10 February 2006
meet bill and georgia, my maternal grandparents.
bill was a printer (which may explain my love affair with typography) and had his own small farm. he died when I was five, so my memories of him are faint. what I do remember is that he used to get a big kick out of my impromptu tap dancing. I had plastic white dime store sandals that made great clickety-clacking sounds and begged to double as tap shoes. at his request, I danced my little four year-old heart out. this would be my last memory of him-- his slight smile. bill was not one to show a great deal of emotion and so I knew (even at the tender age of four) that his chuckle was not to be taken lightly. I felt as if I'd won a special kind of trophy with his small grin and am girlishly proud of it (even today). besides running a printing shop, he also owned a farm where he lovingly tended apple trees, sunflowers, tomatoes, corn and such. his home-baked bread was legendary as were the lawnmower rides he took all the grandkids on each time we visited. grandpa bill also sent the greatest, most magical packages-- boxes wrapped neatly in brown paper, filled with special valentine, easter, and birthday goodies. my cousin recently reminded me of the time he sent us all flashlights-- which doesn't seem like anything until you remember just how much fun a flashlight can be for a kid. so brilliant, that package full of flashlights. yet there's also a darkness to his past. though now is not the time or place. today I'm all about remembering goodness. he remains a tremendous mystery to me, this photobooth shot one tiny piece of an unsolvable puzzle.
georgia helped bill run the printing shop and sold office supplies on the side. she loved antiques, though-- bought, sold and collected them over and over. (in fact, she just may be responsible for two whole generations of hardcore junk lovers). after my grandpa died, her love for antiques and oddities spilled over into the office supply shop. you could walk in and pick up some legal pads, a nice fountain pen and perhaps an old clock or some fine china. she's a great mystery to me too, my grandma. she's still living, though her mind is not her own most days. I have stunning photobooth shots of her, can't wait to share them here and am saving my words and memories of her until then.
this tiny photobooth snapshot was discovered just recently as my mom was organizing some of my grandmother's papers. up until this point, we had only formal portrait-style photographs of the two of them together, very few candids. I gasped when I first laid eyes on this. I love how shockingly intimate it is-- they're so young and beautiful and well, sexy. so much story there, so much I'll never know. I'll take what I can get though-- forever grateful for this small glimpse. besides, mystery is the stuff from which great imagination is made.
more photobooth friday fabulousness to be found:
my house is cuter than yours
cult of degan
and just in case you missed it, check out ticky tacky's photobooth friday post from last week (here). it's what inspired me this morning.