Mickey lives in my town, he lives with his brother George Forss, the famed photographer, who cares for him. Mickey walks the streets every day in all weather, and wears his woolen cap, even on 90 degree days like today. He suffered from a schizophrenic breakdown in the 1960’s, perhaps from a drug overdose. He is kind and gentle, but rarely speaks.

He has lived with a photographer all of his life, he is comfortable being photographed, I always show him my pictures. I pay Mickey $2 or $3 dollars per photo, he uses it to buy coffee. He smokes, but I don’t feel at ease buying him cigarettes, I’m not sure that’s up to me, though.

People in town take care of Mickey, the kids going by on the bikes often stop at Stewart’s to buy him soda or coffee. He is welcome to come into the Round House Cafe any time for coffee or to get out of the rain. In a community like ours, we all keep an eye out for Mickey, but he also takes care of himself and is well cared for by his brother George. Mickey is aware of everything and misses nothing, he says very little.