1943 |
My father took this picture of my mother, barely 17, with
his Brownie. When he gave me the print, he said, “Every daughter should have a
picture like this of her mother.” I am still puzzling over that. Every daughter
should have a picture of her mother as a teenager, newlywed, object of desire? What
about every son? He died three years ago at 94, and he can’t tell me. I can’t show it
to her, either; she died almost a year ago at almost 91. I am glad to have my own
Botticelli, a testament to my mother’s beauty, and my father’s ability to see
it. And it reminds me that old people are also young.
Meanwhile, my
mother’s youngest granddaughter, 17, was in my apartment recently and noticed a
resemblance. “We’ve got the same elbows,” she texted. I encouraged her to
restage the pic. The main difference is not in appearance, but in
attitude—perhaps based on the fact that my niece’s picture was taken by her
older sister rather than her newlywed husband.
2018 |
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