The Story Behind The Photograph - Hiram Ark. 1907

Things ain't what they used to be. (In fact, they never was.) The Profile (more than you really wanted to know) is here.

Fortney could not believe his ears. It took several minutes of silence before he found his wits and voice. The photographer was poised to take their picture in front of the homestead. Why had Glenda chosen just this moment to make her announcement? “You can’t be serious.” He said at last, knowing full well she was. Glenda set her jaw and ignored him. After all, she bought and paid for the hammock. It was hers. Fortney could have BOTH the chairs, she fumed, AND his stupid dog. And the stupid cotton that he’d planted all over the stupid front yard. Stupid idea. But the mail-order hammock was hers. And after the photographer was finished, she was going to install herself in it with a glass of lemonade and that new romance novel about the adventures of Buck the gay blacksmith and his anvil. Fortney however, had other plans. They involved pickled onions and two tickets to Pittsburgh! No one was going to stop him. Not even the dog. Watching all this from under the porch, Blame, the dog sighed with apprehension. Blame knew from the sound of Fortney’s voice that there would be no plate of table scraps tonight. He would have to hunt for something to eat. The chase for a rabbit, especially in the pesky cotton plants that covered the whole area was always too exhausting. Blame plotted a severe revenge for this. Fortney’s floppy house slippers would be the target. One of them would disappear tonight, the smelly one. It was only fair. Dogs are always fair. Charles Bender, the town librarian, (not pictured) didn’t know about any of this, which was all right with him.

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