Paparazzi, Paparazzo, Adrian Grenier, Evan Ferrante, and me...

Today I was sent on assignment for our local online news agency to photograph Adrian Grenier and Evan Ferrante for Adrian's new documentary about a 13 year old boy in the profession of paparazzo. I did not see the film with everyone else at the Glenbow Conaco Phillips Theater. I had planned to just fly in, take the pictures I needed for the paper and head out to the rodeo grounds to get the events. I like deadlines and the rush of getting my work in on time to match what the columnist is writing is kind of fun for me!

Those of you that know my work, know that I have a variety of subjects in my portfolio. A good portion is famous athletes, musicians, political figures, and events that they attend. I have taken great pride in always asking for permission from my subjects, and never taking the pictures without their consent. I may not make the 'big bucks' that the paparazzi make on 'the one great shot', but I am also always hired by the event host, the celebrity that's being celebrated, or the local news. It's not like I've never considered it, I just didn't feel like it was the best example of a lifestyle I wanted my kids to grow up with. All in all, if you get a great picture, you can feed your family for a couple of years without worrying about how you're going to pay the rent or choose between groceries and the electricity bill. In the end, I never went down that road because something in me couldn't compromise my values for a dollar.

So I arrive at the event, the film is still in progress, and Adrian Grenier and Evan Ferrante are standing in the lobby organizing their stuff. Very attractive, relaxed looking young men. After signing in and checking my press credentials, their media coordinator sets up my time with the two actors. They come over and bring along the 'merch' for the shot. As I get the pictures as quickly as possible, I watch them with my camera eyes for anything slightly not right. There is not a sign of anything untoward. They are both comfortable in front of the camera and the charming boyishness is still very obvious in their easy camaraderie.

As I mentioned, I was planning to jet out of there right after I got the shots I needed. Something about their easy energy made me want to stay for the Question and Answer period they had scheduled for after the show had concluded. I waited in the lobby and watched them organize their team. Finally the theater doors were open, the lights up , the crowd was clapping. Time to watch the magic. Their introduction by Nico and then a few words of address to the crowd by Luke, and they were on stage, ready to hear what the crowd had to say.

The questions were not difficult, mostly about minor issues in regards to the film, but the one common theme were the positive comments about the film. Adrian and Evan seemed to be well versed on the politics of their subject matter. They answered every question thoughtfully and with intelligent discourse on the subject at hand. They had plenty of humor between them and their demeanor about the project made me want to see it. I decided I would get a copy and watch it.  They very kindly autographed the DVD jacket for me and I left with contact information to send them copies of the pictures I took.

 I watched the DVD while I was getting ready to head out to the wrap party and found it to be a side of the paparazzi I hadn't counted on... they were human too! They had families, feelings, humor, attitude and everything in between. Adrian gets behind the camera himself to experience the side he's usually not on. The tables are turned when the kid becomes his own celebrity and Adrian has to play hide and seek with him, where Adrian is the one having to catch up with the kid.

Quite a few years ago, I was photographing a concert for someone. Unbeknownst to me, the promoter was dating a famous singer that didn't want her picture taken with him and saw me with my camera. With the promoter's kin in tow, she bared down on me in the lobby during intermission and demanded to  know who I was working for. Her attitude was 'in your face' aggressive and challenging every word I said. I was not shocked or taken aback in the least, I took it in stride as part of the job. I was a little surprised that the promoter had not told his lovely siren that I was working for him. She demanded to know who I was working for, what I would do with the pictures afterwards, and on and on. She was really quite lovely in person, but the attitude at which she spewed vitriol in my general direction was uncalled for and inappropriate, and made her seem vain and self absorbed. I politely explained the way I work, who I was working for and if she did not want to be in pictures, that I would not take any as she so politely requested. I also assured her that if she did end up in any by accident, I would edit her out or delete the file entirely. I was true to my word and did exactly that. By the time she walked away, she was much more calm and asking for my business card. I had two in my pocket but didn't feel like it would be a wise decision to share one with her at the time. In her defense, she was one of the most sought after entertainers at the time, and I'm sure she knew what it felt like to be hunted every time she stepped out her door. I have people prying into my life often enough and I'm not nearly that famous. Imagine having random strangers trying to shine a halogen lamp in all your nooks and crannies for the world to see... No thanks.

