Remember the Fotomat? Remember film and the need for “reprints” if you wanted to share copies? Our kids certainly don’t have a clue as such relics make the obsolescence of 8-track players seem quaint by comparison. Photography has come a long way in our lifetimes, which is great for families that want to catalog all their wonderful moments for posterity.
However, there is one yet-undiscovered technological advance that continues to haunt me. I chase my kids around day after day, snapping shots and videos with such ease on my phone, able to review, save, or delete instantaneously. I don’t have to limit the pictures and hope to have captured the right shot after paying for development days later. In their four and half years, I likely have thousands of pictures of my kids, including hundreds that were snapped in rapid succession just in hopes of getting them to look and/or smile at the camera simultaneously. Yet for this overwhelming abundance of pictures and videos, there is one thing missing in 99.9% of them – me.
Now, this may sound like vanity, but I can assure you it is not. Rather, much of it stems my own relatively undocumented childhood. You see, my father died when I was young. He was a very busy man and I was the third kid, so like so many other non-firstborns, there isn’t the same glut of baby pictures or documentation of childhood firsts. As a result, I have only one picture of myself alone with my father – a grainy, off-center snapshot hastily taken at the kitchen table when I was about three years old. Speaking as a former kid, this just isn’t enough.
Now that I am a parent, this has helped me to realize the the potential benefits of something so simple – just getting in more pictures. I may not know everything but I’m fairly certain that I’m mortal. It may be nice to have a million cute pics of your kids to share with relatives and friends, posting on Facebook for those “likes” and obligatory compliments that you’ll receive. There can be so much more to those pictures though. Be proud and show off your kids but recognize that one day, ideally so many decades from now, they’ll want to remember those same shared memories that you had cherished all your life. As adults, your kids may appreciate how cute they once were climbing on a playground, but they’ll appreciate it infinitely more to see you there with them.
If I practice what I preach here, my kids will have ample evidence and pictures to spur their memories long after I’m gone. Again, this could easily be construed as vanity on my part. Yes, of course I want them to remember me fondly – who wouldn’t? This is hardly the point though. They can remember every mistake I have made, every time I lost my temper, every time I acted contrary to what I have espoused in these pages. If they live their lives knowing I loved them unconditionally, then I’m fine with that. So if “a picture is worth a thousand words” as the saying goes, then giving my kids several thousand from me is the least I can do to help them remember.
Stuck with Dad 