The little boy holds onto the sheep during a Mutton Busting event at a rodeo, similar to bull or bronc riding, in which children ride or race sheep—the Panaewa Stampede Rodeo at the Equestrian Center Complex, Stainback Highway, Hilo, Hawaii.

There’s an old saying in photojournalism:

“ƒ/8 and be there.”

It sounds almost too simple—especially in a world filled with cutting-edge cameras, endless YouTube tutorials, and debates about dynamic range and autofocus systems.

But this phrase has survived for a reason.

Because at its core, it’s not about camera settings.

It’s about priorities.

What “ƒ/8” Really Means

Back in the days of film, ƒ/8 was a safe, reliable aperture. It gave you enough depth of field to keep your subject sharp without overthinking every frame.

It meant you weren’t chasing perfection.

You were choosing consistency.

Today, we have incredible tools—eye tracking, ISO performance that would’ve seemed impossible decades ago, and lenses sharper than ever.

And yet…

How many moments are missed because someone was:

• adjusting settings
• second-guessing exposure
• or scrolling through menus

The point of “ƒ/8” isn’t the number.

It’s the mindset:

Know your gear well enough that it disappears.

“Be There” Is the Real Assignment

The second half of that phrase is where the power really lives.

Be there.

Not just physically present—but emotionally, mentally, and relationally engaged.

The best storytelling doesn’t happen because of perfect lighting or flawless composition.

It happens because:

• You stayed a little longer
• You built trust
• You paid attention when others didn’t

In my work with nonprofits and missionaries, I’ve seen this over and over again.

The most meaningful images rarely come from the planned moments.

They come from:

• The quiet pause after the interview
• The interaction no one thought to photograph
• The in-between moments that reveal truth

And those moments only show up if you’re there for them.

Why This Matters More Today

We’re living in a time where it’s easy to confuse technical excellence with storytelling effectiveness.

You can have:

• The best camera
• The sharpest lens
• Perfect exposure

…and still miss the story.

Because storytelling isn’t about perfection.

It’s about connection.

And connection requires presence.

What This Looks Like in Practice

For me, “ƒ/8 and be there” shows up in a few simple ways:

• I simplify my gear so I’m not distracted
• I arrive early and stay late
• I focus on people more than equipment
• I watch for moments instead of forcing them

And most importantly…

I remind myself that my job isn’t to impress people with my camera.

It’s to help others feel something real.

The Takeaway

If you’re trying to grow as a storyteller, here’s the truth:

You don’t need more gear.

You don’t need a better camera.

You don’t need another tutorial.

You need to:

• Show up
• Pay attention
• And stay present long enough for the story to unfold

Because in the end, the images that matter most…

aren’t the ones that were technically perfect.

They’re the ones that only happened because you were there.

During week five of the Roswell Fire Citizens’ Academy, we focused on the role of the Public Information Officer. On the surface, it’s about communicating clearly during emergencies. But what struck me most is how the lessons apply far beyond crisis communication—they speak directly to how we all communicate every day.

We started with a simple exercise. We were told a story about five people and asked to rank their characters from best to worst. Everyone made their decisions pretty confidently. Then we were given more information.

And just like that, the rankings changed.

Same people. Same story. More context.

That’s when it hits you—how quickly we form opinions with incomplete information.

Later, Chad Miller, the Roswell Fire PIO, walked us through the classic illustration of blindfolded individuals describing an elephant. One person feels the trunk and says it’s like a snake. Another feels the leg and says it’s like a tree. Someone else touches the ear and describes a fan.

They’re all right… and all wrong at the same time.

Each person is confident in their conclusion because of what they experienced. But none of them has the full picture.

Sound familiar?

We don’t just see this in the media or during major news events. We see it in conversations with our spouses, our kids, our coworkers, and our clients. We hear part of a story, interpret it through our own experiences, and then respond as if we know the whole truth.

And that’s where communication starts to break down.

In the academy, we also looked at how misinformation spreads—often unintentionally. A partial truth gets shared, someone adds their interpretation, and before long, it takes on a life of its own.

