I use a Halina Ansco^tm Silhouette Zoom 35mm camera for my picture taking ventures these days. Now before you nod your head and say, "Now, *that* sounds like an impressive camera..." allow me to add at this point in time that this camera runs about 60 US dollars on the retail market, 30 when on sale. *grin*

I used to have a Minolta Zoom 35mm camera that I dearly loved for my photographic endeavors, until it died a photographic equipment type of death in 1996 (the shutter refused to work anymore). I had scrimped and saved for months until the happy occasion arrived and I had one in my possession. I treasured the photographs that I had captured via it's sharp lens during those 6 years of picture taking ... photos of my children on Christmas mornings as the wrapping paper was caught in mid-flight with a snap of the shutter, images captured on film of them playing with their new "treasures", posed pictures of them modeling their first day of school attire, the various pictures of my home either draped in Christmas decorations or casual snaps of new acquirements that meant a lot to me at that particular point in time, and various other occasions that I managed to capture in an instant and thus freezing time forever onto a little slip of paper for me to later up curl up on my couch with the photo albums piled around me in moments of reflection.

It seems silly I suppose to spend hours reminiscing over long ago images and times but I really enjoy these hours spent doing just that. Sometimes the images brought a smile to my face or caused me to emit a laugh upon viewing them ... sometimes though they also tug at my heartstrings and can bring tears to my eyes knowing that time period in my life is past and gone forever except I had also managed to keep them "alive" not just in my memory but also into the memory of anyone who cared to look thru my photographic library.

I guess I got my photographic habit inspired into me by my father. He would have my older siblings and I, while on vacation trips, or even my mother embarrassingly posing for "Scenic Points Of Interest" or "Destination Signs" type of photographs. It didn't matter if we wanted to pose or not, or even if we were really enjoying the particular place we were at ... we *had* to pose. Now this is typical, I suppose, for many a child to have to endure this type of thing from their parents or elders ... but my father took this concept one step further since he liked to use two different cameras for these times. A 35mm that was loaded with film just for slides and an instamatic camera whose end results were posted into photo albums eventually.

Four times a year or so were "Slide Show Nights" in our household. Mother would get out the 1960 style aluminum electric popcorn popper with a glass lid that she was always fearful of breaking. Into this went the oil and kernels and it was plugged in create the fluffy white morsels. While the popper was heating up she would ask someone taller than herself (she was only 5 foot 2 inches tall) to get down the per se matching set of aluminum bowls for her to fill when the popcorn was finished.

While she was doing this, my father would have a cigar dangling from the corner of his mouth as he chomped on the end of it in between puffs while fussed about setting up the slide projector equipment in the living room. The picture screen set at *just* the right viewing distance and his treasured projector carefully placed upon the organ bench, aiming it's glaring eye at the screen while us kids, and later my parents' grandchildren, made hand shadows and goofy shadow actions while we waited oh so patiently for the show to begin. Dad carefully set out his separated racks of slides into the right order so when the lights were turned off he would know exactly which one was supposed to go into the projector next.

Finally it was time, we settled into our usual places -- oddly enough we seemed to have assigned ourselves "seats" for these occasions, particular places we liked to sit at, from what we thought was the best viewing angle, while watching the slides as we devoured our filled bowls of popcorn or sipping our soda pops. My mother always sat on the couch, close to the arm of it that was nearer to where my father sat in an Early American styled rocking chair as he navigated us thru the slide show. My brother always seemed to sit on the other rocking chair near the library table, and I would sit in the middle of the couch. When my sister got married and happened to drop by for the slide shows, the seating arrangement changed a wee bit, I would sit in the kiddie rocking chair while she sat on the couch with her husband and our mother.

I recall more than once my mother looking over at my father with a soft smile on her face as he saw we were all finally ready to begin. He happily puffed on his cigar as the lights went off, his right arm crossing over his chest with his right hand resting in the crook of his left arm that he used to hold his cigar or control the projector's advancement of slides with. *still able to smell a whiff of El Producto whenever I think of Dad*

When the lights were off, a cascade of slides hit the screen ... slides that documented their life together from 1952 (the year Dad got his camera) to whatever year was the current one catalogued onto film. Dad would smilingly narrate about the events or time periods the pictures were taken. Mom's image would flash periodically onto the screen amidst the other photographs Dad had taken over the years, displaying to us all the plague of women's fashion trends on the hemlines or material prints she endures as well as the changes in the hair-do department over time. There were scenes flashing by showing her posing with her mother or siblings when they came to visit her. There were captured images of her getting in a boat with my brother, holding me when I was just a few weeks old, or her chasing after me in a campground when I got a few years older.

