Pam’s Pictorama Photo Post: A short post today and an unusual one as I don’t think I very often feature photos of my own childhood. However these two have been hovering on my desk for a bit and I have decided to share them. Admittedly it is a bit indulgent; they are largely photos only a family member could love, and not necessarily aesthetically special.

The black and white photo is my mom and dad and sister Loren. I am the babe in arms and according to the date on this, November 1964, I am 9 months old. It was taken in front of my maternal grandmother’s home, with the camera facing away from the house. (I wrote a long early post about my grandmother’s house and it is here.) My apologies to my brother Edward but these were take several years before he was born.

It is a bit rare really to have all of us in a photo as my father, the camera man, usually took the photo. He is wearing a trench coat (I still have one of his Burberry trench coats – they were a constand over the years like his very long Eddie Bauer down coats in the winter.) Dad is not wearing a hat which is very unusual. It would have been a wool cap.

Mom seems to be wearing a long trench coat as well and this was unusual – Dad must have bought it for her. I can’t really see her hair in this but it would have been some kind of longish at that time. Loren is two here, her life long curly hair already in evidence – she’d fight that through her teen years but I, of the straight hair, always liked it. I like this little double breasted plaid coat she is sporting.

Mom holds a chubby me in a fluffy top and be-pom pommed hat. I like this long fall shadow outlining use to the left. No idea who took this picture but I would make a guess it may have been my mother’s brother and this is probably Thanksgiving. I do not believe that wildly finned, white car behind us is ours. I think we may have been sporting a woody station wagon in the day – my family never went in for sporty cars.

The other photo (they were sort of stuffed together in a bit of plastic when I found them) is early color and is Easter Sunday 1966, two years later. My sister, in the pink, and I are clad in unlikely dresses for the holiday. I suspect they were gifts from my grandmother – I almost wonder if she made them but probably not. Our normal attire ran to the indestructible but were were clearly meant to be memorialized on this occasion as properly dressed little girls.

We would have had an Easter egg hunt either out in the yard or, if the weather didn’t cooperate, in the house. The ones in the yard, which I believe were courtesy of my uncle, are glorious in my memory. My (Jewish) father always had Easter baskets for us (usually Russell Stover ones) which were also wonderful. (I can remember a fascination with a soft, lifelike, tiny toy chick someone gave me one year and I was very sad when it got lost in the hustle and bustle of things.)

Loren is looking a bit angelic here although I knew her well enough to say she was probably like she was shot out of a canon two minutes later – and hadn’t even started on a sugar high. These dresses are really wearing us! The fabric comes back as unforgiving even now as I look at it. Oh the bows and flowers! I feel like my hair is a bit of a babu mullet here.

We are seated on a couch that lives in memory as an itchy green sort of flocked fabric. That small bit of flowered wallpaper brings back memories of my grandmother’s living room – and the blinds on the windows behind us were often closed, probably so the furniture wouldn’t fade. It was therefore usually a somewhat dark but not unpleasant room which I spent many hours happily in. A television ultimately found its way into that room in a giant wooden console that included a very fancy radio and record player.

The family would have headed into the kitchen where we would sit around an expanded table (or if the guest list was really big it would have reached through the living room) and as it was Easter there would have been a wonderful cakey homemade bread, fried dough (these were Italians doing this cooking!), ham, sausage and depending maybe my grandmother’s rather incredible meatballs. (I didn’t become a vegetarian for many years yet to come. I have attempted to make a fakemeat version of her meatballs!)

At that time Loren and I were the very first grandchildren of our generation – it would proliferate with the addition of my brother and several cousins over time. Sadly now several of those, including my sister, died very young and are already no longer with us. However, here we are, at the beginning of it all – a twinkle in everyone’s eye for the spring holiday.