I met Carson at his home last month to photograph him for a Chronicle story. He had written a book called Forever 22 about his son, a marine who had died in combat while fighting in Afghanistan. I spoke to him on the phone shortly before arriving at his home. Before we hung up he said, "come around back, I'm in the cave." So I did. And there he sat, in the cave, watching YouTube tutorials about photoshop techniques on wedding photos.
That day, I learned Carson was a photographer, a writer, a Vietnam War Veteran, a Kentuckian, a consumer of moonshine and a caretaker of a travelling memorial honoring fallen Texan soldiers. He sells walking sticks like the one you see in the photos to fund the upkeep and maintenance of the memorial and he's got bad knees like my dad. I usually try not to spend more time talking than shooting because a) I don't talk all that much and b) I like to respect the time that people have given me to photograph them. But sometimes, it just kind of goes and you spend a lot more time with the subject than you planned.