Volcanoes vs. Sidewinders
Lincoln School Fields
Alexandria, MN

The largest mall in the US is conveniently located in the Twin Cities. The Mall of America boasts over 500 stores on three levels, and includes a huge center atrium with rollercoasters, and many other rides and attractions to suck in the visitor, and keep them captive for as long as possible. Just how big is a 500+ store mall? It's so big that it has five Mall of America stores selling Mall of America merchandise. I'm a big mall fan, but I can't imagine wearing a Mall of America T-shirt. It's not exactly like wearing a Disneyland shirt, mind you.

On the list of things not to do in the Mall of America, or in Minnesota for that matter, is eat sushi. Sure, Land o' Lakes, blah, blah, blah, but somehow the thought of eating sushi in a landlocked state seems like a bad idea. That might just be me.

So I figure that while I'm at the largest mall in the US, that I should purchase something. And as many people have noted before me, you can never have too many underpants, so I strolled into Banana Republic to grab a few boxers. Yes, I felt silly spending $16.50 for a pair of boxers, but consider it my little part to helping out the MN economy. As I drove west from Bloomington, I saw a sign for some outlet stores, and figuring that this was my big shopping day, I decided to pull over and check it out.

Lo and behold, there was a Banana Republic outlet. But the BR outlet is not the same thing as BR -- i.e. there were no exchanges to be had here, despite the fact that the boxers were only $6. Same damn boxers. I told the saleslady that I had just paid retail at "the Mall," and she said, "oh, I never pay retail for stuff like that. It's always on sale." Well, eager to get my average price of boxers down to a more respectable level, i bought even more boxers. Sure, now I have more boxers than I need, but at least my average cost was only about $10, right?

As I was near the MN/ND border, I pulled over in Alexandria, MN, to find some stamps. After wandering around town, I found some little league games that were being played. I only got hit by one ball, and my car almost got hit by a foul ball, but all in all, it was a good time.

I wasn't quite sure which eye to look at when talking to the cute waitress at the Pizza Hut with the lazy eye. She was very friendly, and was interested in my cross-country journey. Alexandria apparently has a lot of little resort areas around the lakes, and that is why the town exists in the first place.

It's interesting to judge a town by its radio stations. For example, in Cleveland, you'll find lots of hip hop and top 40 radio stations, but as you move into Wisconsin and Minnesota, you find country, classical, and lots of "on-air ministries." The problem with driving in one direction, is that when you finally find a station you like, you really only have about an hour's worth of listening time before the signal degrades. This has happened several times while I've been listening to "All Things Considered" on NPR. My father used to listen to the show when he picked my sister and I up from Japanese school. I still remember that opening jingle very well.

Radar Speed Pitch
Cinder City Days
Altoona, WI

After my poor shooting at the girls softball championships, I was determined to work on some basics by shooting some Little League. Eau Claire's Fairfax Park seemed like it would fit the bill with its two ball parks, but as I rolled into town, I was unable to find it. I wandered around town and found a men's slow pitch softball game in nearby Altoona Park, and retrieved my gear in my car when I saw a carnival that was a part of Altoona's Cinder City Days festival.

No matter where you go in the US, carnivals always have the same rides. The ferris wheel, the Zipper, the air-filled castle that kids jump on...and those silly games with the crappy prizes -- the ones that the kids go nuts over. Lots of weird folks running the concessions, and fat parents feeding their not-so-skinny kids with cotton candy, soda and funnel cakes. But I love it all because it represents such a uniquely American experience.

As I was wandering around the fairgrounds, an older woman came up to me and introduced herself. Connie lives across the street, and this afternoon, God told her to get off her couch and go meet someone. I happened to be the person she met.

She invited me to her church for a performance some of the kids were giving that afternoon, and I thought it would be a great photo opportunity.

It turns out that they were performing "Cool in the Furnance," a musical about Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego, which I had performed in grade school. After the performance, one of the parents got up to speak to the audience (about 125 people) and the kids about some of her favorite songs, including "Know When to Say No." She continued by telling the kids that when the teacher brings up evolution in the classroom, they ought to know in their hearts to say no, and accept creationism as the true history.



Then as I was packing up my gear, Connie asked me if Jesus was in my heart, and gave me a book written by a born-again who was once a skeptic. She prayed for me, and walked me to my car. When I told her that I was from Hawaii, she asked me if I spoke Hawaiian. I told her no, whereupon she replied, "Oh, well, you've probably been in the US for a while."

