Another day, another trip to the dumpster to see what's for lunch

This is Bernadette. She doesn't like me much. Actually she doesn't like anyone much. I think she tolerates me because I give her money for food and coffee.
   When I first met her, she stared at my camera and told me I better not take any pictures of her. She scared me. A lot. But I made a decision at that moment. I told her that I take pictures to help tell stories; that being homeless is an incredibly horrifying thing to me and maybe if I take enough pictures, something will change. And then I started to walk away. I got about fifteen feet when she yelled "you're really not gonna take any f*ing pictures?"
   "I told her 'nope'  You asked me not to and you scare me."
She cracked a smile.
"Good"
"So can I take a picture?"
"One."

This goes out to some of my new friends in Portugal...Filipe, Felix, Alexandre, Nuno, Guida.
Stay inspired. No matter what.

Moments of connection

A simple truth that I forever marvel at: the more open I am with my subjects, the more open (braver, more vulnerable, more giving) they are with me.

Another day, another moment reflecting on what might have been

Also:
Reflecting on whether there will be enough for dinner,
...on whether the dumpster in back has been picked through
...on whether the shelter will be a place of safety or continued violence
...on whether anyone notices that I'm only wearing socks
...on whether change will come in our lifetime

Don't give change. Make change.

Welcome to my world

Conjuring up something powerful

Despair needs a new pair of shoes

And a warm bed.
A meal that wasn't discarded by someone else.
A hug versus a mere handout.
Acknowledgement.

Don't just give change. Make change

Another day, another brain cell discarded (not that it was being used all that much)

Another day, another Al Jolson Wannabe

Another day, another wrench in the works

Nick was working the boardwalk at Coney Island. Literally. Hunched over drilling out the old screws and drilling in the new screws. For hours.
Asked what pain medication he recommended.
"Bourbon."
Made me laugh. A lot.
Made him laugh.
But only for a moment.

Dwayne (after and before)

Making new friends can be intimidating at times. Dwayne was in Union Square with a bunch of his friends the other night while I was roaming around. I wasn't even holding my camera up when I got the look on the left. Fortunately, I am fairly quick on my feet and said "Hold it. That's perfect." At which point he immediately broke into the grin seen on the right. At which point I lowered my camera and said "what'd you go and smile for. You ruined it." His friends started giving him all sorts of shit to which he said "No, gimme another chance, man." which resulted in the shot on the left. He was putty in my hands after that. BTW: do not try this unless you are in a very crowded area with lots of daylight and a clearly planned escape route. Being incredibly charming helps, too.

Il mio nuovo amico

Diane and I took the kids to Little Italy in the lower east side of Manhattan for dinner. My daughter, Lindsey was dancing with me in the street when we caught the eye of this charming gentleman (Mario) who was as delighted with our antics as we were with him. My son, Drew (not to be undone) offered up his sister for sale and when he wouldn't bite (my look clearly told him I wasn't amused) asked him to at least teach him how to yell at her in Italian. The rest is 15 minutes of pure hysterics. (it's amazing how quickly kids can learn a new language if the subject matter is interesting) Ciao for now.

Waiting for Mbeki

This is Boris. A story of bad days, good days and magnificent days.

Boris is a rarely-medicated, paranoid schizophrenic who spends his days in Madison Square Park. On one of his bad days, he is easily the scariest homeless person I have ever seen, complete with his facial tics (from too many psychotrophic drugs) and endless tirades against so many unseen demons. He is someone I walk very quietly by. I will often leave a sandwich a few park benches away and then make some noise to get his attention and point out the food and then walk quickly away. I seldom photograph him as I like to get a person's permission first and he is rarely coherent (at least when I am around) I am also scared of his potential reaction. I don't usually fear people, but Boris was frightening and erratic. The picture on the left is Boris on an "okay" day. The other day, I was walking by him with my knapsack when he abruptly cleared his throat and pointed at me. I turned to him slowly and he beckoned me over with a shaky finger. I can't tell you how I was feeling at that moment. He then spoke to me for the very first time: "You're here a lot. Always taking pictures. Do you have your camera? "Yes" "I need a picture. Could you take a picture of me? It's for my grandaughter. I want her to know I'm mostly alright." So we took pictures. Many, many pictures. And talked. About why I take pictures all the time. About him. The shelter where he stays. How people steal his medicine thinking it'll get them stoned. But mostly about his grandaughter, Emily who he hasn't seen in 6 years. I walked away with tears in my eyes. Feeling honored and graced. I went back the next day hoping Boris would be there (and fearful that even if he was, that he would be back in his usual "bad place." But he wasn't.) I brought him a few of my picks printed out but had the entire set on my laptop. I sat with him and my laptop and let him choose the pictures he liked and wanted to send to his granddaughter. He laughed; hoarsely and painfully, as if it had been a very long time between laughs. He said his hands shook too much and could I help him with a letter. I then told him I would print everything out and take him to a post office but he said no. That he didn't know where he'd be. We ended up e-mailing it to his niece who has custody of his granddaughter. Her address was neatly printed on a scrap of paper in an ancient book stuffed with countless scraps of paper, clippings and old letters.
I went to shake his hand when Boris opened his arms wide. What was I too do? Of course I hugged him as the morning crowds walked through the park wondering what was going on. And then I hugged him again (my tears came by surprise...to him and to me) I told him as I tell you all, that this was a magnificent and incredibly special thing he let me do. And that I would remember this experience forever.

Hands too tired to beg.

It's time to do more than spare some change.
It's time to make some change.
Better still...
Demand some change.

Russell

This is my new friend Russell. I rarely see him awake and he is all kinds of skittish around people. (I have seen him actually switch park benches if someone sits too close and reverse direction if he's walking one way and too many people are approaching.)
He had just woken up when I was walking through Madison Square Park on my way to work this morning and he was clearly not happy.
Come to find out he was hungry. Very hungry.
So I took care of that and we just sat together for awhile. Didn't say much of anything. It was enough that he didn't try to escape. I got up to leave after about 15 minutes and waved goodbye to him. Told him I'd bring him something to eat later. Got a nod. That was more than enough for me.

I am really proud of this 

Another day, another theory (relatively speaking)