Then we stepped into the pressure of it ourselves.

We were divided into groups and given crisis scenarios. Each team had to organize a mock press conference, with participants playing roles such as Public Information Officer, Fire Chief, Police Chief, Transportation Director, and Mayor. The rest of the class acted as the media, asking questions.

The biggest takeaway from everyone?

It’s incredibly hard to communicate clearly when:

• You don’t have all the information
• The situation is evolving
• People are demanding answers right now

And yet—that’s exactly where many of us live in our day-to-day communication.

We feel pressure to respond quickly.
We assume we understand what’s going on.
We fill in gaps without even realizing it.

But good communicators—whether in a crisis or in a conversation—do something different.

They slow down.

They ask better questions.

They recognize what they don’t know.

One of the most valuable tools shared in the class was a list of 77 questions journalists commonly ask during a crisis, along with 64 “bridging statements” to help guide responses. The purpose isn’t to dodge questions—it’s to stay grounded in what is known and avoid speculating beyond that.

That’s a powerful principle for all of us.

Because most communication problems don’t come from bad intentions—they come from incomplete understanding.

After years of working as a photojournalist, in public relations, and now teaching storytelling, I’ve seen this play out again and again. The strongest storytellers aren’t the ones who rush to conclusions. They’re the ones who take the time to see the whole picture—or at least acknowledge when they can’t.

So what does this look like in real life?

It might sound like:

• “I may not have the full story—can you help me understand?”
• “Here’s what I know so far…”
• “Before I respond, I want to make sure I’m seeing this clearly.”

Those small shifts can change everything.

Because when we recognize that our perspective is only part of the story, we become better listeners, clearer communicators, and ultimately, more trustworthy voices.

Whether you’re standing in front of a room during a crisis press conference or having a conversation across the dinner table, the principle is the same:

You probably don’t have the whole story.

And that’s not a weakness.

It’s the starting point for better communication.

Ryan Rucker and Dorie Griggs, Chaplain for the Roswell Fire Department, share a genuine reaction as another story unfolds across the table—one of those moments where laughter, memory, and years of brotherhood all meet in a single expression.

There’s something powerful about being in a room filled with people who have spent decades running toward danger while everyone else was running away.

The 2026 Ole Timers Dinner with the Roswell Fire Department wasn’t just another annual event. It was a living reminder that brotherhood doesn’t end when the uniform comes off. For many, this gathering—known in past years as the Retirees Oyster Dinner—is a reunion of stories, shared sacrifice, and deep respect.

Why I Focused on Candids

Most of the photos I captured that night were candid.

That was intentional.

When you’re documenting an evening like this, the real story isn’t in people looking at the camera. It’s in the handshake that turns into a two-handed grip. The laugh that erupts after someone says, “Remember that call when…” The quiet moment when two retirees lean in close, heads bowed together in conversation.

Those unscripted moments are where you see the brotherhood.

Posed photos have their place—and I’ll get to that—but the heart of the night lives in those in-between frames. The ones where no one is performing. They’re just being who they’ve always been with each other.

The Group Photos: Organized Chaos

At the end of the evening, we pulled everyone together for two group portraits:

• One with just the retired firefighters
• One with current staff joining them

These photos matter. They’re historical records. Years from now, someone will look at those images and say, “That was our crew.”

But let me tell you—the hardest part of the night wasn’t lighting or camera settings.

It was getting everyone staggered enough so we could see every face.

My wife, Dorie Griggs, who serves as Chaplain for the department, was right there helping organize and encourage everyone. Even with her support, it takes patience. Firefighters are used to moving with purpose—not necessarily holding still while a photographer fine-tunes spacing.

And then came the baseball caps.

They had just handed out caps to everyone, and of course, people wanted to wear them for the photo. I don’t blame them—it’s part of the story. But caps change everything when it comes to lighting.

Normally, I’d raise my lights high enough to avoid the front row casting shadows on the second row. But with hats, if the lights are too high, the brims throw shadows over eyes. So I had to lower the lights.

