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we could be anywhere

volume two: small town usa

40 piece digital series
to be released

on a 2500 mile journey over 13 days, i traveled through Kansas, Nebraska, Wyoming, and Idaho to explore and learn about small town life across the united states.

"We Could Be Anywhere, Volume ii" is a collection centered on the people i met and the communities i visited during my journey traveling through Small Town USA.

click on an image to jump to the artwork and its written story

01_ Closing Up The Store I.jpg
02_Closing Up The Store II.jpg
03_A Guest Is A Guest.jpg
04_Show Don't Tell I.jpg
05_Show Don't Tell II.jpg
06_Here To Stay.jpg
07_From Afar.jpg
08_The Cuba Pitstop.jpg
09_The Heartbeat Of Town I.jpg
10_The Heartbeat Of Town II.jpg
11_At The Cuba Cash Store I.jpg
12_At The Cuba Cash Store II.jpg
13_At The Cuba Cash Store III.jpg
14_A Bit About Bernie I.jpg
15_A Bit About Bernie II.jpg
16_A Night In The Liberty House I.jpg
17_A Night In The Liberty House II.jpg
18_For Brent I.jpg
19 For Brent II.jpg
20_A Lesson In Reverse I.jpg
21_A Lesson In Reverse II.jpg
22_The Frontier Days I copy.jpg
23_The Frontier Days II.jpg
24_The Frontier Days III.jpg
25_The Frontier Days.jpg
26_The General Store.jpg
27_The Saloon.jpg
28_Nodding Along.jpg
29_On His Day Off I.jpg
30_On His Day Off II.jpg
31_The Kirby Quiet.jpg
32_Those Of Us In The Pond.jpg
33_Driving Through Westphalia.jpg
34_Driving Through Ten Sleep.jpg
35_Driving Through Lisco.jpg
36_A Kansas Blend.jpg
37_If Craig Visited Elmdale.jpg
38_The Strong City Tracks.jpg
39_A Few Hours In Glendo.jpg
40_Generational Serving.jpg
01_ Closing Up The Store I.jpg
1_Closing Up The Store I

Closing Up The Store I

EDITION 1/1 || DIGITAL PHOTO ISOLATE
To Be Released

His father’s age is starting to show, and you can see it in his walk. But you can’t feel it in his heart, he’s been at the shop doing his part. Billy told me that I caught them right in time, as next week, dad would be closing up the store. And after I sifted through every aisle, Billy rang me up, and took me for a tour. It started off on Paola, and turned into a talk on Small Town USA. But all throughout, Billy asked and learned about me, Curious about my perspective, and why I really came. It's not that Billy wasn’t open to talking, he just was as curious as I was, too, About who I was, about my life, and about what I was doing in Paola, Kansas from New Jersey before noon. He seemed to be more concerned, with making sure that I was ready for my time, Traveling across Small Town USA on my own, exploring towns and meeting people who don’t know that I’m coming by. I was lucky to have met Billy, so early on in; Paola was but my second stop, on the first day of the trip.

02_Closing Up The Store II.jpg
2_Closing Up The Store II

Closing Up The Store II

EDITION 1/1 || DIGITAL PHOTO ISOLATE
To Be Released

When we finished our walk around the Paola Square, we came by the store for some shade. Before he’d get back to work, he wanted a smoke, and we shared one final conversation. The more time we spent together, the more that Billy opened up with me. I kept returning to how the store would be closing, and what it all really means. For Billy, for his family, and for the community in Paola, too, But he told me that I was thinking far too much— change is just something you get to. He continued on with the lessons, weaving in history so subtly in between, But I received it all so specifically, as Billy continued to prepare me for all that I’d see. While we were talking, down the alleyway, a neighbor went back-and-forth, loading up his truck; The perfect backdrop, for all that Billy and I had come to discuss. There’s a lot to talk about, but out there, people rarely complain, Billy taught me that it’s more about moving forward and making it through the day.

03_A Guest Is A Guest.jpg
3_A Guest Is A Guest

A Guest Is A Guest

EDITION 1/1 || DIGITAL PHOTO ISOLATE
To Be Released

As the sun starts to set, is the day really done? Perhaps, maybe for most, but for others, it’s just begun. I caught him working in town, preparing for the fair that was soon to come. When I offered to lend him a hand, he let out a chuckle, and asked where I was from. I was still learning the Kansas way, but I knew the folks were a proud bunch. He welcomed me in and wished me well— but told me that nobody within a few hundred miles would take up my offer, “A guest is a guest, especially if they’re willing to help.” A lesson I’d encounter again and again, that I had to grow to respect.

