Trip Down Memory Lane

As you may have already guessed, I love photographs. I minored in Fine Arts in college with an emphasis in photography, which was purely due to interest and not a career choice. I had no interest in being a professional photographer; I simply love the history of photography, the act of photographing, the memories that a photograph brings out.

I absolutely loved the hours I spent in the darkroom in college, drawing out images from a blank piece of paper. It’s magical. I am rarely anywhere without a camera, and even though my brother wants to deep fry my camera sometimes, I feel a little lost without it.

In addition to taking photos, I love looking at old photos, even when they’re not mine. I will gladly go through my friends albums of them growing up on Facebook, and the first thing I look at it in someone’s home are the photos they have chosen to display, a reflection of their lives.

Dave is in the process of moving all the items on our current hard drive to a much larger 1 terabyte hard drive and asked “Do you want everything that’s on there? Or are you going to delete your pictures?”

“Delete my pictures?!”

I think not.  If my parents and Dave’s parents had thrown away their pictures after taking them, we wouldn’t have these treasures.

Ali & Dave

Dave and Ali.Ali & Dave 2 I think this is my favorite baby photo of Dave. I really want to go back in time and kiss his cheek.img048

I’ll probably never meet another person who is as big of a fan of Ghostbusters as Dave. His parents told me he used to run around the house saying “I’m bustin’ ghosts!”

Note: Dave’s father was a professional photographer, and all these photos are owned by Barry Dowe Photography.

My parents were not professional photographers, but they did pretty well, anyway.


002Knowing very little about the growth rate of babies, except Aurelia, I’m guessing this was my first birthday. Pay no attention to the details: I promise my family is not white trash.

001Washing clothes with Grandma Leahy at the cabin at the pump. I promise my family is not white trash.



A diaper wrapped around my burned hand on my second birthday. I promise my family is not…oh, never mind.



Hey, look at that cake my Mom made. See how fancy we are? It only took a few years.





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