The Latest News
Yesterday's News
Diary Rings
D-land says that this is me
50 things that are also me
The Deal Breakers
Be my guest,
Leave me a note,
or just
Talk to me.
Sounds:
Thoughts:
Googles:
21.06.2009 - 12:46
Proof from my father
My father is a surprisingly creative person, for those that don't know him. He can draw, paint and he has spent some time taking picture as well. He also built more than half of the house I grew up in, is a doctor of veterinary medicine, knows web and print design and plays a few instruments.
When I was 2 years old we moved to BC for his first job as a vet. We were there for a year, and as my mother tells it, "we had to leave because if we didn't, we would have ended up staying forever." Three weeks after we moved back, my younger sister was born. My very first memories are of this year. My father had a pretty good camera at that time, and was on a picture taking kick, but this was the era when slides were popular, so a lot of the pictures of us from that time are hidden away in the basement, in the old plastic reels that you had to load by hand. As a result, There are very few pictures from that era that are accessible, and even less that you would know are from BC.
Last week a picture arrived in my mailbox. I've never seen it before, but I know that this was most likely taken in BC, as I am about 2, and this canoe is shaped like its Northwest Pacific tribal. I don't know where it is, but it could even be on Haida Gwaii, since we took the overnight ferry there once (I remember being excited about sleeping on a boat). The one in the front is my older brother, and the one in the back is me. And I'm the spitting image of my niece who is about that age right now.
This picture feels like a secret gift, that has somehow made its way back from the depths of time. There is so little evidence of that time in my life... my younger siblings weren't there, so we don't have collective memories of this time. My brother remembers it well, but our relationship is tenuous at times, and we are not likely to take this kind of trip down memory lane. The places are so far from where most of my childhood played out that we didn't exactly drive by the old house, like we did with many of the other places we lived. I sometimes feel like that small piece of my life has been lost.
But here it is. And there I am. My parents were there. And they remember well enough to tell us about it. And my father took pictures. And sometimes it didn't just catch the essence of my family, but also the essence of the place we were in as well. Like this one.
Previous - Next - Random Entry