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It was the Sunday of Ms. Myers' Piano Recital, and the car in the background belongs to my Uncle Melvin, who isn't really an uncle but for practical purposes of raising children in the south, every friend of a parent becomes an "Aunt" or "Uncle" to increase a sense of 'Family'. He is standing beside the driver's door, giving a semi-profile shot in his best Sunday suit including a feathered old-man hat, and that hideous sick-pink shine is actually the car's color, not some Kodak paper defect. It was a Lincoln Continental, and it was Hideously Large with a loud air-conditioner that still didn't drown out Uncle Melvin's boasting of how he had bought the car almost-new for $5,000.00, because the car salesman was a man who had owed him a favor. Aunt Aura (pronounced "R") is the shadow cast over the hood with the L-wings, like a squat black angel, or a woman taking a photograph. Aunt R was telling Uncle Melvin how silly he looked in the hat with his nose in the air, but he wouldn't drop the pose, and later in the car on the way home she yelled at him to stop telling the price of every item he ever bought. Uncle Melvin had just launched into the story of his white shark-skin shoes, which you unfortunately can't see in the shot but they were admittedly impressive. The blue sliver of an over-puffed skirt to the left, cut off in the photograph, was me. It was my first piano recital, and Aunt R and Uncle Melvin were the ones who came to drive me, to make me feel "special" by arriving at school in a cadillac in the over-puffed blue dress to add my own special spice of Bad Music to the souped-out 12+ child entourage with parents/family flooding into the local school gymnasium. Inside a piano was waiting to be pounded and raped by innocently untalented fingers. I can't remember how old I was in this picture sliver, but I clearly remember Uncle Melvin being much more enthusiastic about the event before it happened than after he had endured its entirety, and Aunt R complaining of a headache. Aunt R told me I was the very best one who played, better than all the older students, and how I would be a great pianist in no time at all, and I chattered about how hard it was to play with both hands at the same time. I don't remember the rest of the day, but seeing Uncle Melvin again with his sick-pink cadillac and pimp-hat makes me wish it had lasted longer, or that the film hadn't run out.
| Beautiful memories, to most who don't understand that life it might seem crazy, but the sick-pink cadillac and the description of clothing is enough to make me smile, the way the discussions were not really fights but rather two people getting on with their differences with the little girl in the back day dreaming about something completly oblivious or just talking to herself really creates the image of the kind of life I always wished to have. ||| Posted on 2010-07-04 00:00:00 | by 5secondsforme | [ Reply to This ] || there are so many things that i love about this! 'cause as you wrote it i saw the picture too. nothing profound here to critique. i appreciated the imagery, how you captured a culture and time period all by describing a photo in the most eloquent way. very refreshing! i like to read stuff like this. ||| Posted on 2010-06-24 00:00:00 | by Sacred Sindy | [ Reply to This ] || 1. ain't christopher moore funny as anything?|
what strikes me, is that the girl in the blue dress is not completely in the picture.
and in a weird way, even though this is a snippet of a photo, it somehow feels like 5mm film running.
over the weekend, i went to my five year old friends dance recital. she was #38 out of 45 routines. we made the best of it, with our own brand of fun (her aunties and i). but as boring (yawn) as these things can be, in a childs eyes the importance of us being there, made it all worthwhile.
i like this. yup. i do.
|| Posted on 2010-06-23 00:00:00 | by isabella | [ Reply to This ] |