Adieu, Tidewater!

Back in the early 80s, my first job was delivering The Virginian-Pilot newspaper. I was 12-years-old, knee high to a grasshopper, and eager to earn money to fund the purchase of a complete skateboard.

Each day, without fail, I filled the basket of my beach cruiser and raced through my route with finesse. I knew exactly how to bundle my papers, how to stock them into my baskets and bags with the greatest efficiency. I had the art of newspaper delivery down to a science.

With the precision of a surgeon, I learned how to swiftly handle the paper and toss it without ripping any of the coveted A1 section fronts that elegantly displayed images from some of the most talented photojournalists in the nation. At the time, I had no idea that years later my images would be displayed on this very same section front.

Intermittently throughout the last decade as a staff photographer at The Pilot, I've had the opportunity and honor to share the aforementioned section front with some of the same photojournalists whose work graced the pages I used to deliver. How times have changed.

Today, those fronts are still valuable real estate and the photographs that adorn them remain community gems. However, the paperboy is now an iconic relic of the past. The journalist furiously slinging paper and ink to make the evening deadline is sure to follow as the rate to disseminate today's news is pressed to mach speeds.

Fortunately, somewhere out there in the unknown aether, a young innovative mind is tinkering with the future. Unbeknownst to all, this individual, or these people, or this movement, will develop a sustainable business model for journalism. When that day arrives, I will be the first one to voluntarily hop back on my bike and deliver the first edition. Or, more likely, I'll be the first one to navigate the comfort of my keyboard and pay to have the news delivered to my phone instantaneously.

That said, like many of our readers in Tidewater, each morning I begin my day with the paper and breakfast. It's been my ritual for longer than I can remember. 

Tomorrow, I will pick The Pilot off of my driveway for the last time. Tomorrow, I will work my final day as a photojournalist for my boyhood community. Tomorrow, I will bid farewell to my Pilot family.

The edit of photographs below are a selection of some of the images and experiences you all have allowed me to be a part of and share with our neighbors. Thank you, Tidewater; it's been an honor.

On that note, I'm grateful to announce that I'll be taking on a new role as the Photographic Resources Supervisor at the Heritage College of Osteopathic Medicine at Ohio University in Athens, Ohio. I will be shooting, editing, managing and handling the visual branding/marketing of the college's photography efforts.

If you're ever in Ohio, look me up.

Adieu, Tidewater!

*Click on any image to view larger or begin slideshow. 

Yesterday at the Office: Oceanfront

Long before I ever picked up a camera, people-watching was a favorite pastime of mine. When I did take my first photography class, I was living at the Virginia Beach Oceanfront on the corner of 17th Street and Pacific Avenue, the heart of our bustling shoreline and prime real estate for curious voyeurs. Most days I'd take my camera for a walk, shooting from the hip and making images of the going-ons of the streets. From the start, street photography was my passion, a chance to put my love of people-watching on paper.

Many moons later, I'm still walking the same streets. Yesterday, The Virginian-Pilot ran a few selects of photographs made on some of my recent walks this summer.

In addition to the print edition of this series, there is an extended essay of my Oceanfront project on my site. The images below are a few examples that did not make it to print. Head on over and take a walk with me.

American Summer

Why? Why? Why?!?

That is the one question many of my friends, colleagues and others asked each time I told them I was planning a cross country trip with my wife, Jasmine, and two of my children, 

Levi-Joseph and Opal.

I answered with a basic question...

Why not?

It was surprising that so many people thought our plan was crazy.

For me, it seemed like driving across country was what you did with your kids in the summer. Growing up, I remember zig-zagging the States in the back seat of our family car. In fact, I was introduced to this country framed through the window of our Chevy Impala. It was the best of times.

Back then, summer meant driving to Arizona and LA to visit our relatives. My memory of walking on the tiny foundation of the home my mother grew up in near Williams, AZ left an impression. Later I climbed desert trees with my cousin Frankie and can still recall the snapshot someone took of us. Then there was the time I spit sunflower seeds, for what seemed like hours, off the porch of my Aunt's bungalow in Long Beach, CA. I remember returning to Virginia and crossing the Hampton Roads Bridge Tunnel - my little cousin Jennifer pushed a button that sent the trunk flying open. Unable to pull over we kept moving along - thankfully, nothing was lost.

What may have seemed like insignificant moments at the time, I found were actually the foundation of my childhood memories. Each trip offered insight and introductions to a larger unknown world. For a young child, it was magic.

It was in these reflections that I was inspired to give my children, too, an American Summer.

*Click on any image to view larger or begin slideshow. Visit my site to view the complete essay.