After my father passed away, I ended up with his slide collections. I've had them for several months now, quite unsure of what I was going to do with them. Not really knowing or remembering what all was there...other than about a 1000 slides, I bought a slide scanner and found more memories than I thought I had. With each new scanned image, memories of a long time ago came to life. In particular, were the images of the "airport" days. I don't know where it came from but for a brief few moments I remembered the sounds of the old round engines, the smell of musty old airplane cockpits and the voices of so many friends that have long been departed. It was like stepping back in time.
Then I came to a wooden box, actually an old ammunition case, well worn but sturdy all the same. My father was in the Korean war, but never talked about it much and I never took the time to ask. Inside the box were a few service ribbons and about 250 images of the Korean war from my Dad's perspective. As I was flooded with a deeper respect for the man I'd know as my father, I found something at the very bottom of the box that absolutely floored me.
Wrapped in a rapidly desentigrating piece of brown paper was a small shaving mirror. After a bit of research, I can only assume that this was his shaving mirror while he was overseas. What got to me, was what was written on the back.
"Remember where you've been, remember not to go back for the same reason"
My father wasn't any kind of poet or wordsmith. I don't even know if those words came from him. I do know one thing, those words are as profound to me now as they may have been to him. As I continue to go through the images, I ran across one that shouted those very same words. He's sitting on a wooden box, in the snow, holding his M-1 rifle in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. The expression on his face tells everything.
I know this blog has absolutely nothing to do with art, but this was a moment in time I wanted to share. That, and I wanted to share those words, words of fatherly advice maybe? Hard to say, I wasn't even born yet.
The ribbons and the mirror are now safely tucked away in the fire safe and the rest of the slides are being scanned. In the last few days, I've met the father I never knew. I now regret not asking in the earlier years but I think it's just as well. Some things are better left unsaid.
Thanks Dad, for preserving images of my childhood and introducing me to the hero I always knew you were.
TL
