Sarah Burke 1983-2012

The death today of four-time Winter X Games champion skier Sarah Burke will touch the hearts of many.

The 29 year-old Canadian was at the top of her game and she was a true role model for her peers and fans alike. She will be remembered not only for her  talents on the slopes and the half pipe but for her sportsmanship, radiant smile and the effervescence she exuded. Her affable way was contagious. Her grit and determination were to be admired.

In a world of sports filled with large egos, self-ingratiating individuals,  and arrogant ways, Sarah’s  style was as fresh as newly  fallen snow and as beautiful as the sun on a winter morning.

May we all remember the gracious competitor with fire in her belly. The awards podium at the Winter X Games will forever  be void of a special athlete and human being but her legend will gleam like a “Games” gold medal.

Sarah Burke competing in Women's Skiing Slopestyle at Aspen Buttermilk January 24, 2009

Last weekend I decided to travel to southeastern Washington to attend the wedding of my friend Tom Weaver’s son Joe. The wedding was in Pullman Washington, home of Washington State University. The easiest route for me was to fly from Denver to Spokane and then drive an hour and a half south to Pullman. That region of the state is known locally with affection as the Inland Northwest.

It does resemble portions of the west coast of the state with clumps of tall spruces reaching skyward from large green hills. The farther south you roam from Spokane the terrain begins a metamorphism into humongous rolling and undulating hills. The region is called the Palouse, which came from the French fur trapper word pelouse or “the land with short, thick grass”. It is a fertile land with stunning landscapes and the rich smell of earth. Some of the finest wheat, lentils and other legumes come from this corner of North America. The farms are pristine and well cared for. At times it appears land owners and town folk alike are on a mission to see who can keep the most manicured stretch of land.

The Palouse of Washington State offers picture-perfect views no matter what direction you turn.

This time of year farmers are tilling the soil. In the distance you can see large plumes of dust lingering on the horizon as tillers dig deeply into the soil unearthing winter’s slumber and rejuvenating spring’s purpose. A month from now  emerald green will bathe the hillsides as far as the eye can witness.

Years ago I lived in Boise Idaho and I promised myself to get to the Palouse several hours to the north. I just didn’t know it was going to take me 34 years to get there!

Well, as you can imagine before I knew it I was in Pullman, seemingly catapulted from Spokane to “Cougar Country” (WSU’s mascot) after a captivating drive.

The rest of my stay in this All-American  college town was filled with just as many surprises. But I will save that for another entry.

My wife is a genuine, determined, principled and a caring individual but often times private. She wasn’t particularly thrilled when I told her I wanted to discuss and document our journey. The day before the surgery she made it perfectly clear,”No cameras”! When she discovered I was taking some candid shots with my iPhone camera  early the morning of surgery, she gave me the evil look but I wanted her to know I was doing it from my perspective as a husband and supporter, hoping that the endeavor might be a help to others. It also was, I guess in someways, a distraction for me. Something to keep me busy.

Since the tumor was aggressive (infiltrating ductal carcinoma), going into to new uncharted waters was a bit unsettling to say the least. Before meeting with Dr. Haun we discussed many issues, did some online research  and set out on our own pragmatic course.

There are times in our lives when things unfold in a very deliberate way. I think Dr. Haun was our lucky charm. We met Dr. Haun on January 12th and within minutes we individually could tell she was our guiding light. What was special about her was her straight forward talk of the circumstances we would face, options to attack this dastardly beast, and the great possibilities that lie ahead. She didn’t beat around the bush but she also had a calming and reassuring way about herself. She readily admitted she didn’t have all the answers right away but displayed confidence she would be able to lead us in the right direction while offering her expertise and guidance. All this with an upbeat demeanor, compassion and a sense of humor that would give Letterman a run for his money. In short she is a jewel.

Surgery day was a long one as anyone would expect. We left the house at o’ dark thirty and  Nancy was in  Kaiser’s radiology department at 6:30 a.m. for imaging dye. Then we shuffled a stone’s throw away to St. Joseph’s Hospital for her pre- op. I kidded with people they wanted to have her in the operating room while she was still asleep so she didn’t  know what hit her! Surgery wasn’t a cake walk for Nancy but things went without a hitch. Dr.Haun and her staff kept me posted by calling the waiting room on various steps of the procedures. That was a very comforting and satisfying gesture.

