The photo above is one of my favorites from 2022.

It was made with my cellphone while walking away from the Cochranton Fairgrounds after documenting gubernatorial candidate Doug Mastriano's visit this summer. This couple had attended to hear what he had to say and I ended up behind them as they were heading back to their car. I saw them holding hands and made a couple frames as they strolled over the walking bridge. The starburst from the sun was an added bonus.

Every year photojournalists around the world share a selection of images they made over the course of the last 12 months. We do this as a breath and as a time to evaluate what we're doing and how we're doing it. We do it to share with our readers and colleagues to emphasize that being a witness is important.

​Sometimes we are pleasantly surprised at all the things we captured and the way we captured them. Some years we knock it out of the park and other years our eye and reflexes might not have been quite as keen.

This year, I wouldn't call stellar in terms of portfolio possibilities, but boy did I cover a lot of things. As I look at all these images I remind myself I am witness to life around me and the images I make, whether they are portfolio worthy or not are important documents of our time and the people and places that I capture ina fraction of a second.

Below is a selection of images from 2022 that are in this collection either because I just like them or there was something important that I was witness to and captured.

This was quite a politically charged year across the country. The Supreme Court overturning 50 years of precedent and taking the Roe v. Wade federal protection with it appeared to shape the election year, in part, like a line drawn in the sand.

It certainly seemed to energize the Democrats.  And moderates in Pennsylvania began leaning slightly left with the eventual election of John Fetterman to the United States Senate and Josh Shapiro as Governor. 

But as with every election, while debates raged on social media, in print and television news outlets, and between candidates themselves, life in our communities went on.  All of us with varied political, religious and ideological stances form the community we live and events we enjoy.

No place shows this better than local fairs. The below photo, from the Rocky Grove Fireman's Fair, has so much of the makeup of the community all in one shot. At the time of taking this, I thought it was the best image I had made in a long time. A snapshot (pardon the pun) of how we each live our lives - separate yet together. And it has a "flying" carny making it all the better.

Little moments where we're in a crowd, in public, yet within that connection to each other, we are still ourselves, with our people. Somehow we can still be in a little bubble where it is just a singular connection with someone for a moment.

 I love being able to capture those little connections that go by us in a blink of an eye.

I also love capturing those moments that are constant. Some of our neighbors wear their lives on their sleeves. Martha Heisse loves music and theater and dedicates what seems like every breath she breathes to teaching young people about the joy of performance. She is a community gem and one I love capturing as her passion bubbles out everywhere. I love it, even more, when I can capture how her students begin to understand and embrace what she is teaching.

I am also very fortunate to be invited to witness what could seem mundane to those not directly involved. If we take the time to look, read and reflect, we realize these moments are connections to like experiences and memories.

If we just pay attention and learn, even a simple opening of a spoiled class time capsule can show a bit of who we are as a community.

And Scouts retiring flags can teach us a lot more than the proper way to dispose of our nation's symbol, but also the changing landscape of our communities. If we look over the years we see fewer scouts getting involved and doing the work. In fact, the final Scout troop in the Franklin area, with only three who attended June's retirement ceremony, no longer exists.

Who might pick up the slack to do what is needed? Are these service organizations a thing of the past?  Is there a next great thing for youth? These are questions, if we truly analyze what we're seeing, that these photographs pose.

Believe it or not, these are things that I think of constantly as I go about documenting and telling stories about the community. They often lead to more stories.

I admit to being drawn to children at events, especially when I see them engaging with adults and adults giving them the respect of teaching valuable lessons. Perhaps it was my relationships with my grandparents and many older people growing up, but every time I photograph old and young coming together for a common bond I think of my own childhood and how those connections shaped who I am today.

And the teachers and coaches I had too. Both good and bad. I often think of my "bad" coaches who taught me two very important key lessons. One - humility. I felt cheated in a sense, but have come to know that if I listened more, perhaps I would've grown more. And two - be a better coach/teacher than they were. ​The teachers and coaches I respected the most really took the time to explain the why behind the how so I could excel even further in time.

Mostly, while covering community stories I enter with a clear mind and do my best to observe without preconceptions. "Try" is the key word. It is hard to not have some thoughts going in, but I find I do my best work overall when I enter the assignment about as dumb as moss. My hope is to exit the experience knowing something I didn't know or meet someone I had never before met.

