A Tribute to Erin Dush

Today is your day. Here are some things that Jeff Yalden, an international motivational speaker, had to say about you:

• "I have the utmost respect for her. I would do anything for her."
• "What makes Erin so beautiful is she's one of the few people who take advantage of the people in her life."
• Of the people he's encountered, "very few of them have ever touched my heart like Erin has."
• "I'm real proud of her. She's not your typical teen .... She's trying to move beyond an emotional issue that very few people can understand .... I think this adversity has made her the beautiful woman that she is."

Thanks for sharing your life with me and, now, with many others.

War of the Woods, Part II

The Players
Top, left to right: Adam, Big Ben, Billsy, Phil, Al.
Bottom, left to right: Yours Truly, Brent, Foos, Michael Motorcycle, Schwantz, Big I.


Adam preps his gun and Phil gets ready to down some Turkey Hill tea, the fuel of choice for the dedicated paintballer.


Embracing prudence, Brent put more clothes on before we played.


Big Ben sports Old Glory, which, according to Wikipedia is "a common nickname for the Flag of the United States, bestowed by William Driver, an early 19th century American sea captain. However, it also refers specifically to the flag owned by Driver, which has become one of the U.S.'s most treasured historical artifacts."


I wondered if the old Schwantz still existed. As sure as the nose on my face, it does. You'd think getting married and having a kid might slow him down a tad. Nope. Okay, maybe just a tad. But he's still not down to everyone else's level. Thanks to Krista for letting him come out to play.


One of the prices Schwantz paid for coming out to play: a lump on the noggin.


As dusk descended, we expelled a good bit of paintballs on "the gauntlet." Phil got hit in the neck twice. Big I somehow made it through with only one hit. Incredible. His captors would've let him go.

War of the Woods, part I

My bro Alex tweaks one of five barricades we set up this afternoon in preparation for the big event. The coveted barricade (not pictured) is roughly equidistant from the stakes where each team will begin its attempt at vaporizing the other, provided the opposing foes are both wearing boots and both run at full speed at the sound of the whistle. After much clearing of brush, we were rather excited about that. We trust the weather will be as immaculate tomorrow as it was today.



I told Alex that he could fix a dirtbike but he couldn't fix his own paintball gun. The fire I lit under his butt must've been hot. His gun, by the way, is working just fine now, and will assuredly be a thorn in my side tomorrow. Trash talk is always fun in the present and regrettable in the future.

Person of the Year

Thank you, thank you (acknowledging applause from my virtual audience with a toothy, ear-to-ear grin). I would like to thank my mother and father for instilling in me the requisite qualities for achieving such a laudable award. I'd also like to thank my lawyer, whose threat of a lawsuit against Time Inc. if I did not win was the proverbial straw that finally broke the camel's back. And I would like to thank my colleagues at the paper who went door to door at all 12 houses in downtown Midland canvassing that essential support for my campaign. I could not have done it without you. And to my future wife, who I may or may not have already met, I thank you for the support you are about to warp me from the future via the top secret machine used in Deja Vu. Move over Bush and Ahmadinejad. There's a new kid on the block.

III

Brett works his magic between the black box and the northern lights. Brett, Jesse, Alex and I soaked it all in for the first time early Friday morning. I still can't believe the Eskimos' spotlights are that powerful. And boy do they dance. On a side note, it was awesome to have Alex up here for a couple days while he checked out (and was checked out by) a publication that rhymes with Fay Fity Fimes.

Quiet Reflection

Petoskey

I spent a good portion of yesterday afternoon working on a project in the Petoskey Public Library. I was distracted by this window on the other side of the building and decided to try my luck. I had hoped to get a person walking in the lower left pane, a red car in the lower right pane, and a bird in the upper right pane, but ran out of patience. Cool town, by the by. I walked out to my car and there was a courtesy notice on the windshield rather than a ticket. Who does that? Regardless, it has contributed to my desire to want to go back. Until next time, keep it real P-town. Our friendship grew during the last two days.

James

The Took in me welled up within, and I had to leave the Shire this weekend. During my journey, I met James, who showed me a cross he carved out of a Petoskey stone. James is a guitarist from Morgantown, W. Va., whom I encountered walking his grandmother's dog along the Little Traverse Bay shoreline. Real cool dude who I'll probably never see again. But it was the coolest 10 minutes of my day (so far). I'm glad I'll be able to remember it with a picture. Johnny Cash has been playing in the corner coffee shop, and I'm raring to go after a surprisingly decent night's sleep at the Oldsmobile Alero Motel. Hey, being a photojournalist ain't no doctor's job, now. But it sure is fun.

A Charger

Let me get your number first so I know who you are and then I'll take your mug shot.



National Anthem

Waiting for a donkey...

...so he can play donkey basketball with his classmates to raise money for his class. Who on earth came up with donkey basketball? I mean, seriously. I now know there's a company devoted to it: good ol' Buckeye Donkey Ball Co. in Mount Sterling, Ohio. It must've been them.

White Christmas?

Ahh, I remember the good ol' days when the best tubing hill had a killer jump and the ice was as slick as bacon grease. These kids had what some might call a "hill"--if 15 feet of vertical rise and a max speed of 15 mph can categorize it as such. But at least they had a hill. Not many kids in these here parts can say that. And hey, if it's gonna be cold it migh'swell snow. And you migh'swell sling it in your sister's face. I almost wanted a face full of snow for old times' sake. Almost.

Need a tissue?

Asa the Highland bull sure don't. I guess when you plop your whole muzzle into the trough some water's bound to find its way into your nostrils.


Sassy slobbers over an apple I fed her at the Kindy farm. I don't know how the lass on the right can see through those lovely red locks.