04_Show Don't Tell I.jpg
4_Show Don't Tell I

Show Don't Tell I

EDITION 1/1 || DIGITAL PHOTO ISOLATE
To Be Released

(Shared Story) It was my first time visiting a County Seat Town, Which serves so many more, than the 800 or so who live around. Shops line down Broadway, cars flow in and out without stop, And right before the towering courthouse: the gas station and auto repair shop. I was peering into the garage, when he saw, and glanced back at me, I took a few more steps, walked in, and asked if I could see. I introduced myself and told him, what had brought me to their town, With a smile, he invited me in, and then I followed him back around. Tracing the path of the single tire, he wheeled atop the shop floor, To meet the boss, to greet the crew, to see the workshop, and talk some more. Right from the start, they made it clear that I was welcome to stay, But a lot of my questions went unanswered, as they continued to work away. In my journey so far, that balance at times ensued: Some people open up their hearts, while others show you who they are, by doing what they do.

05_Show Don't Tell II.jpg

Show Don't Tell II

EDITION 1/1 || DIGITAL PHOTO ISOLATE
To Be Released

5_Show Don't Tell II

(Shared Story) It was my first time visiting a County Seat Town, Which serves so many more, than the 800 or so who live around. Shops line down Broadway, cars flow in and out without stop, And right before the towering courthouse: the gas station and auto repair shop. I was peering into the garage, when he saw, and glanced back at me, I took a few more steps, walked in, and asked if I could see. I introduced myself and told him, what had brought me to their town, With a smile, he invited me in, and then I followed him back around. Tracing the path of the single tire, he wheeled atop the shop floor, To meet the boss, to greet the crew, to see the workshop, and talk some more. Right from the start, they made it clear that I was welcome to stay, But a lot of my questions went unanswered, as they continued to work away. In my journey so far, that balance at times ensued: Some people open up their hearts, while others show you who they are, by doing what they do.

06_Here To Stay.jpg
6_Here To Stay

Here To Stay

EDITION 1/1 || DIGITAL PHOTO ISOLATE
To Be Released

The floods did a number on Elmdale, but the rain couldn’t wash the town away. Not just once, but twice, and even when the levy broke, some still chose to stay. It wasn’t without a fight, as FEMA told residents that the town wouldn’t sustain, And then it bought up a few houses there, right next to neighbors who remained. Today Elmdale has a population, less than half of from when it was founded, And depending on who you ask, they’re either disappointed or thrilled about it; Some want to see more growth and change, while others are grateful to see the town hang on and survive. I learned it all from Branden, who’s stayed rooted in Elmdale through trying times. He took me for a tour, and after our walk, he brought me into his workshop before I left town. I got to see the thriving business he’s built for himself— but he reminded me that everything he does, is for his family that he’s looking after. In Elmdale, it’s at times hard to ignore, as tribulations of the past still permeate today, But thirty-nine people call the town home, and they’ll continue to fight for their place.

07_From Afar.jpg
7_From Afar

From Afar

EDITION 1/1 || DIGITAL PHOTO ISOLATE
To Be Released

Drivers walked over caked in dust after racing their laps, Parents lined up to shake his hand one by one. Kids whispered and pointed, while they peered from afar, I was the only one who didn’t know who this man was. From the stands, to the dirt-turns, to front and center at the track, It didn’t matter where he went to spend a moment to watch. Once he was spotted from the crowd, a queue would form at his back, All that I saw was exactly who this man was.

08_The Cuba Pitstop.jpg
8_The Cuba Pitstop

The Cuba Pitstop

EDITION 1/1 || DIGITAL PHOTO ISOLATE
To Be Released

I was coming in just as he was heading out, and I could see that he was in a rush. I drove a few hours in the same pouring rain, except I had a roof on my car. I had a feeling we were on similar Small Town adventures, and he confirmed that I was right. He said he wasn’t conducting interviews, though, and I laughed, and said neither was I. A hard sell to him, as the camera swayed from the strap around my neck; I knew better than to pry too much as he packed up, so I asked for advice instead, About if he had any thoughts, for my next days on the road, As I’d be crossing into Nebraska, then Wyoming and Idaho. He suggested that I stop to explore towns that I didn’t plan to, just because I saw the signs, To visit a bar around noon whenever I can, to see the different folks who might be passing by. Not everyone will open-up to a stranger on a whim, but nearly everyone will share a talk; He started to realize that he was now doing the same with me, and that’s when his engine revved and kicked up. With an amused grin and a laugh, it was time we said our goodbyes. I made it for the Cuba Cash Store, and he continued on with his ride.