 I used to cringe in my boots every time someone referred to me as paparazzi. Did you know paparazzi means 'a buzzing annoying little flying bug'? Hmmm.... I'm happy I was able to meet them, photograph for my news 'deadline' and  watch a great film, but I will still ask permission to photograph any subject that I need to get. The documentary told the story from a new perspective and I'm glad I was able to see it. I still don't feel the need to get 'the money shot' and make a million off it. If I do, it will be because some rare endangered animal poked his head out of his cave and I happened to be there to capture it for National Geographic .... hmmm seems pretty much what the paparazzi do after all, doesn't it?
Well, you get what I mean. I'd still like to sleep at night knowing I didn't run a deer off the cliff in my pursuit of that elusive claim to fame.

Get the Documentary... it's worth watching!  It's called Teenage Paparazzo - a film by Adrian Grenier.
In the meantime ... don't forget to check your Compass.
Cole

Learning to rope ....

I have no idea how old I was, I can barely remember the day for that matter. I was learning how to rope from the back of a horse. If you know how to throw a loop, skip ahead because you know this next bit already...

When learning to rope, one usually starts with the basics of equipment. A long sleeved shirt. Why the long sleeved shirt you ask? When you're first learning, it's pretty common to start to throw and have the rope land on your extremities. If you're learning, it's not likely you've graduated to a nice medium soft smoothly braided rope. Most people start out with a stiffer rough rope so they don't have to work so hard to get the rope to swing properly. Those solid coarse ropes can burn like a son-of-a-gun when they hit you at any speed. Next thing is a proper set of roping gloves on your hands. I have scars from rope burn... ( this is usually funny when I tell people what the scars are from... rope burn. I generally don't elaborate on what the ropes were for. It's funnier that way.) I recommend blue jeans for the same reason. Lastly, if you're going to rope, put on some decent boots because it just looks silly otherwise. Cowboy hat is optional because, unless you're really a cowboy, or cowgirl you're just a city kid trying to look like you ain't! 

 First thing is positioning. It's better if you have your feet firmly planted, shoulder width apart, and you're facing your target square on. It's kind of like bowling but not really. Lol!

Okay seriously now... once you're standing square to your target, usually a wooden sawhorse with a set of horns tied on the one end not facing you. (Sometimes you can add a little tail to the end facing your direction if it makes you feel more like a real cowboy.) Now, when you're holding your rope, it has a natural shape to it, like a coil. You want to drop the loose end to the ground, but keep enough to have a small loop, and an extra bit by the knot to hold in your throwing hand. So you hold the loop part firmly in your fingers, and that extra bit beside it, outside the knot, with your thumb so they're together but still loose enough to slide out when you start to swing it up. Kind of like you're making the "hang loose' sign with your fingers. Swinging it in a circle slowly at first, until you get the hang of how the extra bit slides, while you keep the looped part beside it firmly tucked in your fingers. Once you get the feel of that bit sliding out, you can swing it up and build the size of your loop. This is where it can get tricky. Remember how I said not to wear a cowboy hat, now is where it would be wise to have on a ball cap with a sturdy brim ... Just a simple ball cap will keep the rope from singing your nose when it drops on you because you didn't build your loop correctly... oops...  maybe I should have told you that a little earlier. That rope burn on your nose will heal in no time, just put a little cream on it. So add a ball cap to your equipment list if you like.

