GET THE PICTURE

It’s a sensation no one under the age of 30 — and, I’d wager, few under 40 — has ever experienced. It was late afternoon. And there you were, sitting in your car, in the parking lot of the local Walgreens (or maybe Target or Walmart), a crisp waxy paper sleeve in your hands. You held your breath for a moment as you opened the envelope, anticipation and anxiety rising a bit as you slid out the contents — but gently, to avoid contamination from your smudgy fingerprints. A day or two earlier, you had dropped off a roll or two of film, filled with the images you knew would be the only visual evidence of that vacation or family reunion. Now, the developed prints had arrived — as had the moment of truth. Of course, you couldn’t wait to get home, so you ripped open the envelope, slid out the prints and … Perhaps your heart hit the floor as you flipped through, finding any number of shots marred by a wayward thumb, a bit of blinding sun, a lens cap unwittingly still in place or perhaps a punch-worthy tourist who blithely wandered into your shot. (Seriously, kids, photobombing wasn't always all that funny.) But lo, then your heart skipped a beat! And a smile creased and expanded across your face as there, in all its resplendence: the money shot. You know the one. The keeper. The one that years or even decades later, you still return to, to relive that moment, that location, those people. In so many ways, photography may just be humanity’s greatest invention. If not, it’s certainly in the team photo. Sure, society today is rife with the blatant abuse of this amazing invention. Consider the millions of us who now view all fireworks shows, concerts, sporting events or even great historic events through the 6-inch dimly lit window of our smartphone screens — often while simultaneously angering those whose view we are blocking around us. And don’t even get me started on mirror selfies. (Says the old man. But stay with me here.) But what invention other than photography is capable of evoking emotional responses in each of us, in so many different ways, at so many different times? Consider the elderly relative, flipping through an old photo album, weeping tears of joy as they pause over the snapshots of those people, places and events that once, decades earlier, produced howls of laughter or beams of pride. Or, in my case, consider the moment when your young children suddenly have taken an interest in your old dusty photo albums, allowing you to pause the craziness of a typical modern day to recount some of the happy (or perhaps even emotionally complicated) stories of the people and moments of your past. Suddenly, a simple question about a photo or two turns into minutes, or even an hour or more, of sharing about your weddings, family road trips, the days they arrived in the world and so much more. Tales may be told about the people they know as their grandparents, or aunts and uncles, or loved ones they were never able to get to know at all. And through it all, you will marvel as their giggles and laughter light up an otherwise nondescript, gloomy gray day, their young minds struggling to come to grips with the understanding they actually know those young people in those pics, even if they may not recognize them. I’m still not sure where the saying came from, that a picture is worth a thousand words. But for passing on family history to the kiddos, for sharing the oral history and tall tales of the not-yet-too-distant past? For that, there is no tool to stir and guide those conversations quite like a photo album or a scrapbook, filled with mementos from those happy golden days of yore. It’s why I’ve resolved in this holiday season and in the coming months to go beyond just making memories and taking more photos. But then, take the time, plunk down the money and head to Walgreens to pick up those glossy money shots, much like in the days now nearly forgotten — though now, with just a bit less breathless anticipation.

 Jonathan Bilyk writes about the triumphs and travails of being a modernday dad who legitimately enjoys time with his family, while tolerating a dog that seems to adore him. He also doesn’t really like the moniker “Superdad” because it makes it sound like he wants to wear his undergarments on the outside of his pants. (Also, the cape remains on back order.)