Because the of the lengthy time and detail of the mastectomy, I decided to grab lunch across the street with my sister who was so kind to come and sit in with me while the operation continued. Normally, I probably wouldn’t have budged from the waiting room but I felt so confident in Dr. Haun and her team I felt the small break would be good for me since I had been on task for over six hours.I was told I had about an hour and half before she would be settled in her room. Wrong! Just as my sis and I ordered lunch, the waiting room volunteer called my cellphone and said Nancy was on her way to her room.

A leisurely lunch became a quick bite and off we went to see Nancy.

I didn’t know what to expect and I certainly wasn’t sure what kind of shape my sidekick would be in after such an ordeal. Surprisingly, Nancy looked terrific! A little groggy and struggling with a slight sore throat from the intubation. But, hey who wouldn’t be complaining about an apparatus being shoved down your throat! She was already upright and partaking in a liquid lunch. She was a real trooper and I was very relieved.

Dr. Haun visited during her rounds late that afternoon. She was exuberant and extremely sweet in her discussions with Nancy. We knew from an examination during the operation that her Sentinel node reported no signs of cancer. Dr. Haun assured us she would let us know as soon as possible what the status of the other lymph nodes reported in the days to follow.

The highlight of the afternoon was when Dr. Haun asked Nancy if she had any questions. Nancy’s query was, ” Will I be able to go to Las Vegas with my friend Brigette the 13th of February?” Honest truth. I was chuckling inside because I knew right then and there Nancy had her own agenda on her recovery route. It’s an annual trip she and her friend take in February. The doctor thought that might be a little premature and wasn’t sure what Nancy’s post op treatment would be quite yet.

She kidded Nan and said if chemotherapy was involved and she lost her hair, she could easily go as Tina Turner one night and choose a another celebrity hairdo the next. Nancy was slightly amused.

Nancy could have gone home that evening but Dr. Haun thought a precautionary overnight stay might  be best since my wife tends to get nauseated with most pain medicines. The weird thing about that is Nancy never did take pain meds!

So, when I came to pick her up the following morning, not only was she dressed ( in a very becoming warm up suit, I might add) and raring to go, she walked right out of the hospital. I was floored.

As a husband and a prepared caregiver I made sure everything was in place when she came home to convalesce. Wait, the day before surgery Nancy was cleaning at home like a maniac though I did help with some of the chores. At any rate, we planned for various types of light foods and drinks. Her bedding was freshly cleaned and I charged up  my “walkie-talkies” so we could communicate from various locales in the house.

Within an hour of Nancy settling in for some quiet time the phone began to ring. Friends, family and professional associates were on the horn offering love, support and prayers. Nancy decided  that day to catch up on her email as well, which also was inundated with electronic well wishes.Then the flowers and food began to flow into our home. We could have started a small bistro with flowers for every table! Our home smells of spring and Martha Stewart’s kitchen!

The day of surgery her long time friend Marge equipped me with a mini cooler brimming  with containers of homemade “Jewish chicken soup”. That she said, ” was to hold us over until she orchestrated meals from Nancy’s friends and professional peers. Topping that with incredible dishes from our Evergreen area neighbors and friends, Nancy said her biggest fear was blowing up like a blimp.

It has been nearly a week since her surgery.She looks beautiful and her strength is pretty much back. She has been on a couple small hikes with the dogs, managed emails and phone calls and is determined to get as many thank you cards in the mail as humanly possible.

Her will, determination, attitude and resolve are sound. Along with those same objectives, I am concerned but very optimistic. The journey is long with some hidden curves but we are on the right path.

The wonderful light illuminating that path is shining from all of Nancy’s friends, our families and those that have entered our lives in so many different ways.

My View of Nancy’s Day by iPhone

The Kaiser Permanente radiology department was a bit eerie in the pre dawn hour. The good news was there were no lines.

Surreal light bathed our walk to nearby St. Joseph's Hospital

Paper work. Need I say more?

"ID"ed and "IV"ed

Around 8:30 a.m. anesthetization was the topic between Nancy and Dr. Conrad in pre op

A pink ribbon and a statue of Christ. Not bad icons to have outside the building of your operating room.

The waiting room was spacious and comfortable...not the Ritz Carlton lobby mind you, but it was a good place to relax and get some editing done and keep me preoccupied.

