The Evenin' Shadders

November, 1986. As a young photographer for the Stillwater NewsPress I was assigned to photograph former Governor Bellmon voting in his hometown of Billings, Oklahoma. The polling place was a tiny spot in the gymnasium of Billings High School. The polling spot was dark, lit only by a single bulb. Governor Bellmom and his wife came in and greeted every precinct worker by name. He walked over to the polling booth and began to vote. I asked him if he minded if I took his photograph and he smiled and said warmly, "not at all," but ask me if I would "make him look good." I laughed. There were other photographers there, but none spoke him at the time, and they all used flashes because the room was so dark. When I looked through the viewfinder I saw this image. I was struck by the glow of the single bulb, the serious look of the governor's face, and the imposing nature of his body. I shot several frames, then turned and thanked the governor (and Mrs. Bellmom) and left

The girl standing in front of me is for sale. There's about two feet and at least one child between she and I, but trust me, she's for sale. Her short, black skirt, the bruises, the lack of underwear, and that vacant, pain-filled look in her eyes tell me her life's story. She hungry, like a small animal struggling to survive. She clutches the small male child close, as if he is her only connection to humanity. She looks at her feet (wrapped shiny black stiletto heels) and waits while the checker rings up her purchases — a loaf of bread, a gallon of milk, and a small carton of eggs. The checker tells her she's a dollar and fourteen cents short. I watch her fumble through her purse, searching for stray change, or a wayward dollar bill, to cover her deficit. She fails. The little boy whines and shuffles and tugs on her arm. I can tell he's hungry, too. I've seen that same look — briefly — on my own children's faces right before we all sit down for dinner. Today