Yesterday I posted a photo of Kenny, from Gettysburg. I saw him twice more over three days, the last time he was sitting on a bench next to a woman. Two more men were on an adjecent bench; they all looked like sitters for a Norman Rockwell painting. I really wanted to photograph the woman.
I said hello to Kenny and shook his hand. I then turned to the woman and explained how I liked to photograph people, and she shrugged her shoulders and said fine. I told her that Kenny had allowed me to photograph him. Her eyebrows shot up and she said, "LET you photograph him? I'm surprised that he kept his clothes on!". The two men at the next bench nodded slowly, in a knowing way. Her name is Doris, and I told her that my mother is Doris. When I told her that my name was Bob, she said (with a smile) that her brother was Bob, but he died last month. Ouch! With Street Portraiture, you never know what you will get into.