Abel

Photographing the 2026 Foster Angels Luncheon in the Rio Grande Valley

Last week, I had the opportunity to help Foster Angels of South Texas again with their 2026 Rising Stars Luncheon in the Rio Grande Valley.

I was there to help with the group photos and event coverage, but the longer I was in the room, the more I kept thinking about something simple.

A little bit of compassion can go a long way.

That sounds obvious, but it hits differently when you’re standing in a room full of people who have chosen to care. People who give their time, their money, their attention, their energy, and in some cases their homes to children and young people who need support.

At an event like this, there are the things you expect to photograph. The speaker at the podium. The full room. The sponsors. The honorees. The handshakes. The smiles. The group photos.

But underneath all of that, there was something bigger happening.

It was a room full of people showing up for kids who need to know they are not alone.

Thinking Back to When I Was a Kid

This luncheon made me think back to when I was younger.

Both of my parents were social workers, and I remember visiting them at their offices when I was a kid. I would see posters and signs about helping foster children. I don’t remember every detail, but one poster stayed with me.

It said something about adopting the older one.

As a kid with both parents at home, that hit me in a different way.

I remember thinking about how good I had it.

At that age, you don’t fully understand the system. You don’t understand all the stories behind those posters. You don’t understand what some kids have already had to carry.

But you understand enough to know that not every child is growing up with the same safety, support, or stability.

And for some reason, that stayed with me.

Seeing It Differently Now

Now, in 2026, I see it differently.

I see it as a dad. I see it as someone involved with my church. I see it as someone who has spent years photographing people, families, nonprofits, businesses, and community events across the Rio Grande Valley.

The older I get, the more I understand how much one good adult can matter in a young person’s life.

A good mentor can help guide someone onto a better path.

A kind word can land at the right time.

A person who keeps showing up can help a young man or young woman believe that their story is not already finished.

None of us gets to choose every card we are dealt. But the right support can make a difference in how someone plays the hand they were given.

That was what I kept thinking about during the luncheon.

The People Who Work Quietly

I’ve always enjoyed helping nonprofits because you get to meet people who are giving of themselves without expecting much in return.

A lot of those people go under the radar.

They are not doing it for applause. They are not doing it for attention. They are not doing it because someone is going to put their name on a banner.

They are doing it because the work matters.

That is one of the things I respect most about events like this. Yes, there are speakers, honorees, sponsors, and a full room of people. But behind the event are countless quiet acts of service.

Someone made the call.

Someone gave the donation.

Someone mentored the young person.

Someone opened a door.

Someone stayed when it would have been easier to walk away.

That kind of work does not always photograph easily, but you can feel it in the room.

The Photos That Stayed With Me

There were a few images from the luncheon that stayed with me.

The hallway lined with portraits was one of them. Before you even walked into the room, you saw face after face. Young people with names, stories, and futures ahead of them. That hallway said a lot before anyone stepped on stage.

Then there was the wide photo of the room. Tables filled. People listening. People supporting. People being present.

There was also a quiet moment during the program when one of the young people leaned in for a hug with someone close to them. I don’t know the full story behind that moment, and I don’t need to.

The photo says enough.

It was tenderness.

It was support.

It was what the event was really about.

And then there was keynote speaker Quan Cosby, who spoke with energy and heart about advocating for children and youth experiencing foster care.

Those are the kinds of images I look for at events. Not just the obvious ones. Not just the podium shot or the room shot. I’m always looking for the smaller moments that tell you what the day actually felt like.

Why These Events Matter

Event photography can be easy to misunderstand.

People sometimes think it is just about documenting who was there. And yes, that matters. Organizations need clean photos of the room, the speakers, the sponsors, the honorees, and the people who helped make the event possible.

But the better purpose is storytelling.

For a nonprofit, photographs help people understand the mission. They help supporters remember why they gave. They help future donors see the people behind the work. They help an organization say, “This is what your support makes possible.”

That matters.

Especially when the work touches real lives.

The Foster Angels Rising Stars Luncheon was one of those events that reminded me why I still enjoy doing this kind of work.

Compassion is not always loud.

Sometimes it looks like a full room.

Sometimes it looks like a hallway of portraits.

Sometimes it looks like a hug.

And sometimes it looks like people choosing to show up, again and again, for kids who deserve to know that someone is in their corner.

I was grateful to be there.

