Dad's Voice, Found by Accident

A video transcription project, looking for something else.

Funny what falls out when you’re not looking for it.

I built a transcription rig to sort my own home videos — a proof of concept, really, a way to find the handful of clips worth watching without scrubbing through hours of three-second nothings. The actual point was Dylan. I wanted to find the good moments with him before I forgot what they looked like.

And then the machine handed me my father.

Two clips. There’s the eulogy from January — my sister up at Saints Peter and Paul, telling the San Felipe stories, the winch and the stuck tourists, Dad teaching her stick shift on the sand. That one I knew was coming.

But the other one I didn’t. A clip from April 2024, the dog park dedication in El Centro — and it’s Dad. His actual voice, going on about the trust, about his grandfather landing in Imperial Valley in 1906. Eight months before he died, and none of us knew. Just a man at a podium taking too long to thank everyone, getting the last word like he always did.

I went looking for videos worth Dylan’s time. The machine found the one where his grandpa is still talking.

I’ll take it.