While going through some boxes in the basement recently I came across this photo taken in August of 1968 when I was 6 years old. It's a picture of me and my dad sitting on a rock at the edge of the Bad River, which runs through Copper Falls State Park in north central Wisconsin.
Copper Falls was one of Dad's favorite places and was not too far from his hometown of Glenwood City. So we would often take a day trip to the park on our annual summer family vacations north.
In the picture I am holding a fishing pole (though this definitely was not a fishing trip) and am looking back at the photographer, who was either my mom or one of my six siblings -- at least two or three of whom, in addition to me, were probably along on the trip. Dad is looking the other direction, and I imagine his thoughts were distant. He loved being back in Wisconsin. "The air smells better already," he was apt to say each year upon crossing the state line from Illinois.
So I know he was happy when this photo was taken. From the grin on my face (which I can discern on the original print), I know I was happy, too, even though I am sure I did not end up catching a thing. Just being with my dad was enough.
We lost Dad just eight years after this photo was taken. I had no idea at the time, of course, how fleeting this moment we shared would be, nor how powerful it would become when I rediscovered it in a box in my basement 43 years later.
I love this photo.
Thank you to whoever in my family took it.
On a trip north this spring, my older son and I were able to find the location where a photo had been taken 43 years ago of my dad and me at Copper Falls State Park in Wisconsin.
