No Surrender: A Photographer's Perspective On Four Years

Rob Nielsen
5.14.08

One thousand, three hundred sixty-two days; the amount of time exactly that it took many of us from the day we first walked these halls as freshmen to the day when we walked across the stage, signifying the end of our high school careers. This time formulated countless stories for each individual that over our lifetimes will doubtlessly be told, written down or even for a select few, possibly be portrayed on the big screen or on the national stage. I would like to take a little time to tell only part of my own interpretation of the last four years that without a doubt have shaped the rest of my life.

Photography, the job people know me best for, has always been an interest of mine since I was very young. My skill has had time to improve significantly. Some of my early work, looking through some of my family’s old Kodak photo books, included pictures of doors, floors, parking lots, the sky, the backyard taken through our back window at night and even on two separate occasions, dozens of pictures of the lead locomotive on Amtrak’s eastbound California Zephyr.From this came my willingness to write down the intent to serve as a yearbook photographer my sophomore year.

I was probably never more excited than the moment I crossed that two foot high chain that is meant to remind people in the stands (as we would constantly be reminded of throughout that game and the same game two years later) that they weren’t welcome on the playing field. It was Sept. 2, 2005: opening day of Papillion’s new football stadium. The game was Papillion South v. Papillion and many were hoping that with all the hype around the game, the Titans would finally avenge their first two meetings with the Monarchs in which they were outscored 111-0. I was one of the lucky few on the journalism staff who was able to secure a camera for the game. It was a film camera and with the limited knowledge I had of how to develop the film, it would eventually lead to the destruction of any evidence I took pictures at this event. Regardless, I would enjoy the experience of the sidelines so much I made a decision that very night. I wanted to pursue becoming a sports photographer. Even in the face of the fact the Titans would lose on a bad call (that I will contend was a touchdown until my dying days), the stage was set and I would do what it took to attain my goal. However, even though I knew what I wanted to build a career on by my sophomore year, it didn’t mean I didn’t have a little maturing and growing left to do.

Three years ago I never would’ve imagined myself wearing fedoras and a pair of Ray-Ban Wayfarers to football games. And I never would’ve given consideration to wearing a shirt imprinted with “Don’t Stop Believin’.” My freshman and early sophomore years I was a bit more conscious of what people thought of me and wouldn’t have thought of anything of that nature. I’d end up finding out that inspiration comes from the strangest places, such as an article in our school’s paper from January 2006 on one of the topics of which I have little to no knowledge of: fashion. The article was Dei Rathburn’s “Unique Styles Make Statement.” It was a bit hidden away toward the bottom of the page (honestly the story about some of the men of PLS wearing women’s jeans will grab your attention quickly), but that didn’t matter, it would still have a long reaching effect on me. It profiled two people, a guy and a girl. The guy talked about how he’d picked up a lot of women’s fashions, which was okay but never really appealed to me. Then I read a little about the girl they interviewed. She was a bit eccentric with her style of dress to the point where she wore her homecoming dress with jeans and a tank top over that. My initial reaction was, “That’s kind of scary, and cool at the same time.” She would go on to say that she really doesn’t want to be normal. That would go on to inspire me to take few more risks when it came to how I looked. Lesson learned: your own opinion of yourself should always overcome what those passing criticism think.

Another enlightening part of my high school career was debate. I’d recommend everyone take a debate class not only for the argument but just the experience itself. I’ve seen probably the biggest mix of people in my life, from stuttering fools, to liberals, conservatives, twins, Mormons, people going on to serve the armed forces, the enlightened and the confused. There is little comparison. The biggest lesson I pulled out of the class that I’d like to pass on is that there is no excuse for not knowing what goes on in the world today. Some people still need to step beyond Paris Hilton, Britney Spears and the other cultural fads that present themselves so bold and stark today and see what happens in the world really comes back to us at some time or another. Not only this, but we need to get to know each other a bit better in order to overcome many of the problems we’re facing.

Finally, one of the biggest lessons I learned is that even the most minuscule things matter. Probably one of the biggest highlights of my career in photography had nothing to do with getting the right picture. Now I’m not trying to say that photography has been a thankless job. I’ve been thanked by players and parents alike. However when a game ends, a photographer takes the bottom spot of the priority list. Such was the case Sept. 14, 2007. PLS had finally done it; they’d beaten the Monarchs 42-24 in one of the best games PLS has ever played. The fans by now had spilled onto the track. Though a far cry from the tradition of storming the field, it sufficed for the moment. The students congregated around the players and would do so until being led off the field for the ensuing celebration. Then out of the corner of my eye, I saw someone running toward me. It was a friend of mine from my government class. She yelled, “Rob! We won!” And with that, threw her arms around me in a hug. On a night filled with the most heroic team and individual efforts, hers’ was the one that always has and will stand out.

So what can I leave you with? At this time I feel nothing is more appropriate than a song. Graduation night as I laid in bed, I did as I do many nights: I listened to some music. The last song I listened to is my favorite of all time, but one you may not suspect: Journey’s “Faithfully.” Though its lyrics detail the hardships of love on the road, in a greater sense, the lyrics can also be translated to our current situation. Despite being apart, we all share the fact that we all attended the same school, the same friends and so on. We’ll try, no matter the difficulty to keep in touch in most cases. And when those days come when we meet again, there’s no doubt that in most cases, we won’t forget “the joy of rediscovering” each other. My career at PLS will officially end Aug. 29, when I take a final photo assignment at the PLS-PLV football game. However, the memory of this experience will remain. The names that made it all possible, the names such as Stewart, Thornton, Maxwell, Boex, Manchigiah, Cummings, Day, Anderson, Tippett, Hubenka, Anderson and countless others will always be a part of my memory for the rest of my life. Thank all these people and others for making this high school experience.

Forever Yours, Faithfully,

Robert Nielsen