Instead of holding the camera to your eye, you would hold it near your chest and look down into the view finder. Dad's camera was in cased in a leather holder designed to protect it which also allowed you to strap the camera around one's neck. I always loved it when dad would allow me to "carry" the camera for him, walking around carefully with the camera close to my stomach. If the camera was devoid of film I would pretend over and over again that I was taking pictures, snapping pictures and rewinding the camera.
Back then things hadn't changed as far as the joy that children feel when getting their pictures taken. I wonder why children aren't just uninhibited about getting their pictures taken, but they love it. We were no different. Back then there was something so exciting about getting our picture taken. Perhaps it was because it only happened for special occasions.
You didn't have the luxury of looking at the back of the LCD screen on the camera to see if you liked the shot or uploading to a computer deleting bad shots left and right. You paid for every shot good and bad. You kept every shot good and bad.
Mom lovingly glued the photos into albums she bought and we would look at these over and over again. For me, I associate the camera with those days, those times.
And unlike many possessions of we have these days, dad had and used his camera for years. I knew from the way he took care of it that it was special to him and for that reason, it was special to me. I was afraid that it was gone, but I recently found it tucked away in our guest closet along with his first film 35MM, a Pentax K1000 and his Super 8 movie camera.
I know my love of photography came first from him. From those days of pouring over the photos that he took. I hope one day these cameras will go to someone who loves them as much as he did, as much as I do.
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