You guys have no idea(or maybe you do) how good it makes me feel to read these posts, even if they make me cry sometimes.
Here are a few quick memories from one who knew him for 43 years.
Hiking into the Superstitions to take star trail photos and forgetting matches to light a fire to cook our dinner. But we didnt care. It was father son time and that was good. I carried a sleeping bag, he carried everything else. The photos are amazing.
Dad was always handing me a camera and telling me to take some pictures at everything from an IPSC National to his last hospital room. He always wanted to share the experience he loved. I generally took photos of him.
By the way, Dad HATED when people called a photo a pitcher.
Dad flew his first solo the day I was born.
You cant be afraid of the dark when your father is a photographer who develops his own film.
Dad once went deer hunting alone in a VW bug. He got his deer within hours of leaving Mesa. He pulled the bug right up to the edge of the Mogollon Rim where his big Motorola work radio could just reach Phoenix and had them call Mom to say he was coming home.
Saw dad kill another deer on the move at a decent range as it was running straight away up a hill. This deer would have been Robs first/only if the Winchester Model 64 hadn't had a broken firing pin. Dad thought it was buck fever and waited until he thought the deer would get away.
Went on a helicopter flight(not one of Dillons) to get some photos once in an old Bell 47. The bubble front kind like you see on the tv show Mash. Took the doors off and was doing all kinds of turns and things to get down angles. When we landed we realised his seatbelt was not buckled.
When I was about 12, Dad took me on a photoshoot of an experimental helicopter. As usual he handed me a camera. Dad submitted one of the ones I took to Air Progress and it ran. He bought me a new softball glove to celebrate.
Dad once handed me one of his cameras from a moving Hobie Cat sailboat when I was neck deep in Lake Pleasant. I was probably 10.
While Dad loved his cameras, he never thought of them as precious, but as tools like anyone elses and was never afraid to work them hard.
My Dad loved to tell stories. My kids tell me Im just like him in that. They tease me. I don't care.
Thank you all again for your caring thoughts.
David Leatham
