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This one brought me to Michigan. A summer wedding in Cassopolis, with prep at Diamond Lake. Normally that’s a bit of a haul from my home base in the south suburbs of Chicago—but funny enough, I’ve got a family lakehouse just ten minutes away. Figured I was being clever, turning a faraway shoot into a weekend basecamp. Then I showed up. Turns out, this wasn’t just any wedding. It was full of "all grown up" Marist and Sandburg kids—rival schools to the one I grew up in. Same district. Same stomping grounds. What I thought was a destination gig suddenly felt like a backyard reunion.
The priest? From Marist. Guests? Basically all neighbors. That “small world” cliché? Yeah, this one wore it well.
The ceremony ended with a bubble exit in peak summer heat. Then we hit a lakeside ice cream shop in downtown Cassopolis for a quick shoot—drones up, cones out, vibes high. From there, we rolled into the reception: a barn venue tucked on a farm, with a live band, summer breeze, and one of those golden Midwest evenings that make you forget what time it is.
But the closer? The bride’s father got up and revealed that he was college roommates with the groom’s father.
Their kids just happened to meet years later in high school.
One love story. No plan. Just fate with a long game.
I wanted to stay late and soak it in—but a violet thunderstorm and tornado warnings were rolling in, and I had an 8AM call the next day to film a luxury brand wedding in Lake Geneva. These are the logistical knots I tie myself into on purpose. And truthfully I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Quiet mornings and summer prep at the lake. Personal, simple, scenic—felt like vacation and wedding all at once.
Small-town charm with waterfront views. We grabbed fun couples shots here that broke up the day and brought some levity post-ceremony.
Rustic, tucked away, and full of life. The live band brought the energy, the breeze kept things moving, and the space made it feel like a celebration with real roots.
I drove three hours across state lines for this wedding—expecting to be the outsider with a camera. Instead, I walked into what felt like a hometown rerun. Everyone there lived within twenty minutes of me back home. We were the same age group. Shared mutual friends. Knew the same bars, same schools, same weekend spots. It was one of those "small world" weddings where each introduction came with a laugh or a "wait, you know them too?"
A long-distance booking turned local real quick—and made for one of the most familiar-feeling shoots I’ve done outside my own zip code.
The final speech. The father of the bride, standing up and connecting the dots. College roommates. Now fathers-in-law. Their kids falling in love by pure coincidence. That’s the kind of line you can’t script. That’s when the whole weekend clicked into place. Not just a wedding—this was a loop closing, a story finishing a circle it didn’t know it had drawn.
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