I was scavenging through the basement full of clutter covered in dust and mold. An abundance of possessions from my childhood are stored away down there: bikes, skateboards, skis. I wasn’t searching for anything in particular, but serendipitously, I stumbled upon my dad’s, Canon AE-1 Program SLR. This camera was revolutionary back in the 70’s and 80’s, still holding much of its value today. With that, a keen interest was sparked.
As I raced towards the stairs to share the good news, I knocked into a worn-out white box full of vintage pictures and undeveloped film. All of my dad’s untold stories were stashed inside of this box. I squatted down on the bottom step, underneath the hanging spider webs and floating dust particles, and began traveling back to the past. The composition and exposure of these photos were actually impressive; it was unknown to me that my dad possessed a creative eye.
After my lungs began wheezing due to the inhaled mold and dust, I climbed upstairs to rummage through the photos with my Dad. Spread out on the wooden kitchen table lied photos of his days in Hawaii, winters in Utah, and wedding day of him and my mother. Each photo encompassed a feeling of excitement and adventure pertaining to the uncertain road lying ahead. It was inspiring to peek through and exposed the similar traits that my father and I share.
My Dad, wide-eyed, provided some background to the photos that held fond memories. He began shooting off texts to his brother, attaching the pictures of both of them equipped with mustaches, from the day. A portion of his life story was scattered on the table, and the current scene was in action right in front of me. My dad has a story which is still unraveling, and I feel like mine is now just developing.