Photography Thinks
Rainy and windy and cool. Weather only fit for those who do street.
Paul’s on the street again. Worked. Hadn’t been paid at painting job. Lost his room at Oxford House. Slept on the street last night.
Still trying to get home to Texas.
Who is Debbie?
Somebody stole Mark’s bike at the shelter. He bought another one.
Penguin’s trying to get her kid back. Went to school. They wouldn’t give her the kid’s records.
Early Sunday, I found him on Church Street. “Where did you sleep last night?” “I got wasted and woke up on the bike path.”
I gave him a dollar. “Now, you are talking my language,” he said. “Are you a capitalist,” I asked? “I would be if Obama wasn’t President.”
Michael and I did the COTS (committee for temporary shelter). We were sponsors on Lorna’s team.
Along the way, we met Duckie and his friend, just sitting.
Strong Sunday.
Lorna danced behind the drums which led the demonstration. Her daughter works for COTS, a group helping homeless.
Not sure exactly what this is, but it looks like someoneo left in a hurry.
Lake Champlain has not risen this high since 1862. Not around to see that event, but I, along with others will remember this overfilling of the tub. Heavy rains. Lots of snow. Water needs somewhere to go.
The omnipresent Champ keeps watch.
Girls just want to have fun.
Or, just sit in the sun.
Amazing how handsome he looks when he doesn’t drink.
So I am out for a walk to the store. “Got any change,” he says. “If I can take your picture?” “Oh, its you.” Who did you think it was?” “Don’t you have enough pictures of me.” “Not yet.” “I stopped drinking. Got my medical marijuana. And, I am working on getting my place back.”
One sleeps. One begs. One strums. The Main Street Burlington comes alive, once again, welcoming Spring’s warmth.
Just chords.
Blues in City Hall Park.
Sarah sits on Church Street.
Recycling the old fashioned way. After all, it is earth day.
What a waste. Tim Hetherington and other brave photographers and videographers gave viewers the opportunity to see war up close. Watch “Restrepo.” Then ask yourself if the evils of war are better told through images or fiction.
Hard to believe and just as difficult to photograph. People walk their four-legged loved ones on Church Street. Not that I would pet one, but, if I did, this marmot would not be my first choice. I can only imagine, “don’t worry. He doesn’t bite.”
I visit the Lone Sailor regularly. Watch him watching the water, waiting to begin his mission. Stanley Bleifeld knew him better than I could.
He stands in the cold.
His eyes always open.
The wind sometimes picks up his jacket which is a composite of five naval tops. Some in the service don’t like seeing his hand in his pocket.
The sun plays tricks with his skin, some of which comes from famous Naval vessels.
He likes the sun, too.
Birds don’t always show his broad back respect.
Not his position to complain.
Told where to find him, I was either too early or too late. Found him at Breugers.
Where has he been? Not into the story. But he did read the Burlington Free Press article about medical marijuana. “I am not into filling out papers. I’d rather spend $40 a week on some sticky stuff.” He has glaucoma. When he smokes, he can see clearly. Sounds like a Cheech and Chong routine.
“Eric and I were smoking in Battery Park…. Cops came after me. I showed them the 4-6 grams….. Busted…. Smart represented me…. Donovan wanted to send me up the river…. Judge Levitt dismissed the charges…. Smart said, ‘just don’t share with anyone.’ ” They call it early intervention. Huh….
Larry sat nearby, cuddling a coffee, waiting for the weather to break so he could accomplish some unspecified mission. “I help Scotty as much as I can, but there is only so much a person can do.”
Elsewhere, on Church Street, people demonstrated, Vermont style, and the news reported, Vermont style.
Some just watched from the sidelines.