And I was grateful to help tell a small part of that story.

Photographing One of the Most Fun Galas in the Rio Grande Valley

This year, I had the opportunity to help photograph C.A.M.P. University’s gala again.

The theme was A Night at the Races, and since this year’s event fell on Cinco de Mayo, the room had even more color, music, hats, laughter, and energy than usual.

If you’ve never been to one of these galas, it really is a lot of fun.

People show up dressed like they’re headed to the Kentucky Derby. There are hats, bright colors, nice suits, bow ties, dresses, laughter, and a room full of people who are clearly there to enjoy themselves.

Then there are the races.

They have sponsored race horses shown on video, and when the race starts, the room gets loud fast. People cheer for their horse. Tables start yelling. Someone’s organization wins. Everyone gets into it.

This year had that same race-night energy, but with a Cinco de Mayo feel woven into the room. The decorations were colorful. The outfits were fun. The whole night had a little extra life to it.

But the more years I photograph events like this, the more I’m reminded that the fun is only part of the story.

Underneath the theme, the decorations, the outfits, and the cheering is a group of people showing up for something that matters.

How I First Connected With C.A.M.P. University

I think this was my third year photographing the gala.

My connection to C.A.M.P. University started in one of those very Rio Grande Valley ways, where one relationship quietly leads to another.

Years ago, I was covering an event while working with the Valley Symphony Orchestra. I met one of the previous directors from C.A.M.P. University, and that eventually opened the door for me to help with their gala.

Then, when I showed up, I realized another connection was already there.

Pam Voss, the Executive Director of C.A.M.P. University, is married to Pastor Chris Voss.

Chris was one of my friends from one of the very first Bible studies I attended (Bible Study Fellowship).

Small world.

That’s something I’ve always loved about the Rio Grande Valley. You can walk into a gig thinking it’s just another assignment, and then suddenly there is a connection. A bible study connection. A client connection. A friend from years ago. Someone who knows someone you know.

It reminds you that community is not just a word people use in speeches.

Sometimes it is standing right in front of you.

More Than a Gala

C.A.M.P. University serves adults with special needs after high school.

That part matters.

For a lot of families, high school gives structure. There are teachers, schedules, activities, classmates, routines, and support systems. But after graduation, families can be left asking, “What now?”

That is where an organization like C.A.M.P. University becomes so important.

It gives adults with special needs a place to continue growing, learning, socializing, building skills, and being part of something.

And honestly, when you see the support in the room at the gala, it warms your heart.

You see people buying tables.

You see people sponsoring races.

You see people dressed up and laughing.

You see people giving, not because they have to, but because they believe in the work.

That is what I enjoy about photographing nonprofit events.

Yes, I’m there to take the clean photos. The sponsor photos. The room shots. The details. The people on stage. The moments that help the organization promote the event next year.

But I’m also watching the room.

I’m watching how people respond.

I’m watching the little moments that tell you whether an event has a heartbeat.

This one does.

The Fun Makes It Work

One thing I respect about this gala is that it does not feel heavy.

It could.

The mission is serious. The need is real. The families being served have real concerns and real hopes for their loved ones.

But the event itself has joy in it.

That is not a small thing.

The Night at the Races theme gives people permission to relax, dress up, cheer, laugh, and enjoy the night. And with it falling on Cinco de Mayo this year, that joy felt even more colorful.

The room had big hats, bright outfits, mariachi music, colorful decor, and people who were clearly having a good time.

That matters.

Because good nonprofit work needs support, but it also needs energy. It needs people to come back. It needs people to bring friends. It needs people to feel connected to the mission instead of feeling like they just attended another formal dinner.

When the room is cheering for a sponsored horse on the screen, it may look like everyone is just having fun.

And they are.

But that fun is helping keep something meaningful going.

The Photos That Stayed With Me

There were a few images from the night that stayed with me.

One was the room cheering during the video races. Hands were in the air, people were laughing, and everyone was locked into the screen waiting to see which horse would win.

That photo says a lot about the night.

It was loud.

It was fun.

It was exactly what the event was supposed to feel like.

Another image that stood out was the colorful horse decoration near the entrance. It was bright, festive, and full of personality. It told you right away that this was not going to be a stiff event.

Then there was the image of Pam Voss speaking.

