All I know about Dennis Forbis is he is a nice man. A patient man. A forgiving man. We workout at the same fitness center and he always remembers my name. And I seem to have some sort of mental block that prevents me from remembering his. Once or twice is embarrassing. Half a dozen times is mortifying.
So tonight I interrupted his workout to snap this photo and I’m posting it here in an effort to burn Dennis’ image and name into my brain. I’m even giving Dennis his own tag: Nice Man.
Dennis, if you’re reading this, let’s have a beer. I want to know your lift story. I want vivid details that I can never forget.
I don’t remember how I happened across Jonathan Brownfield. One of those six degrees of Twitter things, probably. Jonathan is a professional sports photographer and has shot games involving “our” teams so that was probably it.
Along the way he mentioned visiting family in Missouri over the holidays so I tweeted him with an invite to stop by for lunch/tour/interview. Today was the day.
Here’s some background from one of Jonathan’s websites (for those that take a pass on the interview):
“While in high school, I started working as an assistant for Sports Illustrated photographer, David Klutho. That marked the beginning of my career as a professional photographer. This lead to having over 20 photos published in Sports Illustrated.
When I started college I began working for the University of Missouri Athletic Department and became their Head of Photography. Besides shooting, I coordinated a group of photographers to make sure every home event was covered.
During my sophomore year I was recruited by Hooters to photograph some of the local girls for the 2008 and 2009 calendars and the 2008 Miss Hooters International Beauty Pageant.
I currently shoot sports for US Presswire.
Now days my work is regularly seen in USA Today, ESPN Magazine, and in the LA Times.”
Did I mention that Jonathan is 23 years old?
I made a list of questions to ask a professional sports photographer only to discover that Jonathan has branched out from that (still a passion but now kind of a weekend thing). I rambled on with my questions so I’ve chopped the visit into two, 20-minutes chunks. The first one is mostly bio and social media. The second finally gets around to some sports stuff.
I was very impressed with Jonathan. Accomplishing what he has at 23, it would be easy to conclude one’s poop is odorless. He is what your grandmother called “a nice young man.”
You can see some of his photography here. He blogs here. And he’s @johnnybond86 on Twitter.
Sarah Palin has another book signing at noon today at the Barnes & Noble in Sioux City, Iowa. Supporters spent the night in the parking lot in hopes of getting their book signed. My friend Kay drove up from Des Moines to cover the event and took some photos. The wind chill was about 9 degrees.
Her story and photos got me thinking about things about which I care enough to wait in line, in the cold (I hate both). I couldn’t come up with much.
There was the time George (pictured), David and I waited in bitter cold weather to attend a taping of Digg Nation in St. Louis.
I had not idea San Francisco could be so cold at 4:30 a.m. or I would not have waited in line to see Steve Jobs give a keynote at MacWorld.
But the coldest of the cold will always be (I hope) the inauguration. My hands are shaking just typeing these words.
For whom/what have you/are you willing to wait all night in the freezing cold?
When I started at Learfield Communications in 1984, the business was operated from a 3-story brick house on McCarty Street in Jefferson City, MO. The rooms were jammed with desks and partitions and the kitchen was the “common area.” In this photo (below), you see Clyde, Clarice Brown, Bob Priddy (all still with us) and a few others.
This image captures that time very well. There was very much a family feel to the company. The days of high-tech conference rooms were many years in the future. This is one of several images I scanned from a contact sheet (thus the poor quality). The original prints are undoubtedly buried in a box in some closet.
All I know about Dennis Forbis is he is a nice man. A patient man. A forgiving man. We workout at the same fitness center and he always remembers my name. And I seem to have some sort of mental block that prevents me from remembering his. Once or twice is embarrassing. Half a dozen times is mortifying.
