My dad was a great photographer and I remember following him around as a teenager trying to absorb all he knew about the craft. He is the real reason I do what I do, having begun my career with a camera in my hand.

The most helpful thing he provided was his words of encouragement, especially on those days when I needed all the support I could get.

Back in those days, there was more to the photo trade than just getting the picture right in the camera and good supervision was a must.

We also did our own darkroom work long before digital photography made developing your film somewhat of a memory instead of a practice.

I recall a day when I was “running” a roll of film he had shot during a wedding. I had developed film like this before but usually under his watchful eye. This time, he assured me I could do it and he left to run an errand.

I immediately felt nervous and found myself unable to spool the film on the metal reel we were using. To make matters worse, I was doing all this in a changing bag, which is a large coat-like dark bag with only sleeves and a zippered bottom, all of which allows the user to open the film and insert it into a developing tank without the use of a darkroom.

The harder I tried, the more it wasn’t happening. My father finally returned and patted me on the back as he walked by.

He immediately felt the sweat through my shirt and knew there was a problem. He carefully gave me instructions on how to correct my errors. 

Not sure what I would have done had he not returned. For him, I believe, he wanted to leave the skills he loved so much with me, a new generation, not necessarily to carry on a legacy, but to carry on a tradition which he knew would undergo many changes in the future.

In learning the old-school methods, I understood much more of the modern, technological aspects of the photo world once they became the norm.

Not only was I better prepared by what my dad taught me, but I would also carry the memories of working with him with me forever. 

This practice of carrying on a family tradition is all around us if you stop to think about it, especially in small towns and on the family farm.

I am constantly visiting farms where multiple generations are working together, with one eventually taking over for the other in hopes that one day, he or she can do the same for the next generations.

And if we need one vocation that must have a next generation taking over, it has to be on the farm. I like to eat too much for that tradition to ever stop. I think we all do.

Every time I pick up a fork at the dinner table, I think about the generations of farmers who made my meal possible.

And every time I pick up a camera, I feel the pat on my back from my dad still helping me to this day, as I travel down the backroads. 

Editor's note: I included a black-and-white image in this column because it was my dad's favorite.