Minor Person Injury Accident in South Portage

Shortly after 5:30pm, on Monday April 7th, 2008, the Portage Fire Department was dispatched to a PI (Personal Injury) accident in front of the Speedway gas station on Portage Road (South of Centre Avenue).

A southbound sedan pulled into the path of a northbound truck as the sedan attempted to pull into the Speedway gas station.

The driver of the truck was uninjured. The elderly occupants of the car were both transported to a local hospital with minor injuries.

On scene were Portage Engine 3, Portage Engine 1, Portage Batallion 1, two Portage Police units, and one Pride Care ambulance.

Some extrication was required to pop the passenger door on the sedan (pictured below) to extricate the occupant.

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A Dance with Jessamyn

As you may have caught from several previous postings on the blog, this past weekend saw my first “daddy and daughter” dance with my eldest, Jessamyn. The event was hosted by her school and was something that both my wife and spent considerable time planning and anticipating. Jenny had purchased a wonderful Spring dress for the occasion that looked just beautiful on Jess.
I will attempt to cover the entire event in great detail by breaking it up into several sub-titled sections to give a perspective of each specific group of events.

The Day

It was a typical Saturday in the Pike household complete with chaos, running late on the mornings routines, and with kids distracted by all the minute details of their lives.

Joey and Jessamyn had dance classes earlier that morning (routine attendance is something their dance teachers keep beating into us since they can’t miss a single Saturday as their recitals are coming up in several months, so, regardless of whatever strife is happening in our lives, we make diligent efforts to comply).

Previously scheduled Saturday morning hair cut appointments had been cancelled (yet again) for an unknown reason, but Jenny had insisted that Jess would at least have some sort of appointment to style her hair prior to the event, and a rescheduled time was set for shortly after lunch.

We came to home to regroup before the hair appoint and to give the kids some rest. While at home the mother of a friend of Jessamyn’s named Emma called to inquire if the girls would be available to get together to play. After informing her that Jess had a hair appointment, Jenny suggested that maybe Emma would like to come with Jess to the stylist and maybe do lunch out together. What a great idea! The three ladies (Jess, Emma, and Jenny) all headed off to prepare Jess’s hair for the night ahead.

Jessamyn's hair before the appointment

Jessamyn's hair after the appointment (note the attitude! :)

After arriving back home from her hair appointment, I was astounded at the visage of a young woman that now appeared in front of me. Jess’s hair was amazing. She looked much more mature woman than the three year old I had to keep reminding myself that she actually was, save for the tilted head and sucker in her mouth.

Jenny and I spent the rest of the afternoon taking “watch shifts” to keep a close eye on Jessamyn in order to prevent any child based interference with her hair. (Fortunately, she left it alone)

At 4:00pm, we had our annual neighborhood Easter Egg hunt. By this time, Emma had gone home suffering from allergies (understandable given the five cat and two dog population of allergen generating quadrupeds that reside in our home), so Joey and Jess ran out to join their other sets of neighborhood friends: The Fords and the Dicks.

Some 180+ eggs had been hidden in plain sight in our now snow devoid backyards, and the kids spent the better part of a half hour hunting and searching for the afternoon’s treasure.






As 5 o’clock neared, Jenny hastened us back indoors to get Jessamyn ready for our “date.”

I put on my nicest suit coat complete with a tie that Jenny had found earlier in the week that was a perfect complement to Jessamyn’s dress.

We rushed downstairs and took the awkward “first date” photos in front of the fireplace. Apart from the vast height difference, I dare say we made a pretty cute couple.

Jessamyn enjoyed all of the pictures and played “cute” as she posed for each one. She even nipped me a little kiss just as we finished.

Jessamyn and I pose for our awkward "first date" picture

Jenny pins the corsage onto Jess's dress

Jessamyn tries to conceal her excitement about going to a dance with her daddy!

Jocie watches her sister as she gets ready to go to her dance and wonders "When will I get to go to a dance?"

