Edit Desk: From his hands to mine, a camera’s story

My PopPop always liked his gadgets. Despite being a member of the “greatest generation,” he kept up with technology. He often played his keyboard, sat at his computer to see what was new in the tech world and carried his camera wherever he went. 

His camera collection spanned decades, from old film models to his last addition — a Nikon D7100.

At family events and holidays, he would always walk around with his camera, snapping pictures of my aunts, uncles and cousins, even if they weren’t prepared to have their portrait taken. Afterward, he’d upload them to his computer and experiment with filters or silly effects just for fun. 

If you were lucky enough, you would receive one of these pictures framed and gift-wrapped the next time you visited his house.

I always wanted to ask him about photography and his cameras, but I never did. To this day, I’m not quite sure why I didn’t. 

My PopPop passed away in early 2022, and when my Grandma passed in mid-2023, we cleaned out their home. There, I uncovered nearly 70 years worth of printed photographs he had taken — images my family and I hadn’t seen in years. 

It took me a week to sort through pictures of my grandparents, their siblings and, of course, their children — my dad, four uncles, three aunts and their families. But, it was cathartic to uncover the decades of images of my Grandparents and family whom I love dearly. 

While dividing up their belongings, I didn’t want to step on anyone’s toes, but I made it clear — I wanted my PopPop’s camera. 

When I finally took the camera home, I was eager to turn it on and check it out, but the battery was dead and the charger had likely been lost in the shuffle of cleaning out the house. I had to order a new one online, along with a fresh set of SD cards so I could take my own photos without disturbing the ones my PopPop had left behind. 

In the meantime, I used an SD card reader to browse through eight or nine half-filled memory cards, each containing pictures I had never seen before. I shared them with family members who appeared in them, bringing back moments they hadn’t realized were captured.

For a year and a half, the camera sat in my closet. Occasionally, I’d take it out to hold, but nothing ever felt worth capturing in a way my phone couldn’t.

That changed last fall.

In my fall 2024 semester, I took a visual communications course and simultaneously volunteered myself to be a photographer at work. For class, I could have borrowed a camera from Lehigh’s Digital Media Studio, but I decided it was time for me to learn how to use the camera that had been in my possession for so long but had never been used by me. 

In class, I learned about adjusting the camera’s ISO, aperture and shutter speed, as well as converting RAW files to JPGs and the basics of editing. I would then apply that knowledge to my work, taking pictures and extending my experience, eventually seeing those pictures posted in different social media campaigns for Lehigh Sustainability and the Bethlehem Farmers’ Market.

At the beginning of October, I took a trip down the shore with my Mom’s side of the family, and brought the camera along with me. I had to take photos for class, but I also wanted to capture every moment of the weekend trip. 

I photographed Congress Hall, the historic hotel we always stayed at, Washington Street Mall and the nature that surrounded it, like the birds that landed next to us while we ate lunch, the flowers growing along the sidewalk, and of course, the beautiful beach.

But my favorite pictures were the ones of my two little cousins, running around on the beach or at the zoo, because of the joy on their faces. Capturing that happiness was priceless, and I know that’s how my PopPop felt whenever he took pictures of us.

By the end of the semester, I had learned so much about photography from my professor and boss, but I kept thinking the same thing — I wish I could have shown my PopPop everything I had learned.

I know he would’ve been fascinated to see how powerful a program like Photoshop could be or all of the different settings on the camera he had never used.

Though we never talked much about photography, using his camera for school, work and personal projects keeps me connected to him. Each time I adjust the settings, frame a shot or edit a photo, I feel like I’m carrying on something he loved and keeping his passion alive, one picture at a time.