One reason I started doing my street photography was because of the memories I had growing up as a boy in St John’s and seeing some of the characters on the streets around town. After all these years, I remember them well. They were colorful people with unique dress and personalities and everyone knew their names. Because of this, I decided to capture memories of the people I saw around town as I stumbled through life’s follies.

I’ve photographed “Stormin’ Norman” many times over several years; he was one of my favorites and he always made me laugh. I later learned he was like that with everyone; he loved to make people laugh. It might be a story about his girlfriend, who had only one tooth, or he’d be telling a joke in his own animated way. One time, I remember him coming my way down Water St., and he would roundhouse kick every parking meter along the way. He was one of a kind!

Norman had many friends and supporters, including the people at FogTown Barbershop, whom he regularly visited. After he died, I dropped by with a little memorabilia: one of his portraits. It’s the first one you can see in the gallery below. He had a metal number “4” tied to the front of his baseball hat (he was a big Bobby Orr fan). When I handed it to the owner, she told me he had taken the number “4” from the front of their barbershop. We all burst out laughing. Even in death, Norman was making us laugh!

Some people won’t conform to society’s norms and if they tried, it would mean misery for them. I have known others who decided to live their lives the way Norman did. I don’t know if he struggled with it on the inside. I didn’t see it but I guess the best of us struggle with life to some degree. For some, alcohol is a part of their enjoyment of life. It may be their only enjoyment. Some people live their lives the way they want and not the way others expect them to.

One of my favorite books is “Dersu the Trapper” (1923), which was later made into an Akira Kurosawa movie “Dersu Uzala” (1975). It’s about a Siberian trapper who was befriended by a Russian army captain who was surveying in the Ussuri region, not far from the Korean and Chinese borders. It’s based on the captain’s diary. Towards the end of the story, the captain offers Dersu a place in his home. However, after some time living there, Dersu finds he can’t live in a “box” and breaks the news to the captain that he would like to leave and return to the taiga, as he soon does. I see tragedy in all this, but I also find some admiration as well.

RIP Norman!