There might have been a wee bit of tension in the air back in the fall of 2010, when this new guy named Jeff joined the band. After all, having a shaved head was MY thing, and this guy didn’t seem to like Neil Diamond AT ALL. But it didn’t take long to figure out that Jeff was both an excellent addition to the band—which was exclusively gigging at charter schools back in those days—and a kindred spirit of rare quality. Jeff is one of those guys that makes you feel like you need to work a little harder on your man card; he’s a world traveler who rides motorcycles, plays guitar, knows—and teaches—all kinds of stuff about guns (and gun safety), and he handles a solid beard. And yes, he shaves his head. He’d be a great guy to have around for a zombie apocalypse, and conveniently, he also digs zombie movies. He’s a multi-media guru, and recently started down that dark, hopeless path into serious photography. (Just remember, my friend, it’s all downhill from here.) If our friendship were only built on band stuff, I’d have plenty of bio material after years of practices and random gigs in odd and obscure places. But as with most genuine friendships, the best memories usually recall long conversations about important and not-so-important subjects, late at night in places like In-N-Out Burger or my old apartment loft. Case in point: our power lunch at @blueplatediner a few weeks back started at a reasonable hour, but the conversation lasted long enough that we could have ordered dinner by the end of it. Now if we could just take care of the Neil Diamond thing...
The easiest way to put this is that Micah is to New York as I am to Chicago. But as usual, the easiest option fails to do justice to a dynamic friendship that has lasted close to two decades, and has made a substantial impact on my own career. I met Micah during the Parker Era of the University 32nd Ward, back when we were meeting in this funny old chapel on 1st South in Salt Lake City. As time and many, many activities passed—including a memorable road trip to the Manti Pageant (RIP) one summer—we became both friends and colleagues, largely thanks to the mysterious enigma that is the Sunday School program. During the same stretch, I watched as NBA basketball became the professional focal point of Micah’s existence, when after years of service at The Delta Center (which snagged me my first opportunity to photograph a Jazz game), he eventually moved to the Big Apple to raise his growing family while working in the league offices. The NBA job has taken Micah all around the world, but I caught him as he passed through town recently, and we grabbed lunch at @granatos.1948 , which was really the only option if you know him at all. He told me all about his recent experiences as a bishop in Harlem, which also feels appropriate, and though I remember saying words, I can’t remember what I contributed to the discussion outside of the impromptu portrait session. Back in 2010, Micah gave me the tip that led to me helming the Deseret News’ film reviews, and provided me with an easy conversation starter at parties for years to come. It’s just one example of trademark generosity from my #1 New Yorker.
It might not be obvious, given that she has hair and a refined sense of style, but this week I’m featuring my sister Katie. Happy Birthday, punk! Good grief, where do I even start? When you’ve known somebody from the time they were literally brought home from the hospital, the memories tend to run together. For years, I treated my kid sister like a Mini-Me, wrapping her up in pillows so we could play full-contact football in our unfinished basement, or sending her lists of songs to listen to while I was on my mission to ensure she had a proper musical upbringing. The 5 1/2 year gap between us meant we were never quite in the same school at the same time—aside from our Kindergarten/6th grade year—and it took an embarrassingly long time before I started to really appreciate the young woman who used to walk around our house singing while I was clinging to delusions of Super Bowl rings. Now of course she’s this dynamo kaleidoscope of activity: dedicated wife and mother, accomplished singer, next-level gift giver, thoughtful poet, teacher, baker, decorator, dresser...and after our recent power lunch at Oh Mai in Salt Lake, I’d say she’s got a talent for spotting excellent food options, as well. Yet there’s one dynamic that seems to define our relationship as much as anything, that springs to mind as I remember a night up in Island Park when we were kids, staying with our grandparents. She was having a rough time, missing home, and I had to be the one to give her a pep talk and let her know things would be OK. It made me feel like I was a good big brother, and it’s humbling to think of how often I go to her for advice now, how those roles have reversed. I see how she is with my brother-in-law, how she is with my nieces, and I feel silly that I ever tried to make her more like me. She was always on the right track all along.
