For Jay Nowak

I'd known Jay Nowak since I was a kid. He was my father's friend, and later, became my friend. When I was 15, he took me to the Road Atlanta racetrack to ride with him on a warm-up lap in his Datsun 260Z. (Unfortunately, he had to take the lap without me.) The officials said I had to be at least 16 to ride in such an event. But, my dad and I watched him race. It's one of those memories that will never fade.

Today I attended Jay's funeral. He was only 57.

It's still a bit surreal to me, for I had seen him just last week. Jay had had a heart attack about a month ago. I was with him when the pains began. He had been recovering well, and getting on with his life, but it had weakened his heart so much that the second time it failed completely. I'm going to miss him more than I thought I would.

Jay's death got me thinking about my own mortality (as friends' passings and funerals are likely to do). It got me thinking because Jay was a lot like me -- independent, still single (after all these years), a bit impatient, quick-tempered, and in love with the outdoors. He was also very kind. If anyone ever needed a hand, Jay was there -- no questions asked. And, it was these similarities that made me take his death very personally. I began to consider the short time we are here on this earth, and what each of us decides to do with that time. It made me think that I need to make more of my days than I have been. To love more, to play more, to enjoy my time and to share that enjoyment with the people I love. Situations like this usually have that effect on people.

But, more than that, Jay's funeral got me thinking about how we choose to remember, and choose to honor, those that pass before us. His funeral was held in a church, in the traditional, dignified, Christian fashion. And, that's what many people want.

But not me.

Those kinds of ceremonies make me sad. They depress me, make me cry, and do nothing for remembering how great that person was.

When I go, I want a party. Maybe a big bonfire on the beach with all my family and friends. I want my favorite band to play. I want everyone to tell stories to each other that all start with "Remember when...". I want people to get drunk and divulge secrets, get pissed off, then laugh about it. To me, it's a time to celebrate a life, not mourn a death.

In New Orleans, traditional funerals start with a parade that runs through the streets to the cemetery. Music plays, people dance, and a life is celebrated. It's like a congratulatory salute saying, "Hey man! You did it! You gave your all and we appreciate you for it!"

Send me off with a raucous "Yee Haw!" And, remember me fondly. Save the sadness for someone else.

Jay had requested to be cremated, which I admire. Everyone has their own idea of how to be laid to rest, but I agree with Jay. Set me aflame as in the days of kings. Let my spirit ascend into the heavens with the smoke and the flames. There is no need for a pillow-lined coffin -- I won't be sleeping. I'll be dead. Honor my death by returning me to the natural elements from which I was made. It was this decision that made me recall a poem I had seen many years ago...

When I was in college, taking art classes, one of the requirements was to take a figure drawing class. And, one of the requirements for the figure drawing class was to visit the morgue so we could see how the human body was actually put together. I remember a lot about those visits, but what stands out most in my memory is a sheet of paper tacked up on the wall. It was a poem by Robert N. Test and it sums up my feelings on what to do with me when I go...

"To Remember Me - I will live forever"
by Robert N. Test

The day will come when my body will lie upon a white sheet neatly tucked under four corners of a mattress located in a hospital; busily occupied with the living and the dying. At a certain moment a doctor will determine that my brain has ceased to function and that, for all intents and purposes, my life has stopped.

When that happens, do not attempt to instill artificial life into my body by the use of a machine. And don't call this my deathbed. Let it be called the bed of life, and let my body be taken from it to help others lead fuller lives.

Give my sight to the man who has never seen a sunrise, a baby's face or love in the eyes of a woman.

Give my heart to a person whose own heart has caused nothing but endless days of pain.

Give my blood to the teenager who was pulled from the wreckage of his car, so that he might live to see his grandchildren play.

Give my kidneys to the one who depends on a machine to exist from week to week.

Take my bones, every muscle, every fiber and nerve in my body and find a way to make a crippled child walk.

Explore every corner of my brain.

