Craig Ruvere

When I was a little kid growing up in the early 1980’s, I remember being fascinated with the fictional superheroes on television and in comic books who possessed extraordinary magical powers. For me there was Batman, whom I first discovered while watching re-runs of Adam West prancing around in tights in the 1960’s action/adventure show. As cheesy as the program might have seemed, there was something alluring about “The Bat Cave” and “The Bat Mobile” – not to mention the neat tricks he had hiding up his sleeves.  I even remember one Halloween, excitedly dressing up as my favorite caped crusader - one of the few Halloweens when I actually wanted to keep my costume on! But my allegiance to the superhero community didn’t stop with Batman. Other favorites included…

“A strange thing is a memory, and hope; one looks backward, and the other forward; one is of today, the other of tomorrow. Memory is history recorded in our brain, memory is a painter, it paints pictures of the past and of the day.”  - Grandma Moses Nowhere is a memory better captured than in a photograph. For some families, their legacy in pictures is chronicled in hard-covered, highly organized photo albums, haphazardly tossed in shoe boxes and old dresser draws, or arranged in clearly defined folders on local hard drives. Regardless of how you choose to store and ultimately retrieve these photographs, they provide you with a memory, trigger an emotion and remind you of those who’ve sacrificed so much so that the next generation could prosper. My father-in-law…

“It has taken awhile, but I certainly do know it now ­­– the most wonderful gift I had, the gift I finally learned to cherish above all else, was the gift of all those perfectly ordinary days.” - Katrina Kenison If you had the opportunity to spend one ordinary day with someone from your past or your present, who would it be? For me, it’s a person I’ve never had the privilege to meet – a man whose lineage I carry around with me each and every day. His name was Louis Melillo – my grandfather. He was only 55 when he passed away from cancer, just a few days after my 1st birthday. My grandmother used to always tell me that he refused to let my birthday be forever overshadowed…