Sweater Afterglow

“and the afterglow…
of your gaze…is the only
sweater that I need.”
-Sanober Khan-


The trembling of a leaf


“Never say there is nothing beautiful in the world anymore. There is always something to make you wonder in the shape of a tree, the trembling of a leaf.”

-Albert Schweitzer-

Nature, Bar, Bank, Old Trucks and Death

Roberts, ID

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Lines etched in the Past

Idaho Falls, ID


Hiding True Nature

“The mind in its natural state can be compared to the sky, covered by layers of cloud which hide its true nature.” _Buddah_


Hold on to your locks

Idaho Falls, ID.


Blowing in the Wind

St. Anthony, ID

Saint Anthony Sand Dunes.

Over 10,600 acres of white quartz sand carried by the winds from the Snake and Teton Rivers and deposited along the hillside.



Shelley, ID
Virginia Theater touted as Idaho’s oldest functioning theater.


Just cat in a box

Once a pair of new shoes come into the house, Emmy, gets the box for her new bed.

Only seems right as this cat has crises-crossed the country several times by plane and car.

Home is where the box is.emmybox


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The project was initially just to be simple mugs of those individuals who had memories of the Colonial Theater in downtown Idaho Falls….but then if you know theater people either on stage or back stage, they have a presence that demands more than a mug shot.

The stories are rich with history and emotion.  

From meeting a future husband at the ticket booth.  

The first bow on stage; to understanding a trip to the theater was an event you looked forward to each week.

Before Instagram and Facebook this was how we entertained ourselves. This is how we socialized and connected.

The Colonial will celebrate its 100 years in the river community next fall,

Opened in 1919 as a vaudeville theater it has gone through many changes over its centennial life.  It was known as the Paramount Movie Theater in 1929 playing the top films of the era until the early 1990’s.

The Colonial which also holds the Willard Arts Center is under the umbrella of the Idaho Falls Arts Council and without question the jewel of downtown.

BLINK: -30- Thank you for taking the time to listen to the ramblings of an old photographer for the good part of March



We do this to stop time.

We do this for the love of family and friends.

We do this to enlighten and smile.

We do this to change injustice.

We do this without a BLINK!

_Gary B. Miller_

BLINK: PAGE TWENTY also the ramblings of an old photographer for the next good part of March.


Madison County, Iowa

Cedar Bridge spans Cedar Creek and has been the victim of arson in 2002 and again in 2017.

Earlier in the book we talked about nine degrees of separation and this is my story,

These are my daughter’s Alayna and Ashley. They are the air that Anne and I breath.

The image was taken during a visit at Cedar Bridge near Winterset, Iowa sometime in 1990.

W. Eugene Smith was an iconic photographer…an amazing journalist.

A lousy husband and maybe worse father. I’ve read everything written about him and reviewed pretty much every image he has taken. “ A walk to Paradise Garden” was an image he took of his daughter and son at a time he was most vulnerable.

An image that always was the reflection of “family” for me.


The Book: Bridges of Madison County a wonderful love story written by Robert James Waller who I had the pleasure of photographing twice.

The Movie: Star and Produced by Clint Eastwood who as a teen I hunted and fished on the same waters as his Rising River Ranch which he purchased from Bing Crosby. Not really the same waters as his caretaker kept running us off if we went past the boundary .

His character in the film was a photographer.Something I still aspire to be.

Producer: Kathleen Kennedy who I went to school with her sister and photographed her father, Judge Kennedy many times in Redding Ca.

Meryl Streep, no connection just lust over her many movies.

The movie can be found on Netflix.  I have Netflix (well thanks to my daughter) might be a reach.

This was my “Walk in Paradise”…..I did not BLINK!

BLINK: PAGE NINETEEN also the ramblings of an old photographer for the next good part of March.

Brandy Creek, Whiskeytown Lake, CA
(top right)
Redding, CA
(bottom right)
Redlands, CA

BLINK: PAGE EIGHTEEN also the ramblings of an old photographer for the next good part of March.


Whitmore Road, CA

One store and one gas station and a fair amount of cowboys during the calving season.

After the series ran the owners of the ranch hired me to do some photographs of their prized bull in front of an antique car they owned for a publication called Bull-O-Rama.

I laughed at first also until I saw what they were getting for stud fees.

Cowman’s Prayer

Now, O Lord, please lend me thine ear,
The prayer of a cattleman to hear,
No doubt the prayers may seem strange,
But I want you to bless our cattle range.

Bless the round-ups year by year,
And don’t forget the growing steer;
Water the lands with brooks and rills
For my cattle that roam on a thousand hills.

Prairie fires, won’t you please stop?
Let thunder roll and water drop.
It frightens me to see the smoke;
Unless it’s stopped, I’ll go dead broke.

As you, O Lord, my herd behold,
It represents a sack of gold;
I think at least five cents a pound
Will be the price of beef the year around.

One thing more and then I’m through,—
Instead of one calf, give my cows two.
I may pray different from other men
But I’ve had my say, and now, Amen.

