A few weeks back, I (along with reporter Lori Weiss) had the privilege of riding along with Elm Grove Police Officer Phillip Doney. While Lori spent an entire shift with Officer Doney, I decided about 4 hours would be enough camera-clicking for one officer to endure. I’m not sure what I enjoyed more: The view from the backseat of a police cruiser, or fending off degrading looks from passers-by, almost as if they were saying, “And what did YOU do?!”

Without going into too much detail about the ride along itself, I can tell you two things: Don’t speed on Pilgrim Parkway, and yes, the officer IS running radar.

I decided to post a few photos from the night with one theme in common: Darkness. Some photographers hate darkness, but I gladly accept the challenge. There’s always light, somewhere. You just have to find it, work it and love it.

I’m not exactly sure where my flash is these days, but even if I knew, it wouldn’t have come out of my bag for this shoot. Don’t get me wrong — the camera I used for these photos is a Nikon D3, and not all cameras can handle these types of lighting circumstances. You can see for yourself how far I pushed the limits by looking at the ISO settings I’ve posted underneath the photos.

Nikon D3, 17 mm, 5000 ISO, f2.8, 1/100, Manual
Phillip Doney, a police officer with the Elm Grove Police Department, returns to his car after stopping a motorist Thursday, April 23, 2009. Wisconsin has a "Move Over Law," Doney said, which requires drivers to shift lanes or slow down in order to provide a safety zone for a squad car, ambulance, fire truck, tow truck or highway maintenance vehicle that is stopped on the side of a road with its warning lights flashing. Motorists who do not slow down can be issued a ticket, Doney said.

Nikon D3, 17 mm, 2500 ISO, f2.8, 1/160, Manual
Phillip Doney, a police officer with the Elm Grove Police Department, tests his radar using tuning forks to ensure its accuracy Thursday, April 23, 2009. One of the most common places motorists speed in Elm Grove is along Pilgrim Parkway, Doney said.

Nikon D3, 17 mm, 5000 ISO, f2.8, 1/160, Manual
Phillip Doney, a police officer with the Elm Grove Police Department, watches a car pass shortly after he issued a citation for speeding Thursday, April 23, 2009. Wisconsin has a "Move Over Law," Doney said, which requires drivers to shift lanes or slow down in order to provide a safety zone for a squad car, ambulance, fire truck, tow truck or highway maintenance vehicle that is stopped on the side of a road with its warning lights flashing. Motorists who do not slow down can be issued a ticket, Doney said.

Tommy Olszewski III knows how to fish.
He’s got the clothes, he’s got the boots, he’s got his pole, and he knows exactly where to stand.
Last weekend I headed out to Muskego County Park for a kids’ fishing clinic, put on by the Wisconsin Department of Natural Resources.
Luck was on my side, and I found something a bit unexpected.
There he was. My new best friend, Tommy: A 10-year-old boy dressed head to toe in camouflage, standing on a fallen tree, at least 20 feet off the shoreline. He was working his hardest to catch the fish swimming in the shade of the tree branches. This kid knows where to look, I thought.

He got a few bites, but his patience was wearing a bit thin. Eventually, Tommy decided to ditch the tree branch, reel in his line, and literally try to catch the fish with his bare hands.

As a photojournalist, one thing I never can get enough of is witnessing these types of moments. I’m humbled by the numbers of people who graciously let my camera and I into their lives. Although my name has appeared under thousands of photos in various newspapers, I have never been approached by a newspaper photographer and asked if I can be photographed — I’ve never had my picture in the paper. I often wonder what people are thinking when I’m snapping away. I never hope to be intrusive, but I always hope to be honest in telling the story.
If any of you have stories to tell about a time you (or your child) appeared in the newspaper, I’d love to hear them. Good stories and bad. Please feel free to comment below.

There are days when I feel guilty. Really, really guilty.
November/December/January … not so much guilt. April/May/June … lots of guilt. My professional guilt seems to directly coincide with the weather.
If I’m out risking my life and limbs in the world’s worst blizzard, searching for a feature photo, cubicle jobs seem like a darn good deal.
But, when it reaches 70 degrees for the first time this year and I’m walking on a nature trail, camera in hand, there are times when I feel like I should hide. What if some poor office guy in the building across the river sees me through his window as he’s crunching numbers and staring down the clock? Hopefully he likes air conditioning. (And, most likely, a big paycheck.)
Last week Thursday — by far, the nicest day this year — I was asked to head out to Deer Creek Sanctuary, New Berlin, and look for some people using the nature trail. The New Berlin Parks, Recreation and Forestry Commission has recommended the trail be named for the late Paul Gihring, a former member of the commission and the city’s Plan Commission.
Poor me.
I walked the trail for about a half hour, without a person in sight. I listened to the animals along the river and in the woods. I took a few useless snaps of the water and the trees. We’ll put those in my, “Photography is Art” book, to be published in the year, Two-thousand-Never.
And, I stood there … waiting, hoping, praying that someone would run into my frame. As journalists, we need a person. Pictures of shadows and flowers are not acceptable, no matter how pretty they may be.
Photographers often fantasize about what would make their photo just perfect. Better light, endless emotion, a plane landing in my very own backyard ... you name it. I’m not sure if I thought a kayaker was going to come down this tiny creek in New Berlin or what, but I knew something had to happen. And soon. The guilt was overwhelming — I could almost feel my summer tan kicking in.
Suddenly, out of pure silence, I heard a few kids coming down the trail. Great, I thought. As I lifted my camera, a runner whizzed past me. Then, a lady passed, walking her dog. And as I approached the kids, a man on a bike zipped by. It was almost laughable — I had waited all this time, and within 60 seconds, the photo gods dropped four different groups of people, right into my lap.
I ended up snapping a few pictures of the kids with my long lens before they noticed I was there. The best moments come when no one sees you. As the kids walked through the woods, I waited for two of them to be right in between the branches. I snapped about three frames before the little boy heard my camera click. Then, he started waving. When the waving starts, the photo opp is over. But, I already had what I needed.

