My raison d’etre to photograph is have/kept an historical record of my family. I failed, though I did what I could. There are precious few photos of us before the 1960’s. They are all the more precious because they are so few. Ha ha, I have about a million pics (not all of family) on external hard drives.
This photo was in the collection of my aunt’s husband and my cousin David somehow shared them. It’s bittersweet on many levels. And the stories? Lost! Everyone has since died. I never thought to really ask about my mother’s life and family. I know even less about my father. In fact, I really only have a single pic that comes to mind (regarding dad). Wistful. Nostalgic. Who will care about my collection when I am gone?
My mother, my aunt, they were dressed in hat and tie. Ummm? Why? Dress up? They’re adults. Bold? Rebellious? It’s so odd. An oddity. I never would’ve guessed. Alas, a story lost.