My father and I took only a few photos of each other over the years. When I was old enough, he gave me his Kalimar, which he'd bought for his honeymoon, and told me "Go see." And I did—leaving behind my hometown, my country, my family. Over decades I returned only in glimpses; in grabs and fast frames. Lately, with his own shutter slowing, I visited my father more and more. Lawrence John Korchin passed away yesterday, at 86, and I'm just now starting to see what he meant.