Gabriella

As I've often mentioned, I love photographing children. Capturing their wonder and candor is both a challenge and a privilege. Gabriella is on the cusp of adulthood -- old enough to portray complex emotions, yet young enough to be candid. She is an incredible young woman. I think that quality shines through here.

A tragedy today, and how it affected my autistic daughter

I don't normally post about my daughter Emily's behaviors here. As you may know, she has moderate-to-severe autism and epilepsy and is mostly nonverbal. She has a lot going on, but she handles it well most of the time. Today, we had a very, very rough day.

Emily and I took a selfie when we got on the train.

Chris and Emily and I were in the last passenger car on the 9:55 AM Long Island Railroad (LIRR) train from Hicksville to Penn Station, where we planned to meet Emily's dad, Tim. Tim was going to take Emily out for a fun day together in the city while Chris and I attended the Big Apple BBQ with a friend who lives in Manhattan. It was a good day. The sun was shining. And we were all ignoring the nice weather outside and staring at our electronic devices instead. Emily was jamming to Adam Ant on her iPod. Chris was busy on his iPad. I was checking out Facebook on my iPhone. (We're an Apple family.)

Then our train stopped. The lights stayed on, but the air conditioning turned off. The LIRR has been in the news a lot recently due to bad commuter service delays and cancelations. We sighed, figuring it was the usual; a signal failure or a train stopped on the tracks ahead of us. We'd just passed the Queens Village station.

What happened

After a few minutes, the conductor spoke over the intercom. He said that we would not be moving for a while. I barely listened. It was just the LIRR being the LIRR. These things happen. Chris messaged our friend, telling him we would be late. People started making phone calls, complaining. A few minutes later, the conductor spoke again, giving the reason for our delay. My stomach turned when I heard this:

"A pedestrian was struck. We will be sitting here for a while. We don't know yet when the train will be running again. Thank you for your patience."

Pedestrians don't generally survive close encounters with a speeding commuter train. A short time later, the conductor spoke again, calling it a fatality, and requesting that any LIRR personnel or police officers on board move up to the first car. A man sitting a few rows ahead of us got up and walked toward the front of the train.

I was sad. Most pedestrian fatalities on the LIRR are suicides. Two years ago, one of my former coworkers ended his life by stepping in front of a train. I thought of him, his family, his friends.

We waited. The sun beat down on the windows. Trains generate a lot of heat, which is normally tempered in the summer by air conditioning. We were hot and uncomfortable. Many people started bitching about the heat and the inconvenience. I dabbed perspiration from my forehead and judged them silently. At least you aren't dead, I thought. Death is a bit more inconvenient than being late for brunch. To my left, Chris raised an eyebrow and continued doing whatever he was doing on his iPad. To my right, Emily bopped her head quietly in time to the song on her iPod. I was proud of her. She was late getting to see her dad, but she was taking it in stride, not making inappropriate vocalizations or having a meltdown. I squeezed her knee. What a champ.

The conductor made announcements every ten minutes or so. He apologized for our inconvenience and still couldn't provide an answer as to when we might be moving again. After forty minutes or so of the heat, emergency workers came through the train with boxes of emergency water. We took some. Emily was disappointed; the water came in packaging that resembled a juice box. The water was room temperature and definitely not fruit-flavored.

At last, after about an hour, a group of police officers and firefighters appeared and directed us to line up and walk back to the last car. Rather than move to the nearest station to detrain, we were to be evacuated from the open rear door of the last car via a set of temporary stairs that resembled a ladder. This was when I realized we had a problem.

How our ordeal began

Like me, Emily has low blood pressure. She gets dizzy easily and sometimes develops vertigo. This, combined with her epilepsy and her knowledge that she could have a seizure and collapse at any moment, has resulted in an understandable sense of insecurity; she always needs hand-holding on stairs. Open stairs and escalators terrify her, and she will walk far out of her way to avoid them. For this reason, we only board LIRR trains at stations that have an elevator.

This is where it gets difficult to write about our experience. I alerted the nearest person in authority, a firefighter, that Emily has disabilities and cannot navigate the ladder. He asked if we could try it; maybe with assistance, Emily could manage it. I said we'd try. Ahead of us, an elderly woman was assisted down the ladder, with emergency personnel supporting her arms and legs. I could see what they planned to do, and I was pretty sure Emily wouldn't do it. Still, we had to give her the chance; she could surprise us. When it was our turn, Chris went down the ladder ahead of us so Emily could see how it was done. Emily began screaming and struggling, flailing arms and legs and knocking into my face. That would be manageable if she were a small child, but Emily is 21 years old, and just about my height. It was scary. The firefighters conceded we would have to wait and see what alternatives they could come up with.

