Charlene and James

I spent the day taking pictures of Charlene and baby James at her grandmother’s house in rural Oregon. To get there I drove past fruit stands, dairy farms, apple orchards, blueberry fields, and meadows bursting with late-summer wildflowers tilting toward autumn. Deciduous trees are fading to yellow with a few spots of orange, and wheat fields are piled high with bales of newly-mown hay. Billboards announce a Quilt Festival coming in September. 

Charlene’s grandmother, who was away at work while I was there, lives with her husband, a pack of yard dogs, a flock of chickens, and a few horses. A sign at their driveway declares, “No Trespassing. Not Responsible for Injury or Most Likely Death.” Indoors, it’s all warmth and Americana: children's photographs on the walls, quilts, wagon wheels, old farm implements.

Charlene grew up rural but couldn’t wait to get to the city. She left high school to move to Portland, but when she couldn’t afford the rent on her modest one-room apartment, she ended up living in the streets. She took up with a fellow who was dealing meth, saw several close friends die, became addicted herself. When she hit bottom in northern California, where she’d been working on an illegal marijuana farm, she was able to get a bus ticket home. Her grandmother welcomed her back to safety, and Charlene spent the long bus ride going through withdrawal. Now clean and sober for two years, she feels lucky to have survived and to have a safe harbor. James’s father isn’t ready for a relationship and a family, but Charlene wants to give little James the country life she has now learned to value. “I can’t wait till he’s old enough to learn how to work with horses,” she said. “I want him to have what I had.” 


I spent several hours with them, came away with over 200 photographs (I’m including a couple of extras, one of which reminds me of Matisse's madonna and child in Vence, France), and I felt honored by Charlene’s trust. You may recall seeing Charlene at her baby shower in June. She gave me permission to tell her story in hopes it may be of use to others.