Nikon D3, 155 mm, 320 ISO, f2.8, 1/2500, Manual
"This (trail) is a treasure," said Lou Serchen (not pictured), the mother of Margaret Serchen, pictured above walking with Simon Smrecek along the trail at Deer Creek Sanctuary, New Berlin, Thursday, April 16, 2009. "Right now, we're here because the frogs are here," Serchen said, explaining this time of year is when the frogs are most active. The New Berlin Parks, Recreation and Forestry Commission has recommended the trail be named for the late Paul Gihring, a former member of the commission and the city's Plan Commission. Gihring died suddenly last fall.


Of course, after I snap a picture, I approach the parents to make sure it’s OK if their children are in the paper. Most of the time, they agree. The mothers of these two children were a perfect find. I was able to get a few quotes to add to the cutline of my photo. These two families truly love this area of New Berlin, and I was happy to be able to help shed some light on one of our city's hidden treasures.
When I came in to work this morning, I found out this story and photo won't run in this week's paper, due to space restrictions because of low advertising. Journalism is hurting these days, my friends, and it has been ever since our best buddy, The Internet, came along. This story and photo will be online, only. Was it worth it, I asked? Yes, it was. The story will still be told, even if it's to a much smaller audience. But it is a sign of the times — it's my hope that people will realize what role local journalism plays in our society, before it's far too late.

Easter egg hunts. Those darn things are over before they even start.
You don’t believe me? I’ll prove it.
This past Saturday, the first egg hunt I had on my schedule was Franklin’s, held at Lions Legend Park, directly behind the library and City Hall.
One trick I’ve learned over the past couple years is to stick with the younger kids … as in … under 3 years old. When kids get to be 7 or 8, they’re bigger, faster and stronger. They show no mercy to a poor little newspaper photographer who just needs a good picture.
They’re in it for the candy, not the fame.
So, I headed on over to the tennis courts, where only the younger children were allowed.
Yup, there’s really no “hiding” an egg on a tennis court …

And, I waited. 9:55 a.m. 9:56. 9:57. I turned on my camera, adjusted the exposure, eyed up a few cute kids, and prayed my pick wouldn’t turn into a crier.
To show you just how fast these eggs disappear, I’m going to post a few screen shots from my computer’s desktop. If you notice in the photo below, you’ll see a time stamp on the first frame I shot as the kids were let loose: 9:03:15. (It should say 10:03:15, but I still haven’t changed the time in my camera to daylight savings.)

Click click click click. IT’S OVER.
The last frame I shot, after all the eggs were gone, has a time stamp of 9:04:08.

Whoo hoo! The egg hunt lasted an entire 53 seconds. Numbers don’t lie.
Here's a few quick pictures I captured at Franklin's egg hunt ...

Nikon D3, 17 mm, 250 ISO, f2.8, 1/1250, Manual
Addison Broom, 3, rushes across the tennis court Saturday, April 11, 2009, to find her eggs during Franklin's Easter Egg Hunt, held at Lions Legend Park, Franklin. The park was divided into separate areas according to the ages of the children. After the hunt was over, children had the chance to meet the Easter bunny.

And here are a few from Muskego's Easter egg hunt, just a couple hours later. Muskego's lasted 55 seconds, giving me two more seconds to work. I'll take it.

Nikon D3, 17 mm, 250 ISO, f2.8, 1/2500, Manual
Ashley Walters (center) prepares to sprint for some candy Saturday, April 11, 2009, shortly before Muskego's Easter Egg Hunt, held at Veteran's Memorial Park, Muskego. Ashley took part in the hunt with her sister, Cassidy. The Muskego Lions Club sponsored the hunt for children up to 8 years old.

Nikon D3, 17 mm, 250 ISO, f2.8, 1/1600, Manual
Ashley Walters (left) eyes up some candy Saturday, April 11, 2009, shortly before the start of Muskego's Easter Egg Hunt, held at Veteran's Memorial Park, Muskego. Ashley took part in the hunt with her sister, Cassidy. The Muskego Lions Club sponsored the hunt for children up to 8 years old.

Nikon D3, 17 mm, 250 ISO, f2.8, 1/1600, Manual
Ashley Walters runs through the woods in search of candy Saturday, April 11, 2009, during Muskego's Easter Egg Hunt, held at Veteran's Memorial Park, Muskego. Ashley took part in the hunt with her sister, Cassidy. The Muskego Lions Club sponsored the hunt for children up to 8 years old.

Nikon D3, 17 mm, 250 ISO, f2.8, 1/1250, Manual
Ashley Walters searches for the last few pieces of candy Saturday, April 11, 2009, during Muskego's Easter Egg Hunt, held at Veteran's Memorial Park, Muskego. Ashley took part in the hunt with her sister, Cassidy. The Muskego Lions Club sponsored the hunt for children up to 8 years old.

Softball and I are frienemies. A mixture of friends ... and enemies.

When I was younger, my parents decided I needed to join an organized sport. I was pretty shy when I was little, so the thought of playing on a team was a bit terrifying. But I agreed — afterall, it couldn't be worse than swimming lessons.

So, I played. After a few years of throwing like a girl, striking out, and getting a softball to my mouth full of braces, I wasn't half-bad. My parents came to nearly every game. And so did my grandma, my aunt and my brothers. My dad once admitted to me, "Watching girls play softball is like watching paint dry." Poor guy. No wonder he drank an entire thermos of coffee in seven innings.

Then came senior year. And I got cut. My name wasn't on the list. I went home that night, sat down in front of the TV and waited for my dad to get home from work. He walked into the family room and said, "Why aren't you at practice?" I said through my tears, "I got cut!"