Now, I'm not one to judge -- after all, growing up as a minority can give you a sense of perspective and tolerance. Secondly, I was raised Christian, despite not practicing any more. And Connie was very hospitable and introduced me to many people at her church. However, she "befriended" me for one purpose, and that was to "convert" me. So the pretext for meeting me was distasteful to me, and the rate at which she engaged in asking what I consider to be personal questions (i.e. my faith, my family) was artificial and a bit repulsive.

And the implication of her not knowing that Hawaii was a state (and has been since 1959), and that English is spoken there like in all other states was laughable. She was sure about Jesus, but 50 states were a stretch. And please don't get me started on creationism. It is fine to teach your kids about the Bible. But when you start to shun science and scientific method, that's when I get upset. These conservative forms of Islam shun science, and it breeds a stagnation of society. Sure, you can question whether cellphones have enhanced society or not, but you would not question the value of medicine.

Yet, if this journey is about experiencing America, then today was as significant as any other day. Religion is a huge part of this country, as is the right to assemble and express your opinions. So on this day, America is tolerance.

Bill Greskiw, Coach, Catholic Central Hilltoppers
WIAA Division 4 Softball State Champions
Madison, WI

The wake-up call came at 6:15am, the time I thought that I would motivate to get out of bed and head to downtown Green Bay to shoot a road race. But ah, time is so fleeting, and the next time I looked up, it was 7:30, far too late to get up to make the 8am race.

But my quest to shoot some sports this weekend would not go unsatisfied, and a quick search of the local newspaper indicated that the State High School Softball Championships would be played that night in Madison. I hopped in my car, dodged several areas of high flood waters, and ended up at the Goodman Softball Complex to case out the area. Not so surprisingly, another game was about to begin, and with the sun shining high in the sky, I grabbed my gear and made my way down to the photo position at 1st base.

Division 4 girls softball is probably one of the worst possible sports to watch. Lots of missed fly balls, bad infielding, high percentage of attempted bunts....and yet, on this day, the game came down to the final inning with the final batter. With the Oakfield Oaks up by one run, Catholic Central's Katie Uhen stepped up to the plate and nailed a line drive that sent two runners home, for the tie and the win.

At the high school level, everyone plays for pride. There are no gifts or payoffs, no large salaries. Just a bunch of kids and their competitive nature. And as such, the tears of dejection are real, and you can't but help feel sorry for the losing team. I shot very poorly today -- sports photography still needs work -- but I found the experience incredibly satisfying.

Guy with a Engine Hat
Hot Rod Power Tour 2004
Lambeau Stadium, Green Bay, WI

Lodging is a bit scant this weekend in Green Bay. Perhaps you came for the Jehovah's Witness convention, or the Bellin 10k race. Or maybe you were one of the thousands of people that are part of Hot Rod magazine's Power Tour. Each year, the "Long Haulers" drive from city to city over the course of a week to show off their muscle cars. Shelby Cobras, Vettes, Camaros, and even souped up station wagons. It's like 3000 episodes of Monster Garage at once.

Pig Delivery
Dreamland Restaurant & Motel
Gulliver, MI

Traveling in the Upper Peninsula (better known as the "U.P." to the locals) is sort of like going to Canada, except with more McDonalds. Once you cross over the Mackinac Bridge from Mackinaw City into the UP, the scenery changes to beautiful tree lined road with frequent vistas of adjacent Lake Michigan. Not wanting to succumb to the desires of the Golden Arches, I stopped over at the Dreamland Restaurant & Motel for what I hoped would be a healthy lunch.

My chicken sandwich turned out to be deep fried, and along with a side of fries and a coke, I was thankful for taking my cholesterol medication that morning. Ever since crossing into the UP, I kept seeing large signs for "pasties" at nearly every roadside diner. Figuring that they weren't hawking tiny nipple covers, I finally had to ask my waitress to clarify.

"I have a question for you," I stated.

"What's a pasty?" she replied with uncanny prescience, "You're not the first person to ask."

"Pasty" (pronounced like "nasty") is like a pot pie with ground pork and other vegetables. I couldn't actually bring myself to try one as it seemed like a sure way to give myself heartburn. But I did enjoy the conversation going on around me starting with the waitress that called everyone "hun," to the truck driver recounting how he paid an incredible $19 for a haircut in Des Moines. Suffice it to say that haircuts run a little more in New York City.

Just as I was about to pull away from the Dreamland, the meat semi started unloading, and lo and behold, there was an entire pig wrapped in plastic for next week's motorcycle rally. "We're gonna cook it up on a spit!" explained the owner. The truck driver's son was fascinated by my trip around the US, and proudly stuck out his hand for a handshake as I left.


