I’ve been taking photographs since the age of 10 starting with a 110 instamatic camera, 24 photos per roll. In my post college and San Francisco days I embarked into a career as a recording engineering for about 13 years, even built a fairly successful one, Dance Home Sound, in an empty loft in Emeryville.
I remember asking my Dad if he would loan me some money for the studio- to help get it going. Certainly, if he had been open to this idea (which he wasn’t), it would have required some sort of chart and analysis on what the funds would be used for and what plan I had for returning his loan (and with how much interest…yada yada yada) 🙂 I guess he taught me about real life in this way, not that I always liked it. His style embraced providing a solid education and then showing me how to find the resources to both earn and borrow the money I would need to get it going. I remember him flying up for the day via Southwest with his tool belt in hand to help build an addition to the studio. He wanted to help- but he didn’t want to write a check. The secret was in the journey. He was a guide and wanted to show me how to find my own success. His own story showed him that this was a proven method and he firmly believed you could achieve anything you really wanted. I believe it was his mission to instill that in me. I’m pretty sure my poor kids will have to put up with it too.
Photographs and music have always been a comfortable means of expression for me. They just work together and on a good day, can create a whole is that is greater than the sum of the parts. This combination enables me to express my thoughts and emotions in a way I’ve not been able to replicate with any other mediums. The process of building, editing and reediting is cathartic for me; finally declaring a slideshow complete, (an artistic type of “letting go”), I gather myself up, emotions and all and move on to the next part of my journey.
And here, this Christmas, I find myself still Letting Go. Again, it’s my Dad. I’ve missed him so much and especially over the last several months as I struggle to make the right financial and structural decisions with my business. He was my sounding board and the best person for advice as he not only was trusted but he truly enjoyed watching my successes, and even my failures – as he, better than perhaps anyone, knew that this was part of the formula. Can’t have one with out the other-seems simple, right? So even though I miss my Dad terribly I find myself asking the air “what would dad do, what would dad say?” If I listen closely, I hope to hear the answer from inside. And, sometimes I do. Maybe in time I’ll learn to trust it more.
Fortunately, I do understand “letting go” to be a process, a journey and someplace that I will never definitively arrive at, but rather a piece (and peace) inside that I strive to understand better. It is through this process and insight that I arrive at the next stopping place where it all seems to begin again. There’s that circle again.
After a wonderful journey aboard “Adventuress” this past August, a catarmaran, docked out of San Diego, and an intimate gathering with family and friends, we celebrated my Dad’s life in a way that he would have truly enjoyed. We laughed, we cried, we ate, we drank, we connected, and we sailed. I felt compelled to tell the story of the day and to express the rich hearts of you all, our friends who have been there for us, are still there for us and were there for him. My friend and colleague, Eddie Bojorquez, from Studio 512 documented the day for us photographically and did a beautiful job as you will see. I’m a fan of Eddie’s work (and his heart) and being able to count on him for these memories was priceless to me as it allowed me to forget my instinct (always-search for the angle, search for the shot) and to be present with all of you in that beautiful blue sky day to celebrate my Dad.
We are so grateful for all of our friends and family that were able to join us- your presence meant more to us than you will ever know. Equally valued and very dear to us were all you who may not have been able to make the “three hour tour” but took the time to write, to tell a story, to send love and hugs and to be in touch, in your own way.
Happy New Year- Happy 2014, my family, our friends. Miss you Dad, and love you Mom- Merry Christmas.
<You’ll need Adobe Flash to watch it which basically means you are not able to use your iphone or ipad etc. Grab a computer or device with Adobe Flash and some good speakers and click the “play” button in the center>
“Life is beautiful, life is wondrous, every star above, shining just for us.”
Keb Mo
Here is the link to the slideshow that we played on the boat.
3 comments
from Susie Houston
I was so sorry to hear about Randy passing. It was quite a while before I even found out. I am constantly astounded by our technology, which keeps us updated on any mundane thing we can think of…in real time; but we have become so isolated and disconnected (by the same technology) that we don’t even know when something important in our lives is happening. The effect of post-modern living, I suppose. I would have been at the memorial service last August, but was in Oregon at the time. Randy, more than anyone, helped me get through the death of my mother; and I will always be grateful to him for that.
<3 That's all.
from Cristina Dalle Ore
Dear Lisa,
The slideshow brought tears to my eyes, again. The memory of that beautiful day, of your amazing family, and obviously of your father so close and yet so far…
Thank you once more for including us as part of that special and unforgettable day and now as recipients of this gift of memories so beautifully packaged. I hope we will keep in touch and I look forward to the next opportunity to get together.
Happy 2014 with love,
Cristina (and Luciano)