My dad died a few weeks before I graduated from college. After I graduated, I moved back home to Stockton and and didn’t do much. I saw friends, skated a bit, cycled on the levee paths along the river. I passively applied to jobs on Monster.com with little luck—the Great Recession was still on.
I was grieving my dad, but didn’t really realize it. My family and I laughed over memories of him—funny stories, his one-liners, lighthearted stuff. We looked at old photos, noting how cool he looked in the ‘80s, how fit he was. Both of those things felt good, and still do.
I don’t remember fully unpacking our loss together, though. I think we each went inward to really feel the hardest parts of losing him, which is just how some people (me) and families (mine) are.
My then girlfriend moved to Portland that summer, and I started visiting her when I could afford it. Walking around a new city during its most beautiful season felt good. I was still in a haze of grief, but the novelty of the place helped me see through it well enough.
We were walking around SE one day and came across a yard sale. I spotted a box of camera gear—some filters, old zoom lenses, straps, a broken Sears SLR—and a working Pentax ME Super. I paid the $10 or whatever they were asking and loaded it up with drug store brand 400 speed film.
That summer I walked all over Portland, unsure about everything. Relationship? Not sure. Work? No clue. Where to live? Beats me. But that camera gave me some agency back, a sense of control over the life I was drifting through. It allowed me to make small decisions when I couldn’t bring myself to make any of the big ones.
Put a frame around it. Press the button. Easy.
Here are some photos from my time in Portland, Oregon, summer 2010:
I vividly remember looking through those photos on your bedroom floor. Love seeing these old Portland pics (and old color!), especially the one of the two women at the picnic table. Keep the posts comin'!
I need Cam to post as much as you do.