Editors Note:


EDITOR'S NOTE: Fresh off a three year managerial stint, your friendly neighborhood lenslinger is back on the street and under heavy deadline. As the numbing effects of his self-imposed containment wear off, vexing reflections and pithy epistles are sure to follow...

Monday, August 18, 2008

Evan Almighty

Evan was a frat boy when he worked for us – a tall drink of bottled water with a blond forelock sticking out of his backwards baseball cap and an iPod full of yacht rock. We hired him anyway. At first, he didn’t fit in; there aren’t a lot of pretty boys to be found in our photog’s lounge. But after a while, Evan found a way to earn his keep. The ladies down at the Clerk of Court loved him, all the city fathers seemed to know his Dad and he was the only shooter who ever volunteered to shoot the local lacrosse matches. I just wish he’d used his tripod more. But halfway into his probationary period, Evan up and joined the Peace Corps. Now this. At first I didn’t recognize him, what with the new body art and that o-l-d school camcorder. But that lenslinger glint in his eye gave him away; he used to give me the very same look whenever I ragged him for not knowing where his sticks were. How did I know he’d one day go native? In fact, I kinda respect him. It takes real grapes to embrace a new culture, rock a pair of yellow swim trunks and an 80’s era handycam. What ever must his fraternity brothers think? Apparently Evan’s too busy shooting the local yak sacrifice to really care. He’s a better photog for it, I’m sure. How he explained that Hootie and the Blowfish tattoo to his village elders, however, I haven’t a clue...

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