I always think leadership photos matter at nonprofit events because people need to see the faces behind the work. These organizations do not run by accident. There are people planning, calling, asking, organizing, carrying details, and making sure the mission keeps moving.

There was also a quiet hug that I photographed during the night.

I don’t know the full story behind that moment, and I don’t need to.

The photo says enough.

It was connection.

It was trust.

It was one of those small moments that reminds you why photography still matters.

And then there were the wide photos of the room. A full ballroom. Tables filled. People dressed up. People giving. People paying attention. People showing up.

That is part of the story too.

Sometimes the wide shot is not the most emotional image, but it shows scale. It shows support. It shows that people made the decision to be there.

Why These Events Matter to Photograph

As a photographer, events like this are a good reminder that the job is not only to document what happened.

It is to help people remember why it mattered.

The wide shot of the room matters because it shows support.

The photos of people dressed up matter because they show the personality of the night.

The candid laughs matter because they show the energy.

The sponsor moments matter because they show who helped make it possible.

The small interactions matter because they remind people that this is not just a fundraiser. It is a community gathering around a mission.

That is the part I care about most.

I don’t want the photos to feel like a checklist. I want them to feel like the night actually felt.

Because later, when the event is over, the decorations are packed up, and everyone goes home, the photos are what help the story stay alive.

They help C.A.M.P. University show future supporters what the night looked like.

They help donors see that their support is part of something alive.

They help remind the people in the room that they were part of a good thing.

A Small World, A Good Cause

The older I get, the more I appreciate how often life circles back around.

I met people connected to C.A.M.P. University through other work. I walked into the gala and found an old Bible study connection through Pastor Chris Voss. I’ve now photographed the event multiple years.

And every time, I leave reminded that good work is usually carried by a lot of people most of us never fully see.

People planning.

People donating.

People volunteering.

People inviting friends.

People buying tables.

People showing up dressed for the Derby, celebrating Cinco de Mayo, and cheering at a video horse race because they know the night is about something bigger than the race.

That is the part that sticks with me.

A gala can be fun.

It can be loud.

It can be full of color and laughter.

But when it is connected to a mission like C.A.M.P. University, it becomes more than a night out.

It becomes one more way a community says, “We see this work, and we want to help.”

I was grateful to be there again.

And I was grateful to help tell a small part of the story.

A Bright Spot at Morris Jr. High

I’ve been thinking lately about how certain people influence your life in small ways.

Not always in some big dramatic movie scene. Sometimes it’s just a teacher saying something in class. Sometimes it’s the way they carry themselves. Sometimes it’s the way they talk about a world you didn’t even know existed yet.

For me, one of those people was Ms. Lewis, my English teacher at Morris Jr. High in McAllen.

Back then, I was just trying to get through school. I wasn’t always confident. There were seasons where I enjoyed school, and then there were times when I honestly dreaded going to class.

Jr. High can be a strange age. You’re old enough to start wondering who you might become, but young enough that you don’t really know what any of it means yet.

Ms. Lewis was one of the bright spots.

She was kind. She was positive. She made class feel like a place I actually wanted to be. And she would sometimes talk about her degree in journalism.

At that age, I didn’t fully understand how someone even got a degree in journalism. I just knew it sounded different. I had never heard of something like that I thought that was such a cool degree!  Telling stories and getting to meet people from all walks of life.

It gave me something to hope for.

Years later, I would go on to earn my communications degree from UTPA in 1999, with journalism becoming a major part of the way I saw the world.

I don’t think I fully realized until much later how much that mattered.

Sometimes a teacher opens a door without even knowing they opened it. They say something in passing, and a student carries it for years.

The Debate Lesson I Never Forgot

One memory from her class has stayed with me.

I volunteered for a debate RIGHT before the lunch break. I don’t remember all the details, but I remember that I didn’t really know which side I was supposed to stand on.

I was flip-flopping. I just jumped in and tried to wing it.

And I got CRUSHED (it wasn’t pretty).

I was embarrassed. At that age, embarrassment feels bigger than it really is. It feels like everyone saw you fail and no one will ever forget it.

But Ms. Lewis didn’t make me feel stupid. She pulled me aside later and told me it was okay. It wasn’t the end of the world.

Then she gave me advice I still think about.

She told me that when you enter an arena like that, you need to have something firm to stand on. If you don’t, you’re going to lose every time.

That was about debate, but it was also about life.

