Snapshots of Pa

by ComputerBob

May 18, 2005

I've felt close to my Uncle Dom my entire life. When I was a small child, I watched him take Polaroid pictures at family gatherings. His camera was a huge leather-bound rectangle with rounded ends, almost a foot across. Its lens was at the end of cloth bellows that slid out in front of the camera body onto metal rails. He'd take a picture, pull it out of the camera, look at his watch to time the development process, then peel off the light-tight development layer, revealing a black and white photograph. Then he'd explain why the photo hadn't turned out perfectly, because something or other hadn't been set correctly, and he'd shoot another photo, and another one, until he got one that he liked. I still remember looking at the negative images on the development layers that he threw away, and smelling their strong medicinal smell. And even though I didn't understand anything about photography at the time, I remember thinking, "That guy seems really nice," and "I wish I had a camera like his."

It seemed like, every time I saw Uncle Dom, he had a camera around his neck, whether it was a Polaroid, a small 35mm camera, a boxy twin lens reflex - the kind where you have to look down into the viewfinder and everything you see is reversed from side to side - or his miniscule Minox "spy camera," which I was sure he used to take spy photos in his job with the Federal government.

When I was about 12 years old, Uncle Dom took me into the basement of his house and showed me how he developed film and made photographic prints. To me, it was magical on two levels: one, because I was astounded to see a photograph appear out of nowhere onto a white sheet of paper that was sitting in a tray of chemicals, and two, because I was astounded that an adult would care enough about me to want to spend time sharing his wizardry with me.

Uncle Dom. Soon after that, Uncle Dom gave me my very first camera, a fine German split-frame 35mm camera, along with all of his photographic lab equipment, his enlarger, his chemicals, an electronic flash that he had built himself, and boxes of photography magazines and U.S. armed forces technical books about photography. I felt like he had just given me a million dollars. When I think back on it, I can't imagine myself ever trusting a 12 year-old kid with all of that expensive and delicate equipment, but Uncle Dom did it without hesitation. He told me recently that it had been his honor to pass on all of his equipment to me, and that he had been even happier than I was when he saw me using it. Over the next several weeks, I pored over all of the technical manuals, learning the purpose of each of the chemicals that are used in photography, as well as the secret to take a good photo of a Jeep - shoot it at an angle, but turn the front wheels slightly toward the camera to make them look straight. When I shot my first roll of 72 photos at the wedding of Uncle Dom's daughter, Vicki, only one of my 72 shots turned out. Uncle Dom was absolutely thrilled to see that one shot, and explained to me why the others hadn't turned out. Over time, Uncle Dom taught me about shutter speeds, aperture settings, depth of field, stopping motion, shooting through a nylon stocking to soften women's faces, how to use an electronic flash, and a thousand other secrets of the craft. I made lots and lots of mistakes, and wasted lots of film and photographic paper through trial and error, but Uncle Dom was always patient, and always told me that I was doing great.

For years after that, whenever our families got together, Uncle Dom and I spent time "talking shop" about photographic techniques, and the latest cameras and equipment. He was my mentor, and I was his eager pupil.

He was always really embarrassed to hear me say it, but I know in my heart that Uncle Dom's completely selfless investment in me way back then gave me the skills and self-confidence that enabled me to completely avoid drugs and alcohol in high school (and to this day). I never allowed peer pressure to tell me who I was or what I should do -- I already knew that I was the school photographer - thanks to Uncle Dom.

In my late teen years, Uncle Dom got a job working in the Pentagon, and he moved to Virginia. After that, he moved to Florida. I had no direct contact with him for more than 25 years, but his love still lived in my heart.

About 5 years ago, I got Uncle Dom's email address from my parents, and started corresponding with him. As always, he was very warm, loving, and supportive. He took a great interest in everything I was doing, and often tried to convince me to move to "Sunny Florida." He even wrote me a long email message, filled with advice for how to buy a home in Florida - exactly what to look for, exactly what to avoid, and much more. He also sent me updates on all the latest technologies and medical treatments, as well as fascinating articles on things like Nikola Tesla's experiments with electricity, which I understood on a theoretical level, but which Uncle Dom understood on a much deeper, technical level.