Chris wasn't allowed to reenter the train to join us. Emily and I were seated in the last car, sweltering, as hundreds of people moved past us and navigated the ladder without an issue. Emily was perfectly content to sit and sip from her water box. I texted Emily's father that we were going to be a very long time.

A special NYPD officer approached me and introduced himself to Emily and me as "Bryan." Bryan made conversation with us, making friends with Emily. The plan was to put Emily into a stair chair, a lightweight transportation device used in emergency situations by EMTs and firefighters to evacuate wheelchair users and other disabled people. Bryan explained to her that she would sit in the chair, put on a seatbelt, and be lifted off the train onto the ground. She could still listen to her iPod and hold his hand the whole way. Did that sound good? Emily said yes.

The stair chair was already in use (Emily was not the only passenger who required this assistance), so Bryan waited with us, chatting with Emily about ice cream and other things she likes. "When you get off the train, Emily, I think you deserve two scoops of ice cream. What do you think, Mom?" I agreed. If Emily could get herself off the train, she could have all the ice cream she wanted.

I asked Bryan about the person who'd been struck. He looked sad. "We don't know for certain why he was on the tracks, but it was a worker. Just a guy trying to make his living, feed his family." That was all he knew. I closed my eyes and hoped the end had been swift and painless. I hoped that true.

Chris texted to say other people were being transported in the stair chair. It might be a while. He was right about that. When it finally arrived, Bryan explained the stair chair again and helped Emily into it. She was okay until she looked behind her and saw the open door. Emily freaked out. Bryan was still trying to fasten the seatbelts, but my 105-pound daughter leaped up, bringing the chair with her, screaming in terror. I jumped up and helped Bryan take off the remaining seatbelt so she could be free of the chair. Emily planted herself in another seat and refused to move. She was crying.

The minutes ticked by. Bryan stuck with us. He gave Emily his sunglasses to wear. "These are magic sunglasses, Emily. When you wear them, nothing can hurt you." Emily put them on, and we made a big deal about how brave she looked in them. Emily was unconvinced. I didn't expect her to be; we've never used "magic" things to convince her of anything, and she's pretty smart -- she knew something was up, but she gave us a chance. In all fairness, Bryan was doing his best and I think his strategy would have been effective on just about any other person with Emily's disability. Bryan got a sheet, which he called a magic blanket. With the blanket wrapped around her, she'd be even more safe. She remained unconvinced, but Bryan and I managed to talk her into getting into the chair again, wearing the magic sunglasses. When Bryan tried to wrap the magic sheet around her, she had another freakout moment, worse than previous. She flailed violently -- not with intent to hurt, just for self-preservation -- and knocked my hat off my head. Emily was terrified, shaking, and justifiably angry with me and Bryan for tricking her.

I held her until she calmed down. I took over the explanations. I was straightforward about the situation: "We have to get off the train, and the chair is the only way to do it. You have no choice here, and you must trust me. You know it's safe because I'm the one telling you it's safe. You know I would never lie to you. Can you get into the chair, please?" No. I sat in the chair and tightened the seatbelts, smiling at her as I did so. "You see? It's easy. And then they will lift you up and carry you off the train where it's safe." I undid the seat belts. "Now, can you get into the chair, please?" Trembling, Emily stood and walked to the chair. She hesitated before sitting. She was crying, tears spilling down her cheeks as we held eye contact. I tightened the straps around her. Bryan made knots in the straps so she couldn't escape from them again. She wept softly. My brave girl. Suddenly, three firefighters were lifting her up and moving her backward to a side door I hadn't realized was open, and Emily was screaming, flailing. One of her shoes flew off. She clawed at Bryan's arms, desperate to make contact with the ground. I wanted to jump out the door and onto the tracks, but the firefighters stopped me and directed me to take the ladder stairs down from the rear door and come around to the side.

