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Show EALITYites IPkfiyir pirffecfl? by Chris Westcott Picture perfect? You obviously haven't seen my familys photo albums. My dad caused more bodily damage with his camera than a blind plastic surgeon. When we were kids, it was Dads job to capture warm family moments on film. Poor guy, he had to drag :hat Brownie camera out of the closet three, maybe four, times a year. The warm family moment heated up considerably when Mom did her job - The Kid Roundup. Luckily, she was nccr any good with a lasso. And, of course, it was our job to make it as difficult as possible for them both, finally, after a good run through the living room obstacle course, panting and sweating. Mom got all four of us backed into a corner. Then the Pleating Kids (Quartet would perform: Quit touching me! (Poke, pinch, kick.) Mooooom! (bump, jab, shove.) Make him stop touching me! Our repertoire was quite extensive and before long, Mom joined in, too a growl here, a hiss there, even a percussive slap now and then. saying a word. It was too good to be true; it was like having our ow n Buckingham Guard. Caught up Palace Unbelievably, in the Dad ignored the mayhem erupting right in front of him. Peering intently into his camera, he just stood there grinding his jaw. Directed by Mom to take our picture, he didn't care how it came out, he was just following orders. Eventually bored with annoying Mom, wed start making faces at Dad. He still just stood there without - moment of mugging at Dad with impunity, wed foolishly forget all about been screwing around Mom. While with Dad, Mom became possessed by the MGM lion. Lunging and roaring, Shut up and smile, dammit! she stunned us long enough for Dad to snap the picture. Of course the flashbulb didnt fire and we had to start over. The developed photos were interesting. Dad always managed to cut off our heads in the pictures. Poor photography technique or a deep subconscious yearning? We were just a bunch of torsos with legs. We identified ourselves by the shoes we were wearing. Periodically Mom decided we needed a picture with heads. So off we headed to Kmart or Sears for an Official Family Portrait. Sure, we all had heads, but now we ended up with odd black shadows hanging out our noses like patients in a nosebleed ward. All those Official Family Portraits arc still hanging in the hallway. We call it Nosebleed Alley. w-c- d Mimm m, INDIQOyRU.flHflL BE kOBERTION SAM BUSH BRUcIMW1 pm; Sat. noon-- 4 pm with The World Cafe at noon Mon.-Wed- .; Putumayo World Music Hour on Thurs.; feature CD on Fri. All around the Four Comers on your FM dial: Mon.-Fr- i. Durango 9 am-- 4 90.189.5 IgnacioBayfield 91.3 CortezMancos 89.5 PagosaFarmington 105.3 Dolores 91.9 For a complete program guide call 18 b Cross Currents - May 19, 2000 Gallup KGLP 91.7 563-025- 5. instead of being behind it. Mom looked wild after The Kid Roundup even though it was only a three kid rodeo now. And my siblings were as creative as ever showcasing various body parts. After the birth of my son, I had a camera permanently affixed to my face. I photographed him doing everything and nothing. He grew up thinking his mothers head clicked and flashed constantly and that she had just one big, black shiny eye in the middle of her face. When he finally saw that I actually had two eyes instead of just one, he was probably 2 about the same time I didnt find him so cute anymore. When I got a camera of my own Mom was thrilled. Poor thing, shed never given up hope that someone in our family would be able to take a picture with heads. Up until then wed just been Budding Boobs, No Boobs, Pot Belly, and The Kid Who Cant Keep His Fly Slipped. It wasnt long before I became our familys photographic historian. Everyone had heads but that wasnt necessarily a good thing: Dad looked totally disoriented facing the lens When my college reunion required formal attire, Spouseman and 1 decided to have a portrait made. We hadnt looked this good since ... well, lets just say we weren't going to get any better looking. He still had some hair and I still had something that could be identified as a waist. Since this was a special occasion, we got ourselves a professional picture-rake- r. The portrait involved wearing clothing wed never worn before and would never fit into again. Instructed to pose with our best features forward, I turned my back to the camera. Hearing the photographer sigh, 1 turned back around, kicked Spouseman, and made a face at the camera. Ah, just like the good old days. Proud of the final product and the fact the photographer hadnt thrown us out of his studio, I presented my mother with copies of various poses to choose from. Handing her a proof showcasing just me, she asked, Who is this woman and why are you giving me her picture? The head probably threw her. Occasionally all of us kids assemble at home and sure enough, Mom hollers at Dad to get the camera. Even now theres still a fair amount of shoving and poking involved as we line up, and of course, make faces at Dad. There, caught on film, are: Lower Boobs, Whole Lotta Boobs, Taut Belly and The Kid Who Still Cant Keep His Fly Zipped. Chris Westcott, freelance writer and multiple paper cut survivor, lives in Durango with her understanding hus- band and son. |