Some of my earliest memories involving a camera take me back more than 30 years. My dad owned a camera, and I remember a metallic gray box, and a black anodized metal barrel in front, with white-engraved numbers. I remember it as if I had held it yesterday. I can see it in detail, although I cannot recall anything else. 
I can recreate the feeling of it in my hands, see the red dot on the body, and hear the clicks it made when changing from setting to setting, I remember the cold feeling on the palm of my hands when I held it, and the greenish coating on the surface of its lens. The rear of the camera had a hinged door that when opened revealed the film. I have no idea what type of camera it was or whether it was a good camera at all, but I remember having opened it with film still in it. The mocha-colored film and the velvety chamber, although nothing special, awoke my curiosity about how a photograph could be made from that, but I must have been six or seven years old, and somehow, my young mind decided to archive that bit of memory for future times.
I can recreate the feeling of it in my hands, see the red dot on the body, and hear the clicks it made when changing from setting to setting, I remember the cold feeling on the palm of my hands when I held it, and the greenish coating on the surface of its lens. The rear of the camera had a hinged door that when opened revealed the film. I have no idea what type of camera it was or whether it was a good camera at all, but I remember having opened it with film still in it. The mocha-colored film and the velvety chamber, although nothing special, awoke my curiosity about how a photograph could be made from that, but I must have been six or seven years old, and somehow, my young mind decided to archive that bit of memory for future times.
Then, some years later, a 'Super8' motion film camera showed up. I must have been around 11 years old. It was black, pistol shaped with a leathery-plastic handle and a 'really cool’ trigger. The clicking sound as it ate the roll of film is something I can reproduce perfectly in my mind. I remember dad letting me shoot with it and explaining the principles of animation to me, then and attempting to create some with it. 
This camera had a small square button below the chamber that, when pressed, was supposed to shoot one frame at a time As clear as if it had just happened, I can see my dad pressing that tiny button several times. I don’t think I ever saw the result of his experiment, but I did see some of the film he shot on a projector someone had lent us. It was fascinating! All of a sudden, on the yellow (bright yellow, if you don’t mind me saying) wall of the bedroom, a blurry image of my sister holding my baby brother showed up. Dad focused it, and then I came into the image, walked away, and came back; then, the movie was all over. That was amazing!... But dad had to go even further. Not fully satisfied, he rolled the film from end to beginning, and played it backwards. As we watched, we laughed hard. By the time I was a teenager, my dad owned a Panasonic VHS video camera (the 'Deluxe' model, strobe effect included, of course); there are many memories from that time, but the one I love to remember is a cold fall night when the moon was very bright. He went outside and set his camcorder on a tripod pointed to the sky and set
it to record in intervals. The result? a video of the moon’s traveling in the sky, not in a smooth trajectory but rather in one-second fragments where the moon jumped an inch at a time across the screen. I imagined he was going to be disappointed, instead, he smiled (looking proud) and replayed it a few times for us to see it.
it to record in intervals. The result? a video of the moon’s traveling in the sky, not in a smooth trajectory but rather in one-second fragments where the moon jumped an inch at a time across the screen. I imagined he was going to be disappointed, instead, he smiled (looking proud) and replayed it a few times for us to see it.Looking back, I now know exactly what awoke my passion for photography. No, it was not the books I read, the magazines I subscribed to, the blogs I followed or the photos I took. It was my dad. His smiles, his excitement and curiosity, and the passion with which he attempted every one of his ‘experiments’. It was the image of him holding a camera that stuck with me throughout the years.
To this date, my dad’s photos are still my favorites. Not because of the subjects he picks or the camera he uses, but because even though we don't see each other often, I am sure that every time he grabs a camera, he plays with it... and smiles.
As I get older, I often wonder what things my children will remember about me, what their passions will be, and how these memories will make an impact in their lives. I suppose, only time will tell.