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Since my Uncle Norman died, I have felt like I was floating around place to place. Truth be told, it didn’t really hit me until I started talking to my Aunt Judie about it and replying back to an email on the 21st of February (and Young Love – Close Your Eyes, just happen to come and that didn’t help matters). You can be the happiest person alive, but a death of someone you cared about will always get you thinking about what makes you happy. Hell, it just may be someone you know, or a death you read about that just gets the gear turning.
And mine got turning.
Everyone loves Top 10 lists (maybe that’s why David Letterman is so popular), and there are apps on Facebook to help you create various lists. And I’m also very sure that with a simple Google search you’ll get around 230,000 websites devoted to such lists. Lists can rank your priorities, they can be just a simple way to remember what to do, or it could be what song you listen to first on each day of the week. They are a great way just to give information.

This is going to be a two part post. First part is of ten (10) things that make me happy with no explanation. Then, following some time, I’ll follow up the post with an explanation as to why the item makes/made me happy. Why they make me happy is not really important, some/most are a release for me, while others co-inside with each other and then lead to some of the better memories I have.  But that’s gonna come later, for now though, just the list.

a. Standing behind my camera.
b. A good piece of music, preferably classical or ’92 to ’94 Rock Alternative.
c. A good, long drive.
d. An interesting book.
e. A warm night, a clear sky and a half moon.
f. Legos.
g. A real conversation.
h. A B-movie, whether it be kung-fu, sci-fi, horror, or a combination of all three.
i. Baseball.
j. Being able to write.

One of the last few snapshots of my Uncle Norman that I took.

With billions of people on the planet, you can without a doubt that maybe 70 to 80 percent of them will say that they are the greatest. Of that range, maybe only 10 precent are truly the greatest. However, that leaves 2o to 30 percent of the original population of the planet. I’d like to think that of those people, a small percentage of maybe 3 to 5 are actually great but they don’t say it, and they don’t have to. There’s a quiet dignity to that, you may not think you’re great. You may not achieve the popular thinking of what being great is. But setting the example, living life to the fullest, having a loving family, being able to tell a good story , you don’t have to say you’re great, or hell, even know you’re great. To do just what you do so well, I think that’s the measure of greatness. Wether you believe you are or not. I believe Norman Zinn was one of these people.
I never knew the difference between a dirt and gravel road, and to be honest, I never really cared to know the difference. Gravel roads have dirt in them, right? So in a way it’s a dirt road. When I took a picture outside my Aunt and Uncle’s house and titled it, “Dirt Road”. Norman thought I needed to be educated on the differences between gravel roads and dirt roads, and he did so in a eloquently written email that was topped by a personal story.

Once after a heavy rain my parents decided we’d go visit my Uncle John and Aunt Norah Rodecap.  They lived at the top of a hill, but my dad was a very good driver, so he thought he’d give it a try.  (Aunt Norah was an excellent cook; perhaps if it had been someone else, we’d have stayed home.)  We made it to the bottom of the hill without too many frightening skids and started up.  About three-fourths of the way up it becamse apparent Dad could not get enough traction to make it all the way to the top and Uncle John’s driveway.  Dad backed down carefully as far as he could go, revved up the motor and took another shot at it.  Mom and we kids were truly scared, imagining ourselves in a ditch bruised and bleeding; again Dad’s skill kept us in the road, but we got only a foot or two further on this attempt.  Driving in reverse again back down the hill, Dad maintained his determination.  We took another hair raising shot at it and had to back down the hill a third time.  But Dad wouldn’t give up.  When we got back to the bottom of the hill the third time, he turned the car around and we started up the hill backwards.  Reverse was better geared for slick surfaces than the forward gears, and this time we made it.

