Mickey is not homeless, he lives with his stepbrother George Forss, the famed photographer and my friend. Mickey had a schizophrenic breakdown in his teens, and George has been caring for him. He is a kind of street person, he walks up and down Main Street every day, all year, no matter the weather, smoking a few cigarettes and buying a cup of coffee. At the Round House Cafe, he is given coffee for free.

He dresses in wildly colorful combinations, and loves winter hats.

I love to take Mickey’s photograph  – the whole town keeps an eye out for him – and he is the only photographic subject I pay money too. Yesterday, he was sitting on one of his favorite benches outside of the Round House, I love his sense of style, he reminds me of Maria in this way, he is always himself, he has his own very distinctive style, mixing different clothes of clothes, regardless of the season or the weather.

Yesterday I told Mickey I only had a dollar, and he said that was fine, he might get a candy bar or some gum. I know he buys cigarettes with some of the money I give him for photos, but that is his business, I decided, not mine.

More and more I appreciate Mickey’s style and indviduality. He is always his own person, and in modern America, that is not a simple thing.