This is a photograph of Henry Beitzel, my grandfather, manning his desk at Mesta Machine Company in Homestead, PA. It was taken in 1972 and the caption on the back reads: "Sad Ass Hank." I like this photograph because it's real. There’s no posed grin or awkward gaze that's often captured in staged holiday portraits or so many other family photographs. You see that Pop (what we called my grandfather) was dealing with the daily struggle just like we all are today. Memory so often has a tendency to romanticize the past, and pictures play such a critical part in that fantasy. This photograph, however, contains a simple message: work is work. But it also reveals the weirdness of everyday life. For example, where did the sling on Pop's arm come from? If he were still alive today, he might not even remember what put his arm in that state. And who wrote "Sad Ass Hank" in blue ballpoint pen on the back of the photograph? Was it a co-worker? In the truncated history that a photograph offers, we're often left to wonder or let our minds fill in the gaps.
I am a writer and journalist from Western Pennsylvania. I've written essays, many about class and culture, for Guernica, Oxford American, and The Rumpus, and my reporting has appeared in the Atlantic, Esquire, Forbes, and Spin.
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