There are many areas in which I fit squarely inside the mold of the stereotypical male. The category of photography is a good example. Allow me to elaborate on what I mean by that with a simple list:
- I don’t like taking family photos.
- I don’t like posing for photos.
- I don’t care much about photos.
Actually, that last one is no longer true. In fact, I’ve done a complete 180.
I now hold the opinion that photographs – and the people who labor so intensely to enrich our lives with them – are on a level of importance few of us realize.
You know those other posts on this site memorializing my father? Like this one; which contains this photograph:
You see that image which captures a moment in time for which words are inadequate? My wife took that. Her other work can be found here: Priceless Photography LLC
Or this one:
This image literally brings tears to my eyes if I look at it for long. A photographer friend of ours took that shot as I was walking out of the delivery room for the first time with our youngest.
Do you see that look of overwhelming joy? That’s real. That’s not a common expression you’ll find on me; but there it is, like the some kind of elusive animal photographed in the wild, Chantel at Breathtaking Photography found it and forever captured it.
(Yes, I know the watermark is still on the photo. Yes, I could probably find the one without it. …and no, I’m not gonna unless Chantel makes me.)
Or how about this badass photo:
That’s my cousin Bryon. The photo was taken by his self-proclaimed (and never-to-be-doubted) gangsta chick whose other work can be found here: Talia Long Photography
This post could very easily become just a bunch of photos with commentary, but I’ll restrain myself – hopefully you get the gist.
Here’s the thing…
Before my wife entered into the realm of the Photogs (that’s what the cool ones call themselves… I think… I may be wrong… whatever) I had no idea the amount of effort that goes into capturing these moments in time; and to be sure, I was negligent in understanding the inestimable value attached to the art.
Again… stereotypical old-school male.
Thankfully, I’ve been redeemed. Through various avenues – including, but not limited to – births, deaths, cross country moves… I have been awakened to the reality that photographs are of paramount significance to our lives.
Forgive the morbidity if you find it so… but I’ve attended two funerals in the last few years (one of which was my father’s), both of which had as centerpieces beautiful photographs of the recently deceased. Just try and place a price on that… you can’t, it’s impossible.
Perhaps we should end this post with a moral to the story…
Don’t give your wives such a hard time when they want family photos. Quit crying when they want to take pictures at the zoo. Suck it up, homeboy. Those captured moments in time are truly priceless, and one day – if you’re anything like me – you’ll be thankful to have them.
If you have a man like this… send him to read this. (<– shameless plug overvaluing my writing)
Non traditional families:
Pick one of the above options, change the gender pronouns to suit your lifestyle, and apply.