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  • "You're so good at that. I could never take photos that good."

    Standing outside the jumpy-jump, she snapped two more quick yet perfect shots of kiddos in mid-bounce.

    "I've had a lot of practice," she responded to the parent who stood at her shoulder admiring pictures as they emerged onto the digital camera screen.

    "Do you have children here?" asked the parent. "Which one's yours?" The implication being, she thought, that having her own children would be the only way to practice photographing them.

    She set up another shot, focusing on three hand-holding toddlers gleefully testing their defiance of gravity in one corner of the giant inflated princess castle before answering.

    "No. I was a professional photographer. Before."

    Click. Pause. Click. Don't take too many shots otherwise you'll end up staring at them on the computer forever trying to edit.

    Check the viewer.

    All good.

    "Maybe you could do portraits," suggested the parent. "You're so good."

    Rolling Stone. AP. Time. Those places had also found her photography good.

    Shooting concerts was great practice for anybody.

    Red lights (really bad), blue lights (so-so), gold lights (preferable), no lights (keep very still, especially since you are not allowed to use flash for fear of blinding the performers).

    Singer in motion, guitarist flailing, drummer flapping around like a crazed bird, butt barely touching his seat.

    "They're like a buncha monkeys jumpin' around in the jungle!" hollered the shooter for Getty over the 11-high wall of volume they were all faced with in the photographer's pit. Less than a foot away from the action. Screaming fans on the other side of a barricade that probably wouldn't be much use in case hysteria broke out.

    Click. Pause. Click. Pause. Click. Focus. Focus. Focus.

    The Who. Hollywood Bowl.

    David Bowie. Intimate 100-guest VIP gig.

    Aretha Franklin. Rock 'n' Roll Hall of Fame.

    Coldplay. Small theater before anybody knew who they were.

    And this afternoon, a thousand miles and just three years later, in a backyard shooting photos of her best friend's son and his pals as his birthday gift to the parents.

    "Thanks. It makes me happy."

    Click. Click.

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