Baby Ruth

Upon landing late last night at Fort Lauderdale airport after a short day in Birmingham on assignment for Mother Jones (hell yeah I fit in lunch at one of my top 5 favorite rib joints: Dreamland), I reflexively checked my watch and immediately realized I would have to be back at the airport in less than 8 hours for this morning's trip up to South Carolina for The New York Times (the complicated details of which I'm probably going to record in an On Assignment post this week). Already pretty on edge from lack of sleep, I literally did a cartoon-like gulp at the thought of returning to Atlanta (I'm here now) en route to anywhere.

After a frenzy of charging, packing, editing, transmitting, e-mailing, booking, reserving, and just a little bit of chatting with the Fiancée (she's very busy and sleep-deprived too these days), I got about 4 hours of sleep before adding some washing, folding, zipping, and driving back to FLL.

Lost in the details of all of this moving around is the why. I know that Robert would really be asking WHY?!, and here is my most recent answer:

Yesterday I had the honor of meeting and photographing an amazing woman named Fonza Luke. I was there because she had been wrongfully terminated after 30+ years of service to a hospital in Birmingham, and after welcoming my assistant and I into her home we both immediately were charmed to pieces by her warmth and perspective. Just meeting her made all of the airport hassle and balancing act shit completely worthwhile.

Before we left Fonza we sat down for coffee with her at the kitchen table and she honored us by showing off a book of pictures of her beautiful family to us. It was incredible because we had just heard a story from her during the shoot about how her only memory of her mother was when she was a very little girl sitting on the front porch of their house. Her mother gave her a Baby Ruth candy bar and then left the house and her family behind forever. Fonza told us that her grandmother spent every cent she ever earned trying to find her and understand why, but they never did.

On the last flight of the day home I finished editing the images of Fonza for my editor and was really excited about a couple of frames. They really felt like authentic portraits of Fonza; they felt rare and beautiful. Though they didn't capture her warmth and joy (they weren't supposed to), they did show the pride and respect she has for her family and herself. I just sat there with the computer in my lap and stared at the screen thinking that I had perhaps managed to make a connection that counted through my work. That's all the reason why I ever need. Thank you, Fonza.

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Comments (1)

When it goes like that, it definitely is a privilege.

I was out with Andrew thursday at the Aperture opening and he introduces me as the guy who wrote that post to Eric McNatt, Chris Bartlett, and Eric says,
"great post, I forwarded that to 20 of my friends", and I realized I had just become Jerry McGuire...

it was just a memo...

Glad you had such a great encounter. I am always amazed at how this little machine changes experience. The more you open yourself up and share the pictures you make the better it gets.

Photographers are a lot like Fonza's Grandmother, in pursuit of the truth we will literally spend every cent we own trying to get to the Baby Ruth moment.

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