I ran to the back door and hesitated. The ladder stairs really did look frightening. Emergency workers put up their hands and I descended with their help, only to be stopped again. The workers had to lay rubber sheets down on the live third rails so I wouldn't be electrocuted hopping over them. It took only a few seconds, but they were the longest seconds of all. All I could think of was Emily. I couldn't see her from the rear side of the train, but I could hear her continuing to scream and thrash. Rubber sheets in place, I hurried over to where my daughter sat, still restrained in the chair, surrounded by officers and firefighters. Bryan was bleeding from deep scratches in his forearms. They released the straps, and Emily clung to me. She was afraid of getting up now. She was afraid of walking on railroad tracks, which she's been told her entire life not to walk on except at pedestrian crossings. Chris appeared, and together we got Emily started walking. An officer stopped Chris to ask for Emily's name and address; I don't know why. Bryan walked with Emily and me to the Queens Village LIRR station. I don't recall how long we walked, but it wasn't far.

When we reached the platform, Emily clutched at me and shrieked. It was only accessible from the tracks via another ladder.

Bryan and I looked at each other. The train platform wasn't that high. I'm five foot three, and my chin cleared it. Emily clung to my arm as I thought about it. I looked at Bryan. "Can we just lift her up? Once she has her butt up there, she'll be okay. She'll still be scared, but she'll be okay." That was what we did (not me -- Bryan and a firefighter lifted her from below, while Chris and other emergency personnel lifted from above). I ran around to the ladder and hurried up to where Emily was sobbing and shaking in someone's arms.

Screenshot of the alert on the LIRR app.

Together, we walked along the platform to the exit. Bryan warned me not to look to my right as we passed the scene of the accident. I made the mistake of doing so anyway, and had to fight back the urge to vomit. I'll never forget what I saw.

Thank goodness the Queens Village station has an elevator. We were able to take it down to the street level below. Bryan was still with us. Emily was still clinging to my side. Chris hovered protectively. Bryan explained the LIRR had provided buses to drive everyone to the next station, where we could continue our journey. Chris and I looked at each other. We looked at Emily's tear-stained face. We thanked Bryan and took a Lyft back to our car in Hicksville.

Afterward

Emily wanted pizza, not ice cream. We took her for pizza. She wanted her dad. He took the train to Hicksville and they spent the afternoon at the mall. She was low-key, happy to see him. When I picked her up a few hours later, she was exhausted and ready to go home. She's safe in bed now, watching a movie on her laptop and sipping her favorite ginger ale. Her voice is still hoarse from all the screaming. I'm looking in on her a lot, probably too often -- I think I'm beginning to annoy her. But when I went in just now, she sat up and wrapped her arms around me. We hugged for a long time. I told her she'd had a rough day, that even though she was afraid, she'd been brave by allowing us to put her in the chair. She'd done the right thing. I told her that tomorrow would be a better day. It almost certainly will.

It's important to note that I feel very sorry for the worker who was killed. What our family went through today seems small, compared to what his family must be experiencing right now. I don't know his name, but I wish for the best for his family.

Finally, Chris and I are grateful for all the patient support Emily and we received. A thousand people had to be evacuated from that train, and we were certainly the most work for them. We're especially grateful to Officer Bryan Marksteiner for his assistance. Without him, Emily and I might still be on that train.

An afternoon with Beth Spierer

I got to spend the afternoon with the amazing Beth Spierer. You may have seen her in James Franco's "The Deuce," as well as in a boatload of independent movies and local commercials. We started out with some raw, simple head shots, but things got out of hand quickly, in the best way possible. Here are some of the results. Beth is a real pro, and a very good sport!

Click on any image to see a full-size version.

Signs of London

Last time I was in London was October 2014. It was a short trip, but I made good use of it. While Chris attended a conference, I took advantage of my free time to catch up with an old friend, eat lovely greasy fish at a chippy, do a couple of touristy things, and indulge in my favorite pastime in a foreign city: wander the streets in search of something different.

London did not disappoint. Signs were a special joy -- the British wit contrasts sharply with that of the U.S. I hope you'll find some pleasure here.

Sutro Baths

June 2012 was my first trip to California. Chris and I wandered San Francisco for several days, hitting many of the usual tourist sites: Lombard Street, Coit Tower, Chinatown, Japantown, Fisherman's Wharf, Golden Gate Park, the Mission District, Delores Park... It was glorious, but overwhelming. After a few days, we both craved solitude -- or at least a reprieve from the constant crowds.