Now then were was I ... oh yes, building your loop. Once you start swinging it over your head, it's the wrist motion that will benefit you most. With your hand in the 'hang loose' position, you want to flick your wrist so the rope swings up and over your head in a circular motion, with each swing, you let a bit of the slack, slip through your hand to make your loop bigger. Once your loop is a decent size, you throw the rope when your hand is up high, in the 'hang loose' position, with the trajectory of the rope already in the forward motion stage, you let it go once you extend your arm out in front of you. If you've built your loop correctly and built enough velocity to reach your target, it's always good to make sure you have enough length to reach the sawhorse... (insert cricket noise here ...) . Once you've spent enough time 'catching' the sawhorse's horns successfully, you can try it from the back of a horse... I recommend getting to know your horse really well before you do this. Some horses are not fond of stuff swinging around their heads and will show you what it feels like to land head first in a pile of manure at the first opportunity. 

So back to my story ... I was learning to rope from the back of a horse. Meet Big Buster, a big sorrel gelding that was super calm and really friendly. He was used to being a training horse so didn't even blink an eye when I started to swing the rope. It was the fact that every time I swung the rope to build my loop, I clipped his ears with the rope, just by a hair too. He gave me an air show I'll never forget. There's nothing like having your own little private rodeo with the quietest horse in the barn. I ended up, upside-down on the big metal pasture gate, knocked out cold for a few minutes. The fringes from my chaps dusting my face in the breeze. Didn't break anything, another miracle, but had to get right back up on Buster's back and do it again so he wouldn't think bucking the riders off was going to be a regular past time for him. In his defense, after I apologized for trying to trim his ear hairs, he was calm and quiet and let me try again without flinching a muscle.

That's my Stampede story for the week and I hope ya'll come back real soon, ya hear? 

And don't forget to check your Compass.

Cole

My first real Press Pass!

At this stage in the game, I really should be much like my contemporaries, getting ready to wind the career down. Slow down, think about retiring somewhere warm... well I'm just getting started.

Make no mistake, I've had a few press passes before, but they were paper,  handmade name badges, made hastily for the day. A few were made much like the backstage passes for guests of artists. Cloth stickers to attach to your clothes that last no more than the night.
Today I was delivered a true press pass, with my picture and a scan code, valid for the entire Stampede. I was so excited to get it, and to be covering The Greatest Show On Earth here at home for a local publisher. Would like to say who it is but I didn't ask their permission to write about it here so you'll all have to wait until they give me the okay.

So far, I'm just taking pictures, which we all know I can do well enough. They were really receptive to having me on board right away, and I'm not bragging or anything, but I have a pretty impressive portfolio.

The recent photos from my Canada Day road trip were a step forward to where I want to be with photography and this assignment with my new publisher is a great leap in that direction as well. I've mentioned before about my life as a kid, with National Geographic magazines strewn about, Jacques Cousteau on the TV, and Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom. Of course, I have to say, most of my photographer friends have the same dream, to go on assignments regularly for National Geographic magazine. The traveling and living overseas I have already done, were just the warm up for what is to come.

As my ever changing Top Ten List continues to evolve, I take another step, or giant leap from daydreaming to making them all a reality. My amazing friends, new and not so new, I have to give them all a huge salute, because without their encouragement and kindness, I don't know that I'd be so far ahead. Some incredibly gifted clients have gone above and beyond to encourage and put me forward that I can make these leaps and bounds. It just keeps getting better and better.

So, I'm sitting here looking at my Press Pass and I can say to myself, I have earned this. I've worked the trenches, fought the battles and I'll leave you with my favorite quote yet again ...

"I firmly believe that any man’s finest hours – his greatest fulfillment of all that he holds dear – is that moment when he has worked his heart out in good cause and lies exhausted on the field of battle – victorious."


Vince Lombardi - June 11th, 1913 - September 3rd, 1970

The Top Ten List and the Reward...

I know I've mentioned my photography top ten list before, but for those of you that don't always have time to read the blog, every photographer I have ever met, has something of a top ten list. It's the top ten people you would like to photograph. I have one and have had to revise it every time I get one of those people or places on film. The original one I had squirreled away in my jewelry box for quite a few years was tattered and worn from reading and daydreaming and only recently, I have been able to make it a reality.

