20 Years of Stories (and Gratitude)

This month marks 20 years of DMB Pictures, and I still find it hard to believe.

What started as a small, practical idea—a way to help people capture their stories while still being home when my kids got off the school bus—has grown into something I never could have imagined. I remember thinking very clearly at the time: older people are home during the day; I can film them while my kids are in school. That was it. That was the business plan.

But, of course, it evolved.

Over the years, my work expanded from filming family stories to partnering with nonprofits and family foundations, traveling across the country, and meeting some of the most interesting and inspiring people I’ve ever known. I never imagined I’d still be doing this 20 years later, nor how much this work would teach me—about storytelling, about people, and about myself. 

I am deeply grateful to my clients, colleagues, friends, and family who have trusted me with their stories, opened doors, spread the word, and cheered me on.

From starting as a one-person shop, to hiring interns (who occasionally doubled as babysitters when my toddlers were home sick), to working with an incredible team of long-term collaborators—special thanks to Michelle and Sharon—it’s been quite a journey.

I often think back to my very first client – my neighbor, Aileen. She trusted me to film her mother Lelia’s story in honor of a milestone birthday (see clip above). Although I’d interviewed people for years while working in television, this felt different. I was alone, setting up my camera and lights in someone’s home, asking deeply personal questions, and feeling very aware of all I didn’t yet know.

Partway through the interview, I kept hearing a faint ping sound. I tried to ignore it, hoping it wouldn’t show up on the recording, but finally I had to stop and ask if Lelia heard it too. We were both puzzled—until I walked toward the kitchen and discovered her husband sitting on a stool at the sink, eating cherries and casually spitting the pits into the metal basin.  

Despite that awkward moment, finishing that film and seeing how much the family loved it changed everything for me. I realized I had created something lasting. Something worth doing again. And again.

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