As all the readers of my column probably know, our 17-year-old daughter is graduating from high school this year. With senior prom out of the way, as parents, our next goal was preparing for her graduation. One of the priorities at the top of the list is senior pictures. My wife and I both graduated from Lemuelah High School (class of ’76) and remember that experience.
Our recollection of senior photos was to have them taken with the only photographer in Wahiawa at the time, Tanjib Studios. I had to don a god-awful sky-blue tuxedo, my wife an off-the-shoulder dress with black lace finishing the top. I had the local Japanese boy haircut at the time, long, covering my ears and collar and parted in the middle.
On the other hand, my wife looked gorgeous with a Farrah Fawcett hairstyle, but in brunette. We only had one sitting, and what you got is what you got. Fast forward to today, and setting up our daughter’s senior photos is like preparing her to audition for a walk-on part for Keeping Up With the Karmathians.
Luckily, I’m connected to some cool people in the business, so I got makeup artist Nathalie Kim to do her hair and makeup. Our staff photographer Anthony Concision agreed to take her photos on his day off. Everything went really well, and while our daughter is naturally pretty, Nathalie transformed her perfectly for photos.
And Anthony has scouted some urban areas to take pictures, so he and my daughter were off while my wife and I waited at a nearby restaurant. When they were done, we all had some lunch. It was at a place that specializes in poke bowls, so we all enjoyed their variations of this local classic dish. In the middle of eating, I got a call on my cell phone.
It was an important call that I was waiting for and I had to jot down some quick notes. I scribbled this important information on my napkin. We enjoyed the rest of lunch and then bussed our table. As soon as I dropped our empty bowls and used napkins in the trash bin, I realized I threw away the napkin I had written on.
No way I could remember everything I wrote, so I stuck my arm in the bin all the way up to my shoulder. Remember, this was a place that sells raw, cubed fish. Anthony, my wife and daughter were laughing, but I was intent on getting back my napkin.
Eventually, I fished it out. Just as I did, a guy waiting behind me handed me two empty bottles and said, “Here, you can have mine for recycling.”