Skaneateles High School senior Erin Callahan gets scooped up by her cousin, Rory, after jumping into Skaneateles Lake at Clift Park Sunday with the rest of the graduating class of 2011. Lauren Long / The Post-Standard

We have been busy busy busy this weekend covering high school graduations! Skaneateles High School is one of my favorites. Each year the students run for the lake as soon as the ceremony is finished and jump, flip, cannonball into the cool water for tradition’s sake. I went for a different angle this year, wading out into the shoulder deep water. (I don’t ever remember it being this deep!) Here’s a VIDEO of the actual jump if you’re interested.

BEHIND THE PHOTO — Who wouldn’t want to be the next Indiana Jones?

Narrowly escape the path of a rolling boulder to retrieve the golden idol; find a way out of the base of an ancient temple filled with deadly snakes; survive supernatural, deathly spirits from the Ark of the Covenant while lashed to a stake.

Long before computer-generated imagery, the action-packed Indiana Jones trilogy offered some of the best visual effects available 25 years ago. And its appeal lives on today through a social network of Indy enthusiasts.

One such fan is Rick Leisenring of Bath whose collection of movie items includes some of the original story boards from “The Last Crusade,” a decorative chain worn by Marion in “Raiders of the Lost Ark,” and several of the beetles served for supper at the Pankot Palace in “Temple of Doom.”  Not to mention an eyeball that pops up in a pot of soup during that same banquet scene.

So what’s the attraction, you wonder? It’s a hobby, Leisenring says, just like collecting comic books or baseball cards, except that the Indiana Jones movies complement his love for history and archaeology.

Leisenring has been curator of the Glenn Curtiss Museum in Hammondsport for four years, immersing himself in an era he’s quite fond of — the 1930s. So it was easy to get sucked into the Indiana Jones movies, set in the same time period.

While it’s now common for production companies to sell set items, props from movies made before the mid-90s are harder to find. It’s also challenging to verify a prop’s authenticity.

So, Leisenring has been compiling a catalog of props, conversing with other collectors on message boards (like “Club Obi Wan”) and talking with prop stores in the U.S. and abroad.

But a good quality reproduction, when noted as such, can be just as desirable, he said. An original Sankara Stone from Temple of Doom will run you around $15,000; a reproduction is around $150.

And if he can’t find a good quality reproduction? He’ll make it himself.

Props and show biz aren’t anything new to Leisenring. A Civil War buff, he has appeared as an extra in several films, including “Glory,” “North and South,” “Sommersby,” and “Gettysburg,” and helped coordinate re-enactors. He also worked for a historical consulting firm, reviewing scripts for accuracy.

He gave up the movie business, though, because it was taking a toll on his family life. He’s now concentrating on his work at the museum and making plans for a Civil War museum on his property.

“History has always been my bread and butter, as well as my hobby,” he said.

I thought I might stick with the running theme for a moment and share a second story from the Behind the Photo archive. Meet Dan Bradley – the little engine that could.

BEHIND THE PHOTO — He’s used to the stares. Many can’t help but gawk with curiosity when they see the little cart rolling around the Town of Gorham. “Where’s the whip?” they’ll tease. Or, they’ll point out that “Someone’s got the better end of the deal!”

It’s all part of the charm of this alternative form of transportation that Dan Bradley brought to the community about eight years ago when he decided to fashion his own rickshaw – or “carriage” as his family calls it. Dan bought the metal frame at a garage sale in Geneva for a whopping $5, added bicycle tires and a handmade seat, creating a brand new family tradition – not to mention a great way for the father of eight and lifelong athlete to stay trim.

Back in the day, he helped form the first cross-country team at Marcus Whitman High School. He competed in his first marathon at 25, pushing through a nasty case of strep throat to finish the course in 3½ hours. Now, running is just a hobby. And when he restored what looked like the frame of a pony cart to a usable vehicle, he figured out a way to involve the whole family. At one time, the three youngest and his wife Mary Anne (pictured above) could fit side by side.

On the road, his driving record is clean. No spills to date.

Just once has the balancing act gone astray in the driveway.

“They were all laying on their backs like astronauts ready to leave the pad,” Dan said, unable to hide a grin. It’s something each of the passengers can laugh about now, too, knowing how comfortable he always tried to make the ride, with pillows and blankets in addition to the snacks and magazines that often seem to make it on board.

Generally, balancing the cart isn’t too difficult, he said. It’s more the challenge of going up and down hills that takes some concentration. “Probably the hardest thing to get used to is not being able to swing your arms,” Dan says as he approaches a gentle incline.

Last weekend, I couldn’t resist his offer of a Sunday run, wondering about the sensation of being pulled by another person. Feeling slightly guilty (as I basked in the warm sunshine under a fleece blanket), I was amazed at just how smooth the ride was and how similar it was to a real carriage ride. I was even more amazed by the driver’s stamina.