Take my cells, if necessary, and let them grow so that, someday a speechless boy will shout at the crack of a bat and a deaf girl will hear the sound of rain against her window.

Burn what is left of me and scatter the ashes to the winds to help the flowers grow.

If you must bury something, let it be my faults, my weakness and all prejudice against my fellow man.

Give my sins to the devil.

Give my soul to God.

If, by chance, you wish to remember me, do it with a kind deed or word to someone who needs you. If you do all I have asked, I will live forever.

That poem sums it up completely. Follow that poem to the letter, throw a party when I'm gone, and celebrate my life.

Thank you, Jay, for showing me the way to go. I'll miss you, buddy.

Save the date!

Well, it's official!

Saturday, June 28th, 2008 marks the opening of the very first Vanishing America exhibit, which will be on display through July at Roswell's Ann Jackson Gallery!

This marks the first in a series of exhibitions of Fine Art photography from the Vanishing America project. Future exhibits will be held in cities all over the United States, each one showcasing new work as well as some original favorites, but this is the first!

All of the images are in signed, limited editions of 25 and vary in size from 8x10 inches to over 5 feet. And, once an edition sells out, there will be no more. What that means to the collector is that each image will not only retain its value, but that the value of each image will actually increase with time.

The opening night of the exhibit promises to be a blast, with music from Atlanta's best blues band, The Breeze Kings, a wine tasting from local vendors, and barbecue from Alpharetta's own Smokejack restaurant, all accompanying 25 of Vanishing America's best images to date.

If you are in the Atlanta area, and would like to attend... hell, if you're within 200 miles of Atlanta, you have to attend!... please RSVP to holt@vanishingamerica.net as soon as you can. This is an historic event. Space is limited and though this event is free, it will "sell out" very quickly.

Celebrity has its perks...

I'm ready for my closeup, Mr. DeMille...

I know. I know. I'm not even close to being a celebrity. Yet. But, the attention I get from fans of my project can sometimes give me a taste of what celebrity must be like.

About a month ago in Athens, Tennessee, I parked BABS in an empty lot near a busy highway. Mom was with me, and we had just decided to take a few moments to grab a quick lunch before we continued back to Atlanta.

As is usually the case, cars were cutting through the parking lot to get a closer look at BABS. But, this time one of the cars actually stopped. A nice lady got out, and knocked on my door. I came out to talk with her and found out that, even though she didn't have internet access, she was actually a big fan of what I was doing! She was so tickled to have met me that she kept giving me hugs and kisses, introduced me to her granddaughter, and even asked for my autograph. Me! Go figure. It was actually a great experience. Not only did it make me feel good, but it gave me a little affirmation (if that is the right word) that I was doing something that was as important to other people as it was to me. I got to meet one of my fans. (You know, that sounds funny... "my fans".) But, I think it's just a small example of things to come.

Tonight, while having dinner with a fellow artist at Pure in Alpharetta, a nice young woman named Heidi approached me. She asked if I was Holt Webb. And, once again, I felt that sense of "celebrity"... of being admired. That must sound conceited, but I mean it in the purest sense of appreciation. People are interested in (and in some cases proud of) what I am doing. And, that makes me feel good. It reinforces the idea that I am doing something worthwhile.

As it turns out, Heidi is actually friends with another friend of mine, Jenifer, a girl I grew up with. And, they wanted me to give a presentation to their school. Since school is almost out, that might not happen, but I am flattered nonetheless. They thought enough of what I'm doing to want to share it with their children and their school.

I suppose the point I'm trying to make is that celebrity doesn't have to be all about getting attention or being famous for the sake of being famous. Sometimes, celebrity can mean that you have a fan base that supports what you do and what you stand for. And, that's a real boost when you're alone, out on the road like I am, trying to make sense of the world around you. You realize that you're not the only one. You realize that there are other people who feel the same way you do, and who are grateful that you are out there telling their stories, and making sure that their voices can be heard.

Second Annual Pink Bandanna Ball

Fun with Fundraising!

