Mr. & Mrs. Parker, 1981

Ten years ago, I wrote of the “enduring photograph” and its capacity to contain the past, present and perhaps a glimpse into the future.

Despite the impact of Covid-19, Thanksgiving has probably inspired more than the usual tsunami of snapshots made on any given day. I was going to say “and less ‘selfies'” but, to think of it, the “selfie” or selfie with others pose has become the de facto way of making group photos in these days of digital imaging.

And, possibly, that’s a good thing; no more “who took the photo” questions. The downside is that wide angle distortion, the bane of all phone photo portraits, though everyone seems to have become used to and happy seeing themselves with big noses and elongated faces.

But I digress. I made this portrait of my parents with a brand new Nikon FM camera, in 1981. Going on their get-ups, especially Dad’s (I now have that shirt in my closet), I’m guessing they were on their way to one of his entertainment gigs.

I’d like to think the photograph is guileless in its intention. I did and do now recognize my parents in this photo as the quintessential suburban couple, posing at the entrance to their modest home, something (I know) they had worked so hard to hold on to. Remember, this was the start of the ’80s, before the shiny promises of Expo 86, when British Columbia suffered a damaging economic downturn.

But my parents, who had grown up in England under the bombardments of WW II, were resourceful and more. At this time, one of Dad’s enterprises had failed, so his stage talents saved the day. Mom’s assembly-line job (remember manufacturing jobs?) at a New Westminster supplier of 8-track tapes for radio stations helped put food on the table.

Happy Thanksgiving!