wanted to

   As I review folder after folder, it has become clear to me, Dad was interested in his babies, his boys. His was a time before digital photos and cellphone selfies. Despite all the time it must have taken, he developed the film himself in his basement darkroom and made 8 by 10 inch prints using light-sensitive chemicals. He did lots and lots and lots of them, because he WANTED TO.

Whether next to a water barrel with Mom and me at the pool, 

or in the kitchen with me in the high chair wearing my shoe brace.

Out doors on the front step with Mom and my brother Paul and me, 

or asking Mom to get Dad and me me fit blocks into the play skool roof. 

Mom pushing me on the Concordia campus with Jesse Hall in the background...

as well as me chomping on a strap...

and his two sons by the door. 

Past our drive way at the Con cor dia apart ments on Sixth Street

or Dad holding me on his lap

or the happy faces in the mirror.

So it was no surprise that he caught me holding a pocket mag nify ing glass up to my eye, me stand ing in the mid dle of his art room at home, or the cray on in my hand on paper he set out for me to scrawl on.

How I held the big hand le and  watch ed the dab bles of water color ap pear on the paper pad he set out for me to use. Me in the mid dle of his art room, under his sup ervi sion. 

Building,

making,

eating, 

chatting,

and

reading,

sharing,

looking at art,

the two of us on the living room floor.

In the garage, me on the tricycle and Paul on the wagon.

looking,

drawing,

sticking,

writing and drawing.

Dad took lots and lots of pictures.

I see it now. He did all that work and all the time it took him, because he wanted to.