{The West circa 1968}
My, my, my! Thank you SO much for all the curiosity about The Cabin. I spent the evening trying to dig up some more pictures to share. Instead of searching through files I had to go up into a storage room and carry down three big boxes of, get this, photographs! Greg and the kids and I spread them all out on the dining room table and something really strange happened. Jorn, my oldest (7), held something up and asked me what it was. It was a negative! A negative! My father is quite a photographer so the house I grew up in had a darkroom. It just wouldn't even dawn on me that Jorn wouldn't have a clue what a negative was. Whew. SO weird.
In the boxes were a mixture of really old pictures that my dad took before I was born, pictures of myself as a child, lots of pictures I took with my beloved Pentax ME Super, some Polaroids and a few digital prints. A lot of the digital prints were faded and the ones that weren't had a very different feel.
{Me maybe 1979?}
Because I grew up with a photographer father I spent so much time going through boxes and boxes and boxes of photographs as a child. There were pictures of Hillary Clinton (when she and Bill were still a young lad and lassie), homeless people, still lives, animals, our family (lots and lots of our family) you just never knew what you would find. Sometimes I wonder what is a real memory from my childhood and what I simply remember because it seems like every moment was documented, like having a visual guide to your life! I can't possibly remember the baby shower thrown for my mom after I was born but it sure does feel like I can.
Strange thing was, I couldn't really find any pictures from the cabin. Just a few more that I'll save for the next post. While I took after my father by always having my camera around I think I felt then and I still feel now that the camera removes you from the moment you might be trying to capture. My time at The Cabin was all about just being present in the now. But yet, my memories of that time are crystal clear and picture perfect. So my writing ability will have to catch up a bit with my knitting ability so I can convey the beauty (and ugliness) of that time as best as I can.
{My brother, Peter, a painter and I (with a shaved head) in Kentucky 1998}
Bare with me while I get my thoughts and few pictures together for another Cabin post!
* All photos taken by my dad. Except for this one that I took of him with a Polaroid in the late 80's. How cute it it that he has his camera in his hand? I'm not kidding he always has a camera.
{John Paul, my dad, and one of his sisters Madeline}