I just got back from another wonderful weekend in Chattanooga promoting the Vanishing America project. And, it didn't cost me a dime. I drove all the way on used veggie oil! How's that for saving a buck?

This time I had BABS on display at Saturday's Second Annual Pink Bandanna Ball, helping raise money for Neuroblastoma. Check out their website at http://emilyspowerforacure.vpweb.com/index.html.

It was a great time. BABS was parked inside the First Tennessee Pavilion for all to see, and one of the images from the Vanishing America series was donated to their silent auction. They had live music from Love, Peace and Happiness, fantastic BBQ from The Butt Stop (their brisket and cornbread casserole were amazing!), casino games, and a badass mechanical bull (which loved the Nancy, Wendy, and Melissa, the event's coordinators, but had no reservations about kicking my butt)!

Jennifer, who rode the bull with me, has ridden some feisty horses in her day, and managed to stay on for another three minutes, looking like she belonged at a real rodeo. I think she could have outlasted any of the guys there.

And, thanks to the efforts of Nancy, Wendy, and Melissa, and the wonderful sponsors who donated their time, money, and prizes for the auctions, this year's event raised over $116,000! Next year's event promises to be even bigger. Heck, if they keep up this pace, they'll be selling out the baseball stadium!

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After cleaning up and sleeping in until 10am, I joined the Cromie family out on Tennessee's Lake Chicamauga. (Nancy Cromie is one of the angels who helped organize the Pink Bandanna Ball.) We even did a little fishing. However, I was the only one who caught anything...

Marc and Nancy wouldn't let me keep it, though. They said we had to throw it back. Something about "catch and release", or it being too little... whatever.

But, before I threw it back, I named it Will.

Look what I found!

In Search of... A Snack!

This little tidbit will likely resonate more with the guys than the girls, but I'll tell it anyway...

You ever had the munchies? You know, when you're not looking for a meal, just a nosh. Just a little snack to settle those taste bud crazies.

You walk over to the fridge, poke your head in, look around, can't find what you want, then close the door. Ten minutes later, you do it again. Ten minutes after that, you do it again. You never see what you're looking for. Hell, you don't even know what you're looking for. You just know you're hungry and that if you keep looking, you'll find something to snack on.

You keep poking your head in the fridge expecting that something will just jump out at you. But it never does.

Well, last night it did. I went into that fridge three times looking for something to take care of that craving. Each time I came up short. But, for some unknown reason, I went in a fourth time. And, as I was closing the door, something caught my eye. I opened the crisper drawer, and lo and behold! there it was. What I'd been looking for all my life. The snack that has eluded me since I was a teenager. After years of searching the refrigerator, poking my head in time after time, my efforts finally paid off. I was rewarded for my persistence. And DAMN! it felt great.

What did I find? To be honest, it really doesn't matter what I had found. What matters is that I found it. Have you ever found what you were looking for?

The world is full of small wonders like these. And, it's these little darlings that make life so special.



What? You really want to know what I found?

Oh, okay. It was a protein bar. Happy?

Earth Day

Happy Earth Day!

In honor of the 38th Anniversary of Earth Day, I'm offering up a new Green Tip of the Day...

Plastic! What would we do without that wonderful material? It can be formed into any shape and color we desire. It can be as supple as a raincoat or as solid as a railroad tie. And, it's recyclable (for the most part). Such a great invention.

But... (you knew this was coming, didn't you?)... Most consumer plastics don't get recycled, and many that do, get "recycled" in third world countries.

I was running stairs at my old high school stadium (Go Milton!) and counted 27 used plastic water/juice bottles scattered all over the bleachers. On a recent walk around town, I counted 4 plastic grocery bags, 10 plastic bottles, 3 CD cases and 3 plastic "blister" packs (you know, those damn hard-to-open packages everything seems to come in now).

In fact, the U.S. only recycles about 34% of its plastic bottles. Guess where the rest of those bottles wind up? Take a look around you.