I'd wanted to visit Sutro Baths for years. The concrete ruins are all that remains of what was for decades a thriving center of entertainment and society. The Baths, which opened in 1896, comprised seven swimming pools (mostly saltwater pools) with the combined capacity for 10,000 people to swim at one time. Can you imagine? They also housed an amphitheater, art galleries, restaurants, an ice skating rink, arcades, shops, and in later years, even amusement park rides. The Baths burned down in the 1960s, and were never rebuilt.

We arrived on a dark, misty day. Winds chopped the water into whitecaps. Hardly anyone else was there -- a strange thing, considering it's a National Historic Site and listed among the National Parks -- leaving us to wander alone the ruins.

For me, it was the highlight of the trip. I can't wait to return, preferably on a similarly ethereal day.

Forgotten works

Google Photos is an interesting app. I just started using it recently. Over the past week, it's been through some of my archived photos (well over 50,000, just since 2007), creating collages and GIFs and panoramas that I might not have thought to create myself.

The cool thing is that the app is bringing up photos I haven't seen, or even thought of, in years. Most of them predate my having a high-quality digital camera. The resolution isn't as crisp, which is probably why I don't look at these oldies much. Still, Google Photos has reminded me of several photos from that era that I'm really happy with. Here are a few. Enjoy.

Emily in the sun

My daughter loves to sit in a sunny window. Over the past couple of days, we've taken advantage of good light in the mornings to get some slice-of-life shots. The last photo, in the cream lace top, was late in the afternoon today.

What's your favorite time of day for portraits?

Jackson Hole, Wyoming - Part 3: Water

The glacial lakes in Jackson Hole are stunning. Clear and reflective, with a perfect blue cast. I'm not sure I've ever seen such pure water in nature. I grew up on Lake Erie, and I've been to the Gulf of Mexico, the Caribbean Sea, and the Aegean Sea. I've seen the Pacific Ocean from near San Francisco and of course, I live on Long Island, with the Atlantic Ocean half an hour from my door. In my experience, nothing compares to the glacial lakes for clarity and reflectivity.

Lake Jenny, at the foot of Cascade Canyon.

Not all of the water in Jackson Hole is the result of glacial melting. The Snake River is the main water feature. Below is a view of the Snake from the Oxbow Bend.

Probably my favorite glacial lake is the one we encountered on Mount Glory. Surrounded on three sides by mountain, this (as far as I know) nameless crystal lake feels secret and special. It took a two-hour uphill hike to get to it. We spent an hour walking the perimeter, taking photos, and basking in the quiet.

There's very little distortion from the water. You can see the rocks below the surface in great detail from far away.

Try as I might, I couldn't fit the whole lake into the scope of my 210mm lens. That little blue speck on the shore on the right? That's Chris. It's that big.

It wasn't all clear. There was some algae or something clouding the water here.

from a technical point of view, not one of my best photos. The lake was more blue than green. Still, amazing to look at.

In my next installment, we'll wrap up with some close-up flora and a few people. I hope you're enjoying this little travelogue as much as I am.

Jackson Hole, Wyoming - Part 2: Mountains

Buildings in the Mormon Row Historic District

Jackson Hole is big. Really, really big. The buildings in the photo above are big ones, but they're dwarfed by the mountains in the distance and swallowed up by the open prairie. We didn't get to approach the houses and barn -- this shot uses a telephoto lens -- but we saw enough to be impressed by the isolation here.

The Tetons are technically taller than the Rockies. Though the Rockies have higher altitude, their base is much higher than their younger neighbors. The Tetons are significantly larger, measured from base to peak(s). Being younger, less erosion has taken place on the Tetons, allowing them to retain the inverted-triangle shape that most of us imagine when we think of mountains.

I used a telephoto lens for most of these photos. Photographing mountains up close is a lot like trying to take a picture of the Empire State Building from Fifth Avenue and 34th Street; all you see is a tiny portion of the base, with no sense of scale to see how big it actually is.

The mountains are literally miles away. — The mountains are literally *miles* away.

More next time. For now, I'll leave you with my attempt at recreating the famous Ansel Adams photo of the Snake River. I'm no Ansel Adams, but I think it came out okay.

Jackson Hole, Wyoming

Chris and I traveled to Jackson, Wyoming in September to visit Grand Teton National Park and to ramble around Jackson Hole. We arrived at the perfect time: the air was crisp and clean, the skies were huge, and the summer tourists had left. It just couldn't get any better.

