Our Why and who we are.

TL:DR version:

I’m Mario. Wife’s, Kathy. 5 kids. Sad bit, sad bit, Marines bit, Iraq bit and today. Thanks for reading. Have a great one!

I’m bored or have a few minutes to spare version:

I’m Mario. Wife’s Kathy.

We do have 5 kids. As of today, ranging from 21 to 5 this year (2022). Yup, we were pretty bored, I guess. I love our little tribe, though. It keeps the mind running at a hundred miles an hour. My wife is my partner, in life, love and business. She’s probably the one who you’ll end up talking to the most. She’s really good at it; talking. Me? Not so much. Been married for nearly 20 years now. Married early, but lucked out. Or as she would put it: It was written in the stars.

I’ve had a camera with me since my time in the Marine Corps (1999-2003). From 29 Palms, California to Okinawa, Japan to Baghdad, Iraq and back. No real reason. Just wanted photos of my time. Those were my college years. Well, I guess I did have a small reason why I kept a camera with me. Of course, this was way before cell phone cameras were as prevalent as they are today. Hell, I was still rocking that two-way pager from Motorola and the indestructible Nokia 3310. But I digress. Thinking back on it now, I guess my desire for photos of everyday life comes from the lack of photos of my mother.

I know most people here rarely have a mother who is down for the “anytime snapshot” and my mother was no different. Everytime my dad (or anyone) pulled out a camera or that shoulder mounted Camcorder/rocket launcher, she would become Barry Sanders and evade any attempt at getting her in the frame. And either she was more nimble on her feet that we all gave her credit for, or my father was quite slow with the focus back then, because she very nearly always succeeded. Now, in the few clips we have, it was all fun and games back in 1987-ish. But here in the 2020s, it’s a little sombering. See, in 1992, on the night of August 2. Exactly 4 weeks before my 11th birthday and 12 days before my mother’s, she got into a car accident on the way home from a night out. The last thing I remember hearing from her was that I would see her in the morning. That was right before she dropped me and my then 5 year old sister at our grandmother’s home.

It’s been 30 years since then and as time tends to do, I have been forgetting little details about my mother. Stories become a little fuzzier. Memories become a little blurrier. The 2 photos I have of her are crisp as the day we took them, I presume. I was quite young. But they look like they’re going to hold up for another 30 years. Thanks, Olan Mills! So, that kinda explains why I carried a camera around so much. Because God forbid something like that happened to my children. I didn’t want them to have to come to the realization that slowly and day by day, I am forgetting more and more about my mother. I don’t want that for anyone, whether it’s a mother, a father, a grandparent, aunt, uncle, or worse. . . a child. I want the memories to be in the mind, but enforced by the imagery we can produce.

Then right after graduation (Class of 1999!!!) I joined the Marine Corps. My college years. Nothing was going to happen for the next four years back then, right? Aside from Y2K. The world was going to end! Well, nothing did happen for the first 2. I did quite a bit of traveling (read: training), got the 9/11 news while I was in Japan. That was a crazy 2 weeks. Came home, literally ran into my future wife, got married and started a family. Then the talks started. The training intensified and my mind said, “wait a minute, I feel like something might be going down.” (Us Leathernecks don’t have the reputation for being too smart.) Then I opened my eyes and realized I was on a plane with an end destination of Kuwait to stage for crossing into Iraq. I had my trusty camera then too. Got some great shots of the statue coming down and of friends and brothers, both here and gone. And most importantly to me, of the tarmac at March ARB in Moreno Valley, Ca. I made it back home when so many others did not. I am grateful but tremendously saddened when I have to think about that. Funny how the memory works, huh? Forget the thing we most wish to remember and constantly reminded by things we would pay handsomely to forget.

That’s another reason why I decided to go away from purely digital delivery. We (read: my wife) decided that we would focus our imagery on wall art, prints and albums. Sure, it’s more lucrative for us to sell tangible products, rather than hand over a USB drive or email a link to a gallery and be done with it. Honestly, it’d be a lot less of a hassle. But, even as photographers ourselves, we have lost more USB sticks of OUR OWN family portraits! There are a couple maybe hanging around on a hard drive somewhere from downloading them, but I couldn’t tell you where. (Probably going to go look for it tomorrow. . . probably not.) We know we aren’t the only ones.

So, that’s our “why”. Why we (I) started. Why we ditched digital. Why we embrace actual prints. And why I sit away sometimes and stare at the most beautiful sunsets, camera in hand, wishing I could share one more moment with people that can’t, and cherish the people who can. Anything can be gone or preserved in a click of a shutter.

We love and miss you, Mom.

This was about 9 years ago and missing one kid. I really do need to go back soon.