And, it's not just the lack of recycling of these products that is the problem. According to National Geographic, in the U.S. we buy 29 million plastic bottles of water or soft drinks every year. 29 MILLION! And, it takes 17 million barrels of crude oil (yes, oil!) to make those bottles. That's one hell of a lot of energy!

Now, I'm not ALL gripe and groan... many companies are coming up with some very creative uses for the recycled plastic bottle, including fibers for jackets, new fabrics for upholstery, and new building materials. But, it's still not enough.

So, what's the answer? Do we stop drinking bottled water? Of course not. But, we don't need to run around all day with a new bottle of water in hand (unless you're refilling it each time you run out.) We're not as dehydrated a society as Madison Avenue would like us to believe. But, if you have to have your agua, use your own bottle. And, there are plenty of bottles available that won't impart that weird plastic taste to your beverage of choice.

I use my plastic bicycle bottles when I need to carry fluids with me on short jaunts. Of course, I occasionally buy a bottle at the store, but I take that bottle home and reuse it. And, when it wears out, I recycle it.

I also buy powdered drink mixes in paper pouches or cardboard canisters. I could easily go through about 20 2 litre bottles of juice or mixer in a year, but I don't (did I say mixer?). First of all, I simply don't have the room on BABS for even 3 or 4 bottles. Second, if I don't buy those 20 bottles, that's 20 fewer bottles coming from the manufacturer and 20 fewer bottles potentially finding their way into landfills or recycle centers.

I guess it comes down to consumption. Consumption, not of the beverage, but of the package. Anywhere you can reuse a package, or bring your own package, you're saving a little bit of energy. And, at 29 million bottles a year, we could use a little of that savings, don't you think?

Photo Talk Radio

Photo Talk Radio!

Last week I did an internet radio interview with the famous Howard Lipin and Michael Garcia from Photo Talk Radio. We had a great conversation. You can hear it at: http://www.phototalkradio.com/ptr080412.html

Vanishing America in San Diego Magazine

San Diego Magazine's May issue is out! The writeup about Vanishing America is in their Front Pages section. It's short, but sweet.

Here's the link: http://www.sandiegomagazine.com/media/San-Diego-Magazine/May-2008/Front-Pages/

If you live in San Diego, save me a hard copy.

Alive After Five

Remember, you can click on any image to view it full size!

Spring is here, and ART is in the air...

This past Thursday was the first Roswell Alive After Five street event for 2008.

It's a small street festival in the historic district that the City of Roswell puts on every third Thursday during the Spring/Summer. Live bands, booths, face painting for the kids, and the galleries and businesses are open late. It's kind of like San Diego's Ray at Night.

And, even though my first Vanishing America exhibit is two months away, we put a few of my images up in the Ann Jackson Gallery for the Alive After Five event, and parked BABS nearby to get a little exposure. The response was fantastic. Historic Roswell's art scene is primarily painting, and people were glad to see some artistic photography on display. We got a lot of interest in the wild horse images... especially this one.

It was very encouraging for both me and the gallery that so many people showed so much enthusiasm for this body of work. June promises to be a great month!

This weekend, I'm parked at Alpharetta's Art Street Fest. I'm not participating, just getting some visibility. The weather has been perfect, and it even rained a little Friday night to help wash away some of the pollen that's been wreaking havoc on people's allergies.

And, speaking of allergies...
I was out shooting with the historians from the City of Alpharetta last week. And, if you know me at all, I like to wander around and explore, even if it means getting dirty. Well, I didn't get dirty. I got poison ivy. I'd rather have gotten dirty. If you've ever had poison ivy, poison oak, or poison sumac, you know how frustrating it can be. Almost a year ago, in Southern California, I got poison oak while shooting out at a Wagon Wheel Park. You'd think I'd have learned my lesson and covered up a little better. No, not me. The thought never crossed my mind. I grew up playing in the woods, and as a kid, could have rolled around in poison ivy and never have any kind of reaction. But, I guess, as we get older, our bodies change, and now that wicked weed and I simply don't get along.

