My dad was just a big Joseph Campbell nut.
I have lots of memories of staying at campsites in the West Country and France, of the Carpenters playing on the eight-track, and of my dad cursing under the broken-down VW camper van. I loved camping, but I wouldn't much fancy it now - I'm too old to rough it.
When I was growing up, my dad and I would go hunting and camping every weekend. Like everyone in my family, he is an amazing cook, and I've tried to learn a lot from all of them.
I do remember being teased by my cousins on my mom's side for not being black enough. And then I'd spend the summer with my dad and be sent to all white summer camps where I was 'that black girl.'
My dad had emphysema and both of my parents had chronic bronchitis and ended up with cancers - all smoking related.
My dad grew up in a mud hut and studied by candlelight. He was 14 when he got a scholarship to Russia. He was super clever - the cleverest person. He landed in 5ft of snow, and was alone at 14, studying science and engineering. He didn't have a bed, and he slept on a table.
My career choice is my career choice. Just stepping out of that zone, to be able to be a provider. I understand my position as a provider and my role as a dad also... Just being able to be comfortable with it.
My grandfather, along with Carnegie, was a pioneer in philanthropy, which my father then practiced on a very large scale.
I come from an ordinary family - my dad is a carpenter, a roof-maker - and we've always loved racing together.
When I was 13, I opened my own business called The Awesome Pretzel Company, and my dad helped me build a pretzel cart.
My dad read, I think, the Perry Mason mysteries and Zane Grey and some humor compendiums... And then at one point, the bookmobile started coming to town. That was really cool. I mean, that was when I read my first Raymond Carver story. I think that was probably 1969 or so. I must have been 13.
My parents are from the South - they were both born in Birmingham - so my dad saw R.E.M. really early on when they were playing college stuff in Athens. He had a bunch of their cassettes from the '80s, and when I was 8, 9, or 10, those were the sort of things that were around the cassette player in the living room.
My dad has totally taken my Cat Stevens T-shirt, but it's OK; I have his Black Flag one, and that's amazing.
I listened to the radio, so I was influenced by everyone from Michael Jackson to Milli Vanilli. But thankfully my dad had a collection of Cat Stevens albums while my mom was listening to jazz.
My dad was a huge Bob Dylan fan, so we listened to his music, Cat Stevens, Simon & Garfunkel, and all that kind of stuff.
Joanna points her camera at a section of society unused to having cameras pointed at it. But I don't know about categorizing them in terms of class; I'm a bit wary of that. My dad is the son of a shipbuilder.
I grew up in a predominantly Caucasian neighborhood, but my mom is Filipino-Spanish and my dad is Irish.
My brothers bullied me, so I cried a lot as a kid. It was the only defense I had. Telling them to stop wouldn't work. The crying would bring my dad. Dad was my cavalry.
My mom was a practicing Hindu, and my dad was a Catholic who practiced yoga meditation and karma yoga. My earliest memories are of the bright colors, beautiful sounds, and fragrant aromas of both Christian and Hindu celebrations.
I had grown up going to Celtic Park with Mum, Dad, and my brother. We had four season tickets.
