I can see both of my parents in this photo of me, and my daughter, too. And my nephew.
We were living in Maine when this was taken. Maine happened between Florida and New York, I think, and we lived in a variety of places – a house, an attic, our VW bus at a campground (my favorite). My father was trying to make a living as a musician. My parents were awfully young at the time – if I was 4 or 5 in this photo, my parents were 24 and 25, with me and my very toddler brother in tow. They spent my young childhood walking the line between doing their thing and making sure we were safe and having a good time. I can relate.
Eventually we left Maine. I might have started kindergarten there, but then we moved and I finished kindergarten in New York. Then we moved back to Florida. We lived in a house in Winter Park and my father went to work every day, like other fathers, and the bass guitar was quiet.