Milfoil, a non native invasive plant species, is present and spreading in several of the water ways around Bridgton, Maine. The Lakes Environmental Association is a non-profit working to maintain the natural resource. We were there to meet Peter Lowell,  the main man of the effort.

I have said it so many times, the best part of my job is the opportunity to meet interesting people. This was no exception. Just like everybody in Maine, Peter begins his summer days with a robust round of water skiing. Joined by his barefootin’ buddy, another Pete, we learned a few lessons about living young.

Ripping Up the Slalom

Ageless and Barefoot

But we had real work to do. Well, as much as you can call photography real work. We were soon following Peter around in some of his daily tasks. He oversees a boat crew that literally vacuums milfoil weeds from the lake bottom as part of their eradication plan.

Duly documented, I had a bunch of shots to tell the story. But I still needed the one shot that popped into my head when the editor and I first discussed the story. It was just that delicate matter of asking for what I wanted. It went something like this:

Peter: “Do you have everything you need?”

Me: “Um, almost. But I have an idea for one more shot, if you’re willing.”

Peter: “Er, willing to do what?”

Me: “The camera really wants a shot of you standing in the milfoil. You know, a man invested in his work.”

Now this is why Peter is the man. Without any hesitation he jumped into the water ready for anything. At first he was in up to his waist, but I really wanted him in deep. No problem. He just waded into the water the way a man like him wades into his work. Fully committed. Thanks, Peter.

My Camera Has Never Met An Ordinary Person

Tech Stuff: Canon 1Ds MK III, 24-70 lens at 40mm. Lumedyne strobe with small Chimera softbox for fill on camera right. Pocket Wizard strobe trigger.

I value cameras like these for the freedom they allow me as a photographer. It is a simple reminder to just have fun, make pictures and don’t always be too serious. Point and shoot is the perfect description for these charming little memory makers. When my kids were little we always kept a Polaroid Spectra on top of the refrigerator. Now we have these wonderful fuzzy off-colored documents of life “back in the day.”

Of course, Polaroid has been replaced and it’s a digital world now. Nevertheless, the value of the family camera is as significant as ever. Time races on and the photos we snap today are priceless documents of our lives.

As good as the point and shoots are, they are not perfect and the image quality falls short of my pro cameras. For a while that was a source of frustration. But I have taken the attitude that the images from the little cameras are perfectly suited for their purpose. So I snap away like a madman without the worry of critical inspection. I am free for the moment to simply have fun and capture happy little documents of my life.

Bokeh at the Water's Edge

Good light. Good dog. Great time to test my new Canon G11.

As expected, the rain forest was hot and humid. The camp where we stayed was a notch or two above primitive. We were with a bunch of scientists and as the evening discussions ran their course, the topic of botfly’s came up. Nasty little buggers, botfly’s are parasites deposited by mosquito’s which then burrow into the skin of their host to incubate their larvae. They can grow quite large and, thanks to several rows of tiny barbs, are difficult to remove. Of course the academics in the group expressed their desire to become botfly hosts for the sake of scientific study. Nuts!

So the trip went well and we returned home to New Hampshire without incident. Or so we thought. After a couple of weeks Evon had some mosquito bites that were still irritated and swollen. The talk turned to botfly’s. Then the reality came – she had three bites that were indeed, botfly’s. Ughh.

Now I would have happily switched places to with her and undertaken the botfly drama myself. But it never works out like that, does it? To make it worse, I was away for the weekend when Evon confirmed the presence of the little parasites. Yeah, I’m dirt. Somehow this whole thing is my fault. But that’s okay because we got the botlfy’s out and managed to get a little bit of video documentary to boot. Makes for a good story

Then Josh dangled some bait. He knew a local fellow named Swifty, who restores antique fire engines. Promises of interesting eye candy and quirky quotes accompanied the offer. That was just too good to pass up. I am always interested in meeting someone out of the ordinary. As it turned out, Swifty would make a suitable captain on the good ship Quirky Characters.

To my great astonishment, the other folks attending our class were not interested in Maine characters and antique fire engines. It was just Josh and I for the morning. Swifty did not disappoint. Helluva guy, as my dad would say. It was another fun day with a camera, except this time it was a video camera.

Enjoy.

Travel in country was a little unusual for us. Instead of rental cars, maps and GPS, travel had been arranged by the client. We went by bus. It took about two minutes to realize there was an opportunity to have fun with a camera. So I whipped out my trusty little Canon G9 point and shoot and, really, started snapping away. It was almost like an exercise.

Picture this, the bus is rambling down the road and I am simply a passenger. I don’t know what’s around the next bend and I certainly can’t ask the driver to stop so I can make a picture. So I’m looking ahead, trying to see what’s coming up and hopping from one side of the bus to the other. No time to compose. Just stick the camera out the window and guess the composition. Only time for one shot from the moving bus as we whisk by.

This is not great art, but it was fun with a camera.

Sunrise Kayaking in Newcastle, NH

We had a nice little shoot. Kayaking at first light on the seacoast of New Hampshire. The whole deal was made possible by my good friend-spiritual advisor-photo critic-flyfishing companion, Frank Clarkson. His yaks, his chase boat and the night before at his house.

We splashed in just after five o’clock. Greeted by a gorgeous sunrise. Evon and Ryan took their queue’s and paddled around the back channels while Frank carefully positioned the boat to avoid sending wakes into the scene.

We chased the light, got some great shots, stashed the yaks and broke out the fly rods. Ryan got his first striped bass on the fly.

Another great morning. So good to call yourself a photographer.

Today in my tiny hometown of Peterborough, I watched as my dad marched in the Memorial Day Parade for the first time in, well, 65 years. There was a special ceremony for the WWII veterans and we urged him to go. Reluctantly he agreed, but he refused to wear any uniform or the Bronze Star he earned in Burma. The only hint of military service was a ball cap with the Merrill’s Marauders emblem.

He also refused to ride the parade route. He walked. Proud and strong. He always said that he had done enough walking for the army. But, at the 89, he did one more march.

That's Dad on the Left

I look at the photos and my eyes see a bunch of old men. But when I stand near them, I am aware of their greatness. It is the virtue of simple men who have done extraordinary deeds. Indeed, they did answer the call. None of them asked for it nor did they shy away or even question why they went. Most of these men, like my father, went off to the war that was the defining event of their lives. Then they came home and simply got on with their lives. As best they could, they put it behind them.

Often over the years I have wondered what it was like for my dad in the jungles of Burma. What did it feel like for that young man to be so far from home in such a strange land? How do you stand up to the fear, the fighting, disease, hunger, fatigue and the loss? Does a man assess his mortality, his courage or his strength in the quiet fearful moments?

I am certain that if I were to ever ask these questions he would say, simply, that you have no other choice. You keep going. Keep fighting. And do your duty. You don’t think about it. His quiet resolve is his strength.

Men of Greatness: WWII Veterans Memorial Day 2010

There was a moment today as a speaker read off the stories of the men from our little town who died in the war all those years ago. A young woman was playing “Amazing Grace” softly on the violin. The crowd was hushed and attentive. I think we all could picture each of the men whose story was told. I felt a powerful surge of pride, honor, humility, respect and most off all, tremendous appreciation for these old men who gave so much so long ago. Each man seated there was, for one moment, a great giant of mankind. Each one was a hero of epic achievement. Every one of them deserved more than we could ever give back and none of them asked for anything. Then the moment passed. The speaker finished and the old men stood, shook hands and walked off quietly.