View from the Chapel of the Transfiguration, Grand Teton National Park.

In just under three days, we visited national historic sites like the Chapel of the Transfiguration (pictured above) and Cunningham's Cabin (below), rested by glacial lakes, came face to face with wild bison, and climbed Mount Glory (sounds more arduous than it was -- a six-mile hike).

Cunningham Cabin, the site of a notorious turn-of-the-century massacre.

Later this week, I'll post more photos. It was a deeply moving experience, and one that might be best in small doses. Enjoy.

Family visit

While visiting family in Temperance, Michigan, I got some nice shots of my dad and stepmom, as well as their cats. Enjoy!

Heading into their fourth decade together

Experiments in bokeh

Lately, I've been spending a lot of time in my garden in the early mornings. Because my new Sony Alpha 6300 has excellent dynamic range, I've started experimenting with bokeh, using my 18-200mm telephoto lens.

The telephoto makes it easy. In most of my shots, I'm actually 3-4 feet away, using a 100-140mm focal length.

Another tulip. I don't really have many tulips in my yard -- it's just that they're highly photogenic (even when giving up the ghost, as this was).

I'll post more flower photos as spring progresses. For now, here's a spruce branch, waving goodbye (until another day).

Members' Style Spotlight with Bettye Rainwater

I've been fortunate enough to do photo shoots with Bettye Rainwater three times now for her blog, www.fashionschlub.com. It's hard to take credit for these photos, because Bettye is an excellent, experienced photographer in her own right, and she lines up most of the shots herself.

One of the shots from our second shoot made the Members' Style Spotlight on www.gwynniebee.com. the center of the headline, actually. Bettye looks fabulous, as always, and if I do say so myself, I think I captured her quite well.

Hooray, team Fashion Schlub! And many thanks to Bettye for letting me play sidekick. It's always fun.

Nina Paley on top of the world

Artist, animator, cyclist, and general Renaissance woman Nina Paley

Friday, I got to have lunch with the amazing Nina Paley at Google NYC. Nina is an artist extraordinaire, and I was lucky to get a couple of hours with her for lunch and a photo shoot on the rooftop terrace of the Google building in New York City. Here are a few of my favorite shots.

Bruce Teifer

This afternoon, I had the pleasure of photographing local actor, director, and playwright Bruce Teifer. Bruce is a natural (and patient) model, and a joy to work with!

Just the Right Amount of Kooky?

I was very fortunate this past weekend to have helped take photos of Bettye Rainwater for her blog Fashionschlub.com. Bettye's a terrific photographer in her own right, and I learned a lot in just an hour! I can't really take credit for these photos -- she lined up the shots, I just made with the click -- but it was a thrill to be involved in such a cool and body-positive project.

Thanks, Bettye! Let's do it again soon.

Charity event for JAFCO

The organizers of the JAFCO fundraising event

Last night, I took photos for a step-and-repeat at the Jewish Adoption and Family Care Options (JAFCO) fundraising event at Novita Wine Bar in Garden City. JAFCO is raising money to build a home for abused and neglected kids here on Long Island. As a parent, this cause is near and dear to my heart, so I was delighted to be able to help.

Big thanks also to my capable and enthusiastic assistant, Heather Jackson, who kept things running smoothly and wrangled the line of people waiting for photos. She's a great assistant and a lovely friend!

An Afternoon with AUTISM DADDY

I was very lucky today to have a photo session last weekend with Frank Campagna, author of the popular parenting blog "Autism Daddy." It was particularly exciting for me because, like Frank's son, my own daughter has autism and epilepsy. We had a great conversation and got some fantastic shots.

Thanks, Frank!

MY WORK IN THE NEW YORK TIMES

Joe-Garden_&_Griffin-Newman_by_Amy-Frushour-Kelly

I'm excited to report that a photo I took of Joe Garden and Griffin Newman was used in a New York Times article called "Humbug as a Holiday Enhancer." The NYT gave Griff and Joe's holiday-themed improv show a nice mention, and they were nice enough to include my photo. Congratulations all around!

My photo is on Buzzfeed!

An article on Buzzfeed includes one of my photos of author Stacy Pershall. I'm not credited (they credit the source they got the photo from, which is fine), but it still feels pretty good to have a photo up on a popular mainstream website. Scroll down to #8 to see (screenshot attached, too).