By Today’s Flyover People column:
WHAT WE DON’T PHOTOGRAPH
Bunny ears – most family albums have them, a picture with a boy raising two fingers behind a sister’s head.
If you open a photo album of a typical Kansas family, you’re likely to see birthday cakes ablaze, ornament-laden Christmas trees, views from the top of Pike’s Peak.
You’ll probably find snapshots of kids riding bicycles, teenagers dressed for the prom, folks at a picnic table eating hot dogs and baked beans.
The other day while looking through Dave’s family albums, I saw pictures of a little-girl tea party, a game of lawn darts, and the nuclear family (two parents, four boys, one girl) lined up on their front porch.
The Leiker albums also hold photographs from the annual family campouts.
For years, Dave’s family set up tents at one Kansas lake or another. I joined the fun in the early ‘90s and we’d cook hamburgers, and bait hooks, and swat mosquitoes.
At the campouts, there was an annual competition. The first year I was part of the family, the challenge was to build a solar-powered coffee maker. Dave’s brother, Larry, won that contest. Larry built a large, silver-colored parabola which boiled water faster than Mr. Coffee.
Another year, at Council Grove Lake, the contest was to construct the best water balloon launcher. Curt and Nancy won with a huge contraption they had hauled behind their truck. It was probably sturdy enough to launch a calf (not that we’d do that.)
So the Leiker family albums are filled with photos of holidays, happy events, and weekends at the lake.
What you’re unlikely to find in theirs or anyone’s family albums are the painful experiences. These are the things we don’t photograph.
The family has been visited by one of those difficult times. On June 22, Dave’s sister, Deborah, 55, received a severe head injury in a workplace accident in Salina. She was flown to Wichita’s St. Francis Hospital, where the family gathered around their unconscious daughter, sister, sister-in-law, aunt.
A tragic time like this is part of the family history. But it’s not something you’d want to put in an album and return to; heartrending events are not something we record.
Nevertheless, in the hospital, I saw poignancy in so many moments: I watched Clara place her hand on Deb’s arm. She leaned over, “Hi, Debbie, it’s Mom. We’re all here. We’re all here for you.”
A moving photo could have been made of Henry, as he stood behind his wife of 68 years, his hands on Clara’s shoulders.
There would be such tenderness shown if I had captured Dave’s hand brushing Deb’s hair to the side. And there was Larry with red-rimmed eyes, sitting near the bed.
These were sacred moments, the final days of a loved one’s life.
Leaving the Trauma-Surgical Intensive Care Unit one afternoon, a story-telling picture could have been taken from behind as Curt and Nancy walked down the fluorescent-lit hallway, arms around each other’s waist, shoulders slumped in sadness.
At 4 a.m. one morning, as Dave and I entered the hospital room to relieve Jim, we found him sitting beside Deb, his hand wrapped around his sister’s.
“The only thing I ask,” Jim said, “is that you hold her hand. I’ve been holding it for like 11 hours now.”
During that nine-day vigil, there were many silent minutes, when no words were spoken.
These are the photographs that we don’t take. Instead, we use our photo albums to recall the good times: Deb holding up a basket of fish she caught, or launching a water balloon, Deb bent over laughing.
It’s the happy moments that we document and cherish.
Someday soon, we will look at the albums again. Our fingers will pause on photos of the family campouts.
Because remembering the sound of each other’s laughter will always return us to our joy.
Cheryl Unruh writes Flyover People, a column about Kansas topics, published every Tuesday in The Emporia Gazette. Copyright 2008 Cheryl Unruh.
Beautiful column Cheryl.
Janet
Very moving and so true. Great one, Cheryl.
Very moving, Cheryl. I cried the whole time I read it, so I would say I was very touched. Another wonderful Tribute.
I’m with Onnalee–couldn’t read it without tears. Beautiful girl, beautiful family, beautiful column.
I was crying too. I think it’s one of those longing things and wishing we could change the story just a bit, tweak it so it comes out different. You are doing a great thing for Dave’s birth family. I think we all love them now.
I had watering eyes also but I read it at work and didn’t want make a scene.
I also wanted to comment on the last image of Deb with darts above. This is an angelic image and so appropriate to illustrate your column and suggest her bright radiance in life and bright, lasting memory in death. Is this an authentic vintage photo or did you use a filter to enhance the tone of the story? If you did it is genius.
This is a hard column to read. Cheryl did a beautiful, touching tribute to my sister and family.
The photo is vintage, photographed in the back yard of the home we remember most in Salina, a big two story house where we spent most of our childhood. I don’t remember what kind of equipment I used for that effect, not that it matters. I had a couple ways I did soft portraits in those days. She was a beautiful girl and woman. It’s just one of many pictures that capture some glimpse of her spirit.
It is beautiful, Dave. The sheen and radiance is simpatico with the tone and content of Cheryl’s column. I even thought of the subliminal allegory of the darts suggesting LOVE.
I know this was so personal for you two. I think the column connects with so many other families who have shared a similar circumstance with a loved one but do not have the words or talent to convey eloquently the feelings associated with the tragedy.
I just feel you two channel your talents in meaningful ways and it lifts others. I can only say thanks.
Me too, what Roger said.
You two, your work complements each others. A writer and a photographer, both gifted artists. The picture and the story….
Little did you know those years back that this picture would become so intensely meaningful.
What a wonderful column, Cheryl. It’s quite a blessing to have a family to share your joys as well as sorrows.
Thank you, everyone, for your kind words. And for your friendship and support during these difficult days.
Oh Cheryl, thank you. Tonight on tv, on some talent show, a man sang a very moving rendition of “You Lift Me Up.” Josh Groban sang that too. It’s very moving. I thought of you and Dave, lifting each other, but also lifting all of us. I hope you have some little inkling of how appreciated you both are, how valuable you both are.
Excuse me, I think it was “You RAISE me up,” not lift me up.
This column is very true. It reminded me of the movie Step-Mom, with Julia Roberts and Susan Sarandon. Julia plays a photographer in the movie and she photographs the children with their mother (Susan) who is dying from cancer. The mother makes things out of the photos for the children to help them remember her.
A photographer doesn’t tend to think about photographing moments like you described. I’m sure they see the opportunites (as you did) but it’s just too personal. They will always be photos in your mind though.
I started to read this at work but had to finish it at home. I was too emotional to be at work, it was something that needed privacy and time to reflect. So very good Cheryl, touching heart-rending and heart warming at the same time. I too love that last picture.