Gilbert and Pooch

Gilbert and Pooch, El Paso – July 12, 2008

Assume nothing.

I asked this man, in Espanol, if I could photograph him and his Chihuahua (part of a series I’ve been doing for a long time).

“I don’t speak Spanish,” he countered.

Why would I think he was Spanish-speaking? We are in El Paso, three blocks from the bridge to Juarez. Latino-looking (this sort of throws that idea up in the air), holding a Chihuahua (almost the “national dog,” of El Paso).

Wrong! Assumptions are not facts. How many times do I have to learn this?

So, we talk.

Turns out he is latino, from Madero, California. He’s in the Army and on leave. He has done two tours to the Middle East: one in Kabul, Afghanistan and the other, in Basra, Iraq.

I ask him what he thinks of the war. He says the one thing people don’t understand is that “it’s going to take a long time.”

“Is it worth it?” I ask.

Absolutely, he replies, “It’s important and it’s essential that we be there. Those people are asking for our help and they do appreciate it. The shame we would feel,” he almost hisses the word, “to tun our backs on them would be too much…too much…it’d set us back for a long time.” His voice trails off. His face firm, our eyes make contact, hard and clear, testing for truth.

Finally I ask him, if he doesn’t mind saying, who he might be voting for in the upcoming election.

“McCain,” he replies, without hesitation, “he gets it.”

Then he introduces me to Pooch, his Chihuahua.

“He’s six months old, gentle and sweet. He’s a good boy and makes me feel better,” Mr. Herrera says.

We part ways.

Never make assumptions. You might not learn anything.