The Journeyman Project

Demotte, Indiana. I’m back at Fair Oaks Farms for a quick Dirty Jobs segment, this one a wraps shoot for our Christmas special. I haven’t seen the DJ gang since going on hiatus in early September, and it’s actually nice to catch up.  It’s great to see the McCloskeys and family, and we have a hoot of a shoot at the Fair Oaks Farms’ clubhouse. There’s a reason we keep returning, going back to season two of the show: Mike McCloskey was not only a great subject for us as a dairyman/large animal vet, but he and his wife/partner, Sue, exemplified professionalism and hospitality. This visit marks the fourth time we’ve crashed at Casa McCloskey (thankfully it’s big), and– careful what you ask for, Sue and Mike– it won’t be our last. They are truly part of the DJ family.

While producing the gags that will serve as intros to the clips in the DJ Christmas show, my dog Mokee finally received her big break in Hollywood. Nothing like a detached ‘Santa’s Little Helper’ to sell the bizarre, the dysfunctional, the dirty of the holiday season!

Omaha, Nebraska. En route to Indiana. Losing an hour between Mountain and Central time zones last night results in my not getting a hotel bid in on Priceline before midnight. I’m tired enough, so I spend the night in my truck at a rest stop between Lincoln and Omaha. Soon after sunrise I venture into downtown for Starbucks. It’s the first time I’ve seen this city, a place I’ve long been curious about. The headquarters for Union Pacific Railroad is here, and so is Warren Buffett and Berkshire Hathaway. I had done some preliminary demographics research a week or so back, thinking I might photograph a railroad worker here as part of the Project. In the past decade, the number of railroad workers has plummeted, and the only rising employment demographic is in service, sales, and construction. Looking around, it seems the only construction going on is with the freeways … Our stimulus funds at work?

I Google for Warren Buffet’s favorite restaurant, a classic joint I recall from a CNBC exposé of the man. Piccolo’s is just south of downtown, so I make my way for what I hope will be a culturally enriching breakfast before resuming my road schedule. I find the place, but of course it doesn’t open until lunch– so it’s back on the freeway and a Starbucks drive-thru for me.