Nancy's surgeon Dr. Joyce Haun, a physician who upholds the ultimate credo of "bedside manner", gave Nancy a thorough briefing the afternoon following surgery.

Once Dr. Haun became aware of my photo essay she had to get in on the act and insisted I kiss Nancy!

In the balance of life this was not a great year. However, I have many blessings  to be grateful for and I look forward to the challenges  and adventures that come my way in the months ahead.

I wish the best for everyone as the year unfolds. Thank you to all that support me and my work and offer the personal relationships that make it all worthwhile.

Just for grins, I would like to share several of my favorite images of 2009. Happy New Year!

During a December NFL game Denver Broncos Brian Dawkins cranked up his mojo

In June Samantha Sagaser of Conifer CO. modeled for my illustration for the Arts in Evergreen feature article in the Chamber of Commerce Annual Business Directory

During the BMX Vert competition at the Summer XGames in Los Angeles last August, Jamie Bestwick went high flying.

I was contracted by local craftsman Don Harris to photograph his collection in April. The challenge was to do justice to these eloquent hardwood pieces sculpted with TLC, immense detail and fine rich grain.

Last May I captured a red fox enjoying an early evening nap in the field grass near our home in Evergreen, CO.

During the bike portion of the 2009 Ford World Ironman Championship last October, cyclists were greeted by the stare of a goat skull mysteriously mounted on the post of a guardrail just south of Hawi. If you are wondering , I didn't put it there either!

This photo is in memory of Taupe, our 13 year-old Weimeraner we lost last fall. She accompanied me on an assignment near Kenosha Pass last summer when I photographed her in a meadow of wildflowers.

Dull as it is, this has been my view and office for seven days as I try to heal from a back injury.

Somewhere between the Queen Ka’ ahumanu Highway covering the Ford World Ironman Championship October 10, the Boston Patriots AFL throwback game less than twelve hours later  in Denver October 11  or the hike with the wife and dogs on October 18th , four hours before boarding a plane to cover the Monday NFL game in San Diego, a nerve in my lumbar decided it had had enough. About mid day on the 18th not long after the hike, my left hamstring started barking at me like an old ‘Coon” dog.

I first thought I tweaked  the “hamy”. Something I have done a gazillion times as a 10K runner and mountaineer. I stretched. I prodded. I massaged the back of my leg as I packed for my trip to San Diego. I figured a hot shower before I left would give some relief. I arrived in San Diego and began messaging and stretching once I got settled into my hotel room. As the evening progressed,  as I had dinner with my compatriots in La Jolla, the old dog really began to howl and I even started carrying a gimp.

The next morning, less than twelve hours before the game, my leg and foot were numb and I could barely walk. I threw up the rescue flag and called friend and team chiropractor Dr. Mike Leahy in his room. He said come right away. Hobbling down the hallway, past the team meeting rooms, getting odd stares and inquiries about my condition, I made it to Mike’s room and waiting message table. After about three thorough routines his prognosis determined a disk and nerve injury. He felt there wasn’t much we could do from that point forward until I could get a full exam.

At the stadium the stares turned to gawking. I sucked it up and did my best Frankenstein imitation shuffling up and down the sidelines. Team orthopedic physician Martin Boublik caught a glimpse of me as I bobbled by the bench. He scurried over and asked about my situation. Right then and there he ran me through several mobility tests and conferred what Mike Leahy had suggested.

Team doctor Steven  Geraghty was on my team bus back to the airport and in a rather genuine and heroic move offered to prescribe medication to start retarding the inflammation and promote healing. Dr. Leahy offered to see me at his clinic in Colorado Springs in the following days before he left for a conference in Toronto. Dr. Boublik updated his consultation on the bus as well.

Other than the medication, the only thing else I could commit to was their advise of ice, heat and rest. Thank goodness the team had a a bye week  last week as I was clearly on injured reserve!

So here I am seven days later making every effort to be ready for our next away game in Baltimore. Now I know how frustrated  injured players must get as they prepare their return to action.

Another thing folks should know is team often times goes beyond just the players and coaches.

Dogs, as canine owners know, get a peculiar smell after they have been rained on or have cruised through a stream or pond. Our dogs tend to have  a smell much like wet wool socks. It’s not really offensive but you are definitely aware of the smell.

