This is my family in 1967. My Mom and Dad, my two older sisters (I'm seated at left), and my brother. For a variety of reasons, it's rare to find pictures of us all together. And, of course, in the olden days, it was more of an occasion to be photographed. This was no exception, as it appears we were at a larger family picnic with my Mom's side of the family. I recently came across this photograph when I was scanning a stack of them to preserve electronically. Ever since, I've been intrigued with it.
During this particular summer, my oldest sister Mary Lou (standing, right) met her future husband, who she married less than three years later. At the opposite end of the spectrum, my brother was only three years old and just beginning his journey. The six of us lived under the same roof for only about five years altogether.
By the mid-1970s, my parents ended up divorcing, but went on to long-term, loving second marriages. If you look closely you'll see clues to their relationship near the end of it. My father is a bit buzzed (notice his right hand trying to hide the beer bottle) and attempting to pull Mom closer to him. While she's smiling, to me her body language is all about keeping him at arm's length. This says everything you need to know about their marriage.
My sister Nancy is seated at right. She was the coolest teenager I ever knew and I wanted nothing more than to be JUST LIKE HER. She had tons of friends, was a great dancer and wore the best clothes on her always-slim body. She was three years older than me but put up with me most of the time, letting me tag along with her and her friends fairly often. Everything I knew about being a teenager I learned from her.
What about me? I'm wearing a favorite outfit that was handmade by my mother. It was sort of a long, cotton tunic, worn with shorts underneath. That summer, Mom made two or three of these for me - all variations on the same theme with different material that I'm sure she let me choose. When was the last time you wore something sewn at home from a pattern? This is one of the few domestic talents Mom had, and at the time she often pulled out the sewing machine to make clothes for us.
If I remember correctly (it IS a long time ago), I received my first kiss that summer from a boy named Rick Holthaus, who sneaked out of his house during the night to visit. Because we didn't have air conditioning, I used to sleep on our screened-in front porch, often falling asleep listening to baseball games on the radio. Lo and behold, one night he came by and we did a little clumsy kissy-facing.
1967. It's very likely that our family car was a 1959 Chevrolet (the one with the giant wings on the back), and we didn't have color TV yet. I do recall we had a hi-fi and stacks of scratchy LPs. It also meant that at least one of my uncles was likely serving in Vietnam. 1967 also is remembered poorly for being one of the long, hot summers of race riots in my hometown of Cincinnati.
Always interesting to go back in time and look at my parents when they were younger than I am today. You always think of them as being so much more mature, having their shit together in ways we never will. In reality, they were just doing their best to hold it together to put a roof over our heads and get along. I give them all the credit in the world - none of us turned out to be jailbirds or prostitutes, so I guess we're doing ok. Right?