It was about knowing what you believe. It was about preparation. It was about walking into a room with some kind of foundation under your feet.

At the time, I probably didn’t understand the weight of that lesson. I was just a kid who had been embarrassed in class.

But looking back, that little moment followed me into my work as a photographer, storyteller, and business owner.

How That Lesson Connects to Photography

Photography is not just about pointing a camera at someone.

At least not the kind of work I care about.

It’s about knowing what you’re trying to say. It’s about having a point of view. It’s about walking into a room, a business, a hospital, a city department, or a portrait session and understanding that there is a story there.

You have to stand on something.

I didn’t know it then, but that was part of how I would learn to see people — not just as subjects in front of a camera, but as stories worth paying attention to.

Ms. Lewis also taught me something else, maybe without trying to.

She showed me that your degree, your job title, and your daily work do not have to fit inside one narrow box.

She had a journalism background, but she was teaching English. And she was doing it in a way that mattered.

She showed me that you can take what you know, what you love, and what you’ve lived, and let it show up wherever you are.

That is something I understand more now.

My own path has not been a straight line. Journalism, photography, video, websites, storytelling, small businesses, city projects, portraits, events — all of it connects in ways I couldn’t have explained when I was younger.

But the thread has always been story.

Why Good Teachers Still Matter

The older I get, the more I think about teachers.

I think about how easy it is for society to sideline them. We talk about budgets, contracts, test scores, and politics. Teachers become part of some bigger argument, and we forget that they are standing in front of real kids every day.

Kids who are struggling.

Kids who are listening.

Kids who may not say much in the moment, but who will remember something 25 or 30 years later.

My sisters are both educators. My mother is a retired social worker and a former elementary teacher in La Joya. So I’ve seen it from different angles.

Good teachers leave marks that don’t always show up on paper.

They shape confidence.

They plant ideas.

They make certain futures feel possible.

Finding Her Again Years Later

Recently, I came across Ms. Lewis again in a completely different season of life.

Not as the teacher I remembered from Jr. High, but as someone being recognized in the community for her work and service.

That hit me in a way I didn’t expect.

Because sometimes people disappear from your life for decades, and then they pop back up and remind you that they were part of your story all along.

Looking back now, after years of photographing people, businesses, and community stories across the Rio Grande Valley, I can see how much those early teachers shaped the way I see people.

I don’t know if Ms. Lewis ever knew the impact she had on me.

Most teachers probably don’t.

But I hope they know that the work matters. I hope they know that the kindness matters. I hope they know that the words they say in a classroom can follow a student for the rest of his life.

For me, Ms. Lewis made journalism feel possible.

She made class feel good during a time when school didn’t always feel that way.

And she taught me that if you’re going to step into the arena, you better know what you’re standing on.

I’m still learning that lesson.

But I’m grateful she was one of the people who taught it to me.

The Mission Chamber of Commerce hosted another packed Buenas Tardes Luncheon at the Mission Event Center in Mission, Texas — and like usual, it was a full house.

Before the keynote began, the room was active. Business owners, city leaders, and community members were catching up, shaking hands, and making connections. These events are as much about relationships as they are about the program itself.

This month’s featured speaker was Congressman Henry Cuellar, who addressed border security and how federal decisions impact businesses here in the Rio Grande Valley. In a region where trade and cross-border commerce are part of everyday life, those conversations carry weight.

A Strong Turnout in Mission, TX

The Mission Chamber consistently brings together a solid mix of local leadership and entrepreneurs. That access — business owners in the same room with elected officials — is one of the reasons these luncheons continue to grow.

From a photography standpoint, events like this require awareness. You’re watching for real interaction — handshakes, reactions, side conversations, moments that show engagement. That’s what makes event coverage feel authentic instead of staged.

A Quick Conversation (And a First)

After the program wrapped up, I had a few minutes to speak with Congressman Cuellar. He asked about my upbringing, so I shared a little about my parents and how they served their community.

Then he asked to take a photo with me.

That’s a first.

Usually I’m the one asking everyone else.

Why Professional Event Photography Matters

When the event is over and the room clears out, the photos are what remain.

Strong event photography allows organizations to:

• Promote future events

• Highlight community involvement

• Provide sponsors with visual value

• Document leadership and civic engagement

If you’re planning a chamber luncheon, corporate event, or leadership gathering in Mission, McAllen, or anywhere in the Rio Grande Valley, professional photography ensures the moments that matter don’t disappear once the chairs are stacked and the lights dim.