Don't miss what seems to be a permanent yard sale on US 2W near the Manistique Lake turn off. All kinds of weird stuff including a rusted bunk bed, toilets, fences, the ever popular Son of Hibachi, and a bunch of gears that seemed extracted ill-advisedly. I couldn't find the owner, so I guess all transactions were on the UP honor system.


Stan Zellar has been logging the UP for thirty years. His company was the first logging company I've seen, and they were busy loading logs onto railcars to be transported to Wisconsin for a variety of purposes.

I passed a hand made sign for the "Cross in the Woods" going up I75 from Flint to Mackinaw City, proclaiming to the be the world's largest crucifix. Skeptical, but figuring that it was just another example of huge things in America (like the largest ball of twine), I took the exit and found myself in front of a large outdoor worship area adjacent to a church. It turns out that the whole site has an interesting history, and that the crucifix was only later added when parishoners commented how empty the large cross looked.

I'm not calling Michael Moore a liar, but he does has a way about his film-making that is a bit sensationalist, or at least, concentrates on making his point. I went to Flint, MI, expecting to find abandoned auto plants and depressed people, but Flint is doing ok considering its dependence on the auto industry. GM still has a bus/truck plant that sits adjacent to a powertrain plant. The security guard told me that her husband still works over at the Pontiac plant, but that's probably going to close in the next couple of years. Incidentally, if you ever want to feel uncomfortable, try showing up at the GM plant with a foreign car.

Horse Racing
Belmont Park, Belmont Stakes Weekend
Elmont, NY

I got the call a few days earlier from Eddie Adams teammate, Max Morse. Sports Illustrated photographer, Bill Frakes, was looking for another assistant for the Belmont Stakes, and Max wanted to know if I was interested in helping out. Without hesistation I accepted, not only because of the opportunity to work for the magazine, but also because it was a chance to witness racing history.

Smarty Jones was the 6th horse in eight years to try to go for the elusive Triple Crown of racing, last accomplished in 1978 by "Affirmed," and after winning the Kentucky Derby by 12 lengths, hopes were high for the horse to make racing history. As such, we set up over 40 cameras to make sure to get the shot.

Horse racing is an interesting sport, where horses foam at the mouth because their tongues are often tied down to prevent them from biting them off. Jockeys make up that small percentage of men that suffer from anorexia and bulimia to "make weight." And while the names of the winning horses are etched into history, the actual horses are relegated to less-than-desirable retirements.

We spent Friday securing photo positions and setting up remote cameras, and prayed for the dark skies on Saturday to hold as we checked and rechecked our cameras. In the end, the skies held off despite forecasts of rain, but down the stretch, with 120,000 fans screaming at the top of their lungs, Smarty Jones didn't have enough gas, and a 36-1 horse named "Birdstone" ran away with first place. We dreamed of getting the cover shot for Sports Illustrated, but in the end, Smarty will probably get a page or two in the magazine as another almost-was horse.

But the experience was exhilirating, and I met a number of cool people, and got to see the level of preparation that goes into getting the shot.

Pert "Mr. Charcoal" Whitehead
World Championships of BBQ Road Trip
Memphis, TN


The air was thick with charcoal and applewood smoke, and the damp skies could hardly hold back the crowds for the World Championships of BBQ in Memphis, TN. As a part of "Memphis in May," the contest brings competitors from all over the country and world in a competition for ribs, shoulder and whole pig, in addition to smaller competitions for sauce, t-shirts, and other items.

The journey by car was a bit of a whim, but on May 13th, John Grandefeld and I piled into my car for the 1100 mile journey through New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Maryland, West Virginia, Kentucky and Tennessee. Traveling through the night, we hit speeds of 120 mph and gas prices in excess of $2.20, more desperate to get to the hotel bed than to set land speed records. A short dinner stop in Morgantown, WV allowed us to watch the Lakers beat the Spurs with a 0.4 second desperation shot while seated to two very attractive women. My scream of horror as the shot went in, practically knocked one of the girls off her bar stool. And my lack of feeding the meter, earned me a $5 parking ticket from the Morgantown Parking Authority.

After a brief nap on Friday morning in Memphis, we headed to Tom Lee Park on the banks of the Mississippi for the festival, where we met Hal Neuberger, the owner of a parking lot (read: muddy field). Hal was one of those guys who was unafraid to express his opinion. Most of his sentences began with "Here's what you do..." much to our amusement.

As we walked around the hundreds of competitors booths, we were approached by a gentleman who was trying to round up competitors for the Wings eating contest. John is always up for a challenge, so I egged him on to enter, and at 4pm, he sat with 7 other competitors in front of an aluminum tin filled with cold chicken wings and eight minutes to eat as much as he could.

