Let’s say there’s a nice, elderly gentleman named Stanley.  After many years working in New York City’s garment district, he retired and moved to Arizona to avoid the Northeast’s harsh winters and humid summers that tend to aggravate his arthritis.  His father, Simon, was a college student studying photography in Germany before his family fled to the United States in 1938.  Now Stanley is pursuing his father’s art and trade.  His work has been received well enough that he opened a studio, portraits a specialty.

Many families in town bring their children to Stanley because he has such a gentle way with kids.  He has also volunteered to take pictures for the neighborhood school yearbook.  There’s a grandmother working in the school who gets a little extra excited when Stanley enters the building, but that’s a story for another day.  On this day, the bell over Stanley’s door rings, and…