Stay tuned for more updates about Vanishing America's First Exhibit, coming this June!

Spring Fever and Pink Bandanas

Dateline: Chattanooga, Tennessee
Sunday, April 4, 2008

I drove the Defender up to Tennessee this weekend to visit my friend Marc Cromie, his wife, Nancy, and their kids Hayden, Kali, and Wil.

Marc is a pediatric allergist who runs three Chattanooga Allergy Clinics throughout the Chattanooga area. Since Spring hit, and pollen season is in full force, Marc has been all over the local news providing advice for families on how to treat allergies in children.

Nancy is co-chair of the Pink Bandana Ball, raising money for the fight against Neuroblastoma. Last year, I donated one of my Salton Sea images to their auction, which, combined with sponsorships, other donations, and ticket sales helped raise over $100,000 for the cause.

This year's Pink Bandana Ball is May 3rd.

The event is in honor of Emily Ransom who was diagnosed with Stage IV Neuroblastoma in October 2005. This beautiful, strong-willed little girl known as the Pink Power Ranger Princess fought with everything she had for four months to beat her cancer. On February 20, 2006 while undergoing surgery to remove her tumor, Emily won her battle and went to dance in heaven.

Her family wishes to continue her fight and find a cure for this disease. Emily’s Power for a Cure is her fight against cancer carrying on! While the goal of the foundation is to raise awareness and funds to find a cure for Neuroblastoma, there are more immediate needs for families and children fighting this disease. The foundation, Emily's namesake, was founded in 2006 by Emily's parents Jonathon and Wendy Ransom.

Anyone can Pink it Forward simply by doing a random act of kindness for someone and telling them about Emily and asking them to Pink it Forward. You can also visit the websites of children who are still fighting this terrible disease. The websites for children in the Chattanooga area are listed in the Pink it Forward section of the Emily's Power for a Cure website. Make a difference in someone's life, just as Emily made a difference in ours. Don't forget to share your stories with us.

Pink it Forward!!!

If you're in the Chattanooga area, and can attend, visit their website for ticket information. If you are unable to attend, you can...

• Purchase Princess Emily magnets ($5)
  

• Purchase pink crystal Emily earrings ($20)
  

• Purchase Power for A Cure necklaces ($15)
  

• Purchase POWER FOR A CURE logo merchandise at Zazzle. 17% of every purchase goes to the foundation. Click http://zazzle.com/ranahill*
  

• Sponsor one of the foundation's special events
  

• Participate (and solicit donations) to walk or run in the Country Music Half or Full Marathon in April 2008 in Nashville, TN.
  

• Participate (and solicit donations) for Cartwheels for A Cure, which will be held in June 2008
  

• Purchase a ticket, sponsor, or donate an auction item to the Pink Bandana Ball
  

• Donate blood in Emily's honor ($10 from every donation goes to Power For A Cure)
  

• SPREAD THE WORD ABOUT EMILY'S STORY AND NEUROBLASTOMA!
  

• Gifts of cash or stocks can be sent to the following:
  
  
  

(Please make checks payable to Community Foundation of Greater Chattanooga and add Emily's Power for a Cure in the memo line).

Emily’s Power for a Cure

C/o Community Foundation of Greater Chattanooga

1270 Market Street
Chattanooga, TN 37402

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Holt's Green Tip of the Day!

If at all possible, buy produce from local farmers. Local produce at stores and Farmers' Markets are not only a great way to get top quality produce and support the local community, but they're a great way to help the environment.

When you buy local, you are actually helping save energy and conserve fuel. The simple act of shipping fruits and vegetables across the United States, and from other countries, requires numerous trucks, planes and ships, each one requiring a significant amount of fuel to get from the farm to the store. If you buy local, you help reduce the need for all these vehicles, saving fuel and reducing carbon emissions.

So, if you can, support your local farmer. There is a great search engine put together by the USDA that can help you find a farmer's market in your area (click here). If you can't find locally grown produce in your area, try to make sure that the produce you buy comes from as close to home as possible.