All-Area Offensive and Defensive MVPs

A.J. deOliveira, left, and Jeremy Sauvé, respectively. From the same team, no less. Sure makes it logistically easier for the photographer who wants to do the portrait session on location.

There's a bumper in my bedroom

I was on my way to a workout when a sweet little old lady failed to yield. It's frustrating for sure. I'm now driving around with a mangled front end like a NASCAR driver who stays in the race even though he's 30 laps down just to try to pick up points. But I'm also one to believe there's a higher purpose for things like this. One second earlier and I'd have hit her door. One second later and I might've missed her completely. We humans think we're so smart sometimes, but then we experience something that no amount of intellectual prowess could have averted. Maybe I'll be a more cautious driver now, and maybe she'll contemplate whether or not she should be driving, in the process perhaps avoiding a more serious accident.

Oh yeah: my workout ended up being a pretty good one.

MESSIAH WINS!!!!!

Messiah College 3, Wheaton College 0.
Messiah players celebrate with the trophy after Messiah claimed its third consecutive National Championship in convincing fashion. At top right is Head Coach Dave Brandt. (footage from CSTV.com)

P.S. - My brother plays for that team. That's right.

UPDATE: NCAA Division III Men's Soccer Semifinal: Messiah 3, NYU 0

Messiah (Pa.) and Wheaton (Ill.) face off at 5 p.m. Saturday in a fairytale matchup between two storied programs. It's Wheaton coach Joe Bean's last game at the helm and Messiah is burning for a three-peat. What better setting than the NCAA Division III National Championship in Lake Buena Vista, Florida?

Messiah Men's Soccer

Wheaton Men's Soccer

Live Webcast

hello, beautiful

I had a rare date yesterday with my girlfriend - Joy S. Lyte. I caught glimpses of her as I was driving back from an assignment out in the country and we finally had our rendezvous by this rusting barbed wire fence along a drainage ditch. Romantic, I know. But our relationship is a strange one. She's incredible to begin with and I just try to make her look good. Our dates are sporadic and often fleeting, and our time together can be both immaculate and frustrating all at the same time. I left her yesterday for no particular reason other than I thought she was fading and that I was going to lose her anyway. But as I drove off I saw her splendor again, this time lingering on a deep red barn, and I wished that I had met her there instead.

In memory of Brent Lee Romain

I never knew you, Brent, but I learned a bit about you from the people you left behind on earth. Your father wants us all to remember how kind and gentle you were, how willing you were to help others, and how you always wore a smile.

Brent's mom Kathy gets a hug from Kathy Brzak after senior night recognition in October. Brzak's son Adam was one of this year's recipients of a scholarship set up in Brent's honor.

I was honored to be able to attend Sunday's candlelight vigil, where the community's outpouring of love and support for the family was tremendous. This is only one section of the large circle of people that enveloped the area of Brent's grave.

Kathy chats with Ian Hotchkiss, another recipient of this year's scholarship, following the candlelight vigil. Hotchkiss said the award means a lot to him because Brent was one of his best friends.

cold November rain

'And when your fears subside
And shadows still remain, ohhh yeahhh
I know that you can love me
When there's no one left to blame
So never mind the darkness
We still can find a way
'Cause nothin' lasts forever
Even cold November rain.'
- Guns 'N Roses

'tis the season

it's that time of the year, folks. hope to be joining the Cameron Crazies, albeit from afar, in a season of revelry.

Tommy Titus

i bet some of you thought this was me. i'm flattered, frankly. and you know what they say - flattery will get you anywhere. but just in case you were wondering, i have a slightly milder build.

dork

hey, camera dude. take my picture. but only if you make me look good. what kind of camera is that? you're taking a lot of pictures, you must have a lot of film. oh, it's digital. whoa. it must have cost, like, 12,000 dollars. is it yours? that must be a cool job. so do you write the stories, too? did you take that really cool picture on the front page the other day? no? well, that's too bad. it was a really cool picture. did you know that every time you take a picture of me, your strobes go off in the gym because you didn't turn off your pocket wizard?

caleb

mom holds Caleb, my college roommate Kev's baby boy, while dad gets some work done in the dining room.

rocket scientists

listen closely, now. this here's how you fire a rocket. make sure you have fresh batteries in the button-pusher-thinger (henceforth referred to as the "bpt"). if the rocket don't fire, pull the wire-sparking-thinger ("wst") out of the engine, test the bpt again, and watch as the wst does what it was supposed to do before but for some reason didn't. repeat the proper process several more times, until all wsts are rendered useless. go to garage and locate container that says "old, dirty gas", grab a ball of thin rope, a glass container, and have brother commandeer a lighter. douse a section of rope, shove one end into the engine, light the rope, and stand back. watch as the fire meanders down the rope, burns around the engine but not in it, and burns up one of the wings on the rocket, making any future launch attempts significantly more dangerous. repeat at least once more. when fed up, give up. have several accomplices document the futile endeavor so you can relive it perpetually.

laugh feast

meals in our household are a real treat, and it isn't just the food.

upper slovovia iii

know what i said about the trees? it applies to the fences and water towers as well. i suppose i'll get off the tf trip before too long and kratochvil will no longer be proud.

upper slovovia ii

upper slovovia

found this really cool country today where the hills are incredibly steep and the trees always grow perpendicular to the ground.

wheeeeeeeee.....

guy on the left was pretty stoked after he made this play. i love shooting football in the daytime.

bethel

The little white church in the country that I try to go to when I can. Some incredible people go here, and they make it the essence of community.

pink

the tooth fairy has hairy legs

bet ya didn't know that. He and his colleagues at a local hair salon got dressed up yesterday for Halloween. There was a cow, a sheriff, an 80s rocker, a dead nun, and more.