Melonie Bennet, Dad, Post Surgery, 1/8, 2010, Inkjet Print, 24 x 33 inches

Dad refused to let us go to his VA (Veterans Affairs) doctor appointments with him, or give us permission to tell his doctors that he was failing cognitively. He decided to move from the farm to a small room in an assisted living community. In his eyes, my mother was holding him back from the joys of life—basically, he wanted a girlfriend. After moving in, Dad asked me to help him open some packages he received. He admitted he had been ordering jewelry on the QVC (Quality, Value, Convenience) home Shopping Network channel, to woo the ladies in the complex. I looked over at his seating area and soon realized he had loads of paper notes full of scratched down order numbers for rings, bracelets and necklaces he had been buying. I filled three trash bags with hundreds of tiny bags of jewelry and its packaging. Even he was stunned to see what he had done. He agreed to let me call customer service to try and rectify it. Evidently, this was a prevalent issue at QVC with the elderly, and they quickly explained how to make the return. The total he had spent was $7,896.50.

Print shown in HolyCow! a romp through 20 years of family photographs by Melonie Bennett. The black and white images in this unconventional family album were made between 1990-2011. They depict the rituals, traditions, dramas, laughter, gatherings, the dogs and the drunken exploits alongside quieter moments of reprieve—they show the rollercoaster of human life.

Statement on Works By Melonie Bennett:

In high school, I was shy and naive. When my father spread manure in fields that bordered classmates’ homes, I wanted to be invisible. Being the oldest, I thought I had to behave. I never dared to party or skip school. It wasn’t even an option. My siblings sure made up for it—they were wild. But I found my groove. I took a high school darkroom class, at the same time that I took on the role as the designated driver for family and friends to parties. This gave me the license to observe and take pictures of what other people, including my family were doing. And I didn’t have to drink! What a gift from God.’ -M.B.

“As photographing my family became more routine, Merritt (my brother) thought it would be clever to start gifting me a single, unwrapped roll of film on these occasions. He would just laugh and say ‘that’s all you’re getting’—mocking me, my picture-taking and loving the ribbing he was doling out. But in fact, each time he had spent six bucks on me and had to make the effort to shop—this proved he loved me, right? I told him he should save his money and write down his stories as my gifts instead.' -M.B.