Lower lights mean staggering becomes even more critical.

So I went down the line.
Adjusted shoulders.
Asked a few to shift left.
Encouraged others to step back half a foot.

We got it set.

And then, naturally, people moved.

That’s just part of photographing a large group. You do your best. You refine. You shoot multiple frames. And you accept that perfection is rarely the goal—connection is.

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Double-click on the images to see them larger.

More Than a Photo

In the end, the images aren’t about flawless alignment or perfectly lit faces.

They’re about legacy.

They’re about men and women who built a culture of service in Roswell. They’re about shared history. They’re about the kind of bond that only comes from walking through hard things together.

It was an honor to document a night that celebrates not just years of service—but a lifetime of impact.

And if you look closely at those candids, you’ll see it.

The brotherhood never retired.

Jasmine Montgomery stands at the front of the room, naming nearly 400 team members from memory — one by one — as their faces appear on the screen behind her. In a department built on serving others, this moment quietly reminds everyone that they, too, are known.

There are shoots where I’m simply documenting what happens — and then there are the ones where I feel the heartbeat of a team through the lens. The Support Desk Kickoff for Chick-fil-A’s Help Desk team was the latter.

This department started in 2016 with just three people. Today it’s nearly 400 strong. A growth story like that is impressive on paper, but what’s even more powerful is how they experience each other as individuals every year at this kickoff — celebrating what they’ve accomplished together and revisiting their mission and goals for what comes next.

And my job isn’t just to document it. It’s to capture the emotion that drives it.

A Tradition Worth Photographing

For the past four years, there’s been a moment in this gathering that always stops me in my tracks.

Someone stands at the front of the room and names everyone in the organization from memory. Headshots are projected on a screen, and one by one — nearly 400 people — are called out by name. It started with their director in the first year. This year, a new person carried the tradition forward flawlessly.

I don’t know if you’ve ever really witnessed the power of hearing your own name said aloud in a room full of peers, but the body language, the smiles, the subtle nods — it tells a story of belonging that most corporate settings barely touch, let alone celebrate.

Jon Gordon on Positive Leadership

As part of the kickoff this year, their keynote speaker was Jon Gordon, a 15-times bestselling author and one of the world’s most sought-after speakers on positivity, leadership, team culture, and helping organizations move forward together. His work emphasizes how positive leadership and shared purpose fuel engagement in teams of all kinds — from Fortune 500 companies to non-profits and service organizations like this one.

I capture a lot of keynotes. But with someone like Jon, you can feel the room shift — not because of theatrics or shock value, but because his message connects with people. When the speaker’s message aligns with the team’s mission in front of you, the emotional impact is far easier to see through a camera.

The Group Photo That’s More Than a Picture

Every year, I make a large group photo of everyone. This year, it was close to 400 people.

Here’s the part I think most photographers overlook: the moment before and after the shutter clicks is where the emotional story lives.

Every person had their name said from the stage. Then I was on a ladder, elevated above them, capturing a moment where they — as individuals — became a collective.

That’s where purpose becomes visible. That’s where belonging becomes tangible. That’s where your lens does more than record — it reflects what it feels like to be seen and known.

More Than a Photographer — a Witness

Over the years, I’ve been to this event more than a few times. What’s become clear isn’t just the growth of the team, or the traditions they honor — it’s how consistently they show up for one another.

And how do I know that?

Year after year, after the shoot is over, people walk up to me and say my name. No introduction. Just recognition — a “thank you” that tells me they remember me being there. That I saw them.

That’s an honor. And it’s one of the quiet reasons I do this work.

Aftershoot assigned this image a 4-star rating during culling, even though it is out of focus.

A few days ago, I shared my one-month review of Aftershoot and mentioned that I was planning to purchase it.

After completing several more projects with it, I need to update that recommendation.

I no longer recommend Aftershoot.

When I first tested it, I was hopeful. The idea of saving time on culling and basic edits is appealing to any working photographer. But the more real-world projects I ran through it, the more I realized I couldn’t trust the results.