There are only a few notables left on my current list from my original list. One of course, had passed away long before I was in a position to get to India to photograph her. It was Mother Theresa. She will now be on the list at the top for all time as a reminder to never walk away from an opportunity when it's presented to you. That's a story for another time. 

The two other original names are Nelson Mandela and Fidel Castro. I may just get my opportunity yet. I have put in my paperwork for Fidel Castro's office and I'll keep you posted how that goes. Nelson Mandela  may be a bit trickier. I have friends looking into that avenue and hopefully we'll see some light on that soon. 

The original #1 on my list was of course, His Holiness, The XIVth Dalai Lama. After the two day assignments were over, I went to Tiffany's and bought myself a Tiffany's signature key. It was my reward for accomplishing my goal so swiftly and with little fuss. My experience with the RCMP gave me a little head start in that regard. I had already had security clearance done while in service so the process was quick for me. Take note anyone who has big names on their list, it's not that easy for everyone. It was streamlined for me as I had all the details in place for years, acquiring security clearance requires a lot of patience.

Back to the rewards part. As I mentioned, each major assignment that has lead me to reaching a photography goal is rewarded with something special. It's like a right of passage for me to manifest my dreams into reality and I feel this deserves a token to remind me of the work and preparation that goes into attaining these lofty goals. Some of the people on my list may not have any meaning or significance for the average reader, but their names and personalities may have touched my life at different times with something they said or did publicly that changed my way of thinking. I won't be specific about who they are for this reason alone, as I'm sure some of you would be surprised or looking at me cross eyed saying 'Huh?' or 'Really?' In just under the last 2 years, I have photographed one of my top 10 not just once but he has become one of my favorite clients and his staff are also part of my favorite team to work with. I just completed an assignment for him where a business associate of his, that became a recent addition to my list, was in attendance. Later in the evening, another female member of my list arrived and I photographed her as well. I noticed that most of my accomplishments in photography since I have been in Calgary, can be traced back to my favorite Top Ten client. Whether someone has seen the work I did for him and brought me onboard, or they heard I had worked for him and decided that was all the reference they needed. I wrote a note to thank him for all he has done, because sometimes, I think people don't realize how one little kindness can change a person's entire life as he has done for me.

With my portfolio of work I have done for him, and other's that have opened their doors to me because I photographed for him, I was recommended to get an assignment for Tiffany's of New York. Tiffany's has also been on my list for many years. At the end of the assignment, I was going to follow the tradition and buy something little from Tiffany's to celebrate my successful career moment. Tiffany's covered that for me and gave me a small pendant on a chain. It's an adorable trinket that I would have worn often and remembered the day with fondness. 

This June was my daughter's 22nd birthday. We went to a movie and celebrated quietly. I gave her this pendant, as much as it was my gift, I wanted her to have something that was a milestone marker for me. I though it was important that she see how I am realizing my dreams, even at this late stage in the game. That pendant is a symbol of what's possible if you just believe and make a plan to get where you want to go. I hope it serves her well and I hope she reaches for the stars everyday because she can. I hope she can look at that pendant and have gratitude for the path to get where she's going. I hope it reminds her to always express gratitude to the people that reach out to open doors for her as she makes her own milestones.

Don't forget to check your Compass!

Cole 

A Happy Father's Day story to all the Dads!

Growing up with Hippy parents was a blessing and a curse all rolled up together. We ate what we grew and raised. My sisters and I wore hand-me-down clothes. We walked a mile or two, and yes it was a mile, not a kilometer. Plywood floors, pumping fresh drinking water from the well out back, trudging 100 yards across the frozen lawn to the outhouse in sometimes 3 or 4 feet of fresh sticky snow, in the middle of the night. We did not have indoor plumbing, I think I've mentioned that before, and with 5 little girls running around and then as we got older... my poor Dad!

