3 Facts for the Day

29 06 2013

1. If you’re a reader of my blog and a Facebook friend, then you probably saw the photos I recently had made of my girls. The moment I saw the precious images, my heart skipped a beat. I’ve always been a fan of pictures. I came by it naturally. My Mom was a big picture person. I remember her always having a camera to capture moments. It wasn’t a fancy one by any means. Sometimes it was even just a Kodak disposable, but she always had one. I remember her having us pose by the front door for so many photo opportunities. She loved to snap one when we were dressed up for church. She always got pictures by that same front door on Halloween. Each costume, each year, is documented by the annual photograph in front of the door. She always snapped memorable moments. I love seeing pictures of me and my best friend in 4th grade dressed up in formal dresses she purchased for us at the thrift store to play in. She did our make-up and we felt so grown and pretty. I’m glad she took a picture.
2. She kept all her memories in picture form in photo albums. Some people just take them and never develop them. Some people keep them in the envelopes and never put them away. If you’re one of those people, it’s ok. Even I have two envelopes worth of pictures waiting on me. But Mom was dedicated to her photos. She claimed they should not be in a box, but protected from fingerprints and moisture in a sturdy album. After her death, each of us children were able to take books of memories into our own home. She also loved to display her favorites. Our house growing up was a storybook of pictures that told our life. I remember once when I was little, she told me that Charles Manson and his crew had initially picked another house on which to commit their heinous crimes, but when they looked inside and saw all the family photos, they moved on. This wasn’t a deciding factor in her reasoning for hanging photos on every open space of wall. It was simply a bonus she mentioned. She indeed covered each and every wall. Upon a recent visit to the homestead, I noticed my huge senior portrait in its spot of honor. Some mildew had caused it to adhere to the glass, and it made me sad. I wasn’t sad because it was a picture of me, but more because I knew how Mom had treasured it. I now understand so much more the emotion she felt when seeing the image of her child captured in a photograph.
3. I remember when she gave me my very first picture of my own, in a frame, to display in my room. It was one I had commented on when we picked them up from being developed. It was always exciting to me to go pick up pictures. This was before the easy access, digital age of instant gratitude over photos. You couldn’t snap a picture, look it over, delete it, and then take another. You certainly couldn’t edit them at the push of a button. I looked forward, with great excitement, to seeing how the pictures of my birthday sleepover turned out. I recall when they started doing one hour photo, I was amazed. After one such pick-up, I laughed with love over a photo of my three siblings in the bathtub. Mom framed it, and gave it to me to display in my room. I still have that photo on display in its original frame. It’s followed me across the country. I’d share it with you all if I didn’t fear the repercussions from my sisters. It all started with that photo. Mom taught me the joy of treasuring family photos. My own walls are covered, comically so, with endless pictures of the ones I love. Charles Manson would definitely move on to the next house, and Mom would be proud. My only regret is that I don’t have more wall space, especially after seeing the new pictures I have coming to me of the girls.

Interesting addendum: I had no idea what I was going to blog about until I was two sentences in. Funny how my mind works.

That is all 🙂





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