It's Been A Great Ride For A Friend

My boss and friend is about to hang up his spurs he's worn the past 25 years at Arizona Highways magazine. Director of Photography Peter Ensenberger retires this week after 300 monthly issues under his guidance. It's been a heck of a ride for Pete, his photographers and the magazine. And, without hesitation, I can say that shooting for this travel magazine has given me the greatest pleasure of my 35 year career in photography. Pete made it a very enjoyable ride. He's got a book offer and some other ventures spinning around his head. He won't be idle for long. Stepping up to the magazine's head photo job is another good friend and photographer, Jeff Kida. This guy doesn't miss a beat. He's already got his spurs on and ready to ride this bull. In this business, things seldom stay the same. Except for the friendships. That's what makes being an Arizona Highways photographer so gratifying. That and making great pictures.

Life Is Good With Friends Like These.

Arizona's Tree vs. Nowhere's Tree

Arizona’s official state tree is the Palo Verde. Nowhere has two official trees; one for the summer months and one for the winter. Every residential lot is required to have a lemon tree, and lemonade is the official summer drink. The town’s goal: a lemonade stand on every corner June through September. The official winter tree is the mesquite - a desert tree which burns hot and its smoke offers a very delightful flavor to meats grilled over its flames. For years, Juan Luis down at Nowhere’s Almost Famous BBQ - Taco Stand & Taxi Service, holds a Mesquite Fest every weekend December through February. But there’s a kink in Juan’s plans. You see, lemons grow back every year, but mesquite trees take 15+ years to mature. So how do Nowhere residents get around this dilemma? Import the mesquite.

In Nowhere in the summer, life is good with sweet lemonade on every corner.

Love Peace and What?

We've been busy, and that's a good thing for a photographer. After an unusually slow spring, things are popping around here. I've leaving Nowhere now for the cool pines of northern Arizona. This weekend the boys and I have a booth at the Route 66 Chili Cookoff Saturday in Flagstaff and the Arizona State Chili Cookoff Sunday in Payson. We won't be cooking chili but we will be selling our new Arizona Chile Poster (see the October 13, 2008 blurb on this blog), our line of T-shirts and other chile stuff. Cool Country - Hot Chiles. Sounds pretty good to me. Oh, better add a cerveza or three. I hope you enjoy the weekend as much as we will. Then it'll be back to Nowhere and back to work.

A dozen bowls of chili will make life good.

... And The Living Is Easy

Nothing says summertime around Nowhere than kids running through open fields, flying kits and selling lemonade on a street corner. It's been a couple of weeks since I last posted (my apologies), but I've been traveling as fast and furious as a flock of Canadian geese just trying to get back north for their summer fun. Chasing a kite reminds me of my summers growing up on in a rural spot in northern Iowa. At the time, I thought I was nowhere. Who would have thunk that twenty years later I'd end up in Nowhere, Arizona? Here in Nowhere reminds me a lot of Goldfield, Iowa: small town, friendly folks and kids oblivious to conditions outside of Nowhere. Kids from Nowhere don't know it yet, but they're making memories of the good old days. I hope they come to appreciate them as much as I do. Have a great June, folks. I'll be nowhere except in Nowhere.

'Cause Life Here Is Good.

Wealth and Priviledge

My father becomes an octogenarian this week. He looks back over the decades of farming and says it seems just like yesterday. I'm departing Nowhere shortly to celebrate with him and Mom.

I am the oldest of six sons born to dirt farmers Jim and Eileen Stevenson. As far as possessions, we certainly weren't wealthy or privileged. We may not have had what we wanted, but our parents sought to it that we always had what we needed.

My five brothers and I lived in a 100-year-old house in a very rural part of northern Iowa. We didn't wear clothes from fancy department stores nor did we ever have elaborate play things from Toys R Us. Our mother hand-sewed many of the clothes we wore as children. And a great percent of our toys were hand made by my father or purchased third or fourth hand.

From the age of 10, my parents insisted I do my share of the daily farm chores. I gathered dozens of eggs in a musty hen house from beneath several hundred chickens each morning. I weeded countless miles of soybean field rows and bailed endless fields of alfalfa even though I was a severe asthmatic. I learned to artificially inseminate cows, deliver newborn calves and mercifully put dying runt piglets out of their misery.

Forty years ago this summer, my parents bought me my first camera - a Pentax K1000 with one 50mm lens. It seems like yesterday. Neither they nor I could have imagined that this gift would lead me into a wondrous 35-year-career in photography. I still have that camera. And I still have my parents. It's the right time to make another picture of them at his birthday party.

Was I privileged growing up? You bet I was. I had the greatest wealth of all: two loving parents. And I'm thankful beyond words.

Happy Birthday, pops. Now, keep your hands off of mom.

Two Loving Parents = Life Is Good.