Long time, no post

Here is what has been going on in my life since August of 2008.

In September, my wife, Amelia, found out that her mother was stopping treatment to battle leiomyosarcoma (a very aggressive cancer of the soft tissue). A little background: she lost her father, Tony, to cancer in April of 2008. A few days prior to his death, I was able to purchase one, affordable, last minute ticket for my wife to fly home. She was upset that I could not be there, but the price for two tickets was astronomical, and would have put us in a fiscal ditch. Amelia was able to fly to Denver, bid her father Godspeed, and fly home. Her father passed away the next day. Amelia's two or three days at home was not enough time, and she regreted not being there earlier to spend as much time as possible. This brings us back to our prompt decision to leave a great life in Florida, and be with her mother in the darkest hour. One day after finding out the bad news, we in notice to resign from our respective staff positions. Photography and visual storytelling have always been my passions, but one thing is for sure: family is, and will always be my top priority. Three weeks later (via Atlanta, Vicksburg, Dallas and Duncan), in mid-October, we were home in Denver to help care for Caroline. It was sweet at first. Caroline was up and around, joking, playing with baby Henry, but increasingly in more and more pain. We knew what was playing out before our eyes, so a constant presence was essential. Every conversation ended with "I love you," because we did not know when the last breath would come. In 2000, when my mother lost her battle with pancreatic cancer, I made sure to repeat these words as much as possible, because together they are the ultimate truth in a great mother-son relationship. For more than a month, we sat by Caroline's bed, Tony's clothes still in the same place as when he breathed his last breath. Every action was contemplated, especially if Caroline was awake, so we could maximize every hour, minute and second to hold her hand, kiss her forehead, stroke her skin and talk about stories of the past. I think my silence throughout this process was caused from regrets in not being with my mom when she died. I constantly thought about how scared she must have been, knowing that there was a defined window to live out dreams, and that most would not be realized. For years, I beat myself up for not being there to comfort her, and let her know that she was the best mother a boy could ask for. To this day, I still think about it... A lot. I guess that is why my words were reserved for Amelia, to comfort her, and let her know that she is the best wife a man could ask for... That those characteristics were learned from a caring, loving familial matriarch, who dedicated her life to family and their well-being. But these words were of little sollace when we began to hear "the death rattle," and understandably so. These sounds are a harbinger of death, an end to a hard-fought battle with a serial killer that has many faces, and signify that life will forever change for the Cook, Flock, Mattson and many other families who were graced with Caroline's smile, presence, motherly love and gentle demeanor. When I heard this, it all came rushing back: the day I asked Caroline and Tony for their daughter's hand in marriage, the first time I met Amelia's father, a PhD who stood 6"7 and scared the hell out of me on a physical and intellectual level ("I'm much shorter and nowhere near as smart as this man," I thought), the times we shared during visits in Florida, her voice, ability to play music, and acceptance of me as another son. The emotion was raw, impossible to grasp as her time on Earth dwindled. The day of her death, I had to go to work for training at my new job as a ramp agent for Frontier Airlines, not knowing when the end would arrive. On November 3, 2008, I received the call I hoped and prayed would not come, and left work to get home. Caroline Cook passed away.

Our lives since have been day to day, week to week, month to month, raising our young man to be a happy and bubbly baby. I am starting to make photographs again, while working as a ramp agent for the great benefits, advancing through an airline corporate structure as Hub Loadmaster and Coordinator-in-training. Who knows where these two jobs will take us? Life has not been easy, but has been fun and filled with family time. However, I miss newspapers. I miss making photographs on a daily basis. I miss deadlines, softboxes, the sound of a clicking shutter, assignments for the New York Times, and most of all the company of my friends, both past and present, at the Sarasota Herald-Tribune.

There will certainly be more updates, especially as the assignments roll in, and our son continues to grow.

Be well.

The Good Guys

Andrew Cratty (cq, left) stands near Loren and Rachel Troyer (cq, bottom left and right) to shake the hand of their son Loren Eric Troyer (cq, far right), who was struck by lightning and critically injured in June, and was saved by the quick-thinking actions of Cratty, during an appreciation ceremony and press conference in county chambers at the Sarasota County Administration building, in Sarasota, Fla., Tuesday afternoon, August 5, 2008. Cratty received a certificate of appreciation from the county for his heroic actions. "Because of his (Cratty) actions, it's what contributed to him (Troyer) being here today," said Sarasota County Fire Chief Brian Gorski (cq). Dr. Steven Newman (cq), Medical Director of Sarasota County Emergency Medical Services, says that there are 22 million cloud-to-ground lightning strikes each year in the United States, which can generate 30 million volts and 10,000 amps from 25 miles away, and account for one in 345,000 deaths from strikes, or 60 deaths each year. Dr. Newman adds that Florida has the highest number of strikes.