Ha! Oh the trauma. But life goes on. Softball and I are mending our relationship ... Sort of.

Last night, I photographed my first high school softball game of the season. I've photographed more softball games than I've played. And I can honestly say: Photographing the game is harder than playing it.

All photographers have different approaches. Every umpire has different rules. I try and keep a mental note of which schools will let me inside the fence and which schools will not. It's not exactly safe for a photographer to be sitting inside the fence, along the first or third base line, and many umpires cause a stink about it. Catching a line drive or foul tip to my head isn't the goal. And when my only protection is a $5,000 camera, I honestly don't have a problem staying off the field.

Which brings me to why the sport is a bit frustrating to shoot ...

THE FENCE.

This is my view, and this is what I have to work with. In the past, I've stood on picnic tables or even dugout benches. I've brought a step stool with me to see over the fence. But that's also a risk — the fence is there for a reason, and foul balls are not so visible when you're looking through a 70-200 mm lens. Last night, there were no picnic tables or chairs. I tried standing on the dugout bench, but I needed just a few more inches — the top of the fence was in the middle of my frame.

So, as a last resort, I decided to shoot THROUGH the fence. This works quite well with a 300 mm lens or larger, but at this point in my career, I cannot afford that lens, so I work with what I have — a 200 mm.

With the aperture set at 2.8, the fence is invisible MOST of the time. The main issue, though, is focusing. The camera tends to focus on the fence wires, which makes it very difficult to get the right play at the right time. Many frames end up looking like this ...

Now, I can be a bit of an "artsy" photographer, but this frame is just total garbage. The sports editors would not be amused.

Not only was I frustrated with the fence, but I was also bothered by the cluttered background I was getting with an eye-level view. In the photo below, you'll see houses, trees and fences in the background. I wanted to clean it up a bit.

So, I kept searching for something to stand on. Softball is not the fastest sport, and I had the time to look. Success! I found some sort of bin along the third base dugout that I can only assume holds sand ...

Perfect, I thought as I climbed up on top. WHOA. Not so perfect. Last night was incredibly windy. I fired off one frame before I felt like I was going to fall. The wind was pushing me around too much to concentrate on anything but NOT FALLING. Notice, though, how much cleaner the background looks in the photo below by just standing a few feet higher. Although the photo is nothing to turn in (complete lack of action), it shows what a few extra feet in the air can do.

You've won this match Muskego High School softball field, I said to myself. All I could do was wait for some close action, and pray. I ended up with one picture of a play at third base that I wasn't totally disappointed with. It was shot through the fence, and I was standing with both feet firmly planted on the ground.

Nikon D3, 155 mm, 400 ISO, f3.2, 1/2000, Manual
Franklin's Jayme Love (left) attempts a play at third base Tuesday, April 7, 2009, during a varsity softball game against Muskego High School, held at MHS. The runner was safe.

We'll call last night's game a practice match. Tonight, I'm heading to Wauwatosa for Round 2.

“Where can I get a job that pays me to walk around with an expensive camera all day long?” asked Muskego Elementary School’s portrait photographer last week as I watched him work.
God bless the man — he does something I’m not sure I could.
“Saaaay, STINKY BOYS!” he shouted out as a confused 5-year-old sat in front of his spring-themed backdrop.
Still no smile.
“Saaaay, MONKEY!”
Nope, no smile.
“Mom, come over here and get your daughter to smile for me,” he said.
“TURKEY BUTT!” yelled kindergartner Zanie Tsopelas’ mom from behind the camera.
“Now THERE’S the smile I’ve been looking for,” he said as his camera clicked.
This difference between this man and me is this: His job is to capture you at your best. My job is to capture you as you.
Photojournalists want the real moment. Real moments are storytellers. And never forget — a picture is a thousand words.

Nikon D3, 24 mm, 3200 ISO, f2.8, 1/500, Manual

Nikon D3, 17 mm, 3200 ISO, f2.8, 1/640, Manual

Nikon D3, 200 mm, 3200 ISO, f2.8, 1/500, Manual

Nikon D3, 145 mm, 3200 ISO, f2.8, 1/500, Manual

Nikon D3, 17 mm, 3200 ISO, f2.8, 1/640, Manual

Irish dancers are cute — that's a given.

But sometimes, as a photojournalist, the most visually obvious situations can be the toughest to photograph. As cute as those little girls with big, curly hair may be, we photographed them dancing last year, and the year before, and then on St. Patty's Day, and then at the school's Talent Show ...

I attended the Wisconsin News Photographers Association Conference in Madison this weekend. One of the speakers — international freelance photographer Ami Vitale — said something that came to the forefront of my mind this morning. She said, "I don't even like to repeat myself, much less repeat other photographers." By that, she meant, "Work a little harder to get a photo you've never seen before."

If I walk away from an assignment with a photo I've shot the year before, I get crabby. There are always new moments to be found. If I can't find them, I'm not doing my job.

Last week, the Irish dancers visited Ronald Reagan Elementary School, New Berlin. I got there just in time to see the big, curly hair bouncing all over the stage. These girls are super talented, I thought. If I were to just stand in the back of the crowd and take normal dancing pictures with my telephoto lens, I wouldn't be giving them the attention they deserve. After a few minutes of watching, I found my way backstage. The atmosphere was completely different. These girls were excited. I ended up using a photo of one of the younger dancers running off stage to hug her coach, just seconds after she finished her routine. To me, it's a moment less obvious to the crowd — a moment that may otherwise have gone unnoticed.

Nikon D3, 19 mm, 4000 ISO, f2.8, 1/400, Manual
Grace Kramer, 5, runs off stage and hugs her teacher after a St. Patrick's Day performance Tuesday, March 17, 2009, at Ronald Reagan Elementary School, New Berlin. Grace is a student at Cashel Dennehy School of Irish Dance, with locations in both Wauwatosa and Hartland.

