The Only Pictures of My Family


 

As we move toward summer I am reminded of the family slide shows on the patio. We forced our neighbors to attend through offerings of Dad's BBQ ribs and Mom's cheese cake. We had thousands of slides. My brother took all of them after Mom's death with promises to get them copied for my sister and me. He never complied on that promise. The only pictures I have of my family are those I took or those I slipped out from under my brother's greedy hands.

The only ones I miss are those my father never took. The ones he passed taking or printing because they were not the best. I would love to have the one of my brother falling into the Pecos River when he was showing off for Dad. But it is there forever etched in my memory. I have always had that sort of memory. Even now when I post a photo to Facebook I know the ones just before or just after I did not capture in pixels.

And I also do not miss the holiday dinners. I miss being in the kitchen with Mom and my sister as we tasted the dressing before stuffing the turkey or with my father as he made his special BBQ sauce. Or that wonderful Christmas Eve when Mom, Debbie, and I got covered with more icing than the gingerbread house. I know there were no photos of any of those things. Three photographers in the family and no captures of the images in my mind. The ones my brother could never steal from me.

And I remember the arguments over the proper f-stop or how to do a delay shutter for the group photo. And the collapses into uncontrollable laughter when the dogs do something to get into the photo. And looks of panic because we were in terror of one of the dogs knocking over a tripod. No selfie sticks in those days.

And this morning I realized I do not look at the photos on FB of your family memories because they are not mine. And Gary, I do not miss the ones you stole from us. Because I have my own memories of those times.




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