Driving in to Williams, Ariz. the other day where I am the editor of a small, community newspaper, I noticed a pretty weathered looking man with a substantial beard wearing a camo jacket pushing a bicycle toward the freeway. My first instinct was to pull over, jump out of my car and see if I could take a picture.
I didn't do that. I kept driving. It didn't feel right.
Later that morning, I left the office to go shoot a photo of the mayor helping deliver meals to homebound senior citizens. That kind of photo is the bread and butter of a community paper. The mayor didn't show up. Scheduling conflict or a miscommunication. Pretty typical really.
As I contemplated taking a short walk to find a picture for fun, I turned around and saw the man from earlier that morning pushing his bike my way. I said "hi."
Roger
That started a half hour conversation. Roger is a Viet Nam veteran. He asked me if a I worked for a newspaper. Likely because I was holding a pretty big camera. He asked how much my camera cost and guessed $2,000. I told him he was pretty close. He said he has found a few cameras during his travels. We talked about how camera batteries these days don't hold such a good charge.
In other words, we shot the breeze for a bit.
He said some local veterans were helping him get a new copy of his discharge papers, long since destroyed in some way or another. Without the papers, Roger doesn't have an I.D. He talked about his PTSD, making the universal sign for crazy as he spoke. You know, making a circle with your finger at the side of your head. We laughed.
He mentioned that the forests around Williams were littered with trash because campers and "railroad hobos" were disrespectful. I agreed.
After awhile, I asked Roger when the last time he he'd had a photo taken of himself. A good one. He couldn't remember. I asked if I could take his picture right there in the street. I said I'd try to track him down and give him a print. He thought about it for a minute, kind of laughed and went to prop his bicycle against the senior center sign. I put a light up and we proceeded to talk and make a series of photos.
I say "make" because a portrait is a collaboration between the subject and the person behind the camera. You have to connect, even if for a minute. You can't jump out of your car, run up to someone and say "can I take your picture" and expect great results. Plus it's just rude.
When we finished with the impromptu photo session, Roger said he might stick around in Williams for a bit.
"They treat me like a king in this town," he said.
Just then, a man walked up, heading to the senior center for lunch and invited Roger in for a meal.
I didn't see Roger today but I dropped a couple photos off at the local VFW post in case he stops in.
