"Well, it might be Uncle Irvin..." Mom suggested hopefully, leaning in close to the photograph, as if proximity were the answer and not, say, use of the Hubble telescope.
She was right, though-- the bald dome rimmed in snowy hair was a reasonable clue. But it could have been Grandpa, too... Or that husband of second cousin Margie... Or brother-in-law Everett with a pink cap on.
Yep, Gramma Edna's composition style was less about facial features and more about full-body shots and aerial photography. Photo after photo showcased microscopic individuals lined up in some green field to be squinted at-- from teeny workboot to tiny cowlick.
Now, every photo promised feet in the shot. But heads, they were optional. Gramma Edna ran about a 50% chance of beheading. So at family reunions, you just can imagine we understood the value of distinctive footwear.
Ah, but such were the days before digital cameras. Today, we could have just cropped in to see cousin Jarhead's chocolate milk mustache. Or Aunt Gussie's real one. Or the logo on that flash sneaker.
Alas, all we're left with is eyestrain-- and boxes of photographs featuring people we assume are us. Could be there was a mixup at the photo lab and our memories are actually those of the Butterfield family in Iowa... we wouldn't know.
But we have to take some things on faith, I guess.
My dad, on the other hand, has always been a photographic perfectionist. Which means he would much rather have the lighting at an artistic angle-- a striking arc of brightness and shadow--
Than anyone in the photo actually looking, say... happy... or attractive...
Or, after the first 40 minutes, not thinking of shoving that zoom lens to dark, cavernous nether-regions.
So he'll stand there fiddling with the settings while aged posing family members die off, one by one... Until not one person in the pic is smiling any more.
And a few of those now suffer rigor mortis.
As a result, my growing up years include photos of Mom and I in the middle of whispering mutinous discussions. Smiles are forced, eyes mid-blink. If you look carefully, swords have been drawn from their scabbards and the plank is prepped in the background.
The Pop will gladly elaborate on how good the sunlight looks falling across its woodgrain.
It's fun, these family moments.
But, for those of us in this digital age, I wonder what we'll leave behind? Shots of questionable dinners we ordered and blogged about?...
Everyone in the family done Warhol-style?...
Embarrassing photos of our cats which we could use to blackmail them, if Mr. Fluffy had any sliver of shame?
I just hope I never go missing and they need a photo for a milk carton. I can see family and friends explaining it to the cops now:
"Well, you can have this one where her friend Photoshopped her into a zombie (no, we don't know where the original is)...
This one where she's cross-eyed and sneezing but the lighting on the landscape is simply stunning...
Or that one from '89 which is either her or a small tree. Your choice."
So tell me about the shutterbugs in your family, folks... What's on your milk carton?
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