John started off strong, but his strategy of imbibing large quantities of water began to backfire as his pace slowed considerably, and he started get the look of nausea on his face. One of the competition staff rolled a 55-gallon drum alongside him fearing the worst, but he persevered, and finished an entire tin. He even held down all the food for several minutes before going to a port-a-potty to "pull the trigger."

Figuring that a Yankee had no chance against southerners, we went on our merry way, consuming pulled pork sandwiches and corn on the cob for the rest of the afternoon. For dinner, it was off to Rendevous for some of the best dry ribs in Memphis on Hal Neuberger's suggestion.

Later that evening while wandering around a Memphis Gentlemen's Club, we were approached by a guy who recognized us from earlier in the day. He ecstatically explained that John had won 3rd Place in the Wing's Eating Contest, but hadn't been around to collect the trophy. Nevertheless, we were both amused that his efforts hadn't been for naught.

We wandered around the fairgrounds for several hours the next day, and rounded the corner to find one of the booths pulling out a whole roasted pig. The chef peeled back the thin skin and began serving on-lookers, handing John a huge piece of bacon. It was, "the best bacon I've ever had," he claimed. Not wanting to stick around for the awards, we went back to retrieve the car, and struck up another conversation with Hal Neuberger.

As it turns out, Hal has a son, Marty, who works in New York with my friend, Chad Cooper. Hal also likes to dispense advice, and had no shortage of places to send us to for more great Memphis BBQ. As he leaned over the car, he stuck his head so far in the window, that he was virutally sitting with us. He gave us a list of BBQ joints to visit, whereupon John said, "Well, I guess we can split a sandwich at each place, Allen."

"No. You're not gonna do that," Hal replied stonefaced.

We looked at each other and decided that now was not the time to discuss BBQ eating habits, so we drove off with list in hand to consume more BBQ. After a few sandwiches, John decided that we should find "Mr. Charcoal," so with only an address to guide us, we ended up at a warehouse in a less-than-desirable section of town. John made an introduction, and soon, we were getting a tour of his warehouse, filled with every type of charcoal imaginable.

Pert "Like the Shampoo" Whitehead started his charcoal business in the 70s, and now supplies most of the BBQ shops in town. With his vice president fast asleep in a chair, Pert spent several minutes just chatting with us, as Victor, the little boy from next door played with my camera to his delight. As we were about to pay for the charcoal, Pert said, "Well, if you came all the way down from New York, you just take those bags for free." He was just about the nicest guy you could've met.

We headed downtown to look for some shirts to go out with that night, but as we passed by the AAA Ballpark, a scalper approached us with $5 tickets. Figuring that we weren't in Memphis very often, we headed into the park and downed a beer as we caught a couple innings with the Memphis Red Birds. I even tried my arm out at the pitching machine only to find that I had zero control of a baseball that topped out at 54 mph.

By the time dinner rolled around, BBQ was the last thing on our mind, so we headed to PF Chang's to toast a most enjoyable road trip.

Aili MacDonald with Crab
Waimanalo Beach
Waimanalo, O'ahu, Hawai'i

Besides the typical 80 degree weather, Christmas in Hawai'i isn't so dissimilar from the mainland. We have a traditional Christmas lunch with the relatives after opening gifts in the morning. As is custom, I am always the latest to rise, and my family patiently waits for me to roll into the living room before opening gifts. The highlight of this year's presents was a new pair of cargo pants from my sister to replace my "uniform" which had accompanied across 35 states this year.

After a leisurely lunch, it's off to the beach. You have snow, we have sand. You have cold, we have warmth. You have ice, we have surf. See, not so different at all.

My Sister
The Contemporary Museum of Hawai'i
Honolulu, Hawai'i

Back home in Hawai'i for the holidays with the family, and my sister insisted that we go up to the Contemporary Museum to look at some prints for our mom, but more importantly to try to take a picture for her belated holiday cards. This particular installation is composed of a ton of branches from some native plants (i.e. guava), and although I don't if she'll select this particular photo, it's my favorite.

The Last Supper
Pizza Hut
Washington, PA

I left New York on August 4. I've traveled nearly 18,000 miles. I've seen 35 states. I've gotten one speeding ticket.

My windshield needs to be replaced. I need new glasses. I have to go get my teeth cleaned at the dentist.

I've eaten more fast food and beef jerky than I care to admit.

My lower back is a mess.

I've listened to the John Mayer CD more times than most teen-aged girls, and many more times than a heterosexual male should.

I basically wore the same clothes the whole time (t-shirt and cargo pants).

I took my photo at Pizza Hut with the camera that's attached to my laptop.

Now it's time to rest until the weather warms up again.

And then the last 13 states will be mine...