My dad was an intrepid photographer. He got started early; by the late 1920s he was a photographer for the Miami Herald, at that time one of the largest newspapers in the world. When we moved to Kenya he really went for it. He took tens, maybe hundreds of thousands of photos in Kenya during the seven years he lived there. He shot Kodachrome for color slides, not prints. I inherited a trunk full of yellow bottom boxes of Kodachrome slides. He gave slide presentations when they lived at Riverhaven: at their church, in local nursing homes, libraries, anyone who wanted a slideshow of Kenya. He lost interest in photography in retirement and he gave me his camera, a Canon F-1. I got into photography in a big way while I was living at the lake house in the mid-1970s. I was mostly interested in photographing people, candidly if possible, and I got good at it.
Darkroom. A guy I worked with in Tallahassee had a darkroom in his home, and he invited me to come make prints and learn the craft. Unlike my dad, I favored prints.