Show me a man in a skirt and I'll show you my camera.

Princess Reinke, I mean, PRINCIPAL Reinke, of Robinwood Elementary School, Franklin, swallowed his masculinity last week and put on a homemade pink skirt, white high heels, pink fuzzy gloves, tiny flowers and plenty of fringe. Reinke promised the students he'd dress up as a fairy princess if the school raised $3,000 for Second Harvest of Wisconsin.

The school secretaries stood guard at Reinke's office door Friday morning, preventing students from peeking in as he changed into his princess attire.

"I just wanted to remind him that it's Princess Reinke day," one student said as a secretary stopped him at the door.

"Oh I'm sure he knows," the secretary replied with a smile.

The white high heels came from Goodwill, Reinke admitted, claiming a third-grader approached him at the store and asked, "Why are you shopping in the women's shoe aisle?"

As a visual journalist, one thing I try to pursue is irony. As Reinke was walking from class to class, he decided to stop by the Boys restroom and adjust his outfit. I stood outside the bathroom at waited for him to exit. I'm sorry, Princess Reinke — the photo was too good to pass up!

Nikon D3, 17 mm, 2000 ISO, f2.8, 1/400, Manual
Principal Tom Reinke, of Robinwood Elementary School, Franklin, dresses up as as "Princess Reinke" Friday, Feb. 13, 2009. Reinke promised the students he'd dress up as a fairy princess if the school raised $3,000 for Second Harvest of Wisconsin.

Nikon D3, 17 mm, 2000 ISO, f2.8, 1/400, Manual
Principal Tom Reinke, of Robinwood Elementary School, Franklin, dresses up as "Princess Reinke" Friday, Feb. 13, 2009. Reinke promised the students he'd dress up as a fairy princess if the school raised $3,000 for Second Harvest of Wisconsin.

Nikon D3, 17 mm, 2000 ISO, f2.8, 1/320, Manual
Dunyah Hamdan, a kindergartner at Robinwood Elementary School, Franklin, laughs at her principal, Tom Reinke, who dressed up as "Princess Reinke" Friday, Feb. 13, 2009. Reinke promised the students he'd dress up as a fairy princess if the school raised $3,000 for Second Harvest of Wisconsin.

Kids ... the bread and butter of community photojournalism.

Here are a few quick photos from this past week. The first photo of the little boy on the balance beam was an educated guess. I held my camera below the beam, took a test shot for lighting conditions, set my camera to the proper exposure and focus settings, and fired away. Any questions about the content of this photo can be directed toward me ... but the question regarding why he's wearing a karate uniform in a gymnastics class should be brought up to his mother. :)

Nikon D3, 17 mm, 5000 ISO, f2.8, 1/640, Manual
Henry Tormala (right) practices walking on the balance beam Saturday, Jan. 31, 2009, during a gymnastics class, held at Hickory Grove Recreation Center, New Berlin. The class was put on by the New Berlin Park and Recreation Department.

Nikon D3, 28 mm, 2000 ISO, f2.8, 1/320, Manual
Danielle Gracz, 5, puts on her tap dancing shoes Wednesday, Jan. 28, 2009, during a class at Miss Becky's Dance Studio, Hales Corners.

Nikon D3, 200 mm, 1600 ISO, f2.8, 1/320, Manual
Mathew Jacob, a fifth-grader at Edgerton Elementary School, Hales Corners, spells a word Wednesday, Jan. 28, 2009, during the school's Fifth Grade Spelling Bee, held in the small gymnasium.

School stabbing.

The minute I heard the words, I knew it wasn't going to be an average day.

My editor called me shortly before 8 a.m. this past Thursday and asked if I could head on over to South Milwaukee High School. One student had stabbed another. I grabbed my camera and headed out the door.

As I was caught in the morning rush hour, I kept thinking to myself, "It's going to be over before I get there. I'm going to be taking photos of police cars sitting in front of the high school." But once I arrived, I saw several members of the media talking with a group of students right outside the high school. Part of me was relieved we had the opportunity to tell the story from the students' point of view. Although it's never our goal to make pictures of people crying, sometimes, emotional pictures are the ones that make people think and provoke changes for the better.

One student in particular — freshman Nicole Ruszczynski — saw the victim shortly after he was stabbed. I decided to stick with photographing Nicole and her friends. The photos below do not tell the entire story, but at least they tell part of it. Since I arrived nearly an hour after the incident happened, most of the students were already back in their classrooms or heading home. A big thanks to Journal Sentinel photographer Mike Sears for helping me hash out the spelling of Nicole's last name.

Although the victim wasn't seriously injured, it's still a story that needs to be told. School officials realized this and were extremely cooperative with the media. South Milwaukee School District Superintendent David Ewald held a press conference a few hours after the incident.

Nikon D3, 86 mm, 2000 ISO, f2.8, 1/4000, Manual
Nicole Ruszczynski, a freshman at South Milwaukee High School, hugs one of her classmates Thursday, Jan. 29, 2009, following a stabbing incident between two students. Ruszczynski saw the victim shortly after he was stabbed. The injured student was taken to Children's Hospital, Milwaukee. The suspect is in custody.

Nikon D3, 125 mm, 2000 ISO, f2.8, 1/6400, Manual
"You could see the fear in his eyes," said Nicole Ruszczynski, a freshman at South Milwaukee High School, speaking of her classmate who was stabbed shortly before classes started Thursday, Jan. 29, 2009. "He was covered in blood." The injured student was taken to Children's Hospital, Milwaukee. The suspect is in custody.

Nikon D3, 120 mm, 2000 ISO, f2.8, 1/8000, Manual
"You could see the fear in his eyes," said Nicole Ruszczynski, a freshman at South Milwaukee High School, speaking of her classmate who was stabbed shortly before classes started Thursday, Jan. 29, 2009. "He was covered in blood." The injured student was taken to Children's Hospital, Milwaukee. The suspect is in custody.

