Momma don’t take my Kodachrome away …

Two important events occurred during the last week of 2010: our eldest daughter got married and the last processer of Kodachrome, - a film made memorable by Paul Simon - Dwayne’s Photo located in Parsons, Kansas, closed down.   Both events were deeply rooted in the need we have to capture important moments in life. 

Paul Simon once said that he originally intended to call the song “Going Home” but rejected that title as too conventional and chose Kodachrome for its similar sound and wider implications.

Funny that Simon would make the link, ostensibly for artistic reasons, between home and film.  I make the link for purely personal reasons – I love to look at photographs that take me “home” whether that home is my house, the location of a child’s wedding, a treasured vacation spot, or any other reminder that home is where the heart is.

For example, on my wife’s phone is a picture of me with our two granddaughters, Kyleigh and Tallulah, both of whom hover around two years of age. As you can imagine they are Opa’s (“grandpa” in German) delight and as any proud grandparent will tell you, the most beautiful and intelligent children God put on the face of this earth.

The photo shows the three of us sitting on the kitchen floor eating. I got the munchies one afternoon, rustled around until I found something, and was quickly joined by the two waifs who heard the sound of a package being opened. Neither of them has met a food they won’t at least give a try and they figured I was a sucker for a pretty face, so we sat down and started snacking.

My father disappeared from my life when I was about five years old and that made things kind of rough for my mom. Make no mistake, I never went hungry, never slept in a dumpster, and always had clean clothes - there just wasn’t much left for “extras” during those first years. But every now and then my mom would shout “Let’s have a party” and get out some crackers and cheese and we’d sit down to chat and munch away. Curious, is it not, how the simple memories are often the fondest?

I thought of those parties with mom as the three of us sat on the floor having our own little party. And I saw my mom smiling in Heaven, watching her son and great-granddaughters continuing the tradition. Charlie had his angels, and Opa has his: Kyleigh, Tallulah, and mom.

As long as we have those photographs and memories, a person lives on, no matter how long they have been gone. Perhaps memory is one aspect of eternal life.

So momma, don’t take my Kodachrome away … unless you give me digital …

See you in church.