I have always had this admiration for Norman, I would tell his stories, not as my own, but to share my enthusiasm. Every story he told me, and even sent me, it was his own unique voice. You could imagine him in his coveralls with a red shirt underneath, at the hearts table, drinking his Red Delicious (Budweiser to everyone else), telling the story in his own deep, welcoming voice. Or at least that’s how I imagined him. And then as he would play his hand at hearts, he would tell the story. It would almost be like a conductor directing his symphony, with the tone and enthusiasm he told the story.
The Concerto of Norman in the key of F Sharp.
And I’m sure anyone who ever read his book, Half n’ Half, heard his stories, or even read his emailed memories series, could attest to this.
We would email back and forth, comparing our military experiences with both of ours taking place overseas. His in the more exotic France, and mine taking place in the Idaho of Europe… Germany. And even in two different branches as well, him in World War Two era US Army, and mine in the Global War on Terror era US Air Force. But it’s amazing that in between the years, how similar both of our experiences have been. So many years can go by, millions of things can change, but the fundamental experiences are the same. To this day, it still blows my mind.
One of the earlier conversations we shared via email, lasted from 18 September 2006 to 27 September 2006, always holds a special place to me. The emails were pretty much a game of catch up for us, I was closing in on my one year date at Ramstein, and I already had one year under my Air Force belt. But, it started off innocently enough with us talking about the food from the regions where we were stationed, and loved. Comparing pay, which for a year before he entered, he had received 15 dollars for a 63 hour week, and I had received 1,705.20 dollars for two weeks regardless the amount of hours I worked. With the food, he would dine in what now are some of the fanciest restaurants in Paris, off the Champs Elysses. However, the cooks were still GIs, as was the food. My experience at that point was the only chow hall on base, and for the time we had to share it with the German Bundeswehr (and more often than not they didn’t shower or wore deodorant).

A propos of food, how is the dining in civilian restaurants?  Anything special?  When Judie and I went to Paris, she was afraid she’d starve because she wouldn’t be able to find anything she wouldn’t be afraid to eat.  I kept telling her there were McDonalds and Pizza Huts all over the place, but she still had a lot of trepidation until I took her to a cafeteria I had patronized when I had been in Paris a few years earlier.  She was most relived when she found she could get pot roast, mashed potatoes, carrots etc.  .  She was good sport enough to try French restaurants, and by the time we left she was  ordering magret de canard (that’s rare duck breast) and things like that.  She especially enjoyed the bakery shops.  You can’t find anything as good in Omaha.

We also talked about sex, but to keep this PG-13 rated, I’ll simply quote one line from the reply on 22 September:

To continue our discussion of sex.  After 81 years and a variety of partners.
I have only one regret.  I never got enough.

That line still makes me smile and laugh a little bit, because I have feeling at that age I’ll be giving the same line to my grandkids or grand nephews/nieces should the same conversation ever develop.
I never thought my 100th blog post would be a sort of eulogy/remembrance post. But if there is someone I would want to feature on my centurial post, it would be Norman Zinn. The man who would give me countless advice, refine my writing and photography crafts, and tell stories to amuse/relate/improve my moods. I’ll end this from an email he sent me 15 June, 2009. He had come down from Omaha to visit me and Kendra. I had taken leave after my first deployment, and Norman and I agreed that we’d go to Kansas and visit each other and swap stories and such. Sadly, I wasn’t able to spend enough time with him as I wanted too.

I guess one thing I would have said to you on parting is that I am proud of you.  One who serves his country honorably will always feel that he has gone beyond just the requirements of being a member of a society, and that deserves the respect of his fellow citizens.
One thing you can be proud of is the maturity you have achieved.  I could wish you a little more vocal, but I know we didn’t really have too much opportunity for sincere conversation.  You have grown into such a fine young man, as contrasted with the somewhat spoiled brat you were before your enlistment, that you cannot but command my admiration.

He will forever be my hero. I love you, Stormin’ Norman.

I’ve debated how I wanted to do my yearly wrap up post, month by month, major events, or just with photos. But I think a mixture of all will work, especially since 2009 was a busy year for me. Also, this will be a bit link-heavy.

