The invisible man

I saw this man one Sunday evening in St. Joe and I literally threw my car in reverse to capture this picture. Before I got out of my car, I took a moment just to put myself in this situation. As a photographer, I often do that. I purposely lose myself in a moment and let my brain process the surroundings and situations. It gives me a better idea of what kind of picture I'm looking for and what story I'm trying to capture. If you're not a photographer, that probably makes absolutely no sense. But that's how my mind works.

As I watched people pass by him, the reactions on their faces said it all. There were constant stares from some, laughter and jokes from others, and some people walked along as if he wasn't even there. It disgusted me. In my eyes, I saw a man on a chilly spring evening having his perfect moment. And I smiled. Because in this moment, as he stared over his priceless view of a Lake Michigan sunset, he proved to me once again that it's the little things in life that matter and too many of us take that for granted.

I will be the first to admit that I haven't always been the nicest person. I've been through my days of putting others down, and I've been put down. I've done a lot of things I'm not proud of and I surely am not, nor will I ever be, a perfect angel. But as the years have gone by, I've taken every negative comment and every negative situation and turned it into something positive. I've learned to see things in a different perspective. I truly believe being a photographer has helped with this as well because when I'm behind my lens, I create positive outlooks on things others may see as negatives.

Most of us will never know what it's like to walk in this man's shoes. And instead of taking a step back and looking at the big picture, we're quick to judge and instantly feel as if he is nothing, when that is everything but the truth.

This man was born just like every one of us. He had a mother and he had a father. We'll never know if they are still around or if he ever had the chance to know them. He might have had toys, Christmas with family, his 7th Birthday party with cake, balloons, family and friends. Or he may not have had any of that. He probably went to elementary school, has a favorite movie, has fears and has dreams. He may have loved someone at some point in his life, or he may never know what love really feels like. He wanted to be somebody, but somewhere along the way, something happened. And now, this is where he is.

He doesn't have the luxury of sleeping in big beds with feathertop comforters and fluffy pillows. He doesn't know what it feels like to fall asleep with a loved one wrapped in his arms. And his alarm clock isn't an annoying loud buzzer. His alarm clock is reality.

The next time you think about judging him, or someone in his situation, think about what it's like on the other side. Because everything we take for granted, including that annoying alarm clock which wakes us up for the job we are fortunate to have, is everything he probably dreams about every day of his life.

To this day, I'm still kicking myself in the rear for not approaching this man. Even if it was just to say "hello" because that little word is probably something he doesn't hear a lot. I'll never know anything about this man, and I wish I did. He deserves to be heard and he deserves to know that there is someone out there who, even just for a minute, took the time to recognize his existence. But instead, he remains the invisible man.

Even though words were left unsaid, I drove away that evening feeling good about what I did. I documented a moment in his life that will probably never be captured again. And little does he know, he had a big impact on me.