The theme for the 4th Edition of Smile For the Camera hosted by footnotemaven is “My Favorite Photograph”. “Choose a photograph of an ancestor, relative, yourself, or an orphan photograph that is your favorite family photo or that photograph you’ve collected and wouldn’t give up for a King’s ransom. Is it the only photograph of an ancestor, is it funny, poignant, or very rare? My favorite photograph is the first one I ever collected. What’s yours? Share it with us! Then get back out in the summer sun. Your submission may include as many or as few words as you feel are necessary to describe your treasured photograph. Those words may be in the form of an expressive comment, a quote, a journal entry, a poem (your own or a favorite), a scrapbook page, or a heartfelt article. The choice is yours!”
Jasia, at Creative Gene, had the same reaction I did – “you’ve got to be kidding!”
I can’t even begin to pick out just one! With four children and three grandchildren, I have tons of pictures of each of them or a combination that I really love. I also have several photos of my parents taken early in their marriage that I really like. However, they divorced over 30 years ago, so it probably isn’t prudent for me to post those.
This photo shows my maternal grandmother, Vesta Wilt, about age 7 and her only sister, Nellie (about age 4). It’s one of the few photos I have of my grandmother as a child. As a child, I always wanted my hair to grow really long but having baby fine hair, it never got that long. I tended to have pretty short hair as a young girl until I got old enough to decide I wanted to let it grow. My mother always said that I had the same type of hair as my grandmother’s – curly and unmanageable.
The first time I saw this photo, I believe I was a very young teenager. Many of my grandmother’s friends always told me I looked like her (I still don’t notice that much of a resemblance other than the fly-away hair and blue eyes). Yet it brought home to me the fact that at one time, my grandmother and great-aunt had been children!
I often wonder if this studio photograph had been an expense that their parents could hardly afford since they had four other sons to feed as well. Was this the only photograph taken of my grandmother has a girl? Had there been others – possibly a family photograph? Was this taken for a special ocassion? How long had my great-grandmother spent brushing my grandmother’s hair and getting it fixed just right?
When I look at this photo, I wonder what that young girl was thinking. Her parents were just a few years away from divorcing; her youngest brother was just a baby; and her mother was pretty religious. What events were shaping her character and thoughts at that time? Did she enjoy a carefree childhood or one spent worrying about what the next day would bring? Was she tasked for “taking care” of her little sister?
One similarity between my grandmother and I, is that I only have one sister too. However, I’m the younger one and by many more years than these sisters.
I am also fortunate to have a comparison picture (my grandmother, Vesta, on left). This pictures shows the two sisters taken over 65 years later. Even though Nellie spent the latter part of her childhood and teen age years in the West and later went on to marry and raise a family in Washington State and my grandmother (in between traveling with her husband to military posts) resided in the Dayton area, they remained very close all of their lives. I feel so blessed to have known both of these women pretty well as I grew up and even spent some time with my great-aunt in Washington as a young child. And I’ve been able to steal glimpses into their relationship through the many letters they wrote to one another.
So I can’t say that this is my favorite picture out of all the ones I’ve taken, inherited or collected, but it is a photo that I return to time and again in order to see the younger version of my grandmother. Before life got too difficult. Before her family split up. Before she met my grandfather. Before she became known as a wife, mother, and grandmother. She was just . . . Vesta.