I'll point my camera at whomever I see and shoot without asking, for I will be a harmless old lady, the one who carries fresh cat nip in her pockets. The toothless men will give me their grins, black men won't be suspicious of my presence and will give me their faces, children will twirl and run through sprinklers, dancing in the grass and showing me their candied purple tongues. I'll pull spider rings and super balls out of my pockets to give them. The Mexican women will invite me into their kitchens and show me their tattoos. Their men will show me their oil-stained hands and old scars. Hmong mothers will hold their grandchildren up to me and give me fresh vegetables from their gardens. I'll snap my camera at their clean laundry on the line, the honeysuckle bushes, the garden hose, the junk garage. I won't be afraid to shoot, like I am now.
I'll say things like, "Oh, I remember back when we elected President Obama. I was in a cabin in Terlingua, Texas with no radio or T.V."