I was the last of 5 girls, I think they really were hoping for a boy. Once I was born, I think that was it for them. We were all expected to work as secretaries, or something similar, get married and have babies. Out of 5, only two of us ever married and had children. This is the difference between small town Canadian Hippy family to the bigger, more dramatic American Pop Culture versions. Have to say I was the shiny green apple in a basket full of sweet reds. This often was to the chagrin of my Father as he and I didn't see eye to eye for years. He was the pragmatist and I was the artist and the dreamer. I learned to adapt and make things work, even though I often had to compromise to make everyone else happy. I always saw the big picture and the next level. My family was not quite so broad thinking, and those that were, kept their silence and didn't know they had a voice too. I did what I was told but was doing it my own way, the result was often the same, the path was usually faster and more efficient though.

So the years go on, I do the babies and the marriage thing as was expected, but what I really wanted back then was to travel and see the world. Have adventures, learn new languages and cultures, experience life. I believe this was a product of my exposure to National Geographic, Wild Kingdom of Omaha, and especially Jacques Cousteau Undersea Adventures. (PS Dad made me watch those!) This was not acceptable from my family's point of view, so to appease everyone, I married a man that worked in the slick and dirty business of oil and gas. We traveled the world with the little ones in tow and I managed to see some of it while I was raising the kids internationally. I sort of made my Dad happy, but he really wasn't pleased about the kids being raised overseas. I was still the dreamer, and he was still the pragmatist. I don't believe he was ever proud of my accomplishments to that point. I was definitely the granny smith tart green apple then.

Last year, in February, we learned my Dad was really ill. He hid his discomfort from my sisters, who lived close by. When it was finally discovered, it was too late to do anything about it. His body was riddled with pockets of Cancer. I drove my children the three and a half hours North to see him, while he was in the hospital. Then the Doctors told my sisters that the Cancer was destroying his mind and fairly soon, he would not know us.

I made one last drive North alone to visit early one morning. When I arrived, he was sleeping quietly in his bed. The pain he may have felt in the night was etched in the lines on his face. He slept silently for 15 minutes and when he woke, he asked who all the friends were that I brought with me. We were alone in the room. It may have been his mind starting to falter, but then again when you're that close to the end, who knows what you see or feel.

For two hours, we talked about fun things from the days on our little hippy farm. Stooking the cut alfalfa in the field and riding on the top of the haystack wagon back to the barns. Hooking the old wooden sled to the back of the tractor and riding around the roads in the frosty white winters. (All without safety harness and helmets! Lol!) Building junk in his workshop. For those of you that don't know, my Dad's father built Grandfather clocks so my Dad's choice was to build harps. I have two full size Celtic Concerto harps in my living room, as well as a lovely old wooden Duesenberg toy car he built.  He was not pleased that I was a photographer. He felt it wasn't a valuable profession and I would never amount to much in that industry so I was bit surprised when he asked about my work, which he never did before. I told him about getting a contract in Central America, one in Seattle, a pending one in Europe for a bank at the time that never panned out. I finally told him about reaching my goal of photographing His Holiness, The XIVth Dalai Lama the September before. To this he crossed his long lanky arms to his chest and said, "The Dalai Lama!" . The comments from his mouth were witty and fresh and I won't repeat them, but as much as he made jokes and played it down, I could see the pride shining from behind his eyes. I had never witnessed that before and it was like a beacon of understanding to me. An instant peace settled over the room and we shared a moment that will last in my consciousness until I take my last breath. I finally understood who he was and he understood who I was.

The hospital kitchen was just sending up his lunch. I hugged my Dad and said goodbye for the last time. I told him I would not be back again. I knew he would not know me soon and in a few weeks he did not know any of us. He had always played the strong silent Dad and I now know he would never have wanted any of us to remember him as weak and helpless in a hospital bed. He passed away on April 26, 2010 and I flew out to Central America the next day. Dad never liked a lot of excess and emotions made him uncomfortable in the extreme so a big weeping dramatic funeral was not what he would have envisioned for himself. I stop by his graveside out in the sleepy little country cemetery every time when I go North, just to pay my respects, clear off his marker or pull out a few weeds.