Jessamyn shows us her Marylin Monroe pose.

The Dinner

As would be expected for a date with me, we were running late. I had planned for a ninety minute window of time for dinner, but as it was now almost 5:45, I had lost half of my window since the dance started at 6:30.

Not knowing what to expect from the event itself, I had crafted the image of a sort of formal ceremony that locked events into a rigid calendar at the dance. I fretted myself into a near-panic thinking my lethargy had ruined any potential for a fun night for the two of us as we would now have to arrive late if we wanted to eat dinner.

I should know better by now, as this was a common theme throughout my early adulthood as a teenager: fretting, arriving late, and losing sight over the “big picture” as I worried about the details that really didn’t mean a thing.

As I attempted to calm myself down, I kept reminding myself that this night was really all about Jessamyn and me, and really, nothing else should matter.

I refocused and regrouped my mental expectations and re-grounded myself into reality.

By this time, I had dropped my first several choices of dining establishments as the time remaining just wouldn’t allow for the two to three hours that a top-notch restaurant would require.

Another option came to mind that happened to be near the dance and also served a more dietary sensible meal selection as I hoped for something approaching a fruit salad for my little girlfriend.

The Oakwood Bistro was a perfect selection for our evening as it met all of these requirements while still being a perfect date night choice.

As we walked through the door, faces turned, conversations stopped mid-sentence, and others tapped distracted faces to turn and see the little petty coated beauty walking by them.

Jess soaked up the “oohs”, “Oh wow, isn’t she just so pretty”, and “oh, isn’t that cute” and shot back a quick little chin-down head-tilt faces based curtsy that only she can deliver, complete with a little giggle.

The hostess said the wait would only be about 10 to 15 minutes (but ended up being more like 30), and so we slid up to the bar and sat down for a quick nip to take the first bite out of the night for us: a kiddy cocktail.

I think this must have been her first such drink, but, given her response, I’m sure she’ll be making this a common drink for those many nights in the future when she’s out on the town with her “man”… (her daddy, of course).

After sitting down and ordering (Jessamyn opted for chicken fingers instead of a fruit plate and I took the healthy Asian sesame salad hoping the turnaround time for the salad would be shorter than the filet that my appetite really wanted), we delighted in sharing crayons as we “doodled” over Jessamyn’s placemat.

Sipping tea at the booth across the aisle from us was the smiling face of what could only be a grandmother that couldn’t take her eyes off Jessamyn. In a beautiful British accent, she told Jess how pretty she was and then informed me that her youngest granddaughter was now 17 and no longer liked wearing such colorful dresses like the one that Jess was wearing. Soaking up the complements, Jess again face curtseyed and blew her admirer a kiss before going back to coloring in a picture of what she claimed was her brother with a blue crayon.

7:00pm… I was a half-hour late, but still enjoying every moment as we walked out past new eyes that again stopped and provided a red carpet of compliments for my little lady as we walked out.

The Dance

As we arrived at Jess’s school, I was relieved to see a few other cars still finding parking spaces, and some father-daughter couples walking towards the gymnasium entrance. Relief! Like a weight was lifted off my shoulders. The images of hundreds of parents turning towards me as I walked in late, music stopping, and an embarrassing moment of feeling like a heel as a parent faded as we walked through the door and joined a long line to pay for our entrance.

By now, Jessamyn is giddy as she can hear the music blaring ahead of us down the hall and into the gym. In crafting my mental picture of the event, I had only forecasted that classmates from her pre-school class would be the only attendees at the dance, but in actuality, the event covered ALL grades (pre-school through eighth grade).

As we walked into the gym the first thing to come into view in the darkened room was an arch littered with balloons and streamers. It had felt like a black-and-white moment from a 1950’s “sweet sixteen” film as we walked in.

