Being a pretty outgoing person, and coming from a past in sales, I walk up and talk to strangers all the time. So for this assignment, I decided to walk up and talk to people I DON’T normally walk up and talk to.
My studio is in downtown area of Sacramento. This morning I had a photo shoot in studio, and after we were done I grabbed my camera and started walking the streets. My goal was to find people that NOBODY talks to. We all have these people in our towns, and most tend to look the other way when we see them. I think, maybe, because deep down our fears tell us that but for a little luck, that could be us. But thinking that people don’t talk to them, I was thinking they would have a story to be told.
The first person I came across was a man standing near a bus stop on a fairly busy street. At first I was thinking he was waiting for the bus to come, but as I stood there and watched, bus after bus came and went. I walked up to, a bit nervous to tell the truth, and said awkwardly “Hi, my name’s Sean”. He just looked at me, with such serious, sad eyes, judging me. Trying to decide, maybe if I was to be trusted or not. I quickly explained to him that I was an art student out taking pictures of people and that I found him very interesting. I asked him if he minded if I took his picture and talked with him a bit. In truth, he really just seemed relieved for a moment that someone wanted to hear his story. Anyone.
His name was John. He’s lived all over the country, mostly doing odd jobs, handy man work. When he was younger, he was able to work construction sites, and larger jobs. But some years back he had some problems with his heart. Not having insurance, he lost the very little security he lost. He endured 5 rounds of heart surgery, with no family to sit with him in recovery. He was alone, and scared. Now, a few years later, he is living on Disability Insurance, and moving from home to home. Sometimes living on the street, sometimes in the shelter. What really moved me about John was his eyes. His eyes, that seemed to watch the world, with such concern. When we were done, I told him I’d like to buy him lunch and slipped him five bucks. It was weird how it felt great to do something for him, and to LISTEN to him, but at the same time it felt so insignificant. Like so little.
Next I came across Lloyd. With his large and grizzled beard, he was standing on the corner selling newspapers. Next to him, leaning against a small brick wall, is his bicycle, complete with bike trailer full of sleeping bags and camping gear. Feeling emboldened by my last encounter, I walked up near and leaned on the brick wall. I asked if he had a moment to chat. He flashed me a quick grin, and said sure to me, how could he help me.
How could he help me. He asked me how HE could help ME. I remember looking at this man, thinking how he must be down near the lowest point in his life, and thinking he is offering to help ME. I smiled back at him and said I would just love to chat with him a moment and hear about his story.
After Lloyd’s wife died, he decided to retire. He had worked hard all his life and was just ready for a break. He didn’t have much, but he did have his Social Security check. He decided after he retired to move in with his younger sister. She had a house up north in Sacramento, and was living there alone. Lloyd lived with her for several years, until two years ago, when she lost her job and then lost her house. It’s not an uncommon story in California right now. Foreclosures are all around us and again, we just thank God it’s not us. But with his sister losing her house, she was forced to move in with friends. There being no room for Lloyd, he moved to the street. But with a smile, Lloyd told me don’t worry. It’s not that bad, and things are going to get better. I was so moved by his view of the world. This man had nothing, yet in truth, he seemed to have EVERYTHING. I told him when I left that I’d love to buy him lunch and offered him five dollars. He told me not to worry, it was just nice to have someone to talk to. I told him don’t take it for him, then, take it for me. Because it makes ME feel good, and told him to let me be selfish. He took the money, stuffed it into his pocket, then leaned over and gave me a hug. He muttered thank you in my ear, then I turned and walked away. I wanted to be able to give him more, but I think he gave me more instead.
As I walked through a downtown park, I saw a man laying on the grass. Near him were some friends sitting and talking. I thought he looked like the perfect person to talk to and photograph, so I approached him. At this point I felt confident and comfortable approaching him, but when I tried to talk to him, he told me in very expressive language to get away from him. Of course this only made me more interested in him and his story. After convincing him I wasn’t the police, the government, or his enemy, he agreed to chat and let me take his picture.
As soon as I sat down on the grass to talk to “Rabbit”, I could smell the booze on his breath. I thought about aborting this conversation, but then I thought that would be too easy. So I chatted with Rabbit for a while, trying to learn his story. What I learned was that he was seriously drunk. He struggled to lean on his shoulder for a picture, I shoot my pictures, and took off. All in all, not a pleasant experience talking to Rabbit.
Three people, three different stories, and three very different outlooks on life.
