@LawyeronWheels: Take a picture, it will last longer.

My dad has always been passionate about photography. He'd take pictures of us anywhere we went and in any circumstance. We might have been missing other essentials, but you could bet that his camera would never get left behind. Family and friends. Complete strangers. Landmarks and trips I don't even remember. Summer trips. Weddings, holidays, funerals, baptisms, a distant relative being in town, everything deserved to be captured on film. "Take this thing away" was my mom's most common response to my dad pulling his faithful sidekick out of the bag, following by her immediately trying to cover her face with her hands. Posed and surprised photos. The "I'm not dressed for a picture/I need to wash my hair/I have a pimple on my face (I need make up)/Don't you dare take this" pictures. My fathered traveled through America in the 1980's and with the amount of shots he's taken you'd think he worked for National Geographic. Andrew Sutton gave me a task. Find pictures that will illustrate your book. Of moments and things relevant to you and of your story as you tell it. Budapest and Warsaw. The Peto Institute, elementary school, high school, coming to America. Starting a foundation. My life. Over the last few weeks, I've been asking my parents to go through those moments in time, those blinks and items that we can present between my writing and pick some they think would fit well. Here's a funny thing about pictures. We take them to preserve memories. To reminisce. To capture our life on film as it happens. To give our mind something to trigger pleasant thoughts of the days long gone, when we're old and gray sitting in a rocking chair, as we go through pages of a color faded album. But as I looked through the photos my dad sent, I didn't remember half of these ever taken. Is it even me in some of them? Who are the people who stand behind me and what was the significance of that moment? I look at the few, And I just don't know. There's a lot of pictures, but some of them trigger nothing. How can you preserve a memory if you don't remember?

<<This is my picture at 19. 100 days to the end of high school (and exams) Ball. >>This me at 16? 17. At a popular vacation spot called Urle. We'd live in a small wooden one family unit, and while I loved it in the 80's as a teenager I hated being banished to a place with no indoor bathrooms and nothing to do. This is me with my "get me out of here, life isn't fair" look. I find it hard to believe how little muscle tone I had and how skinny I was.

In 2004, while I was adjusting to living with a room mate for the first time ever, my parents stayed at the Bambi Motel, a place you could rent my the hour. I remember they had to switch their rooms three times because it was dirty or things did not work, something you really don't concern yourself with if you only need 40 minutes in there. This was also my parents attempt to get me into an electric chair, a peace of mind measure for them that didn't really work.

In 2004 we decided to treat my new roommate by taking him to Universal Studios. A week or so before school started for us, I think and I remember he really loved all the roller coasters and was riding the Dueling Dragons multiple times, a sentiment I did not share

In 2003 we needed a picture for something. I believe this was an attempt of a passport photo. Funny thing, a year later I moved to America and my face got slimmer for a while.