They woke up late in the morning, at a little past ten. Maya and everyone were already getting ready to leave the house, crowded around the front door putting their shoes on. "So nice of you to join us Jimmy," Uncle Ted called out to me. I was standing at the top of the stairs and nodded back. Last night, Uncle Ted, Maya, and everyone had flown in from Boston to visit. I guess you could say it was a family gathering or what is left of one. The photographers was waiting for us in front of the train yard at Old Sacramento. Aunt Genevive said she wanted some photos of everyone and not trusting ourselves, decided to hire someone to come out with us. Someone she knew. "Frankly, it's a waste of money," I said to her. "Jimmy...what's gotten into you. Photos are priceless," she said. "Alright." I didn't want to press the point because she had already misunderstood me and it was not my money anyway, "I could just take my camera out." "But whose going to take pictures of you then?" We split up into cars. My parents took the Camry with Uncle Ted and Aunt Genevive. I was with Maya and my cousin John who never talked. I sat in the backseat with Maya. It was a short drive from my family's home in Greenhaven to Old Sacramento, about ten minutes or so on highway five. Maya sat in the middle and I had the window seat. She leaned into me as we came down the on ramp and our elbows stayed in contact for a few more seconds as the car accelerated into the rest of the Saturday traffic. Maya was only three years older than me. We had grown up together; she lived four houses down and I spent a lot of time there while waiting for my parents to get home from work, after school. Her parents were friends of mine and even though she was not family, we treated her as much. It was during the summer of my freshman year in high school. We were watching a movie in the living room while waiting for the water boiler to boil. It was Saturday and we were making instant noodles. I kissed her while she was unaware. It hit between the edge of her cheek and lip. I had no what the hell I was doing. I just felt that I wanted to and I did. She looked at me in shock but didn't say anything. I didn't say anything either and only looked at her. The alarm on the kettle rang and she went into the kitchen. For such a small act, it changed everything forever I think. Maybe it was us growing up as teens that we grew apart. It happens to every childhood friendship; it's rare that one will last through high school without some kind of major upheaval or splintering. Maybe it was that day. I don't think I'll ever know. "Sorry," Maya said. "It's alright," I said. "You'll be graduating soon?" she said. "Yeah." "With what?" "With an English degree," I said. "English hm? I wouldn't have imagined that." "Yeah. I guess I'm the rebel. No law school, med school, and I'm not running a business." "I'm glad you got out then," she said. "We'll see." "What about you?" "Me?" "Yeah. What are you doing now?" "I'm just working. I'm legal assistant for a small law firm out in Worcester," she said. "That's in Massachusetts too right?" "Yeah." "Do you ever miss California?" I said. "Once in a while." The car was quiet the rest of the way. Short trip. The photographer was waiting for us in front of the boat dock, in front of the Delta Queen. It turned out that he was one of Aunt Genevive's friends from church when she use to live around here. He took pictures of people's cats and dogs and babies and made lots of money doing it. He let out a cheese filled smile, "How's everyone doing today", reaching out to my Aunt Genevive, my mom, half hugs and non contact kisses on the cheek, meat hook handshakes for Uncle Ted and my dad. "Let's have one by the train," he said. "That's a lovely idea," Aunt Genevive said. So we all gathered on the platform in front of one of the abandoned passenger rails. I stood in between John and my mom. We stood austerely, backs straight in the air. Smiles. But, I slouched, because that is what I do. "What's wrong Maya?" my mom said, "come join us!" "No. That's okay Mrs. Rosenkrantz. I'll get in on the next one. This one is a family photo."

This is what you need if you're going to take photos for publication, even if it's only easy shots like the previous post. NOTE: simplyjake makes the point that someone could copy the credential and make their own ID. Hidden benefit to the revision: In the process of distorting it I made myself look better! I was asked to submit a short bio as I begin my tenure as night picture editor of The Plain Dealer. Here's what I sent: I started my journalism career delivering the Ashtabula Star-Beacon after school. I had 30 customers and a portable radio to keep me company. "Louie, Louie" was a great song, wasn't it! I was lead guitar and lead singer in a rock band and went to the Kent State Ashtabula branch for 2 years, then went to OSU (since all my pals were going there) and for the first time in my life got serious about school. I ended up with four degrees, but only attended one football game in 7 years: pretty good stats. So that's 9 years in college but not all in a row. I needed a work break once in a while! I should mention that I was a photographer for the OSU Lantern and was photo editor autumn quarter 1973, back when we used to ride horses to class and drink water right from the well, unless there was an Indian attack. I taught high school English and journalism for 2 years and was sometimes mistaken for a student, especially when I was in the hall between classes; I was a teaching assistant in English and journalism at OSU for 3 years; I was a Kiplinger Fellow and a Poynter Fellow (the three-month newspaper management program in 1979); and I killed numerous brain cells along the way ... back when beer cans required openers. That pop was music to my ears. My second journalism job (after the paper route) was on the copy desk of the Bradenton Herald in 1979. I quickly shifted to the Dayton Journal-Herald. My next journalism post (after a final two-year stint at OSU) was at the Elyria Chronicle, where I spent one year, then on to fame and glory at The Plain Dealer. A little humor there. Should I say I was married for 10 years during those early Plain Dealer days? I almost forgot; thank goodness. I started on the Plain Dealer copy desk in 1985 -- hired by Rosemary Kovacs! -- and ended up on the news desk within a couple of years. In 2004 I bought the Nikon D70 John Kuntz won as photographer of the year and got a little bit interested in photography. I guess you could say it became a way of life, which doesn't mean I have abandoned philosophy altogether! Just finished a biography of William James. He was never a paperboy. I am currently perfecting my skills at animal photography in preparation for becoming night picture editor on December 19. There's only one problem: I can't imagine The Plain Dealer without Rosie. P.S. Some people think my signature is phallic. I can't imagine why!