This year’s McAllen State of the City was the first one I’ve been invited to cover, and it was anything but small.

The room was full — not just seats filled, but wall-to-wall conversations before and after the program. City leadership, business owners, community partners, and familiar faces from across the Rio Grande Valley were all there. From a visual standpoint, it was one of the larger civic events I’ve photographed in McAllen.

I had a chance to catch up with several McAllen commissioners I’ve worked with over the years. One of them joked with me, “Which district are you in?” knowing full well I’m based out of Mission. It was a quick laugh, but it also highlighted how closely connected Valley cities really are. The work done in McAllen doesn’t stop at city limits.

When Mayor Javier Villalobos  took the stage, the tone was confident and direct. He spoke proudly about what the city has accomplished and about the team behind that progress. The focus wasn’t on one single achievement, but on sustained effort — public safety, development, and long-term planning all working together.

There were new announcements for the city, along with reminders of how much groundwork has already been laid. As someone who grew up in McAllen and still works here regularly, it was a reminder of how much happens behind the scenes that most people never see day to day.

What stood out wasn’t just the speech, but the room itself. The size of the crowd, the mix of attendees, and the conversations afterward all pointed to a city that’s actively moving forward. This wasn’t a ceremonial event — it felt like a working room.

From a photography standpoint, the night delivered exactly what I look for: strong moments on stage, wide angles showing just how packed the venue was, and candid interactions that tell a broader story than any single frame alone.

Being invited to document the McAllen State of the City was an honor. Having grown up here, it’s been rewarding to see how the city continues to evolve — and to be trusted to capture moments that reflect where McAllen is and where it’s headed.

Abel Riojas, Rio Grande Valley Commercial & Headshot Photographer

AI has changed the creative world faster than anyone expected.
It’s everywhere now—writing copy, generating images, building concepts, filling decks.

As a commercial photographer and headshot photographer in the Rio Grande Valley, I see AI references constantly in briefs and visual direction.

But there’s one thing I hear from clients over and over, regardless of industry:

“I don’t want it to look fake.”

Sometimes they say it another way:
“I don’t mind a little adjustment—I just want it to look like me.”

That distinction matters.

The Issue Isn’t AI. It’s Believability.

AI is very good at producing images that look impressive at first glance. – Sharp. Clean. Polished.

But polished isn’t the same as believable.

Many AI-generated visuals feel generic, over-smoothed, or disconnected from reality. Even when people can’t articulate what’s wrong, they feel it immediately.

For businesses, that matters.
Credibility matters.

No brand wants its marketing to feel artificial—especially in professional headshots, branding photography, or advertising where trust is part of the message.

Clients Aren’t Anti-Editing. They’re Anti-Losing Themselves.

Most clients aren’t asking for “no retouching.”
They’re asking for restraint. We’ve all seen the photo of someone you know and you can tell right away that “it’s not them”

In my commercial and headshot work across McAllen, Mission, and the greater Rio Grande Valley, clients want images that feel:

• Polished, but human
• Confident, not overproduced
• Real, not synthetic

They want to recognize themselves in the image.

That balance doesn’t come from a preset or an AI prompt.
It comes from experience and judgment.

When Anyone Can Generate an Image, Taste Is the Difference.

AI has raised the baseline.
Technically competent images are easy to generate now.

What’s not easy is knowing:

• What matters in the frame
• What to leave alone
• When an image stops feeling true

That’s where professional photography still wins.

The value isn’t the camera or the software.
It’s the decision-making.

Real Photography Carries Intent.

A real photograph carries intent:

• Intentional lighting, not just brightness
• A real moment, not a composite
• A subject responding to a person, not an algorithm

That intent shows up—even if viewers can’t explain why.

It’s why many brands are quietly pulling back from AI-heavy visuals and returning to real photography for headshots, branding, and advertising.

“Sameness” doesn’t build trust.
Consistency and authenticity do.

The Bottom Line

AI isn’t going away. It will keep improving and to me that’s a good thing as long as it’s not dominating the narrative / photo message.

But clients still want images that feel real, credible, and personal.

Trying to compete with computers on speed or cost is a losing game.
Competing on judgment, taste, and understanding people isn’t.