In the end, my goal is to record little moments of life that people relate to and then, hopefully, self-reflect.

Like a skipping jokester teenage football player on senior night.

How self-devotion guides us.

Inspiration lifts us.

Skill lets us shine.

Battles of will test us.

Acknowledging we are not doing this alone.

We are playful.

The "what ifs" that come up unexpectedly.

Giving it you're all.

Making memories.

Knowing that people have your back. 

Toughness and guts.

Aspiring.

Overcoming obstacles.

Keeping an eye on the ball.

Understanding life happens despite our self-importance.

Teamwork and stepping up.

Taking a needed timeout. 

Expressing ever inch of yourself at once.

Being part of something greater.

Courage to be the only one with the vision to see.

Knowing that someone is helping you all the way.

Giving and giving, but taking a break to receive. 

There is honor.

There is rest.

There is uniqueness.

And curiosity.

And accomplishment.

We share.

We laugh.

We revel.

We rejoice.

We are challenged and then move on.

And we make breakthroughs.

And in the end we know what is important.

And who makes us better.

That we all have a story.

That we share this spinning rock in space.

And that rock is worth saving.

There are memories to be made.

There may be bumps.

But we build and learn together.

We can be the light.

Even when we are opposite, we are still the same.

The world community is small.

We can honor.

Try to hold on.

Witness.

Kid around.

Lead.

Stand out.

Set records.

Create.

Create more.

Love.

Love more.

Excel.

Say thanks.

Thank you all for a very active and interesting 2022.
​Forward!

Life I get. Death I do not.

This past weekend I learned we lost two local folks who I have come to slightly know in my work as a journalist. It is easy sometimes, looking at obituaries in the few newspapers that remain, to just gloss over them because we don't know who the people are really. But each one of those head and shoulders photographs has many who know them, love them and will miss them. They mourn and will forever be at a loss without them.

I lost my grandmother Sayer thirty years ago and it dawned on me today that, though she is still with me in the lessons she taught when I was smart enough to listen, I have lived more years without her than I did with her.

The understanding I have thinking of this is less than the distance between my thumb and forefinger pressed as tightly together as I can.

I understand life. Death I do not.

Last year I photographed a young Oil City man named Aaron McCracken. A jovial young man who had obviously been through hell, but still came out to the edge of the river to participate in something he loved, with a family he was born into and another he earned. The annual Rock in River stone skipping contest was a place Aaron made his mark with the nickname "The Kracken."

I truly didn't know him, I simply snapped a few photos of him throwing rocks and last year, after going through several bouts of chemotherapy, he tossed a couple whoppers and ended up in second place. In fact, his one throw of 46 skips was the best of any previous Rock in River champion. Unfortunately, another competitor that day blew the record away with a monster toss of over 50.

Tributes from the rock-skipping family poured over social media Sunday and Monday.

​"I'm not sure I have the words for this one...." wrote Dave Ohmer, a multiple Rock in River champion. "...The world lost another great personality. It's rare to find individuals like Aaron McCracken and when they pass on, they really do leave the world a darker place....his smile was contagious, and genuine always. His nature was undeniably good."

​I understand life. Death I do not.

The other loss I read about this weekend was James Reavis. He was a man I came to know as someone who always had something positive to say. I'll admit to several times saying hello and not truly knowing who he was, but his facial expressions in saying hello was infectious and like that of a family member.
He stopped me one time to tell me nice things about what I was doing for the community while I was still working at the Derrick and News-Herald. He was genuine and I appreciate that he took a moment to say hello and engage me for no other reason but to say thank you. When I was laid off and started doing what I do now, he came to me with concern and offered to help me in any way he could. He truly loved the community he was helping to build.

Again, I barely knew him, he barely knew me, but we shared the bond of love of community. And his kindness I will never forget. I will continue to see him as I document his children in the community as they make their difference in the world to honor their father and mother Jessie, who has been equally gracious to me even when I took a picture she didn't find very flattering.

​I understand life. Death I do not.

My heart goes out to these two families and the community has lost a lot this weekend, but hopefully gained in the long run from the lives of these two. They have given of themselves so that our lives could be better.

RIP.