Sidetract

Written By: Virginia Rees

 

 

bench near The Farmer’s Market. I couldn’t resist the urge to say hello, and immediately

 

 

slipped in beside him.

 

 

 

“Remember me? I was on the train Friday night.”

 

 

“Yes.”  He seemed not to mind and was happy enough to see me.

 

 

“My name isVirginia, but everyone calls me Ginger.”

 

 

“I have a fondness for your given name, but Ginger suits you.  Don’t hear Ginger

 

 

much, except maybe horses and dogs. My name is Ansel.  Not too many of us, either.”

 

 

 

 

Bingo!  “Ansel Adams?”  I blurted out his name, more as an explanation or vindication

 

 

than a question.

 

 

 

I remember the long, slow smile that crept across his face and became a full-blown grin.

 

He looked around, his eyes twinkling, then turned back to me and said: “Young lady,

 

I was never here.”

 

 

 

We sat together like old friends in the shade of age-old Maple trees, feeling life’s twine

 

untwist, laughing about Friday night’s history lesson and the lengths to which New Yorkers

 

will go to get theirHampton’s fix every weekend.

 

 

 

When I tried to tell him how much I loved his photographs, Ansel changed the subject.  I

 

sensed that he just wanted to be a stranger on a bench with a buddy, people-and-nature

 

watching on a sunnyHampton’s day. So that’s just what we did.

 

 

An hour or so later, as we said our goodbyes, I had to ask: “Since you were never here

 

and I never saw you, Mr. Adams, can you tell me what drew you to theEast End?”

 

 

 

With a serious voice now, as if he had instantly clicked into work mode, he answered:

 

 

“I came to see the light.”

 

 

 

“And”– I pressed him for more of an explanation, hoping he might tell me where he had

 

been and what images had lit his interest and eye that weekend. But he just smiled,

 

tipped his hat, picked up his camera case and walked slowly east.

 

 

 

 

I sat on the bench for a little while longer, savoring our secret encounter and the quiet aura

 

that was Ansel. As I rose to go, I swear that I heard his voice from faraway shout out:

 

“And yes,Virginia, it was worth it.”

 

 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 

 

P. S. I later learned: On June 9th 1980, Ansel Adams received the Presidential Medal of Freedom from Jimmy

 

Carter inWashington,D.C.The accompanying citation read: “At one with the power of the American

 

landscape, and renowned for the patient skill and timeless beauty of his work, photographer Ansel Adams

 

has been visionary in his efforts to preserve this country’s wild and scenic areas, both on film and on earth.”

 

 

 

Ansel Adams died in 1984 and was survived by his wife of over 50 years, Virginia Best, their two sons and an

 

extraordinary American legacy. As experimental as he was known to be with the latest technology,Adams

 

primarily photographed in black and white, using large-format cameras despite their size, weight, set-up time

 

and film cost, because their high resolution helped ensure sharpness in his images.