Day 07 — A Favorite Photo

I had skipped over this because I was looking for a particular photo. And then, of course, when you start rummaging through photos you get a little distracted by the memories and the nostalgia. And you find every other photo but the one you're looking for...and you just about give up the search when you realize you didn't have to rummage after all. It was still in the photo cube you keep on the shelf in your closet. And you realize what a dork you are.

And as many photos as I DO have, I find that there are YEARS missing in my life based on the photos I don't have. Then again, there have been several moves in my life. And there are several boxes in various closets as well as the garage that are waiting for me to get my poop in a group and organize the troves of photographic evidence of my existence in various stages. And I'm sure my grandmother has loads tucked up in her attic that my dad sent to her way back when, during the days before digital photos and electronic copies. When you actually had to wind the film forward in a camera and get to the end of the roll before you went to the store where it was sent off to be developed with chemicals and darkrooms, when pictures were actually printed on photo paper. You were lucky to have captured A Kodak moment and even luckier if you had ONE copy of it. Archaic.

So, here's the photo:

It makes me smile.
It's so wrong on so many levels.
Especially if you knew my parents in the last several years of their lives.

With both of my parents gone now, I couldn't get the story from them so I don't know much about the history of this photo. I found it while cleaning out their house, preparing it for market to sell since we couldn't really deal with having the upkeep and maintenance of a house over 350 miles away.

I remember coming across it and stopping in my tracks. I had to smile. They looked giddy. Or drunk. I don't know which.

They're so young in this photo. From the date stamp of May 1970, I know my dad to be three months shy of his 21st birthday. He's roughly 8 months older than my son is today. My mom is 28. I met Keith when I was 28. Funny thing about the parallels.

And then I realize, she's pregnant. With me. And a beer in her hand. Um. That explains some things. ***UPDATE/DISCLAIMER*** In my mom's defense, it was a different time then. They didn't really know about fetal alcohol syndrome and all that. Plus, she was probably only barely pregnant, maybe 6-8 weeks pregnant, so she may not have known for sure yet. Okay, carry on...

I'm sure this was taken at a bar. Did you notice the nudie pic on the wall behind them? Let me point that out to you so that you can avert your eyes. I vaguely remember my mom saying that one of her brothers owned a bar near the base in the Philippines where my dad was stationed. I definitely remember her saying that's where they met.

It's strange for me to see my dad with a drink in hand, much less a whole bottle of Stoli's. (Yeah, I knew the brand as soon as I saw it. And?) I mean REALLY strange. I never saw him drink a thing other than communion wine at Mass after the age of about 13. You see, that's when they embraced a holier life. Although, I do remember once almost suffering a cardiac when my dad was visiting me in Dallas. I jokingly asked if he wanted a beer because I had about half a case left over from a party the weekend before and he said, "Yes" ...and meant it. The look of shock on my face provided him with at least fifteen minutes of a good belly laugh. It had to have been at least 25 years since he had had a beer.

Anyway, I think it's fun to see your parents young, full of vim and vigor, just starting out together in life. It's also a reminder that they've lived through it. Sometimes they really do know what they're talking about. Sometimes they really have made the mistakes that are the lessons they're trying to teach you to learn from. I never would have admitted to them that they were right. Now I know better.

Cheers!