On the far wall, a DJ pumped out some song I’ve never heard while girls of various ages coagulated towards the middle is a pulsing web of laughs as they danced in a large group. On the outside of the dance floor stood the girls’ fathers acting liked cemented posts dotting the edge of a field as if they were a fence line. The glow of dozens of BlackBerry’s illuminated the faces of businessmen fighting the awkwardness that must have been commonplace for this bunch twenty years earlier, but seems to prevail even today.

Thinking myself to be different from this horde of antisocial testosterone emanating figures, my date and I brushed through the hobnob line and onto the floor to take part in the last few versus of the unknown ballad. As the song finishes, Jess locates several familiar friends’ faces and immediately departs my company to join them. A song from my youth starts playing, Michael Jackson’s “Thriller,” and the dance floor fills with all girls that now freakishly start dancing in unison synchronization as they perform the exact steps from a video that saw fame a dozen years before their births.

And in that instant, I realize that it has taken all of 35 seconds for me to go from a parenting proud father to an awkward detached solo male in yet another gym that paralleled an earlier instance of myself from 20 years earlier.

Where is my BlackBerry?

Not thinking I’d need it, I had opted to leave it at home. So, I ran out to the car to grab the next best thing… my camera. How better to hide my insecurities but behind the eyepiece of a massive camera and flash as I chase my daughter and her friends around the dance floor like some celebrity chasing paparazzi.

I snap off one photo before Jess decides that she’d rather be with me than her friends.

“I’m thirsty.”

Well, the cause for us to get back together again wasn’t as important to me as the fact that I had her back in my presence. I doped her up with a quick shot of ‘Hawaiian Fruit Punch’ before asking if she’d like some cookies.

As I finish the sentence that offers the cookies, the DJ says something about every girl grabbing their daddy and bringing them to the dance floor for a slow song.

Jess grabs my hand and says “Come on Daddy.”

We slow dance together for about half the song before both of us decide it might be easier if I just pick her up and hold her as we dance. She puts her head on my shoulder and I fight back tears as I’m quickly lost in the moment and again proud of both of us for being where we are at this moment in time.

After two hours of dancing, both slow and crazy fast, we’re both worn out and Jess turns to me and says “ok Daddy, let’s go home. I’m tired.”

As we walk away from the gym, she turns and gives my legs a huge hug as she says to me “I love you.”

This time I can’t win the war against the tears and walk with blurred vision all the way back to the car.

I’m proud. I’m happy. And I know we’ll be doing this one again.

I can’t wait for it.

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What is it worth?

Several years ago, I attended a formal ceremony with the Fire Department for the funeral of a retired firefighter who had served long before I had become a member. I regret to use the term ‘routine’ when referring to these events, but they do happen with a disheartening frequency in this service, so when I use the term ‘formal ceremony’ to describe this, it is only because this happens quite a few times during the year.

Of the many funerals I’ve attended, there was one that really touched me and changed the way I’ve looked at my family and the life that I lead.

As the life of the man was described in great detail during the ceremony, I realized that I had neither known him personally nor known anything about the life had lived.

He had lived the life of a professional musician from an early age when Nashville artists picked him up due to his amazing steel guitar (also known as ‘lap steel’) playing. He was given an amazing gift with this ability that brought him to stages around the world as a star player. Next to the pulpit stood his instrument in silent tribute to this part of his life and the gift he had also given with his talents to this church.

He had toured with some amazing names that have dotted the country music landscape of the 50’s, 60’s, and 70’s. Names that are famous even to this day were listed as his accolades.

His life changed when he met a woman and fell in love. He decided to settl down, have children, and leave behind the life of a travelling musician to become a faithful husband and devoted father.

It was at this point that he decided to join the fire department, which has long symbolized the lighthouse of stability in communities and within the lives of its members. This was a perfect match that allowed him to be with his kids as they grew up while also giving back to the community.

He was well loved by all the members of the department and several of my older colleagues gave to the eulogy in the form of stories of their past experiences.

