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.
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!