We stopped off in Fergus Falls last October while driving home from a conference in Fargo, ND. It’s a small town in western Minnesota with an old-ish, very well kept downtown. I had the Nikomat loaded up with a roll of black and white and was wandering around, shooting mostly signage. As I finished snapping a jive fox, a gentleman in his 80s came up to me and said, "Whatcha taking pictures of?" I pointed to the sign and explained my fascination, and he asked where I was from and I asked where he was from and it turned out he was from there but spent his youth in the northern Minnesota sawmills back when they had real winters, when it was cold enough to freeze the saw blades so the teeth would snap off and fly out at the sawyers. He was interested and interesting, dressed in boots and jeans and heavy black-rim glasses. He wouldn't let me take his photo. “Oh no, it'd break your camera. No. No.” Eventually he took his leave and walked on down along the buildings, as spry as me or more so. I couldn’t resist making a shot before I turned away.