Photos tell stories
And the pandemic continues. And politics are just as nasty as ever. I could write about both these topics, but they’ve been written about ad nauseum. I don’t want to write about this. Y’all know how I feel about both these subjects if you read anything I’ve written.
Since I stay at home most of the time, finding something exciting to write about isn’t always easy.
No, I’m not doing any plays and haven’t for over a year. I’ve performed or directed something for the last 20 years. Until this pandemic has “disappeared,” my outside activities are limited.
I have completed the first draft of my novel and am now doing some revisions. Writing a novel is not easy but it is fun. My daughter, who is a fantastic writer, is going to be the first to read it. She is painfully honest and if it’s gawdawful, she’ll let me know. If it’s not worth trying to find an agent and get it published, at least I can say I wrote a novel with over 52,000 words. I’ll pack it away in the keepsake trunk for future generations to discover.
What I have been doing lately is going through old photographs of years gone by, starting with my mom and dad’s collection. They were of the greatest generation and both contributed to the war effort back when the world’s freedom was at stake. So many of their pictures were that of fresh-faced young soldiers, decked out in uniforms, ready to conquer the enemy.
I found pictures of my grandparents when they were younger than I am now. I found pictures of Bill’s mother and father with Bill and his sister Mollie sitting between them. It’s not necessarily a family portrait. It’s when Bill’s father was studying to be a doctor at Wake Forrest in Winston-Salem, North Carolina. They are smiling. This picture is priceless.
I love the picture of my sister-in-law, Susan. in the arms of Wynelle, a lady of color who traveled with the family on vacations. She is standing on the beach at St. Augustine.
I find a picture of when Bill and I hosted a family dinner at Jim Lay’s apartments where we first lived. My sisters-in-law, Mollie and Susan, are there with all four of Mollie’s kids. I think my niece Missy was there as a baby. Mollie and Susan appear to be laughing. I remember we had a fun time.
My journey through pictures continues with those of when my sister and I were little. One is when we are sitting at a small table outside having a tea party. I was about three and my sister around five. I was crying. I’m not sure why. Mom told me that my sister used to love to tease me. That’s probably what’s happening. Or maybe I just didn’t like the tea.
Another picture is of my sister and me holding our new baby brother. We adored him. He was a precious baby who was the last to have red hair in my family. I so wanted a red-headed child, but that didn’t happen. Then I hoped for a red-headed grandchild. Out of the six, that didn’t happen either. My brother grew up to be a handsome man. Kind of reminds me of Robert Redford.
One of my favorite pictures of my children is when Heather, our first born, celebrated her first birthday. I made a cake with chocolate frosting. She did not hesitate to plow right in to that cake. Our friend and photographer extraordinaire, Paul Shoffner, took pictures and he captured the look of pure bliss on our baby girl’s face as it was covered in chocolate frosting.
I have a picture of our two oldest sons standing together. They’re probably around four and five. Hayden has this expression on his face that became his signature look in childhood, that of skepticism. Heath looks oblivious to his surroundings. He generally was just that. His mind was always somewhere else.
Hartwell, our youngest, used to like to get into small spaces. I snapped a picture of him in a five gallon plastic bucket. He’s all wedged in and I believe he was singing. I also have a picture of him imitating Pee Wee Herman. He was around six or seven and was good at that.
A favorite picture is one of Heather and Missy, our niece, who lived with us for a time, standing in a pasture They were wearing yellow dresses. It was a beautiful, breezy spring day. Our dogs, Patches and Banjo, were running close by.
The truth is this pandemic has given me the opportunity to delve into the hundreds of pictures we have. They tell the stories of our lives. This makes me happy.