Pictures from the past

I had no idea that my parents were such lovers of photography. They documented everything, especially my father, who it seems had a pretty good eye. As I prepare to move to a far away land, sorting through boxes and drawers, I’m stymied by thousands of photographs and slides. Each image screaming for my attention. Some I know. Some I remember. Some have notes and descriptions. And some are unknown to me.

As I wander through this pictorial history, I’ve found love letters and poems between my parents. I’ve discovered that my father was six years older than my mother. I learned that before they became engaged, they broke up for a time. I’ve seen the inside of their little house . . . the place they lived before my birth. I’ve watched the construction of the house where I grew up, knowing it took my parents three years to build it. I’ve been on vacations with them to Expo ’67, The World’s Fair, motorcycle tours, and dude ranches. I’ve been privy to watching my Mom prepare for an evening out… they often went out on the town, all dressed up, beautiful and bright. What a wonderful life they must have had.

Often my father would set up a scene for photographic composition. His favorite subject my mom…that is before I came along. Pennies spread across the floor, my mom looking gorgeous and sexy as she posed on the floor in front of the Christmas tree. What significance did those pennies hold? If I could only have an hour with them both, so they could explain these things to me.

Such a legacy few are fortunate to have. Snippets of history, not only of my parents, but of the world.  And while my parents are no longer with me, they have informed through photos, who I am and where I came from. They have provided my sons with a history and now as I add my own photos to these boxes, I find that I too am a lover of photography.