When Nana passed away a couple of years ago, I started going through all the pictures from their house. She’d gone through them herself a few years earlier and thrown out a lot, organizing the remaining pictures by year. Over the last couple of years, I’ve been scanning them and running them through Lightroom. They’re small pictures, and the resulting images are noticeably lacking in quality, but the idea is clear.
Gymnastics with Papa was a common theme when I was a few years older than E is now. One of our favorite tricks was the leg flip: holding my by my upper arms, Papa would flip me over his head, and I would land with a solid thump that sometimes jarred me throughout my body, though I never said anything.
When I was younger, the Steam Shovel was a favorite: pulling me over his chest to his head, Papa would lift me up, pause, then pop me over to his knees where I’d slide down. This was a favorite when I was very young; when I got a little older (like in these pictures), I didn’t enjoy it as much, but I never told Papa.
“Let’s do the Steam Shovel!” he’d suggest, and I’d willingly play along.
Then of course there was the simple benchpress. What was not to love about that?
I look at these pictures now, realizing that my father in these pictures is almost five to ten years younger than I am now, and I marvel at how young he is. How young and energetic, how strong.
Given how he’s suffering from Parkinson’s now and how rapidly it’s advancing, how it’s robbing him of his ability to move, his ability to think clearly, his ability to experience reality without the doubts of whether what he’s seeing is in fact happening, his ability to live in short — given all that, the man in these pictures looks like a different man entirely.
One thing that hasn’t changed is his sense of humor. He’s not able to get down in the floor and be goofy with E or L like he used to, but occasionally he’ll make a comment here and there that shows that goofy silliness is still there.
