Memory Thread: summer of 1953. I caught my love of photography from my mother, here in blue dress using the 8mm movie camera that documented out family life for many years. Check out the waistline of the mother of seven children, the youngest one now five. We are at The Farm outside Schenectady near Grooms Corners, New York.I am wearing my favorite pink skirt (I made a navy blue one from the same kind of fabric, but I wore the pink one much more.) I cannot be sure what camera I am holding, it doesn't look quite like the Brownie Reflex and the Contessa (which we may not have had yet) would be held up to my eye. My lilttle cousin, Susan June Peters (Scollick) is twirling in her red sneakers. Her mother is my mother's sister, Hazel; their family is visiting us from California. Without film, without photography, I wouldn't remember much of this day more than sixty years ago! Or that this is what happens when you reach the end of the 24 or 36 exposures and keep on shooting!
Just today I read about what the remnant of the Kodak Company is doing to make a niche for iteself in a filmless world. Their film, slide, 8mm movie, and black and white 120 roll film was very important in preserving the history of the family I came from. I'm thankful.
Tonight I wan't to share the haiku that Buson wrote as he was dying.
He was thinking back to a great poet, Wang Wei, who lived many years before.
And about the way, things go on, change, and also stay the same.
Winter warbler--
long ago in Wang Wei's
hedge also
Buson
translated by Robert Hass
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