THE HEART OF MY MARTINS CREEK

[...] I moved to Martins Creek, Pennsylvania. [...] This newcomer from the city found himself in the middle of some old-time problems: wind and weather, erosion, flood, right-of-way. In the beginning, every to weeks or so, I'd get dressed up in my tuxedo, plow the road, and drive off to the city to photograph another benefit. At the same time, I was getting to know people of Martin Creek, and feeling less like a voyeur, more like a neighbor. At the heart of my Martin Creek are the Sabatines. I met John Sabatine while shopping for a lawnmower for cheap. I went down the road and there he was, Big John, spitting tobacco on his shadow and into the sun. John's a very friendly guy who likes to impress, but not necessary in a positive way. With his huge hands and body he makes proclamations of I am, I can, I will, often, if not always, in conflict with his true, lazy, lovable self. [...]
Jeannie, his wife, is a gal who never learned to read or write, but she's smart as a whip. Cursing and loving, living in the present with no considered longing for the past or the future, she's an angel inhabited by the devil. Jeannie loves her kids and is a child herself. An ornery rebel, she doesn't follow John, no sir, she leads. But he doesn't follow either. It's one hell of a marriage.
(Larry Fink | Social Graces)