Greece is the Word
The Perfect Shot
1977… Greece is the word. (I couldn’t have fit into Olivia Newton John’s leather pants if I wanted to!) As I gaze on these photos, I think, “Which one does not belong?” and it is the upper right photo on the top row. It was taken in France, the others on our trip to Greece.
We were among the last tourists able to walk into the Parthenon…up the steps, touch the columns, ponder the ancients, see the worn places where countless others had walked and stood.
This was not lost on me at the time, as I was 15 and taking a Humanities class in high school…Frankfurt American High school in Germany.
The amphitheater where our tour guide proved the acoustics, by having us ascend to the top row and then listening as he dropped American coins in the center of the arena way down below and asked us to identify the coin-it was easy. And, it was awe inspiring. As I sat, I pondered who and how many people had sat in that very spot before me.
The middle photo on top-The Temple of Zeus…the spot of my FIRST perfect shot with the Pentax that Dad had given me. It was the Golden Hour, and I was in the perfect spot, with the perfect light setting (everything was manual), the perfect F-stop, the perfect focus and Dad steps in with his new Nikon (still all manual) and I pipe up (which I NEVER did), “Hey, this is MY shot!” Then, I cringed, because I had never, ever spoken to Dad that way. I began to back up to let him into my spot, and he countered with, “Then take the damn shot-you were here first!”. Woah! Dad cursed AND he respected my shot finding abilities. Two things I had never experienced with him.
The Greece trip was our last big trip before we were at the end of our three year assignment in Germany. Well, it was Dad’s assignment, we were simply his “Dependents”.
Now, it’s your turn dear readers: what in your life, has caused you to stop and ponder? Or, what was your quintessential moment with your parental figure? Drop your answers below please. Yeah, I’m begging you-engage with me please. Right now, I’m living a VERY small life and reading other people’s thoughts, expands mine. Thank you!
Most of the parental influence in my life came from just being with my Dad. He did not usually influence with conversation, it was non-verbal. I learned by observation. He was so calm. When a child came into his presence it was interesting. They came to him understanding something unsaid (and unseen by adults). The first thing you know they were on his lap and he was patting them. He could be talking to an adult and do this instinctively.
One day he and I were talking by the 1st grade classroom (K to 12 school) when a little boy I did not know came out of the room, he grabbed Dad by one leg and said, "I love you Mr. Oaks."
Our family always too a month off in August to go camping. It was a fun time because we got to get away from the familiar and sample places unknown! My dad would be behind the wheel of our white Ford Falcon station wagon and my mom would be seated beside him with a map outstretched on her lap navigating the next turn. Of course, my older brother, sister, and I would be excited in high anticipation of our arrival — Bar Harbor, Quebec, and beyond! I knew we made it when, beyond the evergreens, I’d see the vast blue ocean. I couldn’t contain my excitement! I’d stick my head up front to announce to my dad and mom, “We made it, we’re here, look!” I was pointing my stubby little finger, as if my parents could not see the breathtaking expanse. I think back on those exciting adventures that were made so magical and wonder, now, we’re my parents as excited as I was to be in these magical places as I was? I hope so. — Jocelind