We would grinningly watch the pictorial display of the passages of time in regards to my father's hair part -- watching it slowly work it's way from when he parted it in the middle, easing it's way due to his hair "thinning out" on top until finally it reached half an inch above his right ear. And none of us could resist the urge to laugh and laugh when the picture came into view of the time he got a crew cut (after he started to lose some of his hair, mind you). Every time he would mutter "I'm going to take that d*** picture out of there..." to which my mother would say "Only when you take out the ones you took of me in Chicago that you have in there that makes everyone laugh also ..." *laughing*

We would watch the black and white then later colored images of them flash by us in the darkened room, captured moments of them smiling and laughing or giggling at each other from the screen. We would watch as the family not in number but in heights as well thru the passage of time caught forever in a brief glimpsed instant by his trusty 35mm's lens. We saw Dad proudly posing by his newly acquired cars or ham radios. And yes, some of our less posed moments in time that the camera had snapped as well at one time in our lives.

Family gatherings were documented not only past relatives or folks we knew in their "younger days" but also the changes around the house we lived in as well. The house documentation showed the "birth" of it -- Mom and my father's mother standing near the foundation right after it was in place, my mother was posed in a way not to show her first stages of pregnancy with me. As the slides flew by we would watch the walls of the house being put in place and the bricks lined up along the outside of it. They documented the changes in the landscape as well as the changes my parents had made to the inside of the structure after they moved into it. The film captured the young saplings and shrubberies growth along with my own growth thru the years.

Images of my brother when he was ill or playing with his toys flashed by .... Dad posing with my sister on her communion day ... Mamaw and my sister posing with the first grandchild of my parents ... Past prom dates flew past, often emitting an in-law to say "you know, I would like it if you removed those..." to which Dad would look at them at them stunned and say, "why? Those were important times in the kid's high school years and granted they are pictured with someone else... but they grew up and chose to be with you." Dad part with a slide or remove it from the archives??? You had to be kidding to ask him to do anything like that ... if he put in embarrassing pics of himself to display then you knew he wasn't going to remove one just cause someone didn't like the memory of knowing that they weren't always a part of someone's life.

All too soon the slide show would come to an end and the lights would go back on, making us blink rapidly as our eyes became re-accustomed to the brightness of them. We picked up our now empty popcorn bowls and soda glasses to put into the kitchen sink while Dad carefully repacked his photographic treasures to store away until the next viewing time.

When he passed away in 1984, the accumulation of those treasured slides came to an end as well. His 35mm remained perched on the shelf of his closet even after his clothing had been removed from its confines. It remained where he had always stored it, and it sadly started to rust as it also mourned the passage of it's owner. None of us, I think, could bring ourselves to even contemplate using the camera that my father pridefully hung from a leather strap around his neck when we were out vacationing. WE weren't allowed to "mess with it" as we were growing up and maybe we continued to respect our memory of him with the camera in his hands by still honoring that rule.

I can recall the smile my father got on his face as he walked into the house with his latest batch of developed slides. He would get out his little viewer and an empty holder, carefully taking his time to sort them out into the right order and smiling as he did so. You knew he was already in anticipation of the next "Slide Show Night" so he could show off his latest additions for these occasions.

In a way, I am a lot like him when I go to the store to pick up my latest developed rolls of film. I would be impatiently counting off the time until they were scheduled to be back then rushing off to the store five minutes after their delivery times. Rarely though was I like my father and waited until I got home to look through the new acquirement of images ... making it just as far as to the driver's seat of my car for the first glance thru ... flipping the sheets of colored papers as my eyes soaked in the images and my mind recalled the times I had chanced to be able to take the prized pictures. Then I would put the key in the ignition and drive home to look through them again, only this time with others to share in this time with me as well.

Sometimes I get carried with taking pictures ... taking way too many of things or folks while I am out and about with my camera in hand *recalling the time I took 13 rolls of film alone while touring Salem, Massachusettes* or trying to take pictures of folks for me to reflect about later even though they are ducking from the aim of the lenses. But late at night, when the house and quiet and everyone else is asleep ... I sit there and look at through my myriad of photo albums, enjoying the quiet solitude of the memories and reflecting with fondness on knowing the people or places that the film had captured. *smile* All I can say to this is "Guilty as charged .... and thank you so much, Dad!" *looking up to the heavens with a smile*

Posted October, 1997

Carol aka Secretive, 1997

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