09_The Heartbeat Of Town I.jpg
9_The Heartbeat Of Town I

The Heartbeat Of Town I

EDITION 1/1 || DIGITAL PHOTO ISOLATE
To Be Released

(Shared Story) If you’re reading this story now, it’s likely coming through on a screen, And that’s the most ironic part, as Cherie digs through it all organically. She went to find the paper, but it wasn’t from the present day, Cherie was looking for a story from a few years ago, and she saved the clipping just in case. There’s something so endearingly old school about her, and I mean that in the most respectful way; Back home, everyone runs to their phone— in Cuba, Kansas, Cherie goes right to the pen and the page. Later in the day, I found her at the table, with a few more people from town, This time, with a different paper in her hands, reviewing national averages, for pricing the store out. When I asked her why she does everything the way she does, she said if it isn’t broken, then what’s there to change? A thought that’s hard to challenge, especially in seeing how Cherie operates. Her job can often feel thankless, from the outside looking in, at least, It's not that the work that she does is overlooked, it just takes so much more than it seems. The Cuba Cash Store doubles and triples in its purpose, well beyond the products that line the shelves, It’s the heartbeat of their small town, and the community has Cherie to thank for upkeeping that.

10_The Heartbeat Of Town II.jpg
10_The Heartbeat Of Town II

The Heartbeat Of Town II

EDITION 1/1 || DIGITAL PHOTO ISOLATE
To Be Released

(Shared Story) If you’re reading this story now, it’s likely coming through on a screen, And that’s the most ironic part, as Cherie digs through it all organically. She went to find the paper, but it wasn’t from the present day, Cherie was looking for a story from a few years ago, and she saved the clipping just in case. There’s something so endearingly old school about her, and I mean that in the most respectful way; Back home, everyone runs to their phone— in Cuba, Kansas, Cherie goes right to the pen and the page. Later in the day, I found her at the table, with a few more people from town, This time, with a different paper in her hands, reviewing national averages, for pricing the store out. When I asked her why she does everything the way she does, she said if it isn’t broken, then what’s there to change? A thought that’s hard to challenge, especially in seeing how Cherie operates. Her job can often feel thankless, from the outside looking in, at least, It's not that the work that she does is overlooked, it just takes so much more than it seems. The Cuba Cash Store doubles and triples in its purpose, well beyond the products that line the shelves, It’s the heartbeat of their small town, and the community has Cherie to thank for upkeeping that.

11_At The Cuba Cash Store I.jpg
11_At The Cuba Cash Store I

At The Cuba Cash Store I

EDITION 1/1 || DIGITAL PHOTO ISOLATE
To Be Released

(Shared Story) When I walked in it was empty, and when I left, the Crew was there. Not just the three, in this scene, but a few more, who later pulled up a chair. It seemed so awfully normal, to come to Cherie’s store and take a seat. To eat a kolache, order a sandwich, and shop for groceries. Not everyone comes through to buy, some just stroll on in to have a chat, And throughout my time in Cuba, I found myself continuing to come on back, Back to visit the Cuba Cash Store throughout the day, and see who might be at the table hanging around, To learn a thing or two about life, from the people themselves in town. The later in the day it got, the more full the Cash Store became, As the townsfolk were getting ready, for the evening Steak Bake; Where neighbors from near and far, would be meeting across the street at the Cuba Town Hall, For a big meal, to share some laughs, and to finish off the kegs from the town dance, just a few nights before.

12_At The Cuba Cash Store II.jpg
12_At The Cuba Cash Store II

At The Cuba Cash Store II

EDITION 1/1 || DIGITAL PHOTO ISOLATE
To Be Released

(Shared Story) When I walked in it was empty, and when I left, the Crew was there. Not just the three, in this scene, but a few more, who later pulled up a chair. It seemed so awfully normal, to come to Cherie’s store and take a seat. To eat a kolache, order a sandwich, and shop for groceries. Not everyone comes through to buy, some just stroll on in to have a chat, And throughout my time in Cuba, I found myself continuing to come on back, Back to visit the Cuba Cash Store throughout the day, and see who might be at the table hanging around, To learn a thing or two about life, from the people themselves in town. The later in the day it got, the more full the Cash Store became, As the townsfolk were getting ready, for the evening Steak Bake; Where neighbors from near and far, would be meeting across the street at the Cuba Town Hall, For a big meal, to share some laughs, and to finish off the kegs from the town dance, just a few nights before.

