Daily photographs by HANS VON RITTERN, with humorous, artistic and social commentary on life in the big city.

Posts tagged “South Orange – New Jersey

Photo of the day: THE WORLD WAR II VET

WORLD WAR II VETERAN

Photo of the day: THE WORLD WAR II VET – In 2012 I spotted this old veteran outside Penn Station. He had the most determined walk and I loved his unique flair, so I followed him with my camera till he eventually got lost inside the cavernous train station. I approached him to ask if he needed help, he kept telling me he wanted to go to Central Ave in South Orange, New Jersey. So we looked for the train together. Everything about him touched my heart. His tattered clothes, the scraps of cloth he had tied as kerchiefs, he hadn’t shaved very evenly, his inside-out t-shirt and his perfectly tilted beret which was absolutely covered in (his favorite) cat hair, but his medals were perfectly polished and cared for. I just fell in love with him. He told me he is a lecturer on wars, esp. WWII in which he served. He was very spry, I believe he was at least 85 years old yet still filled with such gentille determination. We reached the Jersey bound train platform but no personnel in Penn Station knew of the address he wanted to go to, but I luckily found a kindly conductor who promised me he would look after our vet. I finally helped him get on the train and off we went, each our separate ways. . .

Photo of the day: THE LOST WWII VETERAN

WORLD WAR II VETERAN

Photo of the day: THE LOST WWII VETERAN – I spotted this sweet old man outside Pennsylvania (Penn) Train Station, and fell in love with his flair and his determined fast pace, so I followed him with my camera. He seemed very concerned to get to his destination, but as I kept following him, we wound up at the end of the station and I could see he was lost. I asked if I could help him.  He kept telling me he wanted to go to Central Ave in South Orange, New Jersey. So we looked for the NJ Transit train together. He told me he is a lecturer on wars, esp. WWII in which he served. He was very spry. I believe he is at least 85 years old and seemingly very poor. His white t-shirt was a printed t-shirt turned inside-out, his ragged coat adorned with the medals of his past. The two scarves around his neck in a very Parisian manner seemed to be scraps of fabric he had found, his hat covered with cat hairs.

When we got to the correct platform the conductors knew of no such address but promised me he would be put on the train heading in the right direction and we would have to hope for the best when he got there. I felt so protective of him that I wished I could accompany him myself to his destination safely. The conductors gave me a warm smile and promised they would take care of him. Sadly, I never did get his name. I finally helped him get on the train and off we went, each our separate ways. . .