I had wanted to find this particular photo of my Dad for a quick post on Instagram. I knew it was somewhere among the photo albums my Mom had meticulously put together, and which documented our family’s history from the 1800’s. It was a photo of my Dad taking a picture in our backyard where I grew up.
And there you see it. That would have been his Leica camera, the predecessor to his Nikon F that he bought later on. My Dad was an amateur photographer, and really quite good. He had a real eye for composition, getting people right, and an overall good photograph.
There aren’t that many photos of my Dad, mostly because he was the one always taking the pictures. In looking through the albums, I found more than I expected. But I didn’t want photos of him as a child, or on wedding day; I just wanted him.
My Dad was a kind, gentle soul. He was very intelligent even though he only achieved a high school education, which was pretty common back then. He knew a lot about lots of things, and was skilled in several areas – he was an excellent gardener and had flowers always blooming. He knew his way around all kinds of tools, and finished our entire basement on his own. He did every kind of home repair imaginable.
I followed him around like a puppy, asking lots and lots of questions. And while his green thumb never rubbed off on me, I learned to be quite competent in plastering, painting, and even building simple things from wood – “the right way”, he would remind me.
I’m sure he would have loved it if my brother and I were more sporty, but still, my Dad had us out bowling, taught us how to play tennis and to ice skate. He taught me how to swim in the Atlantic Ocean when I was just a toddler, out past the breakers where it was safe. And to not be afraid of the water. He instilled a love of driving and going places in me, and who knows how many other things I’ve since forgotten.
Maybe most importantly, his love of photography had a positive impact on me. I was given a little Kodak Brownie camera at 9, and was taking pictures every chance I got. When I began my B.F.A, I hadn’t yet decided on a major, but perhaps no surprise, it ended up as Photography. And to this day, I am always, always happy when I am taking pictures.
I just love this photo.
I think he worried about me sometimes because as I got older I had so many ideas and things I wanted to do that were outside of what he considered safe or sensible. Like owning a car in New York City. But I did, and he adapted. And the one thing he always was, was proud of me. I’m not sure I always knew that at the time as I became increasingly headstrong and wanted to live life on my own terms, but I know now that he was. And I know he’d be the proudest father on Earth, knowing his daughter got published this year for the first time.
If I didn’t say it then, Dad, thanks for everything. You helped me more than you could know.
Still A Dreamer 
I loved reading this, Jeanne. Your Dad was handsome; a smile seems natural to his face. Look how he adores your brother, and then you felt that same love, too, teaching you, guiding you…and yes, worrying about you. How wonderful for you to know in your heart how his pride in you is eternal. But then, you’ve always given him so many reasons to be proud! Joy to you this Father’s Day! XO
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Thank you, Kitty, What you’ve just said has brought tears to my eyes. I hadn’t anticipated, when I started writing, that this would be such a lengthy tribute to my Dad, but he deserves every word of it. If he’s proud of me, then he certainly can be proud of himself. He was a quiet and consistent source of love, even if I didn’t always know or appreciate it when he was alive. And yes, an easy smile. ❤️
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Very, very nice, Jeanne. I enjoyed reading this post. I was surprised to discover that your dad shared some of my dad’s interests. He also was an excellent gardener and builder. In fact, he built a three-room extension to our house.
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That’s very impressive. I wonder if more men weren’t just more handy back then! And thank you. 🙂
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You wrote a beautiful tribute to your father, Jeanne. I am quite sure he was quite proud of you.
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He was. Far more than my young, impetuous, and ever-evolving girl/woman could appreciate. I do now, though. 🙂
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Such a lovely tribute to your wonderful father, Jeanne!
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Thanks, Becky. I hadn’t expected it would be that long, but between the photos, and the memories that came up about him, the words just kept flowing. Made me miss him.
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I’m sure it did, but didn’t you feel a little bit closer, too?
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Absolutely! When you look at relationships with parents now, you think about how many things you could have asked about. I remember my Dad once mentioning seeing the draft horses pulling the beer wagons over cobblestone streets near where he lived in Manhattan growing up. There was a major brewery – Pabst, I think – nearby, and that’s how it was distributed throughout the city. And I think of the many questions I could have asked … but I was a kid, and then a life of my own called. So I cherish what I did learn, and he taught me so much. People were always astounded at how many flower names I knew – that was me learning from him. 🙂
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So interesting, and I know what you mean about wishing we had learned even more from our parents. And we probably forgot some of what we did hear. My dad was also an excellent gardener. I did learn some things about plants from him and also just inherited that love of growing things!
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I think we integrate a great deal of what we learn from our parents, but some things remain outstanding in our memories. My Nana could have shared so much if I had just asked – she grew up in the late 1800’s in London. But I think as kids, we also had some expectation/assumption that they would all be around forever, just as we figured we’d be.
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I love the photos of Grandpa and Dad.
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Aren’t they wonderful? I have photos of my Dad as far back as in his christening gown, too, and so many more. Someday, we’ll talk … 🙂
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