When I was 9, I spent an afternoon with my Girl Scout troop using puffy paint and glitter to write “#1 Dad” and “I love you” with hearts and swirls all over one of his white t-shirts. In retrospect, that shirt was probably the most ridiculous creation ever and I can’t imagine how any 40-something year old man would ever wear that. But I remember how happy I was when I saw him donning it proudly.
That’s what a #1 dad does.
He would also drive me to my piano lessons every week. One time my lesson included a duet and he learned the second part so I could practice and we’d play it together over and over for the next week. We’d laugh every time one of us missed a note and clap and cheer when we made it through the whole song with no mistakes. For once, practicing didn’t seem like a chore, and I even got two gold stars at my next lesson.
That’s how awesome of a dad he was.
I was only 13 years old when we lost him to a 2 year long battle with lung cancer. I think about him often, but even more so around this time of year. Today we would have celebrated his 67th birthday. Father’s Day is around the corner. July 1st will mark the 20 year anniversary of his passing. It saddens me that now I’ve had many more years without him than I had with him, but I am grateful that he still plays such an important role in my life even to this day.
One of the less glamorous tasks of being a small business owner is writing a business plan. And as I dove head first into this task this year trying to figure out what direction I wanted my business to go in, I thought really hard and long about how I got here in the first place. What was it that motivates me to be a professional photographer? What is it that I want to provide to my clients? What is it that I hope to accomplish? Why did I choose to do this instead of all the other possible jobs out there? As all these thoughts swirled around my head, I realized that I can thank someone in particular for my photography motivation – my father.
I suppose it’s fitting that the only possession of his that I have is his 35mm Minolta camera. I didn’t realize it back then but that connection to my father was the driving force behind my love of photography. There was always a comfort that came along with using that camera as I first learned the controls. It came easy to me, almost as if I had some extra guidance when using it. Every time I put my eye up to the same viewfinder that he used, I felt as if I was seeing the world as he would have seen it too and we were sharing this image like we shared that piano duet.
My father had an artistic side to him – he could draw, sculpt, and play music by ear. I was always envious of that artistic inclination, especially since I demonstrated much more of an analytical, left-brained personality in my school years. It wasn’t until I picked up a camera after her passed away that my creative side would finally come out and I found yet another connection to my dad. I’m so grateful because this creative outlet has opened up so many wonderful possibilities and opportunities and brought incredibly amazing people and relationships into my life.
I also learned the value of a photographic print, the importance of being in photographs, and photographing the ones you love! We don’t have very many pictures with my entire family in them, and it is my regret that we didn’t stop more often to pose together, but I cherish the few that we do have.
As I mentioned earlier, I don’t have many keepsakes from my dad. In my home, I have two small framed photos of us together and that’s about it. For the longest time, those were placed out of sight in a drawer. I would tell myself it was for safe keeping, but to be honest, I was fearful that seeing them would evoke too many sad emotions. It wasn’t until I got some gentle encouragement* to take them out. I was taught that displaying these photos would be a means of honoring his life. The frames reluctantly got placed on a shelf, and to my surprise, more joy was felt than pain. I’d find myself smiling as I caught a glimpse and recalled a fun memory whenever I passed by. I’m so grateful for these prints. They bring me much comfort during emotional times when I am missing my father.
Though the prints may seem as simple as photo paper and printing mediums, they far exceed their material value. Because of these prints:
- I could learn things about his life that he didn’t get a chance to share with me. I’ve loved the times where I sat with my mom as we flipped through their old albums. She shared with me the stories about how they met, how my dad courted her, their wedding, and what their lives were like before my brother and I came around. I love learning my family’s history.
- My father was able to be with me as I walked down the aisle on my wedding day. It was incredibly meaningful to me that he had a spacial place and presence on that important day.
- I could introduce him to my husband who never had the chance to meet him in person. I’m sure they would have loved each other.
- My friends can learn about where I come from. I can share silly anecdotes about him and they’ll truly understand where my crazy sense of humor comes from.
While I love photographic prints for their beauty, the photos of my father have also demonstrated to me how they can stand the test of time. Some of these prints are over 30 years old. In those same 30 years, technology has changed immensely! See for yourself!
Music: vinyls, 8-tracks, cassette tapes, CDs, mp3s
Movies: VHS, Laserdisc, DVD, Blu-rays
Computer Storage: floppy disks, zip drives, CDs, DVDs, Portable flash drives
Think of how many of the above you can’t even read or access anymore! Now think about all of the museums in the world that hold paintings and documents from CENTURIES ago. Paper will never go out of style.
I know I cannot ignore the societal shift that is heavily focused on a digital and cloud-based paperless lifestyle. Trust me, I love electronics and all that they have to offer. In fact, my cell phone and laptops are practically extensions of my hands and I have constant neck pain from looking down at them. However, my experience with my own family photos has engrained in me the impact that photographic prints can have. I believe in it so much that my whole business model is built around that. My father’s legacy is my commitment to my clients to capture their unique story and provide them with lasting memories and photos that will become familial heirlooms.
I hesitated on writing such a personal post and showing such vulnerability on the world wide web, but hope that you are inspired by my father too. I encourage you to not take for granted the time you have with your loved ones, to embrace your unique stories (puffy paint shirts and all), to document special moments you have together, and to preserve them so they can be passed on from generation to generation. Enjoy your photos and memories today, but please also consider those who may find comfort from them down the line. Your photos may mean the world to them. <3
I’m partnering with Shoots for a Cure to provide free photo shoots to cancer patients and survivors. If you or someone you know have a battle or recovery story you wish to share, please contact me! It would be an honor for me to gift you some photos.
Please consider volunteering time or donating to the American Cancer Society.