Photographing "Summer Beckons"

Lisbon, Ohio, cast its spell on me as a child. The tiny town, about 100 miles southwest of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, in Columbiana County, was my mother's childhood home during the 1940s. My grandmother still lived there in the '60s. Back then, my father would load us into the Rambler wagon for the hour-long trip from Aurora. For us three boys (and probably my parents, too), it seemed to take forever. When we finally got there, we would pile out of the car and into the little two-bedroom bungalow. The sweet fragrance of apple pie greeted us along with grandma.

After a few hugs and some conversation, the kids were banished to the outdoors where we spent hours climbing the small, thick maple tree in the front yard and exploring what my grandmother called the ravine. It was an overgrown forest as wide as a city lot, 300 feet deep. From the back of the house, it sloped steeply towards the next street below and was filled with poison ivy, brambles and prickers that would tug at our clothes. As late afternoon faded to dusk, the unmistakable glow of the A&P sign told us it was time to head back. We would work our way to the top, then to the front yard and often stumble upon grandma picking some tomatoes or weeding the garden.

Her garden straddled a small flat area between her house and the neighbors. That first look at a garden sparked an interest that has been a passion my entire life. I still remember her telling me how to properly water the tomato plants: Never wet the foliage, she warned.

I've been back to Lisbon many times as an adult and it has always been a cathartic experience. Each visit would prompt a drive by the old house. It remained basically the same until one family turned the garage into an addition. And the maple tree was huge. With every visit back, I felt connected to the town, even though my mother hasn't lived there for 50 years and my grandmother is gone. Finally, I made up my mind to chronicle the town in pictures, to show what was special about Lisbon.

I spent one summer there, armed with the camera my mom had on my very first visits there, a 1950s Kodak Brownie Hawkeye. It's the original point-and-shoot camera, only two settings -- one for shooting outdoors, the other for time exposures. I photographed football players, farmers, waitresses, preachers and just regular folks. But most of all, I photographed children. Summer is about kids, and my memories of Lisbon are of childhood. I loved the time I spent in the country, shooting the daily lives of different families.

With each visit I had to explain to the perplexed subjects what the hell I was doing with this old Brownie. I'm not sure they understood, but once I mentioned how much I had always loved Lisbon they would drop their guard and put their trust in me. The pictures have "a tint on antiquity," as Rev. Chuck Cusick described it. He's the pastor of the Lisbon Baptist Temple, a place that welcomed me and my camera as if we were old friends.

My last day in town I drove by my grandmother's old house. I was pleased to see that the current occupants have their garden in the same place she did. Their tomatoes were doing just fine. I couldn't help but wonder why I didn't photograph the old place on my visits back. I guess I just wanted to remember it the way it was.