Yesterday, after our jaunt,Gandalf was sitting in the backseat poised regally and stinking to high heaven. I knew the smell but couldn’t put my finger on it right away. It wasn’t until I saw the grass-green streak running down his shoulder that I knew he had rolled in elk poop. Let me tell you, fresh elk poop can bring you to your knees when it’s up close and personal.

There's nothing like a large glob of elk poop on your dog's collar to get your senses fired up.

I said something like, ” oh, Gandalf not again”. And there he sat proud as ever.

Then I couldn’t figure out w why such a small amount of feces could smell so bad. On further inspection when I got him out of the car at the office I discovered the culprit. It was a golf ball-sized clump of poop desperately clinging to his dog collar. I took the collar off, received an embarrassing glance from Gandy and proceeded to dump the collar in a bucket of hot water and deodorizer soap. Then I took a long deep breath of the fresh fall air.

New head coach Josh McDaniels,white cap in center, addresses his troops the first day of training camp at Dove Valley in Englewood Colorado

Denver Bronco training camp officially started today which means my summer is over once again.

Each summer for the past 26 consecutive years I have covered the team’s summer camp. Until recent years camp was held about 65 miles north of Denver in Ft. Collins Colorado on the Colorado State University campus followed by numerous years on the fields at the University of Northern Colorado just down the road in Greeley. At has become vogue for  teams  to switch to their hometowns for the two to three week drills. Denver followed suit and has set up camp right at its Dove Valley facility in Englewood Colorado.

Not to slight the folks up north, this arrangement is more efficient, cost effective and a whole lot easier on the players. There’s nothing like sleeping in your own bed, even if it is a Sealy Postropedic at the hotel down the road. Before guys bunked two to four players in school dorm rooms on the less than inviting beds.

I don’t miss the heat and humidity that seemed to prevail on the campuses due to overly soaked fields. But I love the excitement, anticipation and the unknowns that unfold every year at training camp. There is a new head coach, eleven new assistant head coaches ( three remain from the former staff) and forty seven new faces in uniform. To me, that’s a recipe for a wild and crazy ride through the NFL season.

Even Gandalf got tired of my sticky notes!

I can’t tell  you how elated I was when the upgraded version 3.0 of my iPhone launched and this foreign little icon of a microphone jumped out at me on the screen. It was a voice recorder. A built-in microphone. Do you realize what this has done for my world?

No more sticky notes! No more scraps of paper clinging to whatever crevice I can find to hold the note. And, even better no calendar alerts to myself just to remember how bloody lame my memory can be sometimes.

Years ago I used to carry around a small pocket-size tape recorder. In fact, I still have it buried deep in the back a of a desk drawer figuring I would use it someday on another assignment. It was very handy at times when you really didn’t have time to take notes in the field. You could dictate scenes from photographs, grab folk’s identification and telephone numbers to follow up on a particular comment or element pertinent to the story or project you might be working.

The trouble with those devices were the collection of batteries and the the myriad of tapes you stored for fear you might need that quote or address one more time.

Now I’ll I do is activate the iPhone app and deliver my verbal list of things to do or things to remember to do.

I have a weird feeling though I will want to have a sticky note somewhere reminding me that I have things to do and I should check my iPhone listing!

I am back after about a month’s hiatus. Things in my life were clucking along just fine, then May 2 I lost my father. No matter how prepared you are for a time like this, it still turns your world upside down.

He had some health issues. Most folks at 83 years-of-age do have problems. His issues were related to metastatic prostate cancer. All in all he had a great life to the end. And best of all it was on his terms. He was  out and about the day he died. He lived by himself and was very self-sufficient. The day before my sister and I had visited because his health care provider set up a meeting at his home to offer some extended services. My dad was optimistic all the time and I think he stunned the visiting doctor and nurse. There we all were in his living room enjoying conversation with these health care representatives. The doctor , who happened to be female, was asking a myriad of questions  many of which were very caring and sensitive in nature. He had recently been experiencing regular back pain and had a lot of sleepless nights. Trying to seek information that might be beneficial to dad’s care the doctor inquired,” Sy do you have any long term plans that we may be able to help you achieve ?” Dad, sitting comfortably in his reading chair, paused, then smiled and said, “No, not really. I just bought my 2009 fishing license so I think I am going to be around for awhile.”

