Scranton

I'm somewhat of a half-assed documentarist, but the last time I went to Scranton I wanted to preserve some of the weirdness and sadness of the trip. So, I bought a disposable camera and took some snapshots. A selective bunch, but there's a story behind each one.

The lamp I inherited. Undoubtedly, the prettiest lamp I now own. Though I always remember my visits to with a significant degree of disgust (my grandmother was a shut-in chain smoker), underneath all the nicotine there were a lot of really beautiful things.

The front yard. Every time I would go in and out I would scoff and wonder "What the fuck are these pool noodles doing on the front lawn?". Turns out they're to protect the roof of your car if you tie things up there. In my mind, it made more sense when they were pool noodles.

An old porno I found somewhere in the attic office. Unfortunately, this picture was taken too close to get the title: "Oral Delights."

Me in front of a giant collection of plastic toys at the Salvation army. Dad and I made several trips during our visit trying getting rid of the last layers of junk that still remained in the house after my grandmother and uncle's death.

The extent of my uncle's memorial. We had a gathering at my aunt Sylvia's house but no one really said much of anything about him. Dad made me put this picture board together last minute before we went over and I got really mad at him for making me responsible for such a sad and pathetic tribute. I feel bad about it now, but I've never been part of a less-enthused remembrance. In this way, its really heartbreaking.

The property next-door to my father's childhood home. It used to be owned by my uncle John, but now it's been forclosed by the bank. He lived there as long as I knew him.

The blow-up bed my mom and I slept on for 3 nights. On the second night we moved it down from the attic into my grandparent's old bedroom but it caught and sprung a leak. My dad fixed it as best he could, but the bed would always deflate significantly during the night. I think no matter what the circumstances, it's uncomfortable sleeping in that house.

My dad by some of the paper recycling we cleared out of the house. The amount of trash we took out was tremendous, it makes me almost phobic of being weighed down by so much useless stuff. Sadly, at this point of we really had to struggle with dad to throw out things whose sentimental value was ultimately not worth the time and effort to preserve. It's probably one of the hardest things my dad had to deal with this trip. Overall it was not an easy one for him.