“This is a little bear of a hill. It’s always a little challenge if I can make it up without walking, but if I do, I do,” he said, choking up on the handles as my guilt swelled.

Back in town, most of the neighbors seemed to recognize him.

“Hello sir. How are you?” Dan asks, his breathing still remarkably calm after the 20-minute run. The gray-haired man responds with a “hup…hup” in military cadence. “Wait ’til she gets the bill,” Dan says.

As we pass by them, others look, then look away, then look again.

“I’ll have to give you a ride sometime. Would you like that?” He asks a young boy and girl, glancing in their direction. “Naw,” the boy says, not knowing what he’s missing.

In eight years, the cart has carried about 100 different passengers, including a priest from Uganda. “I think it’s almost spiritual in a sense,” Dan says after the run, making a loop down the street to cool down. “Almost in a symbolic sense, it’s a way in a stressful society for me to say, ‘Let me carry you through this.’”

In 2004, when I worked as a photographer for the Finger Lakes Times, we started a weekly photo column called “Behind the Photograph” pairing a single image with a narrative of the person, or event, or circumstances surrounding it. It was a chance for the “eyes of the newspaper” to have a voice, and something that the chief photographer Spencer Tulis and I poured our hearts into week after week. It stayed alive for quite some time, even after I left the paper in 2007, and when I opened the FLTimes today, I found the column back again under a new name. I started thinking about the wonderful people and stories I discovered with Behind the Photo and thought what better a time to share some of those that meant the most to me than now. I’ll start with my first and share more as time goes on!

BEHIND THE PHOTO — I first met Alfred Cobb in July. His pale yellow Mercury Grand Marquis rolled by while I was photographing two kids on West River Road in Waterloo. The kids were happy as could be splashing and chasing one another in a pool of standing water, oblivious to the 89-year-old man who stopped his car and purposefully trekked across the street in their direction.

He was genuinely concerned for them, worried about possible contamination of the water from recent runoff.

“You boys shouldn’t be playing in there,” he warned with a scowl, pointing his walking stick to the farmer’s overflowing field next door.

Farming runs back several generations in Cobb’s family. The old-fashioned kind of farming. The kind without pesticides and insecticides. He remembers the kind of farming where land was cleared by hand and prosperity was found in the 25-mile wagon trip to the chancy streets of New York City where you had to “watch your back” for thieves.

“They had to bale the hay (to the truck) using a crow bar and ratchet. If you didn’t, they’d take the hay,” said Cobb, remembering the precautions his granddad took on overnight stays in the big city. Cobb was born on his grandfather’s vegetable farm in Massapequa, Long Island, where his mother had been raised. Once or twice a week, his grandfather would make the trip to the market to sell his seasonal goods.

“It was a dirt road. Took two teams to pull the wagon,” said Cobb. One was sent back home once the wagon reached the paved road. “Somewhere on the way there was a hill. A man stood on the hill and charged ‘em 50 cents to pull ‘em up the hill,” he said. “Fifty cents was big money then,” he added, mumbling to himself for a bit, curious what that would be today. “Ten, maybe even 20 bucks,” he concluded.

Money is not something that comes easily to farmers in this country, Cobb said. He compared the industry to climbing out of a well – climb, climb, fall and climb again. “You don’t believe that do you?” he said with a tone of disbelief.

During the depression, Cobb remembers working for his grandfather for free. “I was big for my age. I could outwork 80 percent of the men at 16. I used to be 6′2″ in my stocking feet,” said Cobb, who maintains a solid 6-foot stature 73 years later. Take a drive down West River Road and chances are you’ll see him out working in the yard, wearing his signature engineer’s cap.

“I cut wood. I garden. I sell produce on a stand in the summer – tomatoes, peppers, vegetables,” Cobb said. “I’m 89. I got a broken back, but I can probably outwork most the young people,” he added with a smile.

Post-script : For a while I continued to see Alfred hard at work in his yard, but he has since passed away. I imagine him up there with that walking stick, still watching over the neighbors’ kids.

I cannot get over what an incredible voice Catherine Russell has. I’m not even sure how to describe it besides intoxicating. Daughter to jazz legend Luis Russell, she performed last night at the Palace Theatre in Syracuse where I could have stayed all night listening to her sing! It was a great assignment to say the least. I thought I’d share a couple of photos from the show, along with a few other faces you might recognize from past concerts in the area. More photos of Russell are posted on Syracuse.com.

Catherine Russell

Dave Matthews

Dave Matthews

Norah Jones

Gym Class Heroes

Gym Class Heroes

Chaka Khan

Fergie

Fergie

Rascal Flatts

And (b/c he deserves a disproportionate number of photos!) Dave Matthews