13_At The Cuba Cash Store III.jpg
13_At The Cuba Cash Store III

At The Cuba Cash Store III

EDITION 1/1 || DIGITAL PHOTO ISOLATE
To Be Released

(Shared Story) When I walked in it was empty, and when I left, the Crew was there. Not just the three, in this scene, but a few more, who later pulled up a chair. It seemed so awfully normal, to come to Cherie’s store and take a seat. To eat a kolache, order a sandwich, and shop for groceries. Not everyone comes through to buy, some just stroll on in to have a chat, And throughout my time in Cuba, I found myself continuing to come on back, Back to visit the Cuba Cash Store throughout the day, and see who might be at the table hanging around, To learn a thing or two about life, from the people themselves in town. The later in the day it got, the more full the Cash Store became, As the townsfolk were getting ready, for the evening Steak Bake; Where neighbors from near and far, would be meeting across the street at the Cuba Town Hall, For a big meal, to share some laughs, and to finish off the kegs from the town dance, just a few nights before.

14_A Bit About Bernie I.jpg
14_A Bit About Bernie I

A Bit About Bernie I

EDITION 1/1 || DIGITAL PHOTO ISOLATE
To Be Released

We shared hours of the day together, exchanging stories from our lives, She poured me a beer, our laughs blended with tears; Bernie and I got together just fine. Don’t let the locale fool you, Bernie’s a Chicagoan through and through, Who has experiences of a different upbringing, that not all the Small Town folk do. I’m not comparing anyone or anything, and neither does she, But in North Central Kansas, perhaps it was the Jersey in me. To find Bernie out in Cuba, and to befriend her so quick. I know she felt the same, otherwise she wouldn’t put up with my bits. We rolled through every conversation, poking fun at all the noise, But we got serious, when we needed; Bernie toured me through town, showing me their way of life. Her shop is just a few doors down from the Cash Store, She, too, is set up right in the center of town. At her antique store, the townsfolk sift through Bernie’s collections, And from the collections of neighbors, who bring their stuff around. A consignment shop of sorts, Bernie has something for everyone, and from every decade at that. Her role in town is much bigger than the store, she’s someone people turn to for reason, a talk, and a laugh. I saw it all for myself, as we met so many people from the community together that day; Each one saw Bernie in a different light, but underneath, the ethos was all the same.

15_A Bit About Bernie II.jpg
15_A Bit About Bernie II

A Bit About Bernie II

EDITION 1/1 || DIGITAL PHOTO ISOLATE
To Be Released

One of Bernie’s biggest pain points, is the wind turbine company that’s trying to buy up the town, And by the door, to the store, she displays her opinions proud. Across Small Town USA, I heard a few similar tales, About situations that challenge the people, their homes, and their land— and the fights they have to have. One of the hardest parts is keeping a united front all together, and when one person caves, the hope starts to break. Cuba’s been holding their own, but Bernie worries that without commitment, things might continue to change. If the company has their way, there would be more turbines than homes in town, But bless them in their fight against Bernie and the people of Cuba, who aren’t known to back down. Just before leaving, I came back to her shop, and was welcomed by the ‘No Wind Turbines’ sign once more. And when I walked in, she was standing there waiting, with a giant red book by the door, Filled with photographs from New York City, a proper Bernie-esque gift and goodbye. Until the next laugh we share together, I trust that she’ll continue on with the fight.

16_A Night In The Liberty House I.jpg
16_A Night In The Liberty House I

A Night In The Liberty House I

EDITION 1/1 || DIGITAL PHOTO ISOLATE
To Be Released

The Liberty House is Pat’s home, a bed and breakfast, and an antique shop, all-in-one, Where nearly everything is for sale, except for where guests stay, on the top floor. When I arrived, we sat at the dining table, and got to talking for nearly two hours. In the middle of our conversation, Pat grabbed her phone, made a call, and cracked a smile. She tried sending me off on my own, with a name, a phone number, and an address. It wasn’t that I couldn’t venture out by myself, I just knew she’d enjoy being there. After a bit of convincing, we locked up, got in her minivan, and hit the road. Leaving the downtown of Seward behind us, as we headed towards the outskirts. To visit her friend, an artist with a studio, that sits on eighty acres of corn and farmland, That Pat wanted me to visit, so I could get a sense of the life, for an artist out there. We spent an hour or so together, and then Pat and I continued to venture on. She took the backroads, in the other direction, as the sun set deep into the clouds. Pat’s a student of the past, and quite the teacher, too. The further out we drove, the more she shared, about the local history that she knew; Remember those books, about counties and towns, that they sell at bookstores? Pat wrote one of them about Seward, Nebraska—the place she’s long called home. She covered centuries in a few miles, making sure I understood each topic she opened up to explain, But in between the lessons, Pat continued to glance over at the gas gauge; It was time for us to start to make our journey, back towards town, With a few more stops, along the way, then it was time to put our heads down.

