As I've shared in recent blogs, I haven't been able to attend many of my regular American Revolution reenactments—or explore new ones—because of my recent knee replacement surgery. During this recuperation, I've missed them more than I expected. This blog is different; it's doesn't have photos that I've taken but instead photos taken of me!

Part of that is the photography itself, but an even bigger part is the people. Over the years, I've made many friends at these events: reenactors, sutlers (merchants), and especially fellow photographers. Sadly, one friend passed away about a year and a half ago, and another is preparing to move south. Their absence has reminded me how much these friendships mean.

There's a small group of photographers who attend many of the same events. When we spot one another, we always stop to say hello. Even when we see a photographer we don't recognize carrying serious camera gear, one of us will often introduce ourselves and strike up a conversation. It's a bit like motorcycle riders acknowledging each other on the road with a nod. We're all part of the same club, connected by a shared passion.

Whether we're waiting for the action to begin or photographing an ongoing battle, if we notice a friend nearby, we'll often snap a quick picture of them. These aren't carefully crafted artistic images intended to become masterpieces. They're simple snapshots—small mementos of the day and the friendships we've built. Later, sometimes days after the event, we'll share the photos with one another.

The photograph below is a perfect example. I believe it was taken at Fort Mifflin, although I'm not certain which year. Most of my photography friends are around my age, and most are retired—unlike me. These days, when we first see each other and exchange greetings, our conversations often begin with updates on our health. Every one of us seems to be dealing with one medical issue or another.

That's exactly what's happening in this photo. I'm saying hello to a friend and catching up with him. It's a simple moment, but one that captures what these events have come to mean to me. They're not just about history or photography. They're about friendship.
Ah, a photo of me in action. It was taken at a Washington Crossing event. Judging by the snow, it was obviously cold, and one clue is that I'm wearing gloves. I rarely do that while shooting because gloves make it harder to operate the camera controls.

Some things, however, have remained constant over the years. I'm using my favorite, now older, and comfortable reenactment lens, the  Nikon 80-400 4.5-5.6 VR. I'm also wearing my Fort Ticonderoga baseball cap—usually turned backward when I'm actively photographing—and my well-worn, frayed photography vest all the time like a brand, a gift from my mother. 

That vest means a lot to me. Every time I wear it, I think of her. She passed away nearly twenty years ago, but carrying that gift with me at events helps keep her memory alive.

Hanging just below my camera is my press pass. Because of the body of work I've produced photographing historical reenactments, I've been granted special access to many events over the years. I consider that pass a badge of honor and greatly appreciated. I share my photographs with many organizations, websites, and participants, asking only for proper credit. Being able to preserve and share these moments of living history is both a privilege and honor.

This is probably the most artistic photograph ever taken of me, a close-up with the background blurred. I'm not entirely sure who captured it or exactly where, but from my vantage point, I believe it was at Fort Mifflin.

Looking at the image, you'll notice how little my gear has changed over the years. The same baseball cap, the well-worn photography vest, the backpack, the camera and lens, and even the same walking boots are all there. I wear them year-round—even in the heat of summer—because they provide the support and stability I need. Many events take place on uneven ground, muddy fields, wooded trails, or historic sites where secure footing is anything but guaranteed.

What I like most about this photograph is that it captures a side of reenactment photography that people don't often see: a significant part of the experience involves waiting. There are countless quiet moments spent observing, reflecting, and simply being ready for whatever happens next.

This photo was taken at a Fort Mifflin event by my late friend Al; you can see his watermark in the lower-right corner. Al passed away in December 2024. We attended many reenactment events together over the years and shared a lot of good memories. We even tried sharing a hotel room a few times while traveling to events, but that never worked out very well. We both snored, so neither of us got much sleep!

I find this photo funny because I'm so close to the "wounded" British soldier. I know I'm close to the action sometimes, but not this much!

Here is my pal Al waiting with me for the Second Battle of Trenton reenactment, which commemorates the events of January 2, 1777, when George Washington's army successfully defended its position along Assunpink Creek against repeated British attacks. In this photo, I'm standing and chatting with Al while we wait for the action to begin. At many reenactments, the waiting is actually one of the best parts of the day, providing an opportunity to catch up with friends and meet other folks. One of my fondest memories from a reenactment took place at this location; I'm not sure if it’s this one.

Behind my left shoulder is a row of townhomes. I eventually learned that the residents of the unit closest to the park host an annual potluck meal to commemorate the anniversary of the battle. While waiting for the reenactment to start, I noticed someone climbing the steps cradling a large crockpot. With a smile, I jokingly asked, "Is that for me?" The person laughed, and I assumed that was the end of our brief conversation.

About fifteen minutes later, he tapped me on the shoulder. To my surprise, he handed me a steaming bowl of chili and a slice of jalapeño cornbread. It was a cold day, and so this unexpected kindness was greatly appreciated. What a thoughtful gesture from a stranger and one I've never forgotten. And best of all, the chili and jalapeño cornbread were absolutely delicious!

As I was writing this blog, I kept thinking about Andrew Gold’s 1978 classic rock hit, “Thank You for Being a Friend.” Released in 1978, the song reached No. 25 on the singles chart with its heartfelt message of loyalty, gratitude, and enduring friendship. In many ways, those sentiments perfectly capture how I feel about my friends in the American Revolution reenactment community.

Thank you for reading! Blog #116 will be posted on August 15, 2026, my birthday. Be safe & well!

Huzzah,

Ken Bohrer

I’ve enjoyed using ON1 Software on my photos since I began photographing American Revolution reenactments in 2007. Every image on my site is processed with this program. It’s an essential part of my workflow, and I often feature it on my blog because I truly depend on it. I personally edit every photo here, and ON1 remains a reliable post-processing tool.

Interested in ON1 Software? Click the image below and enter code AFFILIATE20 to save 20%. Try it—you won’t be disappointed!