Nikon D3, 17 mm, 2000 ISO, f2.8, 1/5000, Manual
"You could see the fear in his eyes," said Nicole Ruszczynski, a freshman at South Milwaukee High School, speaking of her classmate who was stabbed shortly before classes started Thursday, Jan. 29, 2009. "He was covered in blood." The injured student was taken to Children's Hospital, Milwaukee. The suspect is in custody.

As with almost every profession, photojournalism can be monotonous. More often than not, the news repeats itself. And sometimes, I find that to be the most challenging part of it all. When we’re given the chance to cover natural disasters or presidential candidates coming to town, our adrenaline automatically kicks in — it’s almost as if we turn on our “Make Excellent Photos” switch. But it’s the days where I cover sledding for the fourth time in two weeks that I find myself most frustrated, and sometimes, downright depressed, with the work I’m producing. It’s hard to be creative during those times of total déjà vu.
This past Saturday, I was sent to the Whitnall Park Toboggan Slide, Franklin, to cover its opening day. I can’t begin to tell you how much time I spend in Whitnall Park. I see the photos before they even happen. It’s hard to not make a shot I’ve fallen back on a hundred times before. As I stood at the top of the hill, waiting for the track to open, I watched a couple of girls sled down the hill. I pictured the photo I’d make in my mind — the girls with their hands in the air, mouths open, snow flying everywhere … heck, maybe I’d even slow down the shutter speed to make a little motion blur. But after about 30 seconds of envisioning those shots, I got incredibly bored with myself. So bored, that I didn’t even lift my camera. I just watched.
But then, comes a moment.
Whitnall Park looked like a snow globe, and someone else noticed it before me: Eleven-year-old Nikki DeCleene got to the bottom of the hill, laid down on her sled and stared up at the sky. She laid on her back for at least 2 minutes, watching the snowflakes fall on her face. Suddenly, I thought to myself, “Snap out of it! This is a great moment!” I fired off a few frames and recorded a moment all-too-often missed.

Nikon D3, 200 mm, 640 ISO, f3.5, 1/6400, Manual
Nikki DeCleene, 11, takes a few minutes to watch the snow fall Saturday, Jan. 17, 2009, at Whitnall Park, Franklin. Nikki was sledding with her friend, Rachel Formella, 12.

I never have a case of the Mondays … mostly because, Monday is my Sunday. I work a Tuesday through Saturday schedule.
But this story, especially, was worth making an exception. If I can get paid to photograph guys who volunteer their time and save lives, working on my day off is the least I can do to tell their story.  
As I walked into the Muskego Volunteer Fire Company, Station 1, last Monday evening, I sensed a whole lot of sadness in the air. After nearly a half-century of service, in just a few short days, the MVFC would take its last fire call. Effective Jan. 1, due to budgeting restrictions, the Muskego station closed and the Tess Corners Volunteer Fire Department is covering all of Muskego. MVFC members met one last time to wash their trucks and meet with Fire Chief Andy Mack.
Although most of Muskego’s firefighters — some of who’ve given nearly 50 years of service — will reluctantly apply at Tess Corners, a few will stay behind.
“We are known throughout the area for aggressive firefighting,” said Capt. Jim Gaffney, a 12-year veteran of the fire company who will not be making the move to Tess Corners. “We set our standards high. We don’t want to lower them.”
As a community photojournalist, I love local news. No matter how big or small a city is, there are always people who need their story to be told. And more often than not, a small community allows journalists far better access. I wasn’t at President Elect Barack Obama’s election night victory, and I’ve never covered a Super Bowl. Unless a miracle of God occurs, I won’t be at the historic presidential inauguration this month. But I felt as though I made a difference and witnessed a little piece of Muskego’s history — however small it may be — by telling the story of a couple guys who have firefighting in their blood.
I had something in common with every firefighter in the station that night — passion for our professions.
Check out Thursday’s paper for John Schultz’s complete story.

Nikon D3, 17 mm, 4000 ISO, f2.8, 1/200, Manual
Tony Schwegel, a member of the Muskego Volunteer Fire Company, goes through some of his firefighting gear Monday, Dec. 29, 2008, at the Muskego Fire Department, Station 1, located on Janesville Road. Members of the MVFC gathered one last time Monday to wash the trucks and meet with Fire Chief Andy Mack.

Nikon D3, 17 mm, 2000 ISO, f2.8, 1/250, Manual
Tony Schwegel (second from left) and Will Schaefer, both members of the Muskego Volunteer Fire Company, wash a MVFC fire truck one last time Monday, Dec. 29, 2008, at the Muskego Fire Department, Station 1, located on Janesville Road. Members of the MVFC gathered Monday to wash the trucks and meet with Fire Chief Andy Mack.

Nikon D3, 200 mm, 4000 ISO, f2.8, 1/160, Manual
Delbert Holtz, who has been a member of the Muskego Volunteer Fire Company for 47 years, talks with fellow MVFC members one last time Monday, Dec. 29, 2008, at the Muskego Fire Department, Station 1, located on Janesville Road.

Nikon D3, 17 mm, 2500 ISO, f2.8, 1/400, Manual
Andy Mack (right), fire chief for the Muskego Volunteer Fire Company, meets with Skip Wojnowski, fire chief for the Tess Corners Volunteer Fire Department, one last time Monday, Dec. 29, 2008, at the Muskego Fire Department, Station 1, located on Janesville Road.

Nikon D3, 17 mm, 2000 ISO, f2.8, 1/160, Manual

Nikon D3, 17 mm, 2000 ISO, f2.8, 1/160, Manual
Tony Schwegel, a member of the Muskego Volunteer Fire Company, washes a MVFC fire truck one last time Monday, Dec. 29, 2008, at the Muskego Fire Department, Station 1, located on Janesville Road.

