The first thing he asked when I walked in the door and dropped my bag on the floor was whether I had brought any pictures. He lowered his eyes for a moment and shook his head disappointedly when I told him I hadn't. I remembered the last time I'd seen him. He came for a brief visit, which started in a similar way my visit to his new home in San Francisco began. My grandfather asked my mother (his daughter) for pictures. When my mom gave him some excuse for why she couldn't part with any, they started fighting. Later she told me he doesn't deserve to have any of our photographs. He made the decision to cut us out of his life and now my mother wanted to punish him. My grandfather, Simeon, was my first and favorite subject. He had incredible patience always. He would just sit there, silently, pensively while I positioned and repositioned him in the afternoon light. He never minded waiting while I first learned how the camera worked. After my visit to San Francisco, I promised him I'd send some pictures.

submitted by Neta Lozovsky
submitted June 1999

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