Smile for the Camera
This is one of several pictures of Dad on the rare occasion when he relinquished his precious Kodak Retina camera to Mom. Whenever he was convinced to do so, he carefully posed himself in front of the lens to appear as though he had no idea he was being snapped; but there was usually a tell, a small smile or a slight sideways glance.
In this 1957 Jamaica picture, however, he looks as though he’s actually on a mini vacation from his reality which, that day, was carting a slew of visiting relatives to Montego Bay for a day of Caribbean fun, rum and calypso.
After photographing my pensive father, my mother stands on the same small outcrop, boldly smiling into the camera that’s once again safely strapped around Dad’s neck. I want to believe she was as relaxed and happy as she looks but it’s anyone’s guess, because Mom’s quicksilver disposition kept us all on our tippy toes.
Much too young, Dad climbed the stairway to heaven 44 years ago, and Mom followed him last year after living the remainder of her many long days pining for what she had lost.
I believe the youthful and carefree versions of themselves are at long last reunited. Maybe Mom has her own Kodak Retina now, or maybe Dad is less reluctant to hand his over. In any case, I hope they’re both smiling for the camera.
6 comments on “Smile for the Camera”
Leave a Reply
About Me
My father was a Consular Officer in the United States Foreign Service. He was first stationed in post World War II Berlin, where I was born in 1950. Subsequently, we lived in the Philippines; Jamaica; Guatemala; Washington, DC; Greece; Ceylon and Mexico; visiting many places in between. I was reared by my parents and nurtured by the various amahs, nannies, and housemaids who, every two years or so, entered and exited my little life.
I was educated in American Schools in “foreign lands,” but the most fascinating classrooms were the exotic locales where we lived, and the most inspiring teachers were the colorful people of those exotic and ancient cultures.
The bi-annual “home leaves” which my family spent at my grandparents’ homes in Los Angeles, California provided a sense of constancy to our nomadic lifestyle. My many aunts, uncles and cousins lived there and I eagerly looked forward to those vacations. We were 1st and 2nd generation Greek Americans (all 4 of my grandparents had immigrated at the turn of the century), and thus had foreignness stamped onto us even though we were Americans.
Two of my father’s siblings were also in the diplomatic service, and we world-traveling cousins were a source of endless curiosity to our domestic counterparts when we came home speaking English with unusual accents, reducing the statesiders to hysterics.With his various cameras, Kodachrome, Ektachrome, 16 millimeter, Super 8 and Polaroid, my father rarely lost an opportunity to document the events unfolding around us. After years of waiting patiently in boxes under the stairs, these photographic records are now fulfilling their purpose as mnemonic retrievals of my little life.
Mnemonic Retrievals 
I loved this story Susie! The stories our photographs can tell!
Yes! Pictures bring back all the memories…
This is lovely, Susan, thank you. Really enjoy your writing and those photos, wow!
Hope you’re staying healthy and sane.
Love,
Marta
Marta Fuchs, MLS, MFT Speaker, therapist, author Legacy of Rescue: A Daughter’s Tribute http://www.MartaFuchs.com
Film: “The Soldier’s Uniform” https://youtu.be/FaWU2Ha2xcE
Sent from my iPhone
>
Thank you, Marta. I hope the same for you and yours. ❤️❤️❤️ to you and Sophie.
Another wonderful story! Keep writing please.❤️
Thanks! ❤️