Vintage Rob

Chapter 9 - Suspicious Minds

Over a couple of years, Rob wrote bits of text to accompany photos of churches, temples, synagogues and other places of worship for a possible project. The material never coalesced. Sometimes, his inability to produce something substantial from the photographs made him feel like a lucky shutterbug who happened to win a Pulitzer Prize but was not very creative. On a lark, he had mentioned the shelved material to Anna Lord, the Gears bassist and Alan's daughter. Part of it ended up in the liner notes of their CD, and Rob's working title, How to Market Your Religion, became their CD's name.

A few days after going to Milyaro's Garden, Rob rented a black Lexus with tinted glass. When traffic slowed near Hartford, Connecticut, he popped in How to Market Your Religion, due for release the week after his return from Japan. In some ways, the music did not really speak to him, but a lot of music was coming-of-age music, not coming-of-middle age music. The hiphop and rapping elements in the rock-and-roll/speed metal mix made it fresh, at least to Rob. The Gear's interest in his photography had shocked Connie. "A lot of critics thought the Gears were on the brink of something big, but maybe not." She laughed. "Your stock will go through the roof when it's released. That must excite you."

Connie never asked what he did when they were apart. That independence and fierceness attracted him. She also did not take herself, or him, very seriously. Lately, he wondered if he wanted more, though he was sure he still might ruin a keeper.

And she might not even be interested. During one hiatus from war zones, she had arranged for him to interview a rabbi for the How to Market Your Religion project. Before they left her apartment that day, he kidded her about knowing a rabbi.

"I'm Jewish," she said as she put on earrings in front of a mirror. "Why wouldn't I know a rabbi?"

"I don't think of you as a traditional girl."

"We met during a one-night stand, Rob. I have other sides to my personality. Duh."

He got out of her way as she walked across the room with determination. "And after that one-night stand we became friends who... you know."

She hit him playfully on her way back across the room. "Not anymore then, big mouth."

An empty stretch of road opened up, so Rob pressed the accelerator. He gripped the steering wheel tighter and wove the Lexus between a few vehicles before settling into the left lane at a constant speed. He had informed Connie two weeks in advance that he was flying to Japan out of New York, that he would like to see her, but she had already made plans with friends and refused to cancel them.

"You can meet them," she said over the phone.

"Aren't you afraid I'll learn all your secrets and figure you out?"

"No, not at all. What have you figured out in forty-seven years?"

"Ha, ha," Rob said. "Have your friends heard about me?"

"They have, but don't worry. You might be able to change their minds."

***

After dropping off the rental, Rob hopped onto the subway. A rancid smell assaulted his nostrils on the stairs to the street, but he didn't let it dampen his enthusiasm. Honking traffic replaced the screeching subway cars. Forays into New York City during high school to watch bands, visit museums, and explore jostled together in his mind with the people he saw now on the sidewalk. After so many years, Rob still wanted to stare at the glaring lights and the skyscrapers at night. Let everyone think him a country bumpkin. He didn't care.

He would dig out his cameras again soon. In Los Angeles, where he planned to move after visiting Japan, his subject would be celebrity rather than misery; celebrities instead of the meek. Stalking stars was way more 21st Century, way more social media, than photographing refugees fleeing conflict. The Gears fit the bill too. For now on, Rob would embrace glamour and reject the gritty and the nitty. If he went back to a war zone, he would photograph soldiers strutting around with designer bags. That would launch his career as an artist. That was what people wanted. Fashion. Statements. Excess. Pastiche.