There aren’t any pictures on the walls of Robert Wester’s two bedroom condominium on the east-side of Orange, California, except for the framed 11x16 enlarged photograph of Robert and his son, Jacob, taken the day Robert adopted him. The picture is of Robert, dressed in his usual solid-colored button-up, tucked into a pair of nicely pressed khakis, sitting on a sofa bed next to Jacob, already three-years-old. Robert is smiling the "say cheese" smile with Jacob looking as a small child should who has just been introduced to the man he should call father for the rest of his life. At that age life is the same time duration as forever. Robert remembers that day and Jacob, now thirteen, remembers that day. Often Robert will point to that picture and ask Jacob, "Remember the day you came home?" as a way of injecting affection into times of silence when it seems as though the two are about as far apart as Orange and Jacob’s native Vietnam. Jacob always answers, "Yes dad, it was a good day."

The picture is located in the center of the far west wall of the living room, underneath the same sofa bed in which it was taken. The decorative strategy is that it is visible upon entry into the condo and is the Shepard’s star as one walks down the eight feet of front hall into the body of their home. It’s not that Robert, who is fond of photography and art, doesn’t take other pictures (those are confined to albums and camera shop envelopes in the living room dresser). Jacob has asked about the phenomenon as well as the more observant and bold of their infrequent guests, to which Robert always looks at the picture deliberately before responding, "I really like that one." Such a response never incites further discussion.

Jacob likes to look at Robert’s other photographs, neatly filed away in the dresser, more than the lonely one on the wall. He doesn’t object to its presence, but its effect has been lost and now is about as interesting as the porcelain lamp on the dresser. The other photographs paint a broader picture of Robert than the hanging symbol of his simplicity.

Jacob studies the pictures of his grandparents, who lived in Orange before retiring to Florida when Jacob was five. His grandfather, Wayne, was a defense contractor for the government from 1967 until 1998 and his grandmother, Ellen, mainly did volunteer work, most notably for Ronald Regan in his years as governor and presidential elections. Jacob has only seen them a dozen or so times and Robert hardly refers to them, answering questions about them with terminating answers. All Jacob remembers about them is Wayne reads incessantly and Ellen has cursive handwriting that tilts to the right.

Robert retains several pictures from his sophomore year at Dwight E. Eisenhower Senior High to the present. His sophomore year being the milestone in Robert’s life when he bought his first camera with reward money from finding people’s runaway pets. Robert recounted to Jacob that in Orange in the 1970s it seemed every family had a dog or a cat. Usually the pet was the beloved of a house-wife or a small child who would reward ten to fifty dollars to anyone that would find their runaway Fido or Buttons. Robert always had plenty of time, so he amused himself in these investigations and hunts around the city for "hounds and housecats". It was a great job in terms of its ease, stability, and lucrative results. Robert always smiled at the conclusion when he says, "I bought the camera, well, because I normally wouldn’t and I liquidated my shares in ‘Family Reunions Inc.’ I still have the camera and I still have the pictures that I took with it, so I guess you could justify my buying it."

There is a wealth of pictures in that oak dresser that you would expect. Pictures that document achievement, like Robert’s high school graduation. His gleaming medal for being on the honor roll, over-shadowed by his decision not go to college. There are a few pictures that are souvenirs of sight-seeing. Jacob’s favorite among that collection is one of an evergreen tree taken on top of a hill just outside San Francisco. Robert took the picture himself in 1986. Jacob always imagined the motivation behind taking such a calculated photograph, but never asked. The picture was in a stack of the only vacation Robert ever took outside the family vacation with his parents to Mount Rushmore when he was nine. He went by himself on a bus to San Francisco and stayed in the Philip’s Hotel in Berkeley for a week. Jacob envisioned Robert walking around a city created only in his mind and photographs of others. Robert, with his anonymous walk and unimposing language, navigating a city with a guidebook. He went to all the places you were supposed to go and saw the things you were supposed to see and took all the right pictures. Then, Jacob imagined, in realization that vacations and sight-seeing were heralded but unsatisfying and in a moment of self-reflection, saw the tree and took its picture. A self-portrait in another universe.

Jacob would flip through the rest of the pictures of Robert and live the chronology. Always there would be Robert, by himself. Then one day, there was Jacob and the story changed with the picture on the wall. Although the story to everyone else would be mundane and barren, without the explosions ubiquitous to nearby Hollywood studios, it would still be Robert’s story and eventually Jacob’s, as well.

Always before Jacob would return the pictures to their proper place, he would look at his favorite among the collection, the most domesticated yet unique and artistic. It was the picture Jacob took of his father when he came with him to work the year before. The picture is of Robert, dressed as Robert, looking at a playback of himself acting in an infomercial for a bed that you jump up and down on without spilling a glass of red wine placed near the edge.

Jacob remembers everything about when he took that picture. He remembers talking to Alfred, one of the men with whom Robert files the endless stream of paperwork that comes into the studio. Alfred told him that about ten years back, maybe a little longer, Robert got to be in the infomercials that were being shot at the studio because he looked so honest. "The type of man that you see everyday, but forget you ever saw. You could see that face everyday of your life and never know it from one day to the next," was how Alfred put it. Robert was put in infomercial after infomercial after that, giving him extra money that could support him and another person if he wished. He was cast always as Average Joe, specializing in inspecting the product for the first time. He was always very calculated, then made a reasonable decision that this was the best product out there, which would ultimately be the best decision he ever made.

Before Jacob puts away the picture he took of Robert, he laughs to himself. Robert looks so focused and constructive, like your everyday man who is intent on making himself the best product he can produce. He’s the American populace out there, paying taxes, voting, and patronizing local businesses (so you can trust him that this is the best product for you). He goes to church on Christmas and Easter, and loves God but not in the way that those "Jesus freaks" do who feel it necessary to talk about it all the time. Jacob sees this man in the picture and laughs. He laughs because Hollywood and America’s Average Joe is Robert Wester. Robert Wester who cuts the bottoms out of the pockets in his Khakis because he hates to have things in his pockets and doesn’t want even the possibility of being tempted. Robert Wester who has only had one girlfriend, Linda, who turned out to be a lesbian. Robert Wester who shades his back towards strangers while peeing in public toilets. Robert Wester who makes egg and peanut butter sandwiches because he insists it tastes like steak. Robert Wester who doesn’t have any pictures on his walls, except the one. Robert Wester who loves his son.