In December, 2003, through a series of miraculous events, my wife and I moved to Florida, about an hour from Uncle Dom. Within a month, we went to visit Uncle Dom, Aunt Tere, Cousin Rita and Cousin Smitty for the first time in 30 years. I've always imagined that one of the joys of Heaven will be reuniting with loved ones that we haven't seen for years, and spending time reminiscing and just enjoying being with them again. I think that visit came about as close to what I've imagined as is possible here on earth. We spent the entire day together and despite the 30-year gap in our visits, there were no awkward silences -- we sat and talked as though we had seen each other every day for the past 30 years. And I was thrilled to see dozens of enlargements of family photographs all over the house, especially in Uncle Dom's bedroom, and several thousand more family photos in his computer's photo-displaying screensaver.

Uncle Dom holding Gina. During the past year and a half, Uncle Dom and Aunt Tere welcomed me into their home countless times, and each time, I considered it an honor and privilege to be able to spend time with them. Each time, Uncle Dom gave me advice, encouraged me, hugged me, kissed me, and told me that he loved me. One time, he told me, "I wish this was ten years ago, so we could go fishing and do other fun stuff." I told him, "A hundred years from now, let's you and I go fishing, with your dog, Boots." Over time, I realized that Uncle Dom was treating me like a son. That caused me to look back over my life and see that Uncle Dom had always treated me like a son. He had always loved me, mentored me, made me feel secure, encouraged me, gave me advice, and showed an interest in everything I ever did, and even during all those years that we didn't even see each other, he was still praying that God would protect and bless me.

The fact is, Uncle Dom has always been the closest thing to a real father I have ever had. When I told him that a few months ago, he humbly downplayed what I know has been his gigantic influence on my life. Then, he told me that he's always thought of me like a son. Soon after that, I asked him if I could call him "Pa." He really liked that idea, and even made a point of calling me "son" several times after that.

This past January, Pa threw a big birthday party for me. At that party, the man who had given me my very first camera 37 years ago, gave me my first digital camera, which he had researched for months, and which his whole family had pitched in to pay for. I've taken hundreds of photos with that camera since then, and Pa happily praised my photographic skills every time I showed him one of my digital photos, saying, "You've still got it!"

Over the past several months, as Pa's health slowly deteriorated, I was honored to be able to give him back some of the love and encouragement that he had always given me. We had many "man to man" talks about his concerns and fears, both for himself and for his loved ones, and I prayed for him and did my best to assure him that everything would be all right in the end. A few months ago, he told me that he was afraid to die a painful death. I told him that I hoped he would just go to sleep one night and wake up in Heaven. He said, "That would be nice." Then, he asked me to please be right at his bedside when he died, and I promised him that I would.

After appearing to be unconscious for the previous 50+ hours, at 9:20 PM on May 13, 2005, Pa opened his eyes for a couple of minutes, silently giving each of his loved ones gathered around his bed the chance to speak to him face to face. I took a few photos of that precious and joyous event, using the digital camera that Pa had given me. Then, I looked into his eyes, told him I loved him, and told him that his work here on Earth is done. A few minutes later, at 9:30 PM, with all of us touching him, holding him, assuring him that we would all take care of each other, and encouraging him to go with the angels, Pa no longer felt the need to breathe, and entered Heaven peacefully, painlessly, in his sleep, just as he had told me he wanted to go. When I realized that he was gone, I hugged him and said, "Congratulations, Pa! You did it!"

Pa was a very loving, nurturing, encouraging, loyal, moral, sensitive, generous, hard-working, deeply religious man. I feel tremendously privileged to have known and loved him, to have had my life changed by him, and to have been given the opportunity to share a few of my snapshots of him with you. Those of us who were close to him know that, although the world has lost him, we haven't lost him. We still have him in our hearts, where he will continue to live through his influence on each of our lives, until we join him in Heaven.