A Photo By My Sister


I love my sister’s photography. I think I’m on the beach there and a bit cold, thus the blanket which may have come from Tijuana.  I should grab the context.

She took many, many photos back when taking photos was hard. She knows all the tricks and the F’s and the hoob-a-joobs. Then, when all was done, she would develop the film ( that is something you can touch and feel ) in a dark room with chemicals. I am amazed.  Me?  I take photos, but I am not a photographer.  My camera does so much for me and Kevin clues me in on some tricks.  I upload to my computer and then chuck stuff up on Flickr without tags and titles.

She took a lot of photos of me. Which didn’t influence my appreciation of her work. Nope, not a bit. But I must admit, it’s nice to have some nice photos of me as a child to see how my genes played out in our children.


Z is most obviously a “mini-me.” Only for the dark curly hair and eyes and unbelievable tantrums ( yes, mom, I hear you laughing ). The shot above is a color shot that I black-n-whited and darkened to get the feel of the other photo. Z looks like me a bit. We definitely share and continue a family grump.  Though Brent and Brent’s mum have quite a pout.  We are a double pout family.

Scan 3


Don’t get me started on the metal roller skates.  These were retro-skates because there is no way I was a child before home computers and cellphones and USB.  And damn you Jamie and Sheri for sporting the fancy Fireballs!  You smirk and I perfect my pout wearing a dress for a three-year-old because I refuse to let it go ( see also Lucy Curtis )



If my sister wanted me to smile in a photo, I can remember a time when she said, “Jeani, say ham-booger!”  I laughed.  Damn her!


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