_ Author Unknown, circa 1890 _

BLINK: PAGE SEVENTEEN also the ramblings of an old photographer for the next good part of March.


Cold Springs, NY

Vintage, Flying A gas pumps still stood guard in front of the old gas station along one of the towns back streets. Over the years they had become a bit of a landmark.

They were a wonderful lime green and went missing a few months after I took this

Another perfect example of history passing in a BLINK.

BLINK: PAGE SIXTEEN also the ramblings of an old photographer for the next good part of March.

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Old Shasta, CA

Pretty much anything you do in life comes from your training and past life experiences.

These are really what make up your “tool box”.

Some of us collect a ton of tools; many we use very little.

Some of us keep tools to a minimum and use them daily.

I’m certainly a minimum type of guy who tends to use very few tools but hopefully

in his chosen fields.  Most of my tools are old and some would say worn but have been used equally across my chosen fields as a photojournalist, martial arts student and teacher and a firearms trainer.

The common theme for my tools are “teaching tools” and tools used to strengthen “work ethic”.

I find that these are simple tools that helped me navigate coverage of the Atlanta Olympic Bombing to understanding how to help those protect themselves. 

To help students no longer be victims.

Funny about tools you can loose them in a BLINK if you don’t use them.

BLINK: PAGE FIFTEEN also the ramblings of an old photographer for the next good part of March.



Blue Cloud Bar, Des Moines IA

The Blue Cloud was a gem of a bar in north Des Moines that offered 

Chicago blues and simple spirits.

Not much to look at from the exterior, worn brick and a window with a beer sign glowing in the cold night air.

Pushing open the wood and glass door the interior was long with no width.  The wood bar ran down the right side and booths to the left.

It was a cave, more shadows and reflections of light than true light.

The floor reminded me of going to the “Fun House” at the carnival you know the one with the crazy mirrors and the floor that moved under your feet like and over blown accordion wheezing for more air.

Just enough room between the end of the bar and the window to shoehorn  a band into and still let the door open.

This was a joint where the music came from the soul. The sound of Muddy Waters ; John Lee Hooker and Little Willie Anderson; the roots come from the Delta.

These are the names that “electrified” the blues. “One Bourbon, One Scotch, One Beer” sang Hooker but don’t you BLINK!

BLINK: PAGE FOURTEEN also the ramblings of an old photographer for the next good part of March.

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“I wonder if the snow loves the trees and fields, that it kisses them so gently? And then it covers them up snug, you know, with a white quilt; and perhaps it says, “Go to sleep, darlings, till the summer comes again.”
-Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland-

(left) St. Mary’s Lake, Redding, CA.
(right) Shelley, Idaho

BLINK: PAGE THIRTEEN, also the ramblings of an old photographer for the next good part of March.


Lily Pond Trail, Lassen Volcanic National Park, CA

I remember that there was a pretty good rain the night before adding some interesting droplets not only on the lily pads but creating some wonderful hanging gems from pine needles and tree branches. Only to be knocked off by large jays moving from branch to branch.

The trail itself is very short and popular to park visitors and just a quick stop before heading up to the 7000 foot level Summit Lake.

Summit was always my starting point several times a year as from here you can take a variety of trails throughout the park.  Taking some of the best loops you can get to as many as twelve mountain lakes in a couple days of easy hiking.

This was one of those rare end-of-summer treks where the park was near empty and I found myself on the return near Little Bear Lake and not seeing another hiker for a day.

I made camp before heading back to Summit the on the final day and still very warm  stripped down jumped into the lake before the sun began to set.

I can still remember the water being cold enough to remind you were in a mountain lake.  Looking back toward my pack and ground cover a huge doe just standing looking in my direction. 

Calm and comfortable she seemed very settled in with peaceful huge eyes locked to mine.  

Just a rare moment that reminds you of the simplicity of life that can be missed in a BLINK.

BLINK: PAGE TWELVE, also the ramblings of an old photographer for the next good part of March.


Stan the Iron Man, Redding, CA.

Before Stan Lee and Robert Downey Jr. I did  a photo page introducing “Stan the Iron Man” to Record Searchlight subscribers.

Stan was a fixture in the community that no one seem to know anything about.

I would see Stan driving one of his two 1960 Jaguar E type sedan automobiles around town with his floppy-eared old hound riding shotgun. This was the one that looks like a cigar with wheels…the car not the dog.


Following Stan one afternoon brought me to a rundown old rusted steel quonset hut not far from the town dump.  A location I passed several times a day and always kind of wondered what was on the other side of the cyclone fence.

I walked to the double garage door just as Stan and the mangy mutt got out of the car.

Stan was thin as a steel cable probably went six-three but after years of cutting and lifting iron it was all bent to ninety degrees so he was staring at the ground most of the time.

Stopping in for a few hours at a time I would find Stan moving heavy iron around with either and old pick-up with a crane he had built on the back or loader of some type.

He was a smart and amazing guy to talk to and knew the value in huge gears; pieces of grate; what looked like chunks of useless iron that restaurants and office buildings were paying a premium price for and calling it art.

His hands showed the years of his labor and easily could have been missed in a BLINK.