Artifacts of War

When I was younger, I remember asking my father about Vietnam. Specifically, I remember asking him why he enlisted. He thought for a minute and then replied. His reason? He decided he wanted to go to war on his own terms not because he was drafted.

I think this move was completely unexpected by my grandparents. They both had Master's Degrees and emphasized education. It was expected that my father would also matriculate to college.

If you haven't already figured it out, I have a special place in my heart for paratroopers. Yes, I am the daughter of a Vietnam Era Paratrooper.  He's never spoken at length about his service with any members of the family. The most I ever heard was, " I got shot at and shot at other people.". This isn't uncommon amongst returning Veterans. I knew better than to ask questions that would not be answered. He kept his dress uniform in our living room closet and his combat boots were strung up in the basement.

I grew up going to the VFW / American Legion Post in Brook Park. There were of course Friday Night Fish Fry's. My father would have "adult" conversations and we were given money to play skee ball. Or eat the god awful stale popcorn. If we ran out of money for the machines that was it, no more. As I write this next part I cringe, I remember "finding" quarters on the edges of pool tables thinking some sap left them. Once I checked all the tables for quarters I would return to the machines. Oh how I must have pissed people off.

My father, Summer 1969 in Vietnam - 173rd Airborne.

One time I was talking with him about my mother's Uncle Nick who was an 82nd Airborne paratrooper. I remember him saying " no no no, you are closer to the 173rd, remember that patch, we were the "sky soldiers"."

In 1969, he purchased a Canon FT at Camp Radcliff for $137. It was his first big purchase with his newly promoted E-3 status. When he returned from Vietnam, he converted a basement room in my grandparent's home, into a dark room. I've often wondered, if throwing himself into photography, was a coping mechanism in response to the Dear John letter from his first wife.

Original instruction booklet for the FT along with the payroll deduction form.

Receipts for the FT.

Growing up my father had his trusty Canon FT Camera. It was a prized possession and I remember it well. Where we went, the camera went. On trips around town he would pose with my sister or I - he always took photos of just us girls as well. This meant one of us girls had to take the photo. He would explain what to do and mostly pre-set the camera so we only had to 1. hold it steady 2. make sure we didn't put our fingers over the lens 3. not change any of the settings he set 4. take duplicates in case the first one turned out bad. In some family photos, the camera itself (obviously the photo was taken with another camera) appears.

In 2003, I graduated High School. Later that summer, Emily & went to visit him.

Near the end of the visit, he presented me with the camera. It felt like a honor to have it but I quickly realized it wasn't the same as the lens was "dirty" looking.

Around 2005/2006 I took a photography class at our local community college. It was a class for manual film cameras. We had to take, develop, print, and mount our own photos. My step-dad, who is a photographer, gave me a Nikon to shoot with. During the class I learned about Edward Steichen and he is hands down my favorite photographer. Steichen summed it up perfectly:

 "Photography is a major force in explaining man to man." 

I, personally, have always captivated by the human condition, city lights, and skylines. Before Patriots Square Park was demolished it was a de facto homeless camp in the heart of downtown Phoenix. I would drive downtown to try and capture my fascinations on "photo safari's". I used zoning to capture candid images of the homeless and I tried to sneak on the roof of as many buildings (and parking garages) that I could. For this reason, I never used my Dad's camera. There were times I thought, "what if I drop and break it?" or "what if a bum tries to steal it from me?" and it wasn't a gamble I was willing to take.

During my class I took the FT to Tempe Camera to have it cleaned and have the "dirty" lens looked at. It was the focal-plane shutter that I later repaired. Even now, the camera rarely makes appearances. If your home was burning down, what would you try to save?

As for me, I'd make a mad dash for the camera.