17_A Night In The Liberty House II.jpg
17_A Night In The Liberty House II

A Night In The Liberty House II

EDITION 1/1 || DIGITAL PHOTO ISOLATE
To Be Released

When we made it back to The Liberty House, a few hours had already passed on by. My day started nearly two hundred miles away in Kansas earlier that morning, and the next day, Pat had a long drive. We said we’d call it a night, but we walked into her house through the shop door, Where Pat had to finish up some work, and our conversation naturally continued some more. She sat behind the register, by her computer at the desk, Reviewing paperwork and receipts, that she prefers to compile by hand. I toured her famed store for the first time in full, as gentle, old-school music filled the air. Throughout, we walked ourselves back into conversations, that we never got to fully have. But we knew there wasn’t enough time that night, for all that Pat and I had wanted to discuss and share. She’s a different kind of thinker, who has opinions that at times make her unique out there; There’s no one kinder, or more curious, let alone leading with better intent, And I think that’s why she fills such a special and important place, for so many people across the Nebraska land. On the county, and state levels, she’s been recognized all throughout, For her life-long patronage, and the example she sets for all who come around, To shop at the store, to stay the night, or to learn from Pat on a small town tour— Soon enough, the music cut out, and then the lights went out next. It was time to call it a night, actually this time, and Pat led us back up the stairs.

18_For Brent I.jpg
18_For Brent I

For BRent I

EDITION 1/1 || DIGITAL PHOTO ISOLATE
To Be Released

I was heading for the Sandhills, when I veered off to Clarks, That’s when I saw her dragging on her smoke, and I pulled over and parked my car. I introduced myself to Rita, and told her about the adventure that brought me through to her town. When she put out her cigarette, she invited me in, and we continued our talk by the bar. The lights inside shined dim, the ceiling hung quite low, Framed photographs filled the walls of the VFW, a fallen soldier in each one. While Rita told me stories, I saw her eyes continue to float, Over to one frame, again and again, that she just couldn’t seem to ignore. I asked her who he was, but really, I already knew; Brent’s name is memorialized on the bench outside, where Rita and I first met. That day, she was setting up for a family birthday party at the VFW, and not long into our talk, they came through the door one by one. I started getting ready to head on out— but my time with Rita had just begun; Once her brother and nephew realized, all that Rita and I were talking about, The two of them jumped behind the bar, and sent us off towards her house. Earlier she showed me pictures of Brent’s bedroom, and all that she’s done at her home to preserve; I couldn’t have imagined that I’d get to visit that day, a stranger who just showed up on the road. We made it for the door, and when we walked out, I offered to drive. Rita said we were on her turf, turned on the golf cart, and we went for a ride.

19 For Brent II.jpg
19_For Brent II

For BRent II

EDITION 1/1 || DIGITAL PHOTO ISOLATE
To Be Released

We made it over to Rita’s, and the moment I walked through the door, I could feel everything in her heart, displayed all over her home. Before we even made it to his room, the frames at the front smacked me right in the face. Each one, like a ton of bricks, especially with all that we discussed together on the way. When Rita swung open the wooden doors to Brent’s room, the hairs shot right up along my neck. It’s nothing short of a museum in there, that Rita maintains by herself. We went from frame to frame, as she recounted every accolade, photograph, and tale. I bit my tongue the whole time, because I thought that it might help. To help fight back the tears, that later poured down as I’d continue on the road— When we reached the last care package she ever sent him, I wondered how she kept her composure. All throughout, we spoke about the war, losing family, and what it’s like to mourn, To actively grieve forever, and the idea of moving on. It was unique to listen and talk with Rita, especially since we both knew that I just could never understand, All that Rita’s gone through, is going through, and all that she’ll forever bare.

20_A Lesson In Reverse I.jpg
20_A Lesson In Reverse I

A Lesson IN Reverse I

EDITION 1/1 || DIGITAL PHOTO ISOLATE
To Be Released

(Shared Story) When I asked if I could help, D blew me off quite fast. He told me he knew what he was doing, and Ronald had himself a laugh. But he couldn’t laugh too loud, because he knew that D was right, And if Ronald wanted to learn to use the laptop, he’d have to play it tight. A humble lesson in reverse, even more humbling to see, When I noticed who was teaching who, it all came over me; Lifetimes between the two, faces wrinkling and scrunched. D teaching Ronald, out of kindness and the promise of free lunch. I heard it all from Grandma, who works the register at the store. She arranged this meeting of the minds, after Ronald came through her door, Asking if she could help him with the laptop, and she said she knew someone who could. I wonder if he knew it would be him, that he’d be learning from and sitting next to.

