Twas in another lifetime, one of toil and blood
When blackness was a virtue and the road was full of mud
I came in from the wilderness, a creature void of form
"Come in," she said, "I'll give you shelter from the storm"
And if I pass this way again, you can rest assured
I'll always do my best for her, on that I give my word
In a world of steel-eyed death, and men who are fighting to be warm
"Come in," she said, "I'll give you shelter from the storm"
When blackness was a virtue and the road was full of mud
I came in from the wilderness, a creature void of form
"Come in," she said, "I'll give you shelter from the storm"
And if I pass this way again, you can rest assured
I'll always do my best for her, on that I give my word
In a world of steel-eyed death, and men who are fighting to be warm
"Come in," she said, "I'll give you shelter from the storm"
Not a word was spoke between us, there was little risk involved
Everything up to that point had been left unresolved
Try imagining a place where it's always safe and warm
"Come in," she said, "I'll give you shelter from the storm"
I was burned out from exhaustion, buried in the hail
Poisoned in the bushes an' blown out on the trail
Hunted like a crocodile, ravaged in the corn
"Come in," she said, "I'll give you shelter from the storm"
Everything up to that point had been left unresolved
Try imagining a place where it's always safe and warm
"Come in," she said, "I'll give you shelter from the storm"
I was burned out from exhaustion, buried in the hail
Poisoned in the bushes an' blown out on the trail
Hunted like a crocodile, ravaged in the corn
"Come in," she said, "I'll give you shelter from the storm"
Suddenly I turned around and she was standin' there
With silver bracelets on her wrists and flowers in her hair
She walked up to me so gracefully and took my crown of thorns
"Come in," she said, "I'll give you shelter from the storm"
Now there's a wall between us, somethin' there's been lost
I took too much for granted, got my signals crossed
Just to think that it all began on a long-forgotten morn
"Come in," she said, "I'll give you shelter from the storm"
With silver bracelets on her wrists and flowers in her hair
She walked up to me so gracefully and took my crown of thorns
"Come in," she said, "I'll give you shelter from the storm"
Now there's a wall between us, somethin' there's been lost
I took too much for granted, got my signals crossed
Just to think that it all began on a long-forgotten morn
"Come in," she said, "I'll give you shelter from the storm"
Well, the deputy walks on hard nails and the preacher rides a mount
But nothing really matters much, it's doom alone that counts
And the one-eyed undertaker, he blows a futile horn
"Come in," she said, "I'll give you shelter from the storm"
I've heard newborn babies wailin' like a mournin' dove
And old men with broken teeth stranded without love
Do I understand your question, man, is it hopeless and forlorn?
"Come in," she said, "I'll give you shelter from the storm"
But nothing really matters much, it's doom alone that counts
And the one-eyed undertaker, he blows a futile horn
"Come in," she said, "I'll give you shelter from the storm"
I've heard newborn babies wailin' like a mournin' dove
And old men with broken teeth stranded without love
Do I understand your question, man, is it hopeless and forlorn?
"Come in," she said, "I'll give you shelter from the storm"
In a little hilltop village, they gambled for my clothes
I bargained for salvation an' they gave me a lethal dose
I offered up my innocence and got repaid with scorn
"Come in," she said, "I'll give you shelter from the storm"
Well, I'm livin' in a foreign country but I'm bound to cross the line
Beauty walks a razor's edge, someday I'll make it mine
If I could only turn back the clock to when God and her were born
"Come in," she said, "I'll give you shelter from the storm
"Shelter From the Storn" by Bob Dylan
I bargained for salvation an' they gave me a lethal dose
I offered up my innocence and got repaid with scorn
"Come in," she said, "I'll give you shelter from the storm"
Well, I'm livin' in a foreign country but I'm bound to cross the line
Beauty walks a razor's edge, someday I'll make it mine
If I could only turn back the clock to when God and her were born
"Come in," she said, "I'll give you shelter from the storm
"Shelter From the Storn" by Bob Dylan
So today I was driving through Franklin when I saw this man thumbing a ride. I was short on time and heading to the office and i drove right past. Then a little voice told me about a very great thing I had read just a day before on a post by Michael Williamson of the Washington Post. "Shoot when see!" In other words don't miss the opportunity, don't say you'll come back--stop and shoot--give what you see the proper respect it gave you by presenting itself to your eyes!
So I stopped and tried to meet this man who was wearing a very interesting hat and sticking his thumb out at apathetic drivers going by. "I'm trying to get to the Salvation Army by 11:30, I don't think I'm going to make it today!" he said. Then he repeated it and repeated it. Cars went by and even those that stopped at the light offered him no ride.
I can understand, in this day and age we don't know strangers intentions or even capabilities.
I was also thinking I had a dilemma. I stopped to make pictures of him in hopes I could tell his story in the pages of my newspaper. I can't give him a ride if I am going to tell this story right?
"I need to get to the Salvation Army by 11:30, I don't think I'm going to make it."
Sir your hat says SWAT on it what does that mean? I asked,
"I was on the SWAT team in 1953, but not any more, I kept the hat!."
Was the SWAT team a police organization? I asked.
"Not anymore, I was there in in 1953, I need to get to the Salvation Army by 11:30 so i can get a free lunch. Every Monday, Tuesday and Thursday...I don't think I'm going to make it today!" The man stuttered a little as he talked with his hands.
I wished him luck.
He didn't want to give me his name and he really wasn't capable of telling me his story, especially not in his state of mind wanting to get to the Salvation Army for his meal and fearing he was going to miss it.
