His name is Gregory Palo, but you might want to put an "M" before Palo, because his dad's name is Gregory too, he says.

"This is about good enough for a good snack ... so, that's my catch for today," Gregory said matter-of-factly Tuesday afternoon as he slung three fish over his shoulder and walked away from his lucky fishing spot at Idle Isle Park, Muskego. Gregory's parents told him to either walk home or call as soon as he caught enough fish for a snack.

A snack, I thought? This boy is actually going to EAT these not-so-tiny fish once he gets home? Whatever happened to Fruit Roll-Ups and popsicles? After a few minutes of talking with the little pro, all of my doubts subsided. He was hardcore into this. He was telling me the truth. He was ... no joke. 

This afternoon turned out to be one of those days where I couldn't possibly imagine a more satisfying profession. I'm not dillusional — I realize that hardly anyone (in the big scheme of things) will see the photos I made, and I'm fine with that. Even less people will read this blog. But Gregory absolutely made my day, and I hope he makes your's. He's the slice of life we try and capture every time the camera clicks. The only thing that set him apart from Andy Griffith's son, Opie, was when he pulled a cell phone out of his pocket to check the time. I was so in awe of this little fisherman — I honestly wouldn't have blinked if Aunt Bee popped out of the bushes told him it was almost dinner time.

So why do we take pictures like this, you ask. It's a good question, and I'd love to hear your input. Personally, I take photos like this because I think readers can relate. Maybe you used to be an Opie, or maybe your son or grandson is. The pictures we take are snapshots of what happens within our communities in any given week. The photos we take should tell the stories of all of our residents, no matter how young or old they may be. The pictures in our paper should make you feel ... something. If you react, we've done our job.

Nikon D2H, 17 mm, 400 ISO, f2.8, 1/6400, Manual

Nikon D2H, 35 mm, 400 ISO, f2.8, 1/6400, Manual

Nikon D2H, 35 mm, 400 ISO, f2.8, 1/6400, Manual

Nikon D2H, 17 mm, 400 ISO, f2.8, 1/4000, Manual

Nikon D2H, 17 mm, 400 ISO, f2.8, 1/4000, Manual

Nikon D2H, 35 mm, 400 ISO, f2.8, 1/3200, Manual

Last night, I spent a little time looking through archives of old pictures I've taken. I do this maybe once or twice a year — for me, it's a good way to keep myself in check and see firsthand ways I can improve. But every time I do this, memories come rushing back.

I'm not the type of photographer to hang my own photos on my walls or clutter my apartment with picture frames. My professional archives are in binders underneath my couch and my personal archives are in dusty photo albums packed away in my closet. But with every photo is a memory — whether the photo is of a complete stranger or someone I love, my archives document my life, whether I'd like to remember those moments or not. With each photo, I remember how I felt the moment the camera clicked.

I shot the photo below last week. When I was taking it, memories of my years down in Florida flooded my mind. I spent two years working in a city which consisted of approximately 70,000 retirees. Although I wouldn't trade this experience in for the world, I felt as though I had retired before my life ever began. But these people were lovin' life. They had been there, they had done that, and now, they were ready to soak up some sun and hide from their grandchildren. It is a mystical, magical, frightening place. I learned to appreciate and be thankful for every stage of life. They were no longer worried about the numbers on their paychecks or how they looked in the swimming pool. If they liked basket weaving, they basket weaved seven days a week. If they liked softball, they hit the diamonds 365 days per year. If they liked to belly dance, they shook it until the sun went down. And I photographed it all.

I learned a few life lessons down in Florida, but more importantly (for this moment, at least), I learned how to make photos of senior citizens doing nothing but ... walking.

Nikon D2H, 125 mm, 400 ISO, f2.8, 1/4000, Manual
Dan and Marge Shadd, of the Franklin Seniors Walking Club, get some exercise Thursday, July 31, 2008, right outside the Milwaukee County Sports Complex, Franklin. The club, which meets from 9 to 11 a.m. every Thursday, is open to all Milwaukee County residents.