I have no witty words of wisdom, no happy ending, and no prose for a smoothly worded Father's day card. The story should speak for itself.
To all you Dads, soon to be Dads, and future Dads, Happy Father's Day! Make it count each and everyday.
Don't forget to check your Compass!

Cole

The best job offer ever .....

I am working at the editing desk today, pushing a deadline for 4 pm and out of the blue I get a phone call. Now it's not from someone I know very well. In fact we met very briefly at a party in Central America last spring. This person goes on to tell me how he is looking for someone with my experience to manage the photography side of his little hotel chain in Central America. Now I have to say the description of "little' for this guy's hotel is laced with sarcasm. He owns most of the private luxury properties in Central and South America. For those of you that haven't had this experience, high end boutique hotels often have photographers on staff or on speed dial to cover celebrity guests, weddings and events on location for them. This saves so much time and money for them and the work is fabulous. Excellent remuneration, accommodation and meals paid for. It's really a sweet deal. If you work for a group of them, it's really quite the life.

So as he's talking, we get down to the bare bones of the conversation. I need time to travel elsewhere to get the pictures I really want and he wants me to travel throughout South and Central America to handle his other properties location work. There are still questions to be answered before I go forward.

When I asked him what made him decide to call , he had a tale to tell me. I photographed a young man and his family on the beach last year in a candid moment. I didn't know this man or his family, but they were playing volleyball on the beach and I had some great images of them laughing and enjoying themselves.

I remember the picture and how soft the lighting was, the waves were moving in, and taking over their volleyball game but they continued to play. A short wave and a long serve caught the ball and dragged it out so the teenagers had to swim to catch it. They returned to shore cheering the capture and strong swimming of the boys. With a heave ho and a shove, they piled on each other in the wet sand and another wave swooped in and soaked them all again. I was smiling as I watched their family game. I checked the images and this one stood out from the rest so I had to show them.
Me being me, I walked into their happy scene and showed them all the picture and collected the email address with promises to send it when I returned home.

When I arrived back in Canada, I had a few pressing assignments so I didn't edit the pictures right away. When I did finally send it down to them, the young lad was just very ill and they had no diagnosis. They brought him home to Canada and he was looked after right away. By Christmas time they finally knew what he had and were taking the necessary steps to help him fight the disease. I could hear the emotion pouring through the phone when he said they all, extended family included, often look at that picture I took because that's the last time everyone was really happy. The family I photographed was his nephew's.

He did a thorough background check on me and decided I was the one he wanted. The picture was some of my best work, and very lovely with 'late in the day' lighting. It wasn't just the picture, it was the fact that I sent it to a stranger, as a gift to remember this happy day without asking for anything in return. He said that anyone that would do this and share this compassionate and positive energy is someone he wants on his team.

I love my life here in Calgary, my friends, the city coming to life and being able to capture it in my lens is what I live for everyday. I can not dismiss his offer for this work very lightly. My head says to go where the money is to another culture, my heart is in love with Calgary and the friends I have here. Do I stay and continue down the path of starving artist?.... or do I jump at the opportunity and go back to living out of a suitcase and seeing the world again? ....

Hmmmm Don't forget to check your Compass!

Cole

My name is not Michelle ....

 When I was maybe 9 or 10, we moved from our quiet 'little house on the prairie'. No word of a lie, it looked exactly like the house from 'Little House on The Prairie'. The only difference was that the siding was flat red with white trim, not sun faded clapboard and my mother was an exceptional gardner. The area surrounding our house was full of flowers and blooming trees as far as the eye could see. The inside wasn't much different though and we had to pull water from the well out back.. but that's a whole other story.

 I had spent many years on the farm with my grandparents, aunts, and uncles and the rest of the time at our little house in the garden. Things were changing rapidly. From the safe, quietly insulated little farming community to to big city ( Edmonton had a whopping population of about 200,000 +/- ).  We first moved to my Grandparents city home in one of the upper class neighborhoods. (Mr. and Mrs Don Getty were our near neighbors).