21_A Lesson In Reverse II.jpg

A Lesson IN Reverse II

EDITION 1/1 || DIGITAL PHOTO ISOLATE
To Be Released

21_A Lesson In Reverse II

(Shared Story) When I asked if I could help, D blew me off quite fast. He told me he knew what he was doing, and Ronald had himself a laugh. But he couldn’t laugh too loud, because he knew that D was right, And if Ronald wanted to learn to use the laptop, he’d have to play it tight. A humble lesson in reverse, even more humbling to see, When I noticed who was teaching who, it all came over me; Lifetimes between the two, faces wrinkling and scrunched. D teaching Ronald, out of kindness and the promise of free lunch. I heard it all from Grandma, who works the register at the store. She arranged this meeting of the minds, after Ronald came through her door, Asking if she could help him with the laptop, and she said she knew someone who could. I wonder if he knew it would be him, that he’d be learning from and sitting next to.

22_The Frontier Days I.jpg
22_The Frontier Days I

The Frontier Days I

EDITION 1/1 || DIGITAL PHOTO ISOLATE
To Be Released

(Shared Story) A dive in on Craig, whose story doesn’t always get told, While he tells tales of the Small Town past, teaching all who walk through Dobby’s doors. He’s more of a teacher, than he might himself believe, And I continuously reminded him, of just how much his work means. A selfless man dedicated to history, who works nearly every day without pay, Upkeeping at Dobby’s Frontier Town, asking for but a few bucks in exchange. As Dobby’s has no funding, but a running budget on donations instead, Those words printed on the pamphlet, so nobody leaves and ever forgets; Ten bucks to take the booklet with you, but really, it’s Craig that you get, Who walks you through the Frontier Town, answering every question you have. He upkeeps over twenty buildings in town, just as Dobby himself had once planned, A few decades ago, perhaps hoping for the exact types of exchanges, that Craig and I had.

23_The Frontier Days II.jpg
23_The Frontier Days II

The Frontier Days II

EDITION 1/1 || DIGITAL PHOTO ISOLATE
To Be Released

(Shared Story) A dive in on Craig, whose story doesn’t always get told, While he tells tales of the Small Town past, teaching all who walk through Dobby’s doors. He’s more of a teacher, than he might himself believe, And I continuously reminded him, of just how much his work means. A selfless man dedicated to history, who works nearly every day without pay, Upkeeping at Dobby’s Frontier Town, asking for but a few bucks in exchange. As Dobby’s has no funding, but a running budget on donations instead, Those words printed on the pamphlet, so nobody leaves and ever forgets; Ten bucks to take the booklet with you, but really, it’s Craig that you get, Who walks you through the Frontier Town, answering every question you have. He upkeeps over twenty buildings in town, just as Dobby himself had once planned, A few decades ago, perhaps hoping for the exact types of exchanges, that Craig and I had.

24_The Frontier Days III.jpg
24_The Frontier Days III

The Frontier Days III

EDITION 1/1 || DIGITAL PHOTO ISOLATE
To Be Released

(Shared Story) A dive in on Craig, whose story doesn’t always get told, While he tells tales of the Small Town past, teaching all who walk through Dobby’s doors. He’s more of a teacher, than he might himself believe, And I continuously reminded him, of just how much his work means. A selfless man dedicated to history, who works nearly every day without pay, Upkeeping at Dobby’s Frontier Town, asking for but a few bucks in exchange. As Dobby’s has no funding, but a running budget on donations instead, Those words printed on the pamphlet, so nobody leaves and ever forgets; Ten bucks to take the booklet with you, but really, it’s Craig that you get, Who walks you through the Frontier Town, answering every question you have. He upkeeps over twenty buildings in town, just as Dobby himself had once planned, A few decades ago, perhaps hoping for the exact types of exchanges, that Craig and I had.

