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| Luis Ocejo in Llano San Juan. |
I’ve seen that when you first meet a kindred spirit,
they’ll share the most important things in their life in the first five minutes.
Standing In front of the Catholic Church in Llano San Juan, New Mexico Luis Ocejo
blurted, “You don’t mess with a Viet Nam veteran. We’re tough.”
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Rudy Mauldin, Cline's Corner, New Mexico.
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Rudy Mauldin, who managed a cattle ranch on US 285 near
Cline’s Corner told me he’d been a cowboy his entire life. He’d cowboyed in New
Mexico, Colorado, Arizona and Texas. So had his father. He’d gone to high
school on the Pojoaque Pueblo and had been beaten up so many times he couldn’t
count that high. The experience gave him ulcers. The highlight of his working
life, he told me, was being an undercover agent for the Bureau of Land
Management in Utah. He was part of a team that caught a Mormon rancher looting
Native American artifacts on Federal land. It was the first conviction of its
kind using DNA evidence.
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| Clarence Vigil. Cundiyo, New Mexico. |
Right off the bat Clarence Vigil told me that he was a
Jehovah’s Witness. “We’re very strict but it’s worked for me. You know I built
Mother Ship in Brooklyn.” Then he said he hadn’t wanted to fight in Viet Nam.
Instead, he served two years in a Federal Penitentiary near Safford, Arizona. He
became a wildland firefighter there, a common assignment for inmates even now.
“It wasn’t that bad” he said. “Then I became a carpenter and a contractor. My
wife and I have been everywhere even China. We’ve had a good life”
“I can tell you’re a good guy. You want a dozen eggs? These
are so fresh they’ll last three months.” Then he pitched me on joining his
church. I told him that “I’m not a
believer, Clarence.” He smiled, “We all have doubts.”
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| Ken Tingsley, Arroyo Hondo, New Mexico. |
As I was photographing the roaring Rio Hondo, a scruffy gent
yelled, “Take my picture. I’m getting married today.” I took several shots at
the overlook and followed Ken Tingsley back to his 1970s trailer. He stepped into
the cabin, poured himself two inches of bourbon, lit a cigarette and pointed at
a shrine with a picture of a young man in a tied died tee shirt. “That’s my son.
He died 20 years ago. I miss him so much. I’m wearing his tee shirt right now.”
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| Amy French, Mary Coulter's Watchtower, Grand Canyon. |
The first words out of Amy French’s mouth as I photographed
her behind Mary Colter’s Desert View Watchtower at the South Rim of the Grand
Canyon was, “I’m a breast cancer survivor. I’ve just finished treatment.” She
and her partner Dave who had been campground hosts throughout the west before she
became the manager of the Watchtower. She gave me the world’s best tour of
iconic tower and its sweeping view. We shared stories of endurance sports. She
and Dave were competitive distance runners. She told me, “My sweet spot is the
moderate distances like 40-50 miles.” I shared that I had been a triathlete in
the mid-80s. “That may have been the best time in my life, to be so fit in your
mid-forties and at the peak of your powers, mentally and physically. I miss that
feeling.”
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John Bustos, Heart Mountain Internment Camp.
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John Bustos was an impressive man. Only 5’8” Master Sargent
Bustos carried 210 pounds and was all chest and neck. Bustos who had served in
Viet Nam was commanding the honor guard at the Heart Mountain Reunion in
Powell, Wyoming. Heart Mountain is a monument to the infamous Japanese American
Internment camp in Powell. He led the honor guard through their salutes. When the
volleys were finished, he whispered, “You know we always keep an extra round in
the chamber. Mine’s for Obama.”
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