This portrait, in a silver frame, has been on my mother's bureau for as long as I can remember. It's a photo of my father when he was "courting" her. They were in Europe - at Lac d'Annecy. It reminds me how important images are, as a touchstone representing specific times in life.

One recent winter vacation when my son was learning to ski, I heard such surprising and entertaining stories from my father while we were riding up on the chairlifts. He told me tales of when he traveled in Europe. At the time he was also a photographer, being paid to document important historic monuments for various academic art history departments (this was before slides could be reproduced).
The stories were so preposterous, I was skeptical. Escapades at the bullfights in Spain - where Hemingway was. Incidents that involved too much cheap wine in a gourd, seats being thrown into the ring, etc. When I asked my mother about it, she just said mildly- "Oh those are my favorite stories about your father."