I went back to my car thinking about this man, thinking about Bob Dylan's Shelter from the Storm which was actually playing in my car when I passed him the first time and thinking about Michael Williamson's "Shoot when see!"
I then remembered other words I had heard from Williamson awhile back about his work on poverty and I thought again--What would Michael Williamson do? (Other than make a much better picture than I had made!)
I can't put words in his mouth but I convinced myself that he would give this man a ride to get his meal.
So I did.
So I stopped and tried to meet this man who was wearing a very interesting hat and sticking his thumb out at apathetic drivers going by. "I'm trying to get to the Salvation Army by 11:30, I don't think I'm going to make it today!" he said. Then he repeated it and repeated it. Cars went by and even those that stopped at the light offered him no ride.
I can understand, in this day and age we don't know strangers intentions or even capabilities.
I was also thinking I had a dilemma. I stopped to make pictures of him in hopes I could tell his story in the pages of my newspaper. I can't give him a ride if I am going to tell this story right?
"I need to get to the Salvation Army by 11:30, I don't think I'm going to make it."
Sir your hat says SWAT on it what does that mean? I asked,
"I was on the SWAT team in 1953, but not any more, I kept the hat!."
Was the SWAT team a police organization? I asked.
"Not anymore, I was there in in 1953, I need to get to the Salvation Army by 11:30 so i can get a free lunch. Every Monday, Tuesday and Thursday...I don't think I'm going to make it today!" The man stuttered a little as he talked with his hands.
I wished him luck.
He didn't want to give me his name and he really wasn't capable of telling me his story, especially not in his state of mind wanting to get to the Salvation Army for his meal and fearing he was going to miss it.
I went back to my car thinking about this man, thinking about Bob Dylan's Shelter from the Storm which was actually playing in my car when I passed him the first time and thinking about Michael Williamson's "Shoot when see!"
I then remembered other words I had heard from Williamson awhile back about his work on poverty and I thought again--What would Michael Williamson do? (Other than make a much better picture than I had made!)
I can't put words in his mouth but I convinced myself that he would give this man a ride to get his meal.
So I did.
__________________________
I received this lovely note from Dana Leber who I met a few years back when she came to our photojournalism conference. She wrote this beautiful not to me after I posted this story above.
"Just wanted to tell you that I am enjoying your articles & photos (which are superb, by the way!!!) so much. I particularly loved your latest on the old gent trying to get to the Salvation Army...a lovely & moving piece. It brought to mind a lesson in tough love taught to me by my father very many years ago. My dad owned a car dealership & so (fortunately) when I got my driver's license at 16 he gave me a car. The dealership was a few miles from our home in a little town where he grew up - rural, farmers, etc. In the town, there was a man named Wallace - very poor, no family, terribly afflicted by cerebral palsy...but protected by the village folk as used to be a common practice. He would thumb a ride to our town (a "city" compared to where he lived) to walk about there & then thumb a ride back home. Now my dad would always give him a ride - much to my 16 year old, self absorbed chagrin because Wallace had an odor, drooled, flailed his crippled limbs about - I didn't like it. So one day I was driving my dad home from the dealership in my new car & there was Wallace, thumb out. Dad said, "Stop," but I (in my selfish young haughtiness) said I didn't want him fouling my new car. At which point, my dad ordered me to pull over, get out...and he invited Wallace in the car, I had to get in the back, Dad drove us home - and I didn't get that car back until my wonderful dad explained (and knew I understood) the importance of compassion, kindness, and tolerance...and enlightened me to Wallace's tragic life & all he had had to suffer & endure. Properly chastised - and educated in "my brother's keeper" so thoroughly by Dad, I never after that day failed to pick up Wallace - and earned a friend in him till his death. Your story reminded me that "There but for the grace of God go I" - the lesson my dad taught me so long ago - brought memories to my heart & tears to my eyes. Thank you for giving your "Wallace" a ride.
"
I received this lovely note from Dana Leber who I met a few years back when she came to our photojournalism conference. She wrote this beautiful not to me after I posted this story above.
"Just wanted to tell you that I am enjoying your articles & photos (which are superb, by the way!!!) so much. I particularly loved your latest on the old gent trying to get to the Salvation Army...a lovely & moving piece. It brought to mind a lesson in tough love taught to me by my father very many years ago. My dad owned a car dealership & so (fortunately) when I got my driver's license at 16 he gave me a car. The dealership was a few miles from our home in a little town where he grew up - rural, farmers, etc. In the town, there was a man named Wallace - very poor, no family, terribly afflicted by cerebral palsy...but protected by the village folk as used to be a common practice. He would thumb a ride to our town (a "city" compared to where he lived) to walk about there & then thumb a ride back home. Now my dad would always give him a ride - much to my 16 year old, self absorbed chagrin because Wallace had an odor, drooled, flailed his crippled limbs about - I didn't like it. So one day I was driving my dad home from the dealership in my new car & there was Wallace, thumb out. Dad said, "Stop," but I (in my selfish young haughtiness) said I didn't want him fouling my new car. At which point, my dad ordered me to pull over, get out...and he invited Wallace in the car, I had to get in the back, Dad drove us home - and I didn't get that car back until my wonderful dad explained (and knew I understood) the importance of compassion, kindness, and tolerance...and enlightened me to Wallace's tragic life & all he had had to suffer & endure. Properly chastised - and educated in "my brother's keeper" so thoroughly by Dad, I never after that day failed to pick up Wallace - and earned a friend in him till his death. Your story reminded me that "There but for the grace of God go I" - the lesson my dad taught me so long ago - brought memories to my heart & tears to my eyes. Thank you for giving your "Wallace" a ride.
"