Around the year 1975, my Bubby and my Nagypapa (Noit papa) got married at what I can only assume was the Synagogue Beth Zion, a synagogue that they would go to for years after the birth of my dad and aunt. This picture for me tells a story because it is the snippet of their “love story” or at least a climax of it. It shows the culmination of love they had for each other which has only grown. They both came from similar families, of Holocaust survivors in their own way. My great-grandfather and his family survived the deportations until the person in charge of them died and was replaced. So they deported my great-grandfather who was the only member of his immediate family. To survive, he married again in Hungary to a woman who had also survived, Then my nagypapa and his sister were born. While my Bubby was in Russia. Her father was forced to join the military, where he was injured in battle. He was sent home for the rest of the war, the battle after his entire battalion was destroyed by Germans. He lived his life not telling his stories, as a way to teach his family and the world that the battlefield is not the place for glory, or gold or god. It‘s a godforsaken place. The photo may not have a meaning to someone else, but to me and my family it is a reminder of who we are and where we come from, so we don’t get too distracted. I like this photo because like I said it tells a story, has a deep family related meaning but because it allows me to see one of my grandparent’s happiest days. Photography can capture the essence of a story and a life moment because there are different ways to take a picture and different types of pictures, like the portrait, the landscape or even the documentary photo. Through photos, we have managed to find a way to cherish and remind ourselves of our happiest days.