Brava

June 2013

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laugh " " Other indignities committed against photography by mother dearest include … shooting directly into the sun, and extreme close-ups of the cat. She managed to get red eye in pictures of things without eyes. Picture This…um, who or What is It? By Laura Gallagher I've been trying to organize our photographs for years and it's becoming more and more daunting as time goes on. My first effort started a few years ago, when I put them all in grocery bags labeled: Us, Just Pat, Just Me, Pat's Family, My Family-Mom's Side, My Family-Dad's Side, Friends and Coworkers, Pets, Rock n' Roll, Vacations…you can see the flaws in the that plan right away, can't you? Yeah, not sure what I was thinking there. What if it's a photo of us, on vacation? What if it's a friend holding one of our pets? Good heavens, the mind reels. So I gave up on that and just dumped 'em all into a Rubbermaid bin, which made it really fun when you wanted to, oh, I don't know, find a specific photo. I then decided that I should maybe cull the herd, as it were. For some reason I was keeping Any Photo Ever Taken of Anyone, Ever, which included: A whole lot of my relatives. As the youngest (by far) in the "oldest" generation on both sides of my family, I've "inherited" several hundred pounds of black and white or sepia pictures of long-dead aunts; uncles; grandparents; third-cousins-once-removed; dogs that have been dead for more than 60 years (all seemingly named "Jigs"); the godparents of the above aunts, uncles, and cousins; Christmas trees at the above aunt's, uncle's, and cousin's houses; dogs in front of Christmas trees; cousins with dogs in front of houses at Christmas time; and my dad as the weirdestlooking toddler you ever saw. Don't get me wrong—he grew up into a handsome guy. But as a little kid he looked like he had that premature aging disease, and it wasn't helped by the fact that my grandparents dressed him in astonishingly goofy outfits, like jodhpurs, Polish folk costumes, and (I swear) a leather aviator's helmet. Not at the same time, but still. 80 BRAVA Magazine June 2013 Not a lot is known about extended family on my mom's side, so I've got a bunch of pictures of really cool looking American Indians—with no clue who they are. In fact, a lot of the pictures are really cool looking in that '40s-'50s black and white, stylish, Rat Pack-y way. But I've got limited space and as much as I really loved my Great Aunt Tina, I have no need for her high school graduation photo. Unless it's to win a really specific bet—"Ha! As you can see by this photograph, I did have an Aunt Tina, and she did, in fact, graduate from high school! Pay up!" Us with musicians who never became famous. OK, the pictures of us with Cheap Trick, Sting and Pearl Jam stay, of course. But I'm not sure who that dude in the black leather jacket (narrows it down, right?) is. Was he that guy, in that band, with the other guy who had been in that other band? My mom's attempts at photography. My mom loooooved taking pictures. The only exception was when I was in a play, a dance recital, violin recital, etc. She said she didn't want to be squinting through a viewfinder—she wanted to watch me. So, in all my years of dance, music, and theater, there is one picture of me dancing. Oh, did I mention my mom sucked at taking pictures? So in that one picture I'm bending down doing a little toe-touchy thing; you can't even see my face. Other indignities committed against photography by mother dearest include: thumbs on lenses, subjects blurred beyond recognition, odd framing, shooting directly into the sun, and extreme close-ups of the cat. She managed to get red eye in pictures of things without eyes. Her "signature," if you will, was the Don't Just Stand There, Do Something photo. This yielded yearly "First Day of X Grade" pictures of me in what looks like mid-tumble down the porch stairs ("Pretend you're walking down the stairs!"). It's also the cause of one of my favorite pictures of all time: me and the neighbor kids, each holding completely random things. I've got an umbrella, Carrie's got a toy coffee pot, David's got a stuffed bear, Cheryl's got a doll, and Joey—bless his heart—has a box of Dash detergent. No, I don't know why. That one is in focus and nicely composed, by the way. And it ain't going anywhere. ••• Laura J. Gallagher is a longtime communications professional. When not teasing her husband, Triple M's Pat Gallagher, she is on Facebook at the Laura J. Gallagher page!

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