By Scott Shephard
At a loss to find something to post today, I simply searched my photo library (229,674 strong as I write this) of photos I took on November 12. It turns out that I had several to choose from. But this one jumped out.
If you are still reading, I would be surprised, since there is nothing remarkable about this photo to anyone outside of the experience of the five of us pictured. Such is the nature of informal group photos of friends and family. Pictured from left to right are Frank Creveling, Betty Creveling (Frank's wife and my cousin), my aunt Gladys, Deb ( my wife) and me.
What makes this especially meaningful to me is that all four of the others pictured are important to me. And two of them are no longer with us. Frank died a few weeks ago at the age of 91 and Gladys died in 2010 at the age of 97. Betty, Deb and I are "survivors," I guess
But if we are lucky, we all survive - even in death. Today, for example, Frank and Gladys stand tall and smiling for my camera. And, of course, they survive in our memory. I'll admit that memory and photographs are ephemeral. But a photograph like this jogs our memory; and it may, after memory fades, ultimately prove our existence to those who come after us.
Canon 20D 1/60s f/4.0 ISO400 28mm (35mm eq:44.8mm)