At the meeting’s conclusion, I got up and excused myself from the doctor and nurse. I went over to my dad, shook his hand and patted him on the leg and said, “I’ll see you Saturday afternoon when I finish my assignment.” He replied,” that’ll be great.”

Not much more than twenty four hours and he was gone. I am so blessed that I left him on good terms and he left on his terms.

As years past we became more than father and son. We were friends. Up to the end we shared a lot of great times together. He was a good dad. A great outdoorsman and as I told a lot of friends at his memorial,  he was a true Norwegian who could squeeze a dime out of a wooden nickle.

He will be missed by many folks.

A mourner stands on the hilltop above Clement Park and Columbine High School and reflects during a vigil held after the tragedy.

This site is normally reserved for fun, crazy, light-hearted and exciting episodes in my life and my photographic career. But today I pause in remembrance of those that lost their lives at Columbine High School on this date ten years ago. My prayers go out to all those families and to all of us that were touched in some way by this unconscionable event.

The Columbine tragedy on April 20, 1999 and the week that followed was the most difficult assignment I have probably covered in my entire career.

I was busy in my office that day when I received a call from TIME magazine west coast photo editor Martha Bardack who very urgently asked if I was aware of the “shooting” in the Denver Metro area. I was not aware but immediately tuned into the local network coverage which had started its reporting just minutes earlier and quickly ascertained where I needed to go. Within minutes I had my photo equipment and was racing toward southwest Denver and Columbine High School. Since I had covered many news events through the years I was not only aware of the magnitude of this  type of event but  also the personal tragedies that were unfolding. Listening to the car radio gave me relatively good details on what was transpiring. It became  evident that I would not be able to  get anywhere near the high school and I remember somewhere in the back of my mind of almost being relieved.

Leawood Elementary School had been designated as the staging area for families attempting to reconnect with their children from Columbine.

I recall approaching the front lawn of the elementary school and seeing clusters of adults and  teenagers scurrying around, grabbing one another, hugging, wailing, crying and shouting out names. It was sheer madness.  As the crowds grew so did the forlorn, desperate faces of mothers and fathers, sisters and brothers, grandparents and neighbors. An entire community had just been brought to its knees. Agony, shock, disbelief and panic were etched on every face.

As the event continued to progress many questions were still not answered. Who was missing and where are they now?   How many casualties were there? Can we go to the high school? How long before we know everything is alright? It was a dizzying and unimaginable scenario.

Names of  students present and  being held in Leawood’s gymnasium were being posted in an effort to reunite parents with their kids.

For as long as I live I will never forget the horror molded onto the face of one woman escorted and comforted by a man as she desperately tried to come to grips with this horrendous development and her overwhelming fears as she tried to find her child.

The following day, as the news sank in and grabbed hold of everyone’s soul, I returned this time to Clement Park, virtually a stones throw from Columbine High School. This park and the surrounding acreage would be my destination as I continued my documentation of this historic event.

A young couple comfort one another at a Clement Park tribute

A father comforts his daughter as they look at tributes left on a Columbine fence as another visitor weeps.

Covering this type of news has always troubled me. Each day became harder to return. The remorse, the inner struggles, the sadness and the anxiety of trying to make story-telling images with dignity and respect started eating at me. I , like most photojournalists, want to inform and educate at every opportunity. But what I was discovering was how this tragedy was affecting me personally.

I would be crying and expelling deep breaths every day I came back to Clement. I could not sleep at night and finally about the third day my resistance withered away. I was stricken with strep. I couldn’t give up. I told myself I had to get through the week and the memorial services scheduled in the upcoming days.

Understand,this wasn’t a morbid curiosity  on my part but a commitment to document a social injustice that terrified a community and begged for answers from each individual.

As each day passed at Clement the tears continued to flow, the hugs were longer, the mourners continued to arrive by the hundreds. Cards of sympathy, posters of pronouncements, flowers, teddy bears and other mementos became like waves of texture and color in an open sea.

I covered the final public memorials with shaky hands and teary eyes. And then like everyone I had to move on. I still have weird feelings when I drive by Clement Park or see the hilltop  where mourners placed crosses.

Today is only the second time  I have looked at my photos since the tragedy.

The purpose of this message is to never forget  our loved ones, live every day to the fullest and continue to seek peace.

The community came together for one final tribute to the victims of Columbine.