The Culling Problem

The biggest issue is culling.

In multiple shoots, Aftershoot gave five-star ratings to images that were clearly out of focus. I’ll include one example below. An image that no client would ever receive was ranked as a top selection.

That alone is concerning.

But even beyond focus, it consistently chose the wrong “best” image in a series. In groupings where I had subtle variations—expressions, micro-movements, peak moments—it often picked the weaker frame.

That meant I couldn’t trust it.

And if I can’t trust it, I have to double-check everything.

Once I’m reviewing every image again to make sure nothing important was missed—and correcting its “best” selections—I’m no longer saving time. In fact, over the past few projects, I believe I’ve spent more time re-checking its work than if I had simply culled the job myself from the start.

I also found many images that should have been selected as top choices but weren’t flagged at all.

Editing: Adequate, But Basic

As for editing, it’s acceptable in a very general sense.

If your goal is something similar to dropping your film at a one-hour lab and letting them process everything evenly, it can get you in that direction.

But that’s not how I work.

My editing relies heavily on selective masks—subject masks, gradients, sky selections, landscape separation, and nuanced refinements in Adobe Lightroom. Aftershoot’s adjustments are broad and basic by comparison.

It doesn’t think the way I think when refining an image.

And that matters.

The Bottom Line

If I must go back through every image because I don’t trust the culling…
If it misses peak moments…
If it rates out-of-focus images as top selections…
And if the editing doesn’t significantly reduce my workflow time…

Then it’s not helping me.

It’s adding friction.

So I need to correct my earlier statement: I will not be purchasing Aftershoot.

I always want to be transparent about the tools I test. When something works, I’ll say it. When it doesn’t—especially after extended real-world use—I’ll say that too.

If you’re considering it, I would strongly encourage you to run extensive tests on your own real assignments before committing.

For my workflow, the trust just isn’t there.

I’ve been using Aftershoot for the past month during the free trial period, and I’ve decided to subscribe. That alone tells you something.

The short answer to the big question: Does it save time?
Yes. It does.

But let’s unpack that.

Where Aftershoot Really Helps

Aftershoot is very good at the technical side of culling:

• Identifying out-of-focus images
• Flagging closed eyes
• Catching exposure issues
• Grouping similar images together

The grouping feature alone is a major time-saver. When I’m covering an event and shooting bursts, it quickly stacks near-duplicates so I can compare and choose. That reduces the mental fatigue that comes from clicking through hundreds of similar frames.

It’s efficient. And when you’re processing thousands of images from an event, efficiency matters.

The Biggest Weakness: The “Decisive Moment”

What it does not do well is choose the decisive moment.

That’s the difference between a technically correct photo and the image that actually tells the story.

For example, if I’m covering an event and there’s a prayer moment, people closing their eyes is not a mistake—it’s the story. The software often flags them as rejects because it sees “closed eyes” as a flaw. From a technical standpoint, that makes sense. From a storytelling standpoint, it doesn’t.

The good news? It’s easy to go back through the rejected images and recover what you need. But it reinforces something I already believed:

You still need a human eye.

AI Editing: Solid, But Not Finished

The AI editing is adequate. It gives you a usable starting point, especially for event coverage where speed matters.

However:

• AI masking is not very strong yet.
• Cropping isn’t very good.
• Image straightening is inconsistent.

For event work, I still need to go in and refine quite a bit. For something like studio headshots, it might be sufficient—or at least much closer.

But for storytelling work where nuance matters, I’m not handing over final judgment to software.

So… Is It Worth It?

Yes—because of the time savings.

It dramatically reduces the first-pass workload. Instead of starting from scratch, I’m starting from an organized, filtered set of images. That’s valuable.

Do I trust it blindly? No.

Do I believe AI will improve over the next few years? Absolutely.

But as of February 2026, my experience is this:

Aftershoot is a strong assistant—not a replacement for a storyteller.

And that’s how I’m choosing to use it.