His musical abilities did not fade with his new life as passing musicians would often get him to come out and play in nearby venues during the years. He also headed up the band at his local church.

The most amazing and impacting portion of the service came at the end when each of his four children read aloud letters that each had written to him after he had passed.

It is in these letters that not only did he find immortality but that my own realizations of my life came to fruition.

As each of his children read, I realized just how much this man had impacted the lives of his children. Not only did they love their father, as you would expect from a close family like this, but they loved their relationship with their parents so much so that after each one of them had grown up and gone to college, they all had purposely moved back home, bought property, and build their own homes in the area that surrounded their parents. They literally lived on the same block.

Each of his children now had children of their own. A picture emerged of a huge family that did everything together: weekend family dinners, vacations, and camping trips.

Their father’s retirement dream come true was in meeting those grandchildren every day when the bus dropped them off at the end of his drive way and spending the rest of the day helping with homework, teaching, playing, making dinner, and spending time together.

There was a tremendous amount of love in this family, and you could feel this in the tears and emotions that poured from each of the four.

Each letter had stated just how hard their lives would be without him there as a major influence not only on their dreams but on their children’s as well.

This was an incredible man with an incredible gift for loving.

Each member of that family will love and remember him for the rest of their lives as they will have these memories to treasure each and every day.

In thinking about my own life as I sat there, I could feel that if ever there was a way to be remembered, this would be the way that I would want it to be. This would be the impact that I would want to leave behind. This is the life that I would want to lead.

His children now live on… together… but without him. In his passing, they are amiss from his presence, but not from his life lessons and love… in that, they are guided daily and know that his image lives on.

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Shooting Primes

In recent months, my photography passions have been greatly seduced by shooting prime lenses rather than the more commonplace zoom lenses that dot the modern SLR landscape.

Although I don’t think of my abilities as a great highlight in the massive sea of amateur photographers, I would at least hope that I have enough vision to convey a message in each capture. Within this medium, the use of the prime or fixed focal length lens serves to extend creative composition by the user.

The great early masters of the art of photography were limited to only shooting these devices as things likes zooms, matrix metering, or even roll film were either not available or not apt enough to capture the desired scenes. In comprehending great works by such visionaries like Ansel Adams, it is amazing to note that these were crafted using this technology that is so underappreciated today.

In my ever growing collection, I have six primes:

· Nikon 10.5 f/2.8 DX
· Nikon 16 f/2.8
· Nikon 35 f/2
· Nikon 50 f/1.8
· Nikon 85 f/1.8
· Nikon 105 f/2.8 Micro

Standing apart from the multitudes of zoom lenses I have, these gems stand out in their ability to funnel my creativity into a single boxed view of the scene about to be captured. They help push the user to focus on composition in method by limiting the ability to grow or shrink the photo size through the use of the zoom. With the prime, to change the box size, you must move towards or away from your subject which also modifies the relationships of objects within the frame at the same time thus changing your composition. This in turn forces you to further understand your composition and put more thought into it as you create.

In addition to the creative side, there is also the “speed” factor related to these lenses.

Optimally, I would shoot at ISO 100 at all times, if I could, but with typical zoom lenses (f/3.5 – f/5.6), those speeds are greatly limited by smaller apertures especially when zooming in closer to your subject.

Prime lenses lack this limitation and offer 2 to 4 times more light through the lens an onto your sensor (or film).

For a photographer, this greater amount of light corresponds to the “speed” at which either the shutter can be set or the ISO/ASA rating of the film/sensor being used.

Ansel offers some wonderful explanations of the relationships between Aperture, Shutter Speed, and Film Speed, in his series of books “The Camera”, “The Negative”, and “The Print.”

In essence, these break down to a 1:1 ratio between all three elements.

Doubling the ISO is equal to doubling the shutter speed or increasing one f-stop on the lens (roughly).