Clients don’t want fake.
They want real—with intention.

That hasn’t changed.

Wrapping up my last senior portrait session of 2025 felt like a full-circle moment.

Senior sessions are always fun, but there’s something especially cool about photographing someone who’s just starting their journey. There’s excitement there. A bit of nervous energy. A sense that everything is still wide open – you can do anything kind of vibe.

I’ve been doing portraits since the early 2000s—back when my “digital workflow” involved a Sony Mavica and floppy disks. Back then, I was photographing people who were just stepping into adulthood, not knowing where life would take them. Over the years, I’ve had the privilege of seeing how some of those stories turned out.

Every now and then, one of those seniors comes back.

Sometimes it’s for engagement photos.
Sometimes for a wedding.
Eventually, it’s family portraits.

Watching people hit those milestones—career, marriage, kids—is something I never take for granted. It’s kind of wild when someone will call me that I haven’t heard from in years but they know what I’ve been up to because of my silly posts on Facebook and on Instagram (I keep things casual and never pretend to be an artist).

From Seniors to Weddings

I don’t photograph as many weddings as I used to. These days, I cap it at about five weddings a year, and that’s completely by choice (there’s a lot of planning that goes into them). The ones I do photograph tend to mean more because there’s often history there. I’ve seen them grow up. I’ve watched their lives unfold in chapters.

That connection changes everything.

It’s very different from my commercial work—and honestly, that’s part of what I love about it. Commercial projects are super polished, strategic, and fast. Portrait work, especially senior sessions, is slower and more personal. It’s about capturing a moment right before life shifts.

The Start of Something New

This last senior session of the year was a reminder of why I still love doing this. You’re not just taking photos—you’re documenting a starting line. A version of someone that only exists for a brief moment in time. Sometimes when I see them again, they’ve changed so much that I don’t recognize them anymore.

Being trusted with that is a blessing.

As 2025 comes to a close, I’m grateful for the families who keep coming back, for the seniors who remind me where it all begins, and for the chance to step away from the commercial world once in a while and photograph something real, personal, and meaningful.

Here’s to new journeys—and to watching where they lead.

The past couple of weeks gave me one of those reminders of why I still love this work.

I spent an entire week photographing commercial signage for Driscoll Children’s Hospital, and while the assignment itself was focused and technical, I ended up being part of a larger media team—which made the experience even better. There’s something energizing about working alongside other creatives, each of us focused on our own role but all moving toward the same goal.

One unexpected highlight was getting a front-row seat to drone operations. I wasn’t flying that week, but I was learning—watching techniques, camera movements, and how decisions change when weather turns cold and windy. Standing there, bundled up, watching a drone operator calmly fly precise paths in less-than-ideal conditions was impressive. You never stop learning in this job, and I really enjoy those moments where you can just watch and learn.

Then the following Monday, the pace shifted—from documentation to celebration.

That night was the Driscoll Electric Parade, and it couldn’t have been more different in tone—in the best way possible. The parade is designed to bring the holiday experience directly to the children and families at Driscoll, especially those who can’t easily leave the hospital. As a photographer and storyteller, what stood out to me most wasn’t just the lights or the floats— it was the excitement from the kids and the families.

The parade was a lot smaller than the one I had just covered in McAllen but the excitement was there and the kids were all waiting for Santa. Some watched from outside, bundled up and cheering. Others watched from inside the hospital, leaning toward their windows, waving and shouting when Santa passed by. Seeing kids looking down from their rooms, cheering Santa on, was one of those moments that sticks with you.

The floats weren’t just bright—they were thoughtful. Characters paused. Drivers waved. Music was timed. Volunteers made sure attention wasn’t focused in just one direction. It felt less like a parade passing through and more like a parade meant for them.

That’s what impressed me most.

Being there as part of the media team gave me a deeper appreciation for how much effort goes into making sure everyone feels the magic—especially those who need it most. It wasn’t about spectacle for spectacle’s sake. It was about joy, connection, and giving families a shared moment during what can otherwise be a difficult season.

Weeks like this—moving from structured commercial work to emotionally grounded storytelling—are a good reminder of why I value variety in what I shoot. Whether it’s signage, behind-the-scenes media work, or documenting moments of joy, it all comes back to the same thing: telling stories that matter.

And this one definitely did.

