I have a soft spot for pretty pictures, and that's probably because most of what I shoot is the ugly stuff.  Government, business, schools, cops, portraits of everybody in town, sports of all kinds.  "The Monster," as we call the daily newspaper hole, has to be fed.  Nobody ever says, "Go shoot a pretty picture."  So, in my adventures, I try not to pass up anything truly delightful.  This photo has particular meaning to me, however, because it presented itself to me--a lot of the best ones happen this way, you know--like a gift.   But this one came as I sat parked in my car, praying for my brother, who had just been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and given a 5 percent chance to survive.  Tom died in December of 1999, two years later.