Nikon D3, 17 mm, 2000 ISO, f2.8, 1/250, Manual
Will Schaefer (center), a member of the Muskego Volunteer Fire Company, washes a MVFC fire truck one last time Monday, Dec. 29, 2008, at the Muskego Fire Department, Station 1, located on Janesville Road. 

Dear Santa, 

No more snow. Please and thank you.

Sincerely,

Wisconsin

Nikon D3, 200 mm, 800 ISO, f2.8, 1/1600, Manual
Maggie Butler (above), along with a couple of her friends, decided to spend their snow day tubing at Whitnall Park, Hales Corners, Friday, Dec. 19, 2008. With nearly a foot of snow, several area schools and businesses shut down for the day. The snowfall marked this year's sixth winter storm of the season.

I had the opportunity to meet a lucky little boy several weeks back. As I drove to his parents' New Berlin home, all I knew was he suffered a brain injury back in September during a car-verse-bike accident. Walking into these types of situations with little to no details, you never know quite what to expect. 

As it turns out, Gabe is doing better than any of his doctors could have predicted. Surrounded by a loving family and several friends, he's made an almost complete recovery. One of his favorite things to do is play cello.

With stories like these, the "back-up" photo is obviously Gabe practicing on his cello. However, as reporter John Schultz interviewed him, I made a couple less predictable pictures that might catch an extra eye or two. 

"God gave us Gabe twice and we are truly blessed," said Mary Kostuch, Gabe's mother.

Nikon D3, 200 mm, 5000 ISO, f2.8, 1/160, Manual
Gabe Kostuch, a sixth-grader at Ronald Reagan Elementary School, New Berlin, suffered a serious brain injury in September while he was riding his bike. Gabe, who is extremely talented on his cello, recently spent his first day back at school.

Nikon D3, 200 mm, 800 ISO, f2.8, 1/400, Manual
Gabe Kostuch, a sixth-grader at Ronald Reagan Elementary School, New Berlin, suffered a serious brain injury in September while he was riding his bike. Gabe, who is extremely talented on his cello, recently spent his first day back at school.

Photographers have these things we like to call "crutches."

Similar to the actual medical tools, a trusty old crutch can be our best friend and worst enemy. It simply depends how often we need to use it.

A "crutch" is something we might fall back on to make an otherwise dull photo a bit more interesting.

For example, several years back, a mentor and friend of mine told me repeatedly, "You tilt your camera too much." By tilting the horizon, I was trying to make the photo something it most definitely wasn't: Interesting. I even remember I got a NastyGram e-mail from a local resident, saying it made her feel queasy every morning to look at my tilted photographs. People can be brutal. :)

Another crutch I'm 100 percent guilty of, brought to my attention by a former photo editor: "Get your camera off the ground." I was, am still am, too dependent on a low angle photograph.

Editors sometimes cringe at crutches, such as motion blur or fish eye lenses, because more often than not, we should instead be finding real moments, or expanding our horizons and attempting new photographic techniques.

When I was shooting down in Florida, my good friend Chris McGonigal (now a picture editor at AOL) told me one of his biggest pet peeves is when photographers use a flag as the crutch of their photo. Flags can be cliche, but flags are patriotic. There's a time to get the American flag in a photo and there's a time to leave the flag alone. Veterans Day: Appropriate. Wedding photos: Not-so-appropriate. (My brother was married a few weeks back, and needless to say, he and his new wife were a bit confused when the photographer took their photo standing by a flagpole on the golf course.)

As I shot these photos for Veterans Day, the American in me was grateful for all the sacrifices made by veterans of past and present, for without them, the First Amendment would not exist. And the photographer in me kept thinking, "What would Chris say?"

Nikon D3, 200 mm, 4000 ISO, f2.8, 1/800, Manual
John Hopkins, of the New Berlin Veterans Memorial Committee, prepares to accept a gift from New Berlin Eisenhower and New Berlin West middle school students Tuesday, Nov. 11, 2008, at the community-wide Veterans Day program, held at New Berlin Eisenhower High School. Veterans and active duty service members were recognized through songs and speeches presented by students, faculty members and community leaders. Next year's Veterans Day program will be held in the fieldhouse at New Berlin West High School.

Nikon D3, 200 mm, 4000 ISO, f2.8, 1/500, Manual
Danny Crane, a sophomore at New Berlin Eisenhower High School, plays, "Taps" Tuesday, Nov. 11, 2008, during the community-wide Veterans Day program, held at New Berlin Eisenhower High School. Veterans and active duty service members were recognized through songs and speeches presented by students, faculty members and community leaders. Next year's Veterans Day program will be held in the fieldhouse at New Berlin West High School.

Nikon D3, 200 mm, 1000 ISO, f2.8, 1/800, Manual
A member of the Veterans of Foreign Wars Post 8171 salutes Saturday, Nov. 8, 2008, during a Veterans Day Ceremony, held at ProHealth Care Regency, Muskego. Veterans and Regency residents gathered together to recognize and remember those who have served their country.

Mmmmmm ... it smells like fall! Every year, I look forward to rolling up my sleeves and gutting out my Jack-O'-Lantern. Last year, I used my pumpkin's stem as a nose and totally beat my boyfriend in a pumpkin-carving contest (shhhh, it's never a "contest" unless I win) ...

This year, I have a different plan. You see, there are these new pumpkins out called Knuckle Heads. Basically, they have warts. Through my observations, adults love them, kids are scared of them and senior citizens think they're diseased. Not true, to say the least. Knuckle Heads have taken about 10 years to engineer. They are grown from specialized pumpkin seeds. The discolored bumps on their skin makes your Jack-O'-Lanterns all the more scarier. Scroll down to the last three photos and decide for yourself ... personally, I think they're pretty darn cool — not something I'd use to make a pumpkin pie (if I even knew how to), but definitely something I'll bring to the pumpkin-carving table.

