Photography was my Dad’s passion. He was like a kid in a candy store whenever we visited the local camera shop. His camera accompanied him everywhere, even through the many battles he fought in the Pacific Theater during World War II. Today, I still have a metal case filled with row upon row of slides from the war.
After returning home from the war, he continued to pursue his love of photography. Over the years, he bought nearly every new camera that captured the public’s imagination, from the Kodak Brownie to the many iterations of the Polaroid Land Camera. He especially loved his various Super 8 movie cameras, complete with their glaring lights, with them, he filmed every road trip, holiday gathering, and sporting event. Later, he would carefully splice and edit the film, then we would gather in the den, pull down the movie screen, and spend the evening watching our “home movies.”
Among the earliest color films Dad made (filmed by my uncle) was one of my parents leaving the church after their wedding and later setting off on their honeymoon in his navy blue Packard convertible. As the family grew, he continued documenting milestones. Another favorite featured my sister at six months old, making faces as she tasted her first solid food, beets.
As the collection of films expanded, it came to include memorable family events beyond our immediate household. The movie of my grandmother, Ruthie, christening a Texaco tanker in a Holland shipyard was always a family favorite. It was exciting to watch the champagne bottle shatter against the bow of the ship and then see the enormous vessel slide gracefully into the water. At the luncheon afterward, Ruthie delivered a speech and was wonderfully expressive with her hand gestures. Since the film was silent, we could only guess what she was saying, inventing our own dialogue and laughing at our imagined versions of her remarks.
The summer movies through the years always included scenes at swimming pools, with one of us jumping or diving off the diving board. One of our favorite tricks was to run the projector in reverse and watch ourselves leap out of the water and land neatly back on the diving board. We never seemed to tire of it.
There was also plenty of footage of the family walking along the beach or riding in a convertible across a bridge. Those scenes were just as entertaining when played backwards. Watching people walk in reverse or seeing the car seemingly travel backward across the bridge never failed to make us laugh.
The movie of my Mom crossing the Wind River canyon in Thermopolis on the flimsy suspension bridge was definitely a white-knuckle event to watch. It was a remarkable feat for her, considering her serious fear of heights. Even climbing the bleachers during Rodeo Days made her nervous. Watching her carefully make her way across that swaying bridge always reminded us just how much courage that moment required.
Over time, those home movies came to represent far more than special occasions. They captured the personalities, mannerisms, and everyday moments of people who are now gone. Through my father’s lens, family history became something we could revisit again and again. Every time the projector flickered to life, the past came alive with it.
When VHS became available, we transferred all of our Super 8 movies to videotape so we could watch them more easily. At the time, it seemed like the perfect solution. Now, however, we no longer have a way to play the VHS tapes, and years of family memories are sitting on a shelf, waiting to be seen again.
Those movies captured birthdays, vacations, summer afternoons, and everyday moments that seemed ordinary at the time but have become priceless reminders of the people and times we loved. Today, we can watch videos on our phones just seconds after they’re filmed. The quality is remarkable, and capturing memories has never been easier. Yet there’s something both joyful and sad about that convenience. We no longer gather in the den as a family, waiting for the projector to whir to life or crowding around the television to watch home movies together. The technology has improved, but the shared experience has changed. Those family movie nights were about more than the films themselves, they were an event, a chance to laugh, reminisce, and relive moments together. In gaining instant access to our memories, we may have lost a little of the magic that came from sharing them as a family.