It makes a huge difference when the person in front of the camera is not self-conscious. John wouldn't pose whenever the camera came out, but if he agreed to pose he was golden. His gaze was direct, his body was relaxed, and his smile was sincere. At this early point in my career I was shooting the occasional headshot or portrait, and from John I had a good idea of how the connection between the subject and photographer is memorialized by the camera.
John was too young for the counterculture 1960s, and for him the drug culture of the early 1970s was too much speed and not enough enlightenment. And then he listened to Cheech & Chong. He seriously listened to them, seeking to expand his mind. He played Black Sabbath at 78. Nope, that wasn't it either.
John's inability to consistently bring home blue ribbons at the Special Olympics was sometimes due to stiff competition. He was running foot races against other men who were a foot taller with legs that came up to John's chest. In some other cases the difficulties were more fundamental. We all laughed at the Monty Python skit, "100 Yard Dash for Men With Absolutely No Sense of Direction," but it's not so funny when it happens to someone you love.
