...the "lid" was really on and we would not see the president-elect.

Washington too often lets you see what it wants you to see, and Reagan's funeral was going to be no exception to this unyielding rule.

Whatever one may have thought of his politics ... no one who met him could resist his charm and humor he brought to the table.

When one of them addressed the casket as, "Mr. President," I couldn't hold back the tears.

As I drove across Sunset Blvd, and spotted the first satellite truck, I knew I was in the right place.

Her real dream was to work as a journalist in Iraq.

I always try to find good places and distances to shoot without the notice of the occupation forces and with the help of Iraqi people. I try always to hide between the Iraqi people when clashes take place.

Mohammed's Garden is the anti-Iraq, or at least an oasis of good feeling in a desert of rage and fear.

... after I agreed to pool my photos it was decided that I could go along.

"Why would anyone come here if they didn't have too?"

They led me into the minivan, alongside my colleague.

Within a couple of minutes, at least two cars stopped alongside ours.

They are focused and they are mad. Someone yells an order and they run towards the enemy. I follow them running, knees still unsteady.

I ...see sandbags, probably sniper positions. I ask Abu Ibrahim if he thinks they are American or rebel positions. "It does not matter they both shoot."

I left my passport and everything that might identify me as an American at the hotel and set off.

In the rush I forget to cover my head. People stare. Kids throw insults.

It's also the time to honor the fallen. That's where I come in.

Everyone is running in the hallways, looking for their flack jacket, searching for a helmet, cursing at the elevator that is just never there when you need it. I've got to file.

...the glass from his store windows blew out into the streets and the sidewalk where we were standing rumbled. I saw the black smoke of the explosion a few blocks away and ran towards it.

A routine develops. In the afternoon we shoot the demonstrations, in the morning, the funerals.

A heavy mist had rolled in when we reached the roadblock at the tiny mountain-top village of Puilboreau.

It was my picture, one I had taken 33 years ago.

Somebody had pulled my Kerry picture off my agency's Web site, stuck Fonda at his side, and then used the massive, unedited reach of the Internet to distribute it all over the world.

New Hampshire is a place where some folks' idea of a good time is sitting in a little shack out on frozen lake fishing through holes they cut in the ice. Despite that I go there every four years like clockwork. The Granite State is where the action is politically...

With a digital camera on one shoulder, and a Rolleiflex on the other, I put an old Speed Graphic (is that redundant? aren't they ALL old?) on a tripod, and grabbed a few holders of tri-x...

After Iowa, organizations begin to double-up their photographic coverage. It becomes more and more difficult to work. The events become increasingly controlled. Everyone is operating on less and less sleep...

Two pairs of shoes still in their boxes: A pair of clean new Hongmahwang loafers and a pair of gilded, tacky Italian slippers. The footwear of a madman caught last month hiding in a rat-filled hole...

It looked a lot bigger on TV. That is, before the journalists started popping out of it like little jack-in-the-boxes...

I have been desensitized to a lot of things in my reporting career...

Some ask where is it? Others joke, Iowa, what's there to do in Iowa?

When I entered the ancient city of BAM it was about midnight, 26 of December, the very end of the day the earthquake had hit in the early morning...

Dear Family and Friends...

I'm not kidding, but in two hours the President is going to Baghdad. And we're going with him....

Peace? In the Middle East you said? Probably as elusive as Saddam and his WMD's...

I arrived in Israel exactly 4 years ago this month for what was supposed to be a 3-week visit...

Today is the first day of Ramadan, word on the street has it that things will be quiet for the next month...

I'm sitting in Ar-Ramadi, Iraq with the Florida National Guard. Waiting to go out on a night time raid...

I'm in Baghdad, the well-armed, lawless capitol city where the security situation has been deteriorating at a steady pace...

The red glow got closer and the flames grew bigger...

I feel as if I made a wrong turn and ended up on the set of Apocalypse Now...

At the Los Angeles Times we were crafting a ten-year retrospective of the firestorms when history repeated itself...

I almost drove off the road when I turned a corner and saw what looked like a bright light show...