25_The Frontier Days IV.jpg
25_The Frontier Days IV

The Frontier Days IV

EDITION 1/1 || DIGITAL PHOTO ISOLATE
To Be Released

(Shared Story) A dive in on Craig, whose story doesn’t always get told, While he tells tales of the Small Town past, teaching all who walk through Dobby’s doors. He’s more of a teacher, than he might himself believe, And I continuously reminded him, of just how much his work means. A selfless man dedicated to history, who works nearly every day without pay, Upkeeping at Dobby’s Frontier Town, asking for but a few bucks in exchange. As Dobby’s has no funding, but a running budget on donations instead, Those words printed on the pamphlet, so nobody leaves and ever forgets; Ten bucks to take the booklet with you, but really, it’s Craig that you get, Who walks you through the Frontier Town, answering every question you have. He upkeeps over twenty buildings in town, just as Dobby himself had once planned, A few decades ago, perhaps hoping for the exact types of exchanges, that Craig and I had.

26_The General Store.jpg
26_The General Store

The General Store

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To Be Released

At Nancy’s Groceries, I learned of the Stores that serve populations far bigger than their own: Gridley is home to three hundred and eight, yet the store serves so many more. In Cuba, it was quite similar, as the Cash Store holds a similar place, For the people around, both near and far, who rely on the store to sustain. In most of the buildings that we visited together, I listened and learned far more than I spoke, But in the General Store at Dobby’s with Craig, I came in with a few thoughts of my own. About the modern adaptations of the ‘Store,’ that I came to experience along the way, I saw more and more similarities between the past and present, the more that Craig had explained; He recounted how the General Store used to serve on a two-pronged front, For the community who settled in the area and made it home, As well as for those who were still on the road. Today the landscape is different, as we’re well beyond the Frontier Days, But some strong foundations from the past, still continue to serve Small Town USA.

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27_The Saloon

The Saloon

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Walking through the Saloon at Dobby’s with Craig, I didn’t know it then, That just a day later in Glendo, Wyoming, I’d be at a Saloon myself. It all started with a joke, when I walked in with my camera through the door, And I bought drinks for my new friends, instead of making foes. I pulled a chair right up to their table—I was the outsider stepping in; I introduced myself and the project, then I flipped the questions onto them. Jared, Robert, and Jeffrey all work at the same plant in town, And then there was Alvie, who we had just met, who later joined us from the bar. Each of them grew up outside of Wyoming, but they are all quick to now call it home. The land there provides for so much that they appreciate, avid hunters who love exploring the outdoors. Some of them are family-men, while the others are on their way, Each one shared their own unique perspective, but some foundations were the same: “Failure isn’t an option. You just keep going. Not everyone has been dealt a great hand, but we all are going to survive. Take the hand that’s dealt to you and keep on trucking— America wasn’t built on having a great hand, it was built on being dealt a bad hand, but keeping on, anyways.” As we got to talk about Small Town USA and Art, they challenged me with questions about what life could be like with simpler themes, With joy that derives from what’s around and present, with less of the gray in between. They juxtaposed their questions and advice, with stories and experiences of their own, About a life rooted in family, community, and work— many of the ideas that I came to explore. I told them things aren’t so different back home, when it comes to ethics, priorities, and values; But I was learning that there’s a difference out there, in the balance of individualism, collectivism— and just how much each one matters.

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28_Nodding Along

Nodding Along

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I was in the Old Western Saloon with my new friends, and no matter how loud we got, The townsfolk who came to the bar that day, never joined in on the talks. They heard every conversation, and once in a while, I’d see them nodding along. But whenever I’d motion for them to join in with us, they’d look over, and just carry on. When I gave my final goodbye before leaving, they spoke to me for the first time. They gave me an inch, and I went for a mile, even though I knew better than to pry. The quieter folks often held the deepest truths, the older folks often held the untold history, And understandably so, the quieter, older folks, often said the least. They asked where I was off to next—I was supposed to be up in Buffalo before dark. They looked outside, over to the clock, then at each other, and with a laugh, they sent me off.

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29_On His Day Off I

On His Day Off I

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I knew Miners and Stockmen’s was closed, which doubles as Wyoming’s oldest business, restaurant, and bar, But I pulled into Hartsville anyways, just in case I could find Scott. I knocked loudly a few times, but nobody came to open the door, Then I saw a pup by my feet, followed him around the back, and there he was. I introduced myself quickly, as I could see that Scott was heading on out, But I knew better than to fold there, and I asked if I could jump in with him in the golfcart. Forwardness served me well across Small Town USA, and it didn’t fail me on that day; Scott looked up with a smirk and a shrug, and down a few blocks we went. As we arrived, Scott pulled over by two properties that he’s been fixing up, One for himself and his wife, and one to rent out— if he ever gets all the work done. Scott said he might die before the houses are ready, but it’s not for a lack of effort on his part: The restaurant was closed that day, and still, Scott spent his time tending to the gardens and forging water lines underground. As he got to work, he told me stories, from his present and past, About living in Los Angeles for over fifty years, moving to the town of seventy-one, and never looking back. A mix of a desire for a more quiet life, chased with the frustration of what’s come to be, Where he’s from, as times keep changing— it was time to live life at a different speed.

