I was looking for a particular picture taken of us when we were about 5 and 6, but I didn't have that one scanned.
I did find this, however, and it always makes me laugh.
Carol and I are trying for a little dignity on each end of the row in our obligatory plaid dresses and patent-leather shoes. It must have been Sunday afternoon. We would never have been allowed to wear those except to church.
But the middle two. Words are not enough. My brother Mike and another cousin Bobby. My parents must have blown the whole Christmas budget on just that outfit. No stone unturned. Those pants might have made riding a horse a little iffy though. I'm not sure about what Bobby was portraying, a gangster maybe with the candy cigarette hanging out of his mouth. I'm not sure what he has clutched in his hand. Maybe he took one of the guns out of Mike's holster. Or most probably the packet of cigarettes. He doesn't look in the mood to share. Those corduroy overalls kind of ruin the debonair appearance though, probably red.
I don't remember the particulars of that day, but just one look at Mama's old china cabinet today reminded Carol of the Sunday afternoon when we were playing in the vacant lot behind our house, and Carol fell onto something - a limb maybe - and cut the palm of her hand. Or jabbed it, I guess. It seems it was kind of a star-burst shape, but I guess she had stitches. She still has the scar anyway. What I remember is that when she came over, she already had a cast on her foot from another accident. I think I was envious of the cute little cast - but not the stitches.
Again, nice memories. We'll have to do it more often.
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