 My first day in the new city school was interesting. Not only had I left Kansas without my little dog Toto, it was like a whole new planet. My little farm girl clothes were just not making the grade with the Big City kids. I was teased mercilessly about my hair, my boots, my jeans, and shirts. They may have been a practical choice on the farm, but not really stylin' for 1970 something Edmonton... the fashion mecca of the world apparently. I'd have to say this was a huge learning curve for me about human nature. I had no idea kids could be so mean. Bullying is a soft word compared to what I experienced at the hands of a few 9 year old Ghengis Khans. I'll skip the details because what they did will be in the book and I have to say, it will be a story not soon forgotten.

 The one thing that amused me the most was that people could not get my name right. I was admonished and scolded by the teachers for not answering when they called my name. I actually was sent to the principal's office because I did not respond when they did roll call in class. Let me backtrack a bit here. There was this girl at the school for maybe 2 or 3 years, and a few months before I moved to the area, she moved away. According to those in the know, she and I were exactly the same everything. Hair, eyes, height, etc. Her name was Michelle. I guess she must have been a bit of a bad ass, as she had a reputation for being in the principal's office a fair bit. I was called Michelle by everyone and had to live down this girl's attitude and reputation daily. After being there from January to June, I am sure I had a childhood version of post traumatic stress disorder. The teachers were ridiculous in their insistence at calling me Michelle and punishing me for not responding. Each time I tried to tell them that was not my name, I was sent to the principal's office. I tried to be diplomatic and not to get in trouble, so my voice became softer, my words were clear and precise. Between the teachers and the bullies (and their flock of sheep) it's a wonder I didn't lose it completely. My Mom was dealing with so much stuff at the time, I didn't want to add to her burden so I kept quiet about it all at home. Only at the end of the year did my homeroom teacher have a meeting with my Mom and found out what my problem was. Instead of sitting down and having a conversation with me about what she did, she came at me all angry and in my face, telling me I should have told her my parents divorced that January, I should have made her listen each time I was mistakenly called Michelle and I should have spoke up louder than I did. Not sure how much louder I could have been without being punished for yelling in class at the teacher.  I was never very sure how it ended up being my fault that they couldn't get my name right, but according to my teacher, it was.

We moved to a new neighborhood, a 10 minute bike ride away from my grandparent's city house, but in a different school district. On the first day of school, I was called Michelle by a few kids. This was creepy... I ended up in the principal's office because I didn't know what his little black book was for. He kept a little black book in his office and every time you ended up in his office, he wrote your name in the book. If he saw your name in there twice, you got the strap. My name was not in the book, but Michelle's name sure was. He ended up getting called away before he could strap me and the secretary hustled me out of there as quickly as she could. She was there the day my Mom registered me and she knew I was not Michelle. By this point, I'm thinking if I ever saw this Michelle, I may have to have a chat with her about her behavior.

Years go by, I went to private school and was home schooled. My music and photography were my majors of choice and managed to make it work for me. I had adjusted to city life but got back out to my friends and relative's in the country as often as possible. Things were going well. I was working in the Whyte Ave area of Edmonton at a club, trying to pay for school, and had many people call me Michelle. Once, someone stopped me and tried to make a joke about me (Michelle) picking up a tray in the club. I explained that they were mistaken and I was not Michelle. Having a second look through beer goggle eyes, the guy apologized and said I was definitely not Michelle but he had just seen her up in the back of the club. I actually dragged this drunken sod to the back to point her out to me, but through his pickled peepers, he couldn't have seen her if she was sitting on his lap.

The thread of this story is really about the bullying, not about the doppleganger Michelle. There is a cause I have just heard about through one of my favorite clients, called Dare To Care. It's about bullying in the school system. Something I experienced first hand. I will say this though. All the teasing, petty ridicule and plain cruelty I experienced as a kid, have made me a compassionate and caring adult. I work for my passion and never let anyone bully another. I raised my children to stand up for those who can not defend themselves, and I am not afraid to speak up for another who needs support and strength.


That's all for now.
Don't forget to check your Compass!
Cole