t refuse.”

On the appointed day I met Jim at his store before the wedding. He showed me how he prepared, checking equipment to make certain everything was working, verifying his bag contained sufficient film and spare batteries, and he explained what we would be doing when we arrived at the church. We then got in his car and headed down the street to a small Catholic church where I spent next few hours trailing behind my new-found friend and seeing first hand how a working professional photographs a wedding.

As I headed back home after this amazing experience I was thankful for what Jim had shared. Looking back I now realize how much more this kind man had given me than just a good deal on some quality equipment.

In the days that followed, using my new camera and flash, I earned the money required to pay off my 12 month loan in just a little over 30 days. The true value I received in that small camera store in Kansas City, KS was not the flashy new equipment that has now long been traded on newer fancier picture making machines. The true value was the knowledge that an experienced professional willingly gave at no extra cost to a wet behind the ears beginner who wanted to join his profession.

To all who helped me along the way I say thank you.

To Jim, wherever you are, I offer a hearty and very special Thank You!

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A Gift That Keeps On Giving

Dave Michael — Thu, 26 Aug 2010 04:15:11 +0000

Fifty-seven years ago who could ever have predicted the influence a birthday gift would have on my life. July 30, 1953, the day I turned 5, I received a present that continues to influence my life today at age 62.

At age 5 with my Kodak Baby Brownie in hand I carefully line up a picture in the viewfinder.

At the suggestion of my sister Barbara my parents gave me a camera, a Kodak Baby Brownie. I grew up in a family of snap shooters, and as a result I assumed everyone took pictures. I quickly joined the family pastime and began making images of my own.

In the fall after receiving my camera I began kindergarten at McAlister Elementary School in Lawrence, KS. Although I’m sure I made use of my new possession during the summer one of the first pictures I remember making was of my entire class lined up on the steps of the school.

Throughout grade school I continued to take pictures with my prized Brownie. My parents were both teachers, and we often took long summer vacations, camping along the sway as we drove to visit my grandparents and other relatives in Washington state. Naturally my camera went along to record visits to places like the Grad Canyon, Yosemite, the Puget Sound, Yellowstone, and the Rocky Mountains.

During those years I wouldn’t say photography was a passion, but it was a continuing interest. Although by the time I entered junior high I had begun experimenting with other cameras and had begun to learn how to use my father’s 35mm I kept the precious camera that started it all. During high school a friend and I assembled a primitive dark room in his parents basement bathroom, and together we began learning how to process film and make our own prints. My knowledge of and interest in photography continued to grow at a slow steady pace.

My First Camera And My Most Recent Camera – On the left is a Kodak Baby Browie that I received as a gift for my 5th birthday, July 30, 1953. On the right is my most recent camera a Canon Digital Rebel that I purchased 51 years later in 2004.

My sophomore year in college I decided to major in journalism and enrolled in a basic photojournalism course. At that point the glowing spark that had bee ignited by the gift I received as a small child took flame, and I have had a passion for photography ever since. During college I not only became the photo editor of the school paper, but also freelanced for area news papers and occasionally even got pictures on the Associated Press wire. For extra cash while attending school I took over a party photography business from graduating upper classmen, and before graduating myself began photographing weddings. I had clearly found my calling.

For the next 35 years, though I occasionally held jobs in other fields, I continued to work as a photographer either part time or full time. My first job out of school was as a writer and photographer for a daily newspaper. I later owned and operated two portrait and wedding studios. By the time I closed the last studio I had begun photographing weddings for the children of my earliest wedding clients.

Today at age 62 I am retired from the daily grind of operating a studio and now continue to enjoy making images with a camera, although now I no longer feel the need to satisfy the whims of customers and create photographic art following my own interests and desires.

My subject matter these days is much more diverse. I have moved from the simple Kodak box camera to a sophisticated Canon digital single lens reflex. I have traded the hours spent with my fingers soaking in wet chemicals for hours spent processing images with Photoshop on a computer. My images no longer always look like photographs when I complete them, and I don’t sit around in a studio waiting for people to show up. I post many images on line and swap comments and ideas with photographers and artists all over the world. I now occasionally display my work in art galleries.

Fifty-seven years later my life revolves around a simple gift I received the day I turned 5. I think that clearly qualifies as a gift that has given and kept giving.