One of my sisters must have one too.
In this rare family photo (def’n. - rare, adj. uncommon, no one will ever see it again), taken at the “Norwich District High School Fashion Show” - as per my mother’s neat script on the back of the photo - circa 1958, you’ll notice that my older sister Dale and I are tilting our heads toward Mum while wearing plastic smiles. We must have had metal plates up top, and Mum a magnetic force under her hat.
Why else would we be smiling? I for one hated the fashion shows. My true feelings are plastered all over my youngest sister’s face. (Jane didn’t start smiling until she figured out her date for early retirement a few years ago. Now she can’t stop).
And brother Kim? I can’t tell whether he’s happy or sad under that goofy grin.
I’ll soften my feelings for this particular fashion show for just a second. I do recall liking the jacket, cream coloured with burgundy ribs and I think Mum bought it for me. I was wearing it (or something else with burgundy dye in it) during a freak rainstorm and, instead of jumping under the protective awning of a Main St. store in Norwich, I stood - mesmerized - and watched a wall of water from the sky (the wet wall reached from one side of the street to the other; it was blue to gray in colour; it made an unforgettable noise, like a modern street-washing machine) move slowly down the street before me. By the time I awoke to the fact I was getting drenched (the rain felt very warm and fresh), completely drenched, burgundy dye was dripping from my fingers and running across the sidewalk and into the gutter.
I remember Mum’s question to me after she saw my ruined jacket. “Why didn’t you get out of the rain?
I can’t recall my exact answer. Something about a magnetic force controlling my head.
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Please click here to view another Family Photo.
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2 comments:
I was quite a pouter but then you'd pout too if you were wearing a silly hat whose scratchy strings I can still remember under my chin, GLOVES, socks AND shoes (I was a bare foot kinda girl) and carrying some silly looking parasol. Mom tried to make a girly girl out of me but I wasn't having any of it!
Jane, you may get your grim look from Aunt Jessie. Even at her son's wedding (correction - her only son's wedding) she couldn't muster a smile. Just the thought of not feeding a son anymore would have given me the energy to dance the blues away. And it did - twice!
Hippy New Year!
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