About Me

“I remember riding with my father in his old, beat-up truck, on our way home from a fishing trip that had been less than fruitful.  We had given up when a snowstorm arrived. A few miles from the lake my father stopped to help someone. He left his Canon A1 sitting on the seat between us.

 

I thought about all those pictures he had taken with it and like most kids I wanted to be like my father. I looked out the window and saw the snow sticking to the branches of the trees a few feet away. I thought it looked wonderful and deserved to be captured. My father had not returned so I picked up his camera, aimed, focused, released the shutter, and quickly put it back exactly where it had been. The rest of the trip was uneventful and I never mentioned what I did. It was several weeks later when my father got the film developed. I watched over his shoulder as he went through the pictures.

 

He stopped on one and said, ‘That’s funny, I don’t remember taking this one.’

 

I knew right away it was mine. I didn’t want to be in trouble, so I feigned ignorance:

 

‘Are you sure, dad? It looks nice.’

 

He agreed that the image was good but assured me he had not taken it. That’s when I reluctantly confessed, and waited for punishment. Instead, he was thrilled. To my surprise he was not upset with me but delighted I had been paying attention to him.

 

This was how my love of photography began."