What's your story?

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.”

Rudy Mauldin, Cline's Corner, New Mexico.

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.

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.”

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.”

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.”

John Bustos, Heart Mountain Internment Camp.

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.”