Nikon D2H, 17 mm, 640 ISO, f2.8, 1/200, Manual
Emma Ross, a first-grader at Country Meadows Elementary School, Muskego, reacts to the slimy insides of her pumpkin Thursday, Sept. 25, 2008, during a pumpkin-carving party, held in the school's cafeteria. Although the students drew their own pumpkin faces, parent volunteers took care of the carving. The pumpkins were carved in support of the Muskego Historical Society Arts and Crafts Fair.

Nikon D2H, 17 mm, 640 ISO, f2.8, 1/200, Manual
Cassidy Nicholson, a first-grader at Country Meadows Elementary School, Muskego, guts her pumpkin Thursday, Sept. 25, 2008, during a pumpkin-carving party, held in the school's cafeteria. Although the students drew their own pumpkin faces, parent volunteers took care of the carving. The pumpkins were carved in support of the Muskego Historical Society Arts and Crafts Fair.

Nikon D2H, 17 mm, 640 ISO, f2.8, 1/2500, Manual
Bria Wright, 3, runs through a pumpkin patch, right past a brand new pumpkin species, the Knuckle Head (bottom center), Saturday, Sept. 27, 2008, at Awe's Orchard, located on Highway 100, Franklin. This year is the first year Awe's is selling Knuckle Heads, which are part of the Super Freak pumpkin series. The pumpkins, which are grown from special seeds and develop bumps or "warts," took approximately 10 years to engineer. Paula Awe, who owns and operates the orchard and pumpkin patch with her husband, says the pumpkins are quite popular because their textures allow for scary and goofy faces.

Nikon D2H, 17 mm, 640 ISO, f2.8, 1/2000, Manual
Rahab Shirk, 2, checks out a brand new pumpkin species, the Knuckle Head, Saturday, Sept. 27, 2008, at Awe's Orchard, located on Highway 100, Franklin. This year is the first year Awe's is selling Knuckle Heads, which are part of the Super Freak pumpkin series. The pumpkins, which are grown from special seeds and develop bumps or "warts," took approximately 10 years to engineer. Paula Awe, who owns and operates the orchard and pumpkin patch with her husband, says the pumpkins are quite popular because their textures allow for scary and goofy faces.

Nikon D2H, 22 mm, 640 ISO, f2.8, 1/2000, Manual
Awe's Orchard, located on Highway 100, Franklin, has a new kind of pumpkin this year: The Knuckle Head. The pumpkins, which are grown from special seeds and develop bumps or "warts," took approximately 10 years to engineer. Paula Awe, who owns and operates the orchard and pumpkin patch with her husband, says the pumpkins are quite popular because their textures allow for scary and goofy faces.

In last week's paper, we ran a story on two farmers with one common bond: Jack King, of Muskego, and Ray Saltzmann, of New Berlin, are the final two remaining dairy farmers left in their communities.

Nearly every day, I drive past Saltzmann's farm on the corner of Moorland Road and College Avenue. Oftentimes, as I'm stuck in the line of traffic approaching the corner's four-way stop, I look over to my left and see New Berlin's remaining "touch of country." I always wondered what type of family lived on the farm — the huge space of land amidst all the construction and city sprawl seemed to catch my eye every time.

I wondered how "that guy" felt about Muskego's upcoming Wal-Mart or traffic whizzing by on College Avenue. Soon enough, I'd find out.

Reporter John Schultz and I spent a little time with both Saltzmann and King. King's farm seemed to have an entirely different feel — possibly a bit more quiet, or unaffected, by the city life. (For now, at least.) And although Saltzmann intends to stay put for the time being, he has long-term plans of moving his dairy herd to Rock County.

The photos below are the types of pictures that tend to stay in the back of my mind for quite some time. The day I photographed Jack King cutting hay was a perfect, sunny, warm Wisconsin mid-summer day. Through these photos, I hoped to convey the peacefulness and independence a life of farming can bring. I wanted the photos to be simple and clean. I wanted these photos to record what the land was like for Muskego's last remaining dairy farmer. A few weeks later, when Ray called me and said one of his cows was about to give birth, I was there in a heartbeat: Saltzmann, whose farm has been in his family since 1867, says one of the things he enjoys most is witnessing the cycle of life. 

Nikon D2H, 17 mm, 200 ISO, f2.8, 1/4000, Manual
Jack King, who has been a farmer in Muskego for nearly 70 years, cuts some hay Wednesday, July 9, 2008, on one of his rented parcels, located just off of Parker Drive, Muskego.

Nikon D2H, 19 mm, 200 ISO, f2.8, 1/4000, Manual
Jack King, who has been a farmer in Muskego for nearly 70 years, climbs back onto his tractor to cut some hay Wednesday, July 9, 2008, on one of his rented parcels, located just off of Parker Drive, Muskego.

Nikon D2H, 17 mm, 500 ISO, f2.8, 1/6400, Manual
Jack King, who has been a farmer in Muskego for nearly 70 years, walks from his barn to his house Wednesday, July 30, 2008. King, who has help running the farm from both his children and grandchildren, is the last remaining dairy farmer in Muskego.

Nikon D2H, 200 mm, 200 ISO, f2.8, 1/2500, Manual
Jack King, who has been a farmer in Muskego for nearly 70 years, cuts some hay Wednesday, July 9, 2008, on one of his rented parcels, located just off of Parker Drive, Muskego.

Nikon D2H, 17 mm, 800 ISO, f2.8, 1/250, Manual, WITH FLASH
Ryan Brueggeman, an employee of Ray Saltzmann, helps deliver a calf Thursday, Aug. 14, 2008, on Saltzmann's New Berlin dairy farm, located on the corner of Moorland Road and College Avenue. The farm is the only working dairy farm left in New Berlin. The birth of the calf above went about as easy as it possibly could have, Saltzmann said.