I started 2009 off not with a roar, not even with a murmur, but more like a whimper. 2008 ended in a fashion I wouldn’t dare wish upon others and to be honest I thought I was gonna struggle for most of 2009 trying to deal with the demons of yore.

But, to start things off, I went on a deployment to the lovely Arab state of Qatar, which lasted 4 months. And in those four months, I came to grip with a lot of things, although I hung onto something longer than I wanted (Not healthy for everyone involved). It was what I needed though. Being away from everything you know, it helps you put things into perspective. I was surrounded by a great group of people, including a buddy of mine from tech school who left Ramstein about a year before the deployment. Of course, probably the biggest thing to come out of the deployment the laid the foundation pretty much for the rest of the year, was me buying my new camera, and strobe equipment. Needless to say, the first four months of 2009 were busy for me, work, home, wherever I was, I was not sitting idly by.

After May, things began to slow down a bit. From May to June, I took my usual month exodus back to the states. It was a nice little recharge. Flying first class to New Orleans, where I spent half of the month with family and my bayou friends. I bought more camera equipment, and gave my old camera to my Dad so he could get out of the house more. It was also the first time since I first went back after I joined the Air Force in November of 2005 where I noticed the strides of improvement following that bitch Katrina. The Louisiana portion, it was good for me. It was one of those rare times that the old man and I connected and shared something. It was… inspiring.
The other portion was spent in my other lovely hometown of Kansas City and Topeka. This was important for me, because I thought that I wanted to come back, start my studio in Kansas City; and reconnect with a lot of my friends. The latter part, I did, went to a Royals game with some of my best friends. Did a lot of driving, looking for potential homes/studio spaces, reconnected with a lot of people, and I also did a lot of thinking. My immediate plan was to move back to Kansas City as soon as my enlistment was up, move my studio business, and be on my merry way. However, as I spent more time driving around, looking at homes/studio spaces, I just kept getting this uncomfortable vibe. I wanted to come home, but I realized that the timing wasn’t right for me.
The time spent with my friends though, that was the best part of the experience. Even if I couldn’t find a place, the times I spent with friends was great. The coffee, the roaming around, the Baseball game, remembering all the lost memories.

Of course, that had to come to end. The rest of 2009 was spent in good ole Germany. Half of that was spent at my old shop, and my new shop. The stresses from work, while I hated them, helped me with my photography. I have made it no secret that I’m not a real fan of what I do, the people I do work with are awesome and is a major reason I’ll probably stay doing what I do in the Air Force. However, the biggest part of my work related part of my year, was me making rank. My second time testing for Staff Sergeant, and I made it by… Oh I dunno, some points. This lead me to Airman Leadership School in the later part of the year, where I met a lot of new friends. Learning a new plane (C130J-30), learning a new rank (E5), it was and is a bit overwhelming. For now though, I’m gonna enjoy my Senior Airman status.

The theme throughout the year though, was me getting better at my passion. I spent around 4400 dollars this year on new equipment, I bought two books, new software, and following (what I view as) the best photographers on Twitter, one of which I already highlighted in a blog entry. I’m reading about techniques, and I’m finding my way and where I want to go. I already have a good idea of where I want to be, and it’s got me pretty interested in where I want to go. I have money saved up, in 2010 I plan on buying my first full frame DSLR, a Nikon D700. I also plan on getting another AlienBee’s strobe, this time a B800 and a few accessories for it. I also plan on getting a new 27in iMac to help me edit my photos. I already have my “portfolio” site up, and I hope to do more with it next year.

What will 2010 see? Well, my first PCS. Possibly my first year (since 2005) where I didn’t take my usual month off. I don’t know where my photography will take me. I have a rough idea where I’ll be, where I’ll go and what I’ll do. But, we’ll see. My blogs will be busy, Flickr and definitely my Twitter feed. So it’s gonna be well documented.

Let’s go.