I am not one to be overwhelmed by someone who runs a Fortune 500 company, drives an awesome car, or is regarded as a tremendous leader. On the flip side, I am floored by people who do things for the good of their fellow man. Fire fighters, teachers, volunteers and good samaritans, to name a few, all have me at "hello."

Today, I was a bit overcome during a press conference to honor a man who saved the life of another. Both men were enjoying the beach back in June, when a bolt of lightning charged the body of Loren Eric Troyer, and sent him to the ground in a fetal position, critically wounded. The jogger, Andrew Cratty, immediately ran to his attention and began steps necessary to save a life. Troyer is now fine, with the exception of a few minor nervous system issues, and the two met again today in county chambers. When they saw each other and shook hands, you could see and feel the connection these guys had. They had met many times before over the past few months, but this handshake was no different than the others. Cratty was happy to have helped, and Troyer was happy to be sitting next to his bride.

Seeing these bits and pieces of humanity makes me proud to not only be a journalist, but also to witness the good in the hearts of mankind. Even though this was just a press conference and ceremony, it was an "eye of the storm" for me... A place where one can find peace and meaning in the chaos of daily life.

My first video piece (this was just for fun, training)

Milkman

After one full week of sleepless nights, I am beginning to recognize newborn idiosyncrasies that have made me laugh and cry over the past nine days, since Henry Charles Mattson came into this world. He was born at 5:28am, on June 30, 2008 weighing 7lbs. 10oz., and laying 20 inches long. I've looked forward to this lil guy for nine months, and he has not disappointed. I've studied his features, how he looks at me, and can now tell when he is about to paint the walls with urine. This has been such a special process, and is one that I have enjoyed from the start. Yes, it has been hard, like on the first night home when Henry did not get to sleep until 6:30am, but wow! This is just awesome. Simply awesome. I can't wait for the many days ahead of us. This is moments after Henry finished his, uh, lunch.

Exhausting Week

Last week had to be one of the most draining weeks on record. Work volume, combined with hot weather, the stresses of preparing for a child and dealing with office issues, crushed me. This emotional proving ground reminded me of winter training when I rowed at CU-Boulder, in that each day repeated the misery of the one prior. Alright, "misery" is a bit much, but it seemed fitting at the time.

So how did I get out of it? I gambled. My photographs were not as successful as I wanted, but gaining peace of mind through risk taking was a worthwhile endeavor. I had a few small victories, that were the bumps necessary to rise above such emotional quicksand, but the will to push even harder gave me the most satisfaction.

Some of you might know that journalism has a tendency to make people salty. I'm not ready to head down that path just yet. I still get a rush from showing up at an assignment and making photographs. I still love asking questions, and the feeling I get when actual photojournalism is accomplished, instead of simply showing up to push the button. The more I remind myself that I make photographs for a living, the more I succeed.

With that, I bring you a photograph of a rookie firefighter who kept going and going, and found refreshment in the simplest of ideas.

Cheers,

Rob

I am Rob

I am Rob. My career has only been possible through the dedication of my high school teacher Mr. (Mark) Murray, who taught photography at Lamar High School until 1996, college professor Kevin Moloney, who is still shaping the young minds of students at the University of Colorado at Boulder, my wife Amelia, who has been inspiring my vision since we met at CU-Boulder in 1999, and my parents, who raised me to never settle for mediocrity, and always give 110% in everything I do.

I have been a photojournalist since the age of 15, when my mother took me to assignments for the Fort Worth Star-Telegram, then waited outside while I processed. I continued this until leaving for Colorado in 1995. After getting in-state residency, I began attending the University of Colorado at Boulder in the fall of 1996. In college, I rowed for four years and ended as a varsity oarsman in the Colorado Crew lightweight eight. I began freelancing for the Rocky Mountain News in 1999, which developed my portfolio enough to get internships that started in 2000. I learned from the best at the Albuquerque Journal, Indianapolis Star, Kalamazoo Gazette, Naperville Sun and Boulder Daily Camera before returning to finish at CU-Boulder in December 2001 with a 3.2 GPA in Journalism. In March of 2002, I began my professional career began at the Courier News, in Elgin, Ill., where I worked for one year.

Currently, I am a staff photographer at the Sarasota Herald-Tribune, where I have worked for more than five years. I also freelance for the New York Times, and donate my time, whenever possible, to benefit non-profit organizations that seek cures for cancer and autism. My goal in photography and journalism is to bring about a greater understanding of the world around us.