"The apple doesn't fall far from the tree" (unknown)

My father never spent much time in front of the camera; he was usually the one taking the photos in our home. I suppose I come by my love of photos honestly.

Our albums are filled with what I call “posed” photos of us as kids, and daddy particularly liked to capture us when we had on the dresses my mother had made for us all, and we were in parks, surrounded by flowers.(Claudia, Sue and Mary Kate below)

Daddy's fairly tall; (about 6’3,”) and as a child, I remember being thrilled that he’d let us stand on his hands so we could touch the ceiling. I thought that was just the most amazing thing. (Claudia below)

I recall visiting my parental grandmother, Grandma Schmidt, in cold weather, when we all had on wool coats and matching leggings. We hated those outfits: it took forever to get dressed, and then once you were in them, you could barely move. My mom would admonish us, saying: "Now, go out and play!" My dad wanted our picture, and he’d take photo after photo, endlessly, trying to get just one image where we all looked decent. One of us would be acting up or frowning in each one. He’d get upset, and you could tell, by the time the final photo appeared, that we’d had a reprimanding, by the somber looks on our faces. (MaryKate, Sue and Claudia below)

My older sister Mary Kate and I shared a room when we were young, and he painted our bedroom ceiling with gold stars so that when we were lying in bed, we’d see them at night.(Daddy, MK, Claudia, Sue below)

When we were small, we’d sit on the curb at the end of the day, waiting to see my dad’s car when he came home from work, and when he got home, we’d all yell out, “Daddy’s home!” “Daddy’s home!” and run to greet him. Must’ve been a wonderful welcoming committee. (Sue and Daddy below)

Daddy was the one who gave us baths at night and sang opera to us while he did, and we’d all sing along at the top of our lungs.(Daddy and Claudia below)

And when it was time for bedtime reading, my dad read to us from Coleridge and Shakespeare. (Daddy and Claudia at the park below)

When my mother was in the last stages of her MS, my dad never left her side and cared for her continually. I asked her once if she knew how lucky she was, and she smiled at me and said, “I know.”(Daddy, Sue, my mom when she could still walk, and my cousin Peter below)

“Fatherhood is pretending the present you love most is soap-on-a rope.” (-Bill Cosby)