Scranton, Pennsylvania
November 28, 2009 Vi and I went to Scranton, Pennsylvania on Saturday, November 28, 2009, an hour and forty minute drive from our home in Middletown, New York. We planned on visiting a state park there that we found on Google but never got to reach it. Because once we hit the historic district of Scranton, we were captivated by the city’s beauty. Its 18th-to-19th Century buildings dotted the cityscape such that we walked from one building to the next, all within sight of one another and never seemed to end.

Like a medieval castle, the most prominent building is the Lackawanna County Courthouse located in the center of the Veterans Plaza. Surrounding and facing the plaza on adjacent streets are businesses, restaurants, and bistros.

Compared to other cities in the northeast that we've been to, there seemed to be quite a few people out and about for a weekend when offices and shops are closed. While taking pictures of a church, a pair of teenage girls walking behind me asked, "Are you taking pictures of that building?"

I said, "Yeah."

I saw puzzled looks on their faces when I turned -- as asking if why would anyone take pictures of a building in this dead town -- when one of them finally said, "Cool," keeping the look of disbelief on her face.

I just replied, "It's beautiful," as they continued walking.

I surmised tourists must be a novelty in the area. Besides us, I didn't see any tourists. One woman who was removing ribbons from lampposts wanted to hurry so she can get out of Vi’s way who was taking pictures of the building behind her. Scranton, according to wikipedia.org, is long past its prosperous times. Coal and mining were what put Scranton on the map, and after natural gas superseded coal as the preferred energy source in the 1950s and a devastating flood that wiped out its mines, Scranton went downhill and never recovered. One magazine described Scranton as "a contender for the 'armpit of America.'"

The city seems to have a penchant -- no, "obsession" might be a better word -- for statues and memorials. At just about every open space where a statue would fit, there would be one. The memorials might give an outsider the impression that the City of Scranton is stuck in the past.

But as old as the city’s architecture and memorials seem to suggest, one local coffee shop dares to differ. It seems to be a favorite hangout among the chic residents of the city as we saw people in trendy attires carrying messenger bags and rolled works of art they seemed like walk in and out of the place. Their youthful, unkempt, and rebellious outerwear were not unlike those you'd find in the artists' SoHo district in Manhattan.

Just as we were wrapping up our photo shoot, two homeless men saw me setting up my camera on my gorillapod (a small tripod with flexible legs) in front of a Gothic-style building. Like the two girls who approached me earlier, one of them yelled the same question from across the street, "Are you taking pictures of that building?"

I looked at them and replied, "Yeah."

"Take pictures of us," he said as they both crossed the street.

Not knowing what the rules of engagement were, I decided to be forthcoming and said, "Look, I only have a dollar or two for you guys."

Seeming to ignore my comment, he repeated, "Take pictures of us. The building will be in the background."

I said, "OK," and took pictures of them after counting a quick 1-2-3. I then fished some singles from my pocket and handed them to the talker of the two.

He accepted but never broke eye-contact with me.

"My name's Harry," the other guy said while offering his hand.

I said, "My name's Billy," and we shook hands.

The talker said, "Publish it in the Times. So they can see how we homeless are being treated by the city."

I said, "Um, I'm not from around here." Silence followed as if I had just dropped a bomb. I added, "But I will post it on the Internet. And people will know it's Scranton."

"Yeah. Post it on the Internet."

Not too long ago I took a picture of a homeless man in New York City and posted it online in a photography discussion forum. One fellow photography enthusiast happened to also take pictures of the homeless and told me it would be better if I went up close and took his picture. He said he talks to homeless people all the time, buys them meals, finds them work, and advised me to go back and talk to the homeless man. They all have amazing stories to tell, he said.

I have heard otherwise from acquaintances who work in the public services industry. The homeless are largely to blame for their predicament. The city erected shelters for them with beds, meals, showers, and everything they need, yet the homeless still prefer to live miserably sometimes to the detriment of their health -- and the public's health -- out in the streets. They choose to become a burden. So instead of pity, I have since viewed them with shame and blame.

Yet now, I'm beginning to see things a bit differently. The two homeless men in Scranton stood a few paces from me while we talked as if keeping in accordance with some unwritten rules of conduct. They were polite as far as I can tell and, as my fellow-photography enthusiast described, seemed to be always on guard. The first thing you say to a homeless person, he said, is offer your name because "it gives them respect and a sense of belonging." And that is just what one of them did -- he offered me his name. When I offered back my name, he looked at me as though I have just uttered a magic word.

My photography-enthusiast also said to keep eye-contact at all times. That way, "you will know who you are dealing with." I remember I thought it was odd that when I handed one the money, he never looked at it as he took it in his hands and never broke eye-contact with me. As they walked away I saw him count and hand half of it to his partner. It's not enough to buy them their next meal, but I hoped it was something.

I don't think the homeless are criminals. I don't think they have concealed weapons in their pockets ready to pounce on the next old woman. More likely, they are you and me who respond similarly to the same circumstances but took a wrong turn at life somewhere and since then maybe had lost the will to fight. My fellow photography enthusiast said, "You will be surprised what a kind word and conversation will do for him." Looking at the sad faces of the two homeless men in the pictures I took in Scranton, I am beginning to see what he means. The homeless may rightfully or wrongfully be blamed for being the bane of society that they are. But then maybe -- just maybe -- that's for someone else to decide.

Click on a picture to enlarge. BACK TO: Home Gallery