Showing posts with label family photos. Show all posts
Showing posts with label family photos. Show all posts

Wednesday, January 7, 2009

MotherAunt and SisterCousin






















Some of my favorite memories involve my aunts. Connie and Judy are my mother's sisters and have been a constant presence in my life. They used to babysit me, take me along on their dates, dress me up like a doll, etc. Note to Aunt Connie and Aunt Judy: Feel free to buy me pretty dresses any time.) The first time I got on a plane was to visit my Aunt Cess and her family. (Note to Aunt Cess: I still love to visit you and my cousins.) I still have frequent conversations with all of them.

The ladies posing in front of the tree are/were another generation of my mother's side of this wacky family. I can say that because I am also wacky. Front and center in this circa 1988 photo is Zelma (Bobbie,) my grandmother great aunt. Like many families, it was not uncommon for more than one sister to participate in rearing another's child/children. Grandma (on the left) gave birth to my mother and her sisters but Bobbie raised them.

Aunt Ann (next to Grandma) is the baby. She's always had the legs of a woman half her age. She and Uncle Harry have always lived nearby -- sometimes just down the street. Aunt Ann's daughters were my idols when I was in grade school. I didn't want to be like them -- I actually wanted to be them. Since I couldn't accomplish that, I would copy their mannerisms, their clothes, etc. I get to see them this weekend and I can't wait. No one laughs or makes me laugh like my Aunt Ann.

Aunt Jo (other side of Bobbie) died several years ago. I can't say I knew her well but she and my grandmother were thick as thieves. They might have been thieves for all I know; they walked a little bit on the wild side. Like my grandmother, Aunt Jo had some assistance from a sister in raising some of her children.

Aunt Hazel and Uncle Bob's (far right) youngest child is about my age. I used to go over for sleepovers with her. Aunt Hazel declared me, "Best Eater." Her children all had issues with vegetables or phobias about one food touching another on the plate. I was taught to eat whatever was put in front of me, especially at someone else's house. I'll have to let Aunt Hazel know that I still am a pretty good eater. It helps that all of the women of this generation are/were amazing cooks. Most, if not all, of their daughters are too.

Aunt Wanda and Aunt Grace died before the photo above was taken but I still have vivid memories of them too.

From a family of 13 children, (most of them pictured in the photo above taken in 1934) a large and blended family has emerged. I see parts of personalities that remained true their entire lives. Bobbie is sitting in a proper and ladylike way on the porch. She remained a pillar of strength and ladylike kindness her entire life. Grandma is sitting alone at the other end of the porch on the swing. She often removed herself from people and situations.

Each generation since then has become a little more fragmented but many of us are closer than ever. Can you imagine the two people sitting on that porch swing in the 1934 photo (my great grandparents) being told that in a few short generations, their offspring would travel by plane or communicate regularly through computers and cell phones. What if someone had told them that I would learn of my cousin's new job through a text message? While posing with their children, imagine if someone had told them that in 2009, their great granddaughter would take 10 seconds to scan this photo and write about their legacy.

Some people have mothers who they find out later is really grandmother. Some people have sistercousins and brothercousins. Some people go far into adulthood before finding out that mother is really auntmother. Our family has some of those mixed relationships. For the most part we don't hide it; we embrace it. There's enough love to go around and then some.

Saturday, October 4, 2008

Do You Know Who Has Photos of You?

This blog has been a learning experience for me.
I've reconnected with friends.
It allows me to write every day.
I get feedback and I love the good and the bad. I also know who the wimps are that send me an email instead of posting a comment.
Once I started posting a few photos, it became an obsession. I've ripped up tons of albums and I've only just begun. I have boxes and boxes. I love this information age.

Here's a terrifying thought: People let me know that they have photos of my youth and college days. Bad hair days. Cigarette in hand. Me draping myself over other people.

Employers now routinely search Google and MySpace. Jobs have been lost and careers sunk due to some bad choices.

My little blog is not likely to wreck anyone's career. But, I am extremely careful to ask permission before I post a photo. I also try to let someone know if I've floated one out there. I've never had anyone ask me to remove a photo.

My mother used to tell me that a lady does not allow herself to be photographed with a drink or a cigarette in her hand. Ooops!

But, I can say with confidence that no one has photos of me nude. No one has photos of me doing anything illegal.

Sometimes boring pays off.

Tuesday, July 8, 2008

In My Father's Arms

When I was poring through photos, looking for appropriate pictures to use on the CD cover for my Dad's Father's Day gift, I noticed that most of the photos of just the two of us involved a hug or his arm around me.

We're touchy people. I find his affection especially amazing since his mother died when he was very young and his father was a cold man, incapable of showing affection.

I spent several hours with my Dad yesterday. We're still touchy. We hug. We pat each other's arms or knees. We still link arms. I don't think we've ever gone through a conversation without the words, "I love you." Even when he doesn't agree with my decisions or I get on his nerves, he's on my side. Or, at least there to pick up the pieces.

No offense to the husband, my mother or the many other people who hug me. But, I breathe a little better in my father's arms.

Wednesday, December 5, 2007

Photos of the Dead Dog

I'm sure Gabby, our maniac dog, is having an inferiority complex. Decorations are everywhere around here. I haven't even dealt with the tree but I must say it's beginning to look a lot like Christmas. (I just made that up!)

We've done many years of holiday family photos -- some for Christmas cards and some for the pure fun of the memories. I have them in red and sparkly frames. They come out once a year.

The other day, I spent quite a bit of time decorating and that included putting these cherished photos on display. The husband walked in, complimented the decorations and then said, "Lots of photos with our dead dog!"

Before you think I've gone over the edge, let me say that I know she doesn't know or care. But ... I went downstairs, found her little elf hat and put it atop the box that contains her ashes.

Ok, maybe I have gone a little over the edge.