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30_On His Day Off II

On His Day Off II

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Scott’s plan for solace and quiet, perhaps was just a wishful thought. Because when he and his wife bought Miners and Stockmen’s, they became the biggest thing around. A rebirth of sorts for the two of them, for the restaurant, and the town of Hartsville, too, As Miners and Stockman’s had been closed for a few years when they bought it— reviving a story that dates to its founding in 1862. Scott preserves over 150 years of history there, in homage to the wild-west, mining town that once was, Employing new traditions as well, that he started years ago on his own: When a soldier comes in for a meal, their first drink is always on the house, And in keeping with an older tradition, veterans are invited sign the wall in the back of the restaurant, Joining hundreds of names more, remembering those who have come in before; Each item that hangs in Miner’s and Stockman, has a meaning and history of its own. Over by the front door, lyrics hang printed in a frame; His Father’s favorite, to honor his memory, even though their relationship was complicated. And with the bar, as the backdrop, Scott told me that it’s been years since he’s had a drink. It was humbling to listen to how he talked about himself— the man that I met, is so far from the man he swears he once had been. If he didn’t change his ways, Scott says that he would undoubtedly be long gone; But he’s learned to see far beyond the temporary now, as he continues to overcome a lot. Him and his wife built something incredible in town for themselves, In bringing life to something that started long before them, that will continue on long after them, too. The restaurant was closed that day— Scott owes me a steak the next time I pass through.

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31_The Kirby Quiet

The Kirby Quiet

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You can see the entirety of Kirby, right from the entrance to the town. Seventy-six people strong, and along the back edge, the distillery towers. Most of the smaller-small-towns that I visited, were void of commercial industry. Farming, the exception, but a national whiskey operation was new to see. Inside, I met several folks on the job, each with a story of their own. But some Wyoming Whiskey tales, aren’t mine to share with the world. Before I left, just after my visit, I made it a few blocks to see their shop, And even with all the work and production going on in town, one could hear a pin drop. But when his truck tires roll over the dirt stone road, everyone knows just who’s come around, Few solicit a smile and a laugh like him, especially while saying so little out loud. He came by to grab a few more boxes, as he finished loading up the truck for his route, Filled with Wyoming Whiskey, that he’d take from Kirby, across the country, and all around.

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32_Those Of Us In The Pond

Those Of Us In The Pond

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I swung open the door to Mr. Todd’s Barbershop, right in the middle of a cut. The two of them stared right at the camera, as soon as I walked through the door. Within a few minutes the three of us were laughing; Where better than a barbershop to come in unannounced? I answered all of the usual questions, and then from the chair, Ray cut me off: “A noble idea you have, but maybe it’s best that you don’t publish the series at all.” Todd started to laugh mid-snip—I wasn’t sure why—and then Ray continued on: “If you show the whole world the Small Town life, they’ll just keep on moving in.’’ He was half-joking, but I knew he meant it, and he wasn’t alone in that opinion. After a moment, Todd chimed in, to counter Ray with a thought: “If there are no new fish in the water, then what’s to come for those of us in the pond. And if there’s no new water, over time, what becomes of our home?” Todd was speaking to both sides—thinking about those moving in, as well as his own. Change is often inevitable, yet that isn’t always a bad thing; I’m curious to see how Small Town USA continues to shift, and as it does, I trust that the people who have long called it home, won’t be quick to give in. There’s a balance to be found, between what once was, and all that’s to come with change; But I know that it’s easy for me to opine on, as after our talk, I hit the road and went on my way.

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33_Driving Through Westphalia

Driving Through Westphalia

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On The Road I

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34_Driving Through Ten Sleep

Driving Through Ten Sleep

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On The Road II

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35_Driving Through Lisco

Driving Through Lisco

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On The Road III

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36_A Kansas Blend

A Kansas Blend

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Hybrid I

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37_If Craig Visited Elmdale

If Craig Visited Elmdale

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Hybrid II

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38_The Strong City Tracks

The Strong City Tracks

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Hybrid III

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39_A Few Hours In Glendo

A Few Hours In Glendo

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Hybrid IV

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40_Generational Serving

Generational Serving

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Hybrid V

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