Nikon D2H, 17 mm, 800 ISO, f2.8, 1/250, Manual, WITH FLASH
A mother cleans off her newborn calf just minutes after birth Thursday, Aug. 14, 2008, on Ray Saltzmann's New Berlin dairy farm, located on the corner of Moorland Road and College Avenue. The farm is the only working dairy farm left in New Berlin. The birth of the calf above went about as easy as it possibly could have, Saltzmann said.

His name is Gregory Palo, but you might want to put an "M" before Palo, because his dad's name is Gregory too, he says.

"This is about good enough for a good snack ... so, that's my catch for today," Gregory said matter-of-factly Tuesday afternoon as he slung three fish over his shoulder and walked away from his lucky fishing spot at Idle Isle Park, Muskego. Gregory's parents told him to either walk home or call as soon as he caught enough fish for a snack.

A snack, I thought? This boy is actually going to EAT these not-so-tiny fish once he gets home? Whatever happened to Fruit Roll-Ups and popsicles? After a few minutes of talking with the little pro, all of my doubts subsided. He was hardcore into this. He was telling me the truth. He was ... no joke. 

This afternoon turned out to be one of those days where I couldn't possibly imagine a more satisfying profession. I'm not dillusional — I realize that hardly anyone (in the big scheme of things) will see the photos I made, and I'm fine with that. Even less people will read this blog. But Gregory absolutely made my day, and I hope he makes your's. He's the slice of life we try and capture every time the camera clicks. The only thing that set him apart from Andy Griffith's son, Opie, was when he pulled a cell phone out of his pocket to check the time. I was so in awe of this little fisherman — I honestly wouldn't have blinked if Aunt Bee popped out of the bushes told him it was almost dinner time.

So why do we take pictures like this, you ask. It's a good question, and I'd love to hear your input. Personally, I take photos like this because I think readers can relate. Maybe you used to be an Opie, or maybe your son or grandson is. The pictures we take are snapshots of what happens within our communities in any given week. The photos we take should tell the stories of all of our residents, no matter how young or old they may be. The pictures in our paper should make you feel ... something. If you react, we've done our job.

Nikon D2H, 17 mm, 400 ISO, f2.8, 1/6400, Manual

Nikon D2H, 35 mm, 400 ISO, f2.8, 1/6400, Manual

Nikon D2H, 35 mm, 400 ISO, f2.8, 1/6400, Manual

Nikon D2H, 17 mm, 400 ISO, f2.8, 1/4000, Manual

Nikon D2H, 17 mm, 400 ISO, f2.8, 1/4000, Manual

Nikon D2H, 35 mm, 400 ISO, f2.8, 1/3200, Manual

Last night, I spent a little time looking through archives of old pictures I've taken. I do this maybe once or twice a year — for me, it's a good way to keep myself in check and see firsthand ways I can improve. But every time I do this, memories come rushing back.

I'm not the type of photographer to hang my own photos on my walls or clutter my apartment with picture frames. My professional archives are in binders underneath my couch and my personal archives are in dusty photo albums packed away in my closet. But with every photo is a memory — whether the photo is of a complete stranger or someone I love, my archives document my life, whether I'd like to remember those moments or not. With each photo, I remember how I felt the moment the camera clicked.

I shot the photo below last week. When I was taking it, memories of my years down in Florida flooded my mind. I spent two years working in a city which consisted of approximately 70,000 retirees. Although I wouldn't trade this experience in for the world, I felt as though I had retired before my life ever began. But these people were lovin' life. They had been there, they had done that, and now, they were ready to soak up some sun and hide from their grandchildren. It is a mystical, magical, frightening place. I learned to appreciate and be thankful for every stage of life. They were no longer worried about the numbers on their paychecks or how they looked in the swimming pool. If they liked basket weaving, they basket weaved seven days a week. If they liked softball, they hit the diamonds 365 days per year. If they liked to belly dance, they shook it until the sun went down. And I photographed it all.

I learned a few life lessons down in Florida, but more importantly (for this moment, at least), I learned how to make photos of senior citizens doing nothing but ... walking.

Nikon D2H, 125 mm, 400 ISO, f2.8, 1/4000, Manual
Dan and Marge Shadd, of the Franklin Seniors Walking Club, get some exercise Thursday, July 31, 2008, right outside the Milwaukee County Sports Complex, Franklin. The club, which meets from 9 to 11 a.m. every Thursday, is open to all Milwaukee County residents. 

If you're willing to throw pizza dough in the air, I'll be there.

Last week, I had a little fun at StoneFire Pizza in New Berlin. Mike Tostado, a professional pizza chef, was teaching anyone who would listen how to throw pizza dough. Although Mike was using a fake pizza dough called Throw Dough (a rubber substance that is the official practice dough for the U.S. Pizza Team), nonetheless, it was still cool to watch.

As a photographer, something I'll always be addicted to is patches of light. Although the room was rather dark and I would have used a flash to take a normal photo, there was a recessed light shining down on Mike's face as he tossed the dough in the air. I set my camera's exposure to the patch of light and made a photo I was happy to walk away with.

However, working for a newspaper, you can't always shoot for yourself. The first photo is the one that made me smile, but I also turned in the second photo below, in case my editors decided the first one wouldn't reproduce well on newsprint. The second photo was taken with flash while the first photo wasn't. 

Nikon D2H, 17 mm, 320 ISO, f2.8, 1/200, Manual

Nikon D2H, 17 mm, 320 ISO, f2.8, 1/200, Manual, WITH FLASH
Mike Tostado, a pizza chef, teaches kids how to throw pizza dough Wednesday, July 16, 2008, at StoneFire Pizza, New Berlin. Ready-Set-DOUGH!, an interactive pizza-tossing demonstration, was held right around dinner time three nights in a row. The kids took a turn at throwing using Throw Dough, a rubber substance that is the official practice dough for the U.S. Pizza Team.