Characters

It’s the essence of hometown, the hub of local buzz, the street of strong opinion. It’s where shoppers vote with their feet — and credit cards — about what’s hot and what’s not. It’s where lifetime residents linger over breakfast and up-and-comers meet for lunch. It’s where the waitress knows “your usual” and the dry cleaner knows exactly how you like your shirts pressed. It’s the home of hotdog stands, coffee shops, 3rd generation shoe stores and haberdasheries. It’s where you bought your first — and fifth — refrigerator, bicycle, piece of fine art, and pair of expensive earrings. It’s a trial-by-fire-testing ground for hopeful entrepreneurs, a tried-and-true home base for successful business owners. It’s where mom and pop shops come to live or die. It’s got the sidewalks skateboarders love, and the crosswalks pedestrians and motorists ignore. It’s where the past, present and future meet. It’s where local history shines and innovation revitalizes. In the winter it sparkles wi...

Google the definition of “character” and you’ll find his bio and mug shot. A Viet Nam vet who’s fought tooth and nail on the battlefield and in life, Woody has taught me more about faith, honesty, friendship and survival than he’ll ever know. He may dress up like a responsible adult, but the earring, ponytail, ink and jeans tell the true story. This guy's a little bit hippy, little bit biker, lotta bit dad, with a more than a few tightly-muzzled military ghosts circling his head. A perplexing blend of contradiction, this salty, surly, cussing, encouraging, witty, wise old dog can prompt a belly laugh and bring me to tears all in the same breath. The mischievous twinkle in his eye tells you he’s got something up his sleeve, but the slump of his shoulders reveals a lifetime of struggle and hard labor. Rightly so. He outlasted Viet Nam. And along with his forever-ravishing wife, he raised a beautiful family, built a wonderful home, and earned a solid living. Oh. And he also s...

Emergency medical professionals — some do it right and some do it wrong. I met both kinds yesterday. A sharp, escalating pain in my left arm, accompanied by numbness and tingling in my left hand had me on edge about whether or not I was experiencing the onset of a heart attack. Symptoms lingered through the night and into the next day. My apprehension grew. I hedged. I debated. And as I was weighing the pros and cons of getting it all checked out (and paying the bill if it turned out to be a false alarm), I flashed back a few years to my younger brother's near-death experience. He was out for a walk and felt similar symptoms. He walked back home, drove himself to the hospital a few blocks away (bad idea, but the only option at the time) where he received a check over. Shortly after that he was admitted to the ER, where he arrested. Thankfully ER staff and equipment were both close at hand, and he survived, I believe, because of his quick, decisive, cautionary action. So I grudgin...

This is one of my favorite photos, not because it demonstrates any great skill, but because it was a moment of true honor I had to capture. These veterans are paying tribute the "four chaplains," who gave their lives to save other civilian and military personnel during the sinking of the troop ship USAT Dorchester on Feb. 3, 1943, during World War II. The four are credited with helping other soldiers board lifeboats and giving up their own life jackets when the supply ran out. The chaplains, it is said, joined arms, said prayers, and sang hymns as they went down with the ship. Seventy years later, these Ontario County veterans continue to remember.

No — There's no rational reason for this. I just created it one night in a sarcastic blitz of crankiness from the cold and lack of sunshine. 

Dan Gnagy gets medication during his chemo treatment at Strong Memorial from Linda Ullrich RN, BAN, CON to treat esophageal cancer. I'm so glad I'm not a doctor. Now more than ever I'm utterly relieved I'm not the person who has to find bad things on an x-ray, read devastating results on a lab report, and take that chilling walk back to the exam room to deliver life-altering news. I'm profoundly grateful I'm not the one who has to look into the eyes of a patient and reveal a reality that will knock them to the ground and change their life forever. I'm also deeply indebted to the doctors who are called to do what I will never have the guts to do. I am mightily impressed. Recently I had the great fortune/misfortune/education of sitting in on an interview with Dr. Jeffrey Peters, Thoracic Surgeon and Chair of the Department of Surgery at the University of Rochester Medical Center. (Yeah, he's an articulate genius who could expound until ...

"Hi, I'm Theresa." She greeted me with the ease and effortless polish only a seasoned professional can summon. Around us buzzed a smooth swarm of high-energy movers and shakers from the local business community — a sea of shiny teeth, firm handshakes, expensive suits and freshly applied makeup. Business cards were flying faster than Black Jack cards in Vegas. There was laughter, and schmoozing, and socializing-with-a-purpose. People seemed happy to be together, but happier still to be connecting professionally. I, on the other hand, was at the wrong end of a long, exhausting day. I had searched in vain for 30 minutes to find a parking space before finally settling on a spot just a stone's throw from outer Mongolia. With more theatrics than necessary, I schlepped my camera gear across rows of vehicles that belonged to much luckier drivers than I, trudged past the valet parking drop-off, and limped into the restaurant. I hadn't seen my makeup ba...