I don’t remember when my Dad and I indulged in this bit of photo booth fun, but judging from my hair, it was the late 80s. Jackson, my dad, has a long history of hamming it up for the camera. In the hundreds of photos I’ve seen of his teens and early 20s, only a handful show his beautiful smile and handsome face uncontorted. We are both self-conscious in front of a camera, but tend to express that discomfort in opposite ways – Pop makes strange elastic faces, while I freeze woodenly. Which is one of the reasons I love this strip of photos: I’m just fully in the goofy moment with my Dad.