In 1958, 34-year-old William Grubb, my late father, purchased a Kodak Brownie 8 mm color movie camera and projector for about $120. It was a hefty investment for my Dad, who was an HVAC (heating, ventilating, air-conditioning) mechanic at Bethlehem Furnace on West Broad Street. He was the sole supporter of our young family, and he bought the camera just two years after purchasing the modest Northeast Bethlehem row home where my two sisters and I would grow up.

My Dad's main motive for acquiring a movie camera was most likely to record family events such as vacations, back yard picnics, weddings, graduations and similar milestones: these are the subject of most of the home movies that my Dad carefully stored and labeled in their iconic flat metal containers.

Like thousands of other families across the U.S., each time a new 'home movie' was processed, we gathered – often with friends and neighbors – in our living room to watch the sometimes humorous and occasionally embarrassing images that rolled across the screen. And also like thousands of other families, time passed, and watching

home movies became less and less of an event.

My Dad died in 1984, and those round, flat metal canisters with years of memories shut inside were forgotten, shunted to a corner of the attic of the house where my Mother still lived. She died in 2011. In the process of cleaning out that family home, the task of venturing into the attic to see what might be there fell to me: I found, in a cardboard box among so much other paraphernalia, the film reels in their metal canisters. My Dad's careful labeling of each reel had faded, but most were still legible.

In 2013 I had those forgotten home movies converted to DVD, and gave copies to my two sisters for Christmas. Our grandparents came alive, our parents were young once more, neighbors and friends not seen in decades returned, and we were children again. Backyard picnics, birthday parties, and even my Dad pitching in a men's fast pitch softball game all sprang to life.

A little more than 1,600 feet of film produced 90 minutes of memories spanning the decade between 1958 and 1968. In addition to the family events, my Dad had also filmed events he thought had local or national significance. While he clearly must have considered these items interesting enough to include in his movies, my Dad likely had no idea of how 50 years would turn an ordinary man's home movies into historical treasure.

My Dad's films include 1960 presidential primary candidate Henry Cabot Lodge's visit to Bethlehem, presidential candidate Richard Nixon's motorcade leaving ABE Airport at dusk (on a two lane macadam Airport Road!), and presidential candidate John F. Kennedy's motorcade on West Broad Street.

In addition, there is film of the dedication of Bethlehem's City Center complex in 1967, complete with a very early version of the Liberty High School Grenadier Band in performance. Also captured by my Dad is footage of Freedom HS's first Patriot Band alongside the Grenadiers during the May 1968 Memorial Day march down Linden Street. My Dad's cousin Egan Fehnel borrowed my Dad's camera in 1964 to film the Indianapolis 500 and captured not only the race, but the crash that killed Lehigh Valley driver Eddie Sachs.

PBS 39 in Bethlehem is producing a segment about President Kennedy's October 1960 visit to Bethlehem and the Lehigh Valley. I contacted producer Grover Silcox when I learned about this, and offered my Dad's film of Kennedy's motorcade along West Broad Street. I was pleased when Silcox happily included my Dad's short piece of recorded history in the production, and gratified to hear him compliment my father's amateur film making skills. My Dad's posthumous contribution is a tribute to amateur film makers everywhere, for they really do record history in the making.