My Try at Taking Snaps

Following Father’s Legacy For Fun

RIP Dad 3.11.43-9.27.16

My father was many things. He was a Gunsmith. He was a biker. He was a mountain man. He was a hippie. He was a father. He, for a long while, was a photographer. Somewhere, on a digital file out there his kind grandson, my nephew, uploaded over a thousand of his photos off of black and white film. (Once we locate it, I’ll add some of his work to this blog as well.) Currently, on my phone I have about four thousand photos. In my Google cloud exists about nine thousand. I have a few conveniences that my dad, didn’t obviously, like my phone is also my camera, so it’s always with me. I don’t have to purchase film or have it developed. I don’t need actual storage for my pictures. I can edit them, delete them, retake them, and I have them with me where ever I go. Best of all, I can share them with the world. Wither they care to look at them or not doesn’t really matter. They’re out there, in the digital world, in the data that now is part of an inter-global community for all time and for anyone to see if they so choose.

My father’s photo’s are beautiful. He studied. He bought good camera’s. Learned about angels and contrast and all that fancy jazz. It was a learned skill. I bought a fancy Galaxy Note that buy the touch of a few buttons, and a cropping tool, I get the desired effect. But my dad didn’t know that he did share one thing with me, my siblings and it even passed down to his grandchildren… you have to be able to notice something beautiful or notice when it appears to be beautiful to make a good picture. At least, that’s my opinion. Maybe it’s not always beautiful, but it does have to have some affect on the human emotion. The ability to touch someone in a way. A picture of your children may not be all that interesting to me, as adorable as Annabelle may be, but a picture of my children can bring me to tears at times.

I decided to share this post for two reasons. One, I miss my father. He passed away just over four years ago. And two, he left behind the affect to invoke beauty within me, so I thought to share all these years of stealing seconds of time where I found that beauty, with you, dear reader. If you’re there, or you’re not.

With Love, April Grey

“Grief is the price we pay for love.”

~Queen Elizabeth II

My dad with my oldest sister to the side, taking a “selfie” in a giant mirror in a thrift store in santa cruz, california 1974


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