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In 1972 I met the love of my life, a smart and comely artist working as a parts manager in a Triumph motorcycle shop in Philadelphia. Eventually, we moved to a ten acre patch of stony ground in rural northeast Pennsylvania, raised a garden, a motley of animals, and a lovely daughter. A few years before we left that community for good, I began to photograph my neighbors: farmers and their 4H kids, stock car racers, barbers, veterinarians, volunteer firefighters, librarians. I admired and cared about those folks and that place, but after the roughnecks from Texas came to get the gas out from under our homes, I knew we had to leave.