So, at ISO-100 with a 1/10th shutter speed at f/1.2 would be equal to:

· ISO-200 with a 1/20th shutter speed at f/1.4
· ISO-200 with a 1/10th shutter speed at f/2.0
· ISO-400 with a 1/20th shutter speed at f/2.0

ISO speeds start at 100 and increase by powers of 2 from there. IE: 100, 200, 400, 800, and 1600 (with 3200, 6400, 12.8k, and 25.6k being further multiples now being seen in digital cameras).

Apertures start ideally at 1.0, 1.4, 2.0, 2.8, 4.0, 5.6, 8, 11, 16, 22, 32 being the common major numbers. More information about f-stops is available here http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/F-number and about apertures here http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Aperture.

This increase in “speed” allows me to shoot indoors under very low light conditions at lower ISOs. Again, ideally I would prefer the lowest possible ISO setting on my camera (ISO 100 or ISO 200 depending on the model) as this gives me the least amount of noise.

For illustration purposes, I will include several recent prime lens photographs utilizing this technique.

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Today, Tomorrow, and Forever

What would you do if you knew today was your last day to live?

There would be no more tomorrow. These last few hours are all that you have left with family, friends, dreams, and your life.

· Would you stay sitting at your computer ‘till the late night hours helping the company you work for improve its bottom line?
· Would you run out screaming into the streets in pure panic?
· Would you fall into a fetal ball crumbling under the humbling emotions of a terminal nature?
· Would you live out some fantasy you’ve never had the courage to overcome?

This is a tough question to ask, but it is one that I try to ask myself every day.

We never know what our last moment will be on this planet, at least not at this age, and this mantra helps keep my focus towards the things that really matter.

· Is it really worth me getting caught up with the fact that the kids are going to bed later than they probably should justbecause I’m spending time reading books and playing games with them?
· Should I really be upset that I’m letting a deadline slip at the office so I can come home on time to be with my wife and children?
· Shouldn't being mad at Jocie for unrolling yet another toilet paper roll on the floor be less important than realizing the fun she’s just had doing it and enjoying the moment of bliss she’s having?

The interactions we create with other life paths should be one of our most important goals in thinking about living our lifes.

What role should material possesions play in our lives?

I love my toys… I really do… they make me happy, that much is true, but the truth is you can’t take these things with you when you “go.”

This is true, but one other aspect to consider is how these material possessions help us to create and remember events and people that have touched our lives: pictures, movies, music, buildings, travel, etc (you get the picture).

It's not what you have that matters, it's what you do with it that really counts.

In a recent segment on NPR, an author released a book on the geography of happiness. This was an interesting segment that pointed out that the US is not a very happy place to live, and that even small underdeveloped nations can experience greater amounts of joy by just living out their lives to the fullest rather than getting caught up in money and success.

One of the other points the author makes is that to experience life-long joy, one of the things we need to do is to spend at least fifteen minutes a day thinking about death.

Wierd, huh?

What a revelation this was to hear and to put into practice in our own lives.

Thinking about death and how much we need to pack in the meaningful things between the bookends that surround our existence has taught me about what matters most.

It has taught me that I need to make memories with my kids.

Make joy for my wife.

If I die tomorrow, what will define my immortality?

Even though we may be gone, what imprint do we leave in the memories and impressions of those we leave behind?

In a controversial discussion about the one single person who had the greatest impact on the 20th century, the name of Adolf Hitler kept coming to the front of the list. While at first I was appalled at just the thought of this horrible man getting any form of credit after the horrors he brought on mankind, but after further reflection, I realized that although his actions were atrocious, he may have had the greatest impact on life in the past hundred years.

This is not the history I’d like to create for myself, but, I use it as an example about making an impact.

I would really like to have an impact on people and the lives I’ve touched, and in a good way.

So, ask yourself these questions each day. Try to live life to its fullest. Don’t sweat the small stuff (Joanne… this means you!!!) and live today in the image you’d like to remember yourself as in death or in late life.

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