It had been a long time since I’d been on the ground covering the Official McAllen Parade, so when I was invited back to work with the City of McAllen, I wasn’t quite sure what to expect I just knew it was getting bigger and bigger every year.

I’ll be honest—while I still love events, I don’t attend them the way I used to. My kids aren’t as young anymore, and life after the pandemic has shifted the way I do things. But wow—McAllen went all out for the 2025 parade.

From the moment things got rolling, it was clear this wasn’t just another holiday event. The streets were packed. There were balloons everywhere, beautifully designed floats, and a level of detail that showed how much care the city put into every element. Each float felt intentional—unique, thoughtful, and built to be experienced by the crowd, not just passed by.

One unexpected highlight for me was getting the chance to meet Danny Trejo. I almost never take photos with celebrities—an old 90s news director drilled that rule into me years ago—but let’s be real… when else am I going to run into Danny Trejo at work? We talked for a little bit about his charities, snapped a photo, and he was genuinely kind and down-to-earth. A small moment, but a memorable one.

The media presence alone said a lot about the scale of the event. Multiple stations were set up across different locations, each network covering their own angle of the parade. I worked primarily around the McAllen Stadium area, and even there, the crowd was thick—families packed in, waiting, watching, celebrating.

One of my favorite details wasn’t visual at all—it was sounds! Hearing the crowd chant “¡Vuelta! ¡Vuelta!” at the larger floats never gets old. And when a float couldn’t pull off the turn, you could hear the playful disappointment ripple through the crowd. Still, watching the teams maneuver those massive floats gave me a new appreciation for how difficult that job really is. They tried their best, and it showed.

Of course, the biggest reaction of the night belonged to Santa himself. Kids lit up when he appeared, and that energy carried through the rest of the parade. Between the soap snow, kids cheering for their favorite Dallas Cowboys players rolling by on floats, and families hanging out together enjoying it all —it was one of those nights where the city felt fully alive. Felt good to be a photographer.

For me, personally, one of the best parts was reconnecting. Saying hello to friends I hadn’t seen in a while. Catching up, even briefly. That’s become a recurring theme in my journal and in these posts. Since the pandemic, I don’t get out as much, so moments like this feel like a gift—a reminder of how important community still is.

Covering the 2025 McAllen Parade wasn’t just about documenting an event. It felt like coming full circle. A chance to witness McAllen at its best, surrounded by people celebrating together, and to be reminded why I fell in love with storytelling in the first place.

Each year, the City of McAllen Christmas Tree Lighting Ceremony kicks off the holiday season in the Rio Grande Valley. This year, I had the chance to cover the event again—my first time photographing it in nearly a decade. And wow… McAllen didn’t just grow during that time—they went all in.

What used to be a simple community gathering has transformed into a massive holiday production filled with lights, music, families, and that iconic McAllen Christmas spirit. The crowds packed the plaza, the stage production was bigger than ever, and everywhere I turned, I saw kids smiling, parents taking photos, and families making memories together.

As a commercial and event photographer based in Mission and McAllen, I’m lucky to document so many moments throughout the year—but there’s something special about this event. It’s nostalgic, energetic, and warm in that uniquely RGV way.

Reconnecting With the City of McAllen

Working again with the City of McAllen after nearly 10 years felt like a full-circle moment for me. The city commissioners were fantastic to work with, and the energy behind the scenes matched the excitement out front.

And in classic RGV fashion, I even bumped into friends I hadn’t seen in more than 25 years—including a few still rocking the broadcast world over at KGBT. Holidays have a way of unexpectedly reconnecting you with your past.

Santa, Lights, and a Little Probation

One of the highlights?
I can officially confirm that I’m still on Santa’s nice list… but barely. I think he has me on seasonal probation.

Between Santa’s visit, the massive Christmas tree lighting up the area, and the families lining up for photos, the whole night felt alive. These are the types of events that remind me why I love photographing the Rio Grande Valley—they’re joyful, community-centered, and full of heart.

Capturing McAllen’s Holiday Magic

Events like the McAllen Christmas Tree Lighting are more than big productions—they’re traditions that families return to year after year. My goal as a photographer is to document these moments with a clean, magazine-inspired style that tells the story of the community: the laughter, the lights, the excitement, and the connections between people.

If your business, organization, or city department is hosting a holiday event in the RGV and you’re looking for professional coverage, I’d love to help you tell your story.

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