April 29th, 2010
I think I can put the whole homecoming thing to rest with this photo, which is a total mess in more ways than one. I’m sure it’s seen better days and has probably just suffered the ravages of time.
So let me see what I can remember about this awesome portrait. It was the day after homecoming and I, Alan and our family dog, King, a springer spaniel/shepherd mix, are standing in my backyard. We’re holding on to King because the yard wasn’t fenced, and he couldn’t be trusted off-leash. Come to think of it, half the time he couldn’t be trusted otherwise, either. Having grown up together, there was plenty of sibling rivalry, and I’ve always considered King my brother. (He is another story in itself.) I’m outta the pink, so to speak, from the night before and am back in my standard fare…sweatshirt (of Virginia Beach origins), denim bermudas and black ‘n’ white saddle oxfords—ones with red soles—not white *ugh, and sorry if I’ve offended anyone*. Trust me, I’m in saddle oxfords, which I wore all the time…basic cheerleader stuff. (Which is another story in itself.) I think it’s obvious why one of my dad’s nicknames for me was “Birdlegs.” I can’t vouch for Alan’s cheesy jersey, but it looks like something he fashioned with electrical tape for flag football, which, right there, renders it cheesy. And I see one of my mom’s roses there in the background, which appears to adorn…
The hair. Holy cow. The fallout of a bouffant explosion. My hair is usually straight, give or take an uncontrollable wave or two or at the very worst, humidity havoc, but this was unprecedented. Thankfully, all it needed was a good shampoo. Until then, I’m sure #12 and I had a good laugh then agreed that any talk about big hair and makeshift jerseys was off limits.
April 28th, 2010
Here I am, holding back a giggle, probably embarrassed at my getup. This photo pretty much caught the entire costume (sans corsage) for the homecoming hoopla…pink polyester gown with silver sequined trim, pageant gloves, matching shoes and clutch bag…clutch bag, heh. Believe me, the next time those accessories saw daylight, it was on their way to Goodwill. The really girly things were, and have since been, totally lost on me.
Okay, here are Alan and me. Apparently there were two cameras in operation that night, hence the b&w and color. That hair. Wow. I remember my mother taking me to this beauty school on King Street in Alexandria, and for near-to-nothing the students practiced their skills on ya. Whoever did my hair was a real Houdini ’cause believe it or not, my hair was only a little below chin length. That evening everyone asked, “How’d they do that???” I may have answered with two words…Aqua Net. I’ll have to post a photo of my hair the next day…I couldn’t get it to lay flat for anything.
Poor Alan. I think I was the first in a line of high school gals who didn’t have real dates, i.e., boyfriends, and hit him up as an escort. But he always obliged. Lucky us.
December 9th, 2009
Me, with my mom and dad, seated in the small house on Telegraph Road in Alexandria, rented from my dad’s Aunt Hazel. The folks smile easily, but I warily ogle the guy and his contraption set up in our living room as he holds one of my mom’s glass figurines—an elephant, I think—moving it in a dancing fashion back and forth across the front of his face, trying to eek out a smile from me. I was a tough case, so he gave up and captured the moment as was.
It’s my favorite photo of the three of us.
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