Monday, December 31, 2012

Last Spirit Game

A few frames from the last Spirit game I'll shoot in Saginaw. Maybe even the last assignment. Chris Osgood was there, the team rallied from a two goal deficit, and scoring was plentiful. At least they know how to send a guy out with style.

Friday, December 28, 2012

Wednesday, December 12, 2012

"This can't happen. It's Christmas."

Two sisters and their (combined) nine children were inside their house on S. Porter in Saginaw when they heard a loud noise from the back room and the house started filling with smoke.

I was getting ready for a high school basketball game when I saw a bunch of fire trucks race down my street. I could smell the smoke when I got outside and saw the trucks and bystanders gathered right down the street.

The kids were wrapped in blankets given to them by the neighbors, and the mothers were bawling. They didn't have anywhere else to go.

Every so often with this job I'm reminded to be thankful for what I have and not take things for granted.  I also wish I could do more for people sometimes. I hoped being there and publishing the pictures was a start, and led to people chipping in anything to help. I have no idea where they went after or how they are doing right now, but I'd like to find out.

Draymond Green

Got to shoot an NBA game for the first time last week. Though, it was a bit different in that I was covering just one player instead of the game or a certain team.

Saginaw native and Golden State Warrior's rookie Draymond Green (23) made his first trip back to Michigan since being drafted in the second round out of Michigan State University. He's become a pretty regular part of the line up, but will only play for a few minutes at a time. Luckily, even though I know next to nothing about the league/sport, the arena announcer would kindly let me (and everyone else) know when he was coming in.

I shot a little bit of the game when I could, but most of my time was spent on Green. Enjoy.


The paper sent me to cover Olympic Gold medalist Claressa Shields, who came up to Bay City from Flint sign autographs and attend an annual Fight Night. 

Since the event took forever to get started, and I got there an hour early anyway, I shot features of the first fighters getting ready. They were 10 and 11-year-old kids about to fight in front of people for the first time.


Early morning on Friday, Nov. 23 a 67-year-old man diagnosed with early onset dementia wandered away from his home in Saginaw Township. When he still hadn't been located by Tuesday, officials called in search and rescue volunteers from all over the state to expand the search zone. My colleague and I went out with a search team to document the ongoing process. Each group (and there were many volunteers along with police and fire crews) had a grid they would walk and scour for any trace.

Unfortunately, this past Sunday the man's body was discovered in a heavily wooded ditch in Carrollton Township, about five miles away from his home. 

Wednesday, November 21, 2012


Bittersweet. That's how high school football playoffs have been for me. The games are more important, the crowd is into it more, I get to shoot in the daylight again, the terrible teams are weeded out and the games are (mostly) ridiculously competitive. 

On the reverse side, just as with the players, each game could be my last of the season. And, unfortunately, I shot my last football game last weekend. I thought I would get to go cover a state final game in Detroit, but it wasn't to be.

So rather than doing a retrospective or some bullshit on the season, I wanted to post a bunch of pictures from just the playoffs. I think I could have done a better job early on covering more than just the action, but this whole year is a stepping stone and learning experience and this season has definitely been a huge part of my internship.

As much as I hate it when the weather starts to get cold and the days get shorter, wherever I am next year I'm going to be chomping at the bit for the summer to end. When the lights are fired up and the new crop of players dig their cleats into the field for the first time. 

Thanks for looking.


Monday, November 5, 2012

RIP George Shelby Edwards, 1930 - 2012

When I heard that my grandfather died, it didn't register at first. My immediate family was on the east coast, my mom's family in Arizona, and I was right in the middle. Other than a phone call and a couple of text messages, I didn't have any frame of reference for what had happened.

There were always miles between that part of the family and us, though we made every opportunity to trek across the country, by plane or car, to see them. And whenever we did, Grandpa was always there.   My grandpa on my Dad's side died when I was about six, so almost all the memories I have of the patriarchal figure more than my Dad was with Grandpa.

He told us the stupidest jokes you could imagine, but somehow always made them funny. When my parents would yell at my cousins, my brothers and me about farting or doing gross kids things, Grandpa would always chuckle and join in. I've still never heard (nor will I again) anyone destroy Republicans in arguments so swiftly and with such a level head.

The last time he picked my family up from the airport, we pulled up to the booth to pay. He reaches into his wallet, pulls out a five dollar bill and says to the toll clerk, "Here you go, this is the good one. That's the one with my face on it." Classic Grandpa.

So it was weird when I got off the plane after arriving in Phoenix and it was my parents to greet me instead of him. He wasn't smiling his big smile while leaning on his cane, nor did I see any big, bright Marine Corps hats. That was OK, it still felt like he would be at my Aunt's house ready to hug me with his huge bear-like arms.

But he wasn't. It really hit me the next day when we were going through his things at my grandparents house. His old history and civil war books, shirts and hats. Every time I walked into the living room I expected to see him plopped on the couch in front of the tv, watching the news. But he wasn't.

I always yearn for the times when we can go back to the desert because it feels like home with the family we have there. I didn't want to go this time. Getting further away from having been in college, starting a life on my own, I would much rather be able to go back there when I can and hear his war stories, his jokes and his voice.

I did some shooting while I was out there and during the service to help me cope with what was going on. I want to share this with all of you because I am fortunate enough to have a job where people, strangers, let me into their lives. Sometimes for a long time, sometime for just minutes. But I get to show people they have never met who they are and what their story is. I want to return the favor and let you all in to what we did last week.

This is for my Grandpa George.