My brother and me.
My subject matter was always family. “On three… 1,2,3, smile…” Almost always posed, during a celebration, or family vacation. I was the “historian” for my high school choirs. I wonder if the school still has that photo album. I wish I knew where some of the photos I took as a child were. I’m sure they were mostly blurry shots of Houston zoo animals and obscured views of San Antonio from the observation tower.
My mom has boxes and boxes of family photos. They might be in with those—photos taken with my 110 camera, and sometimes with the bulb flash attachment that would wipe out all smiles and blind everyone within a two-block radius — of course I’m remembering the cube and bar flashes. Disposable, of course, flash, pop, burn, flip. I definitely got my want for documentation from my momma.
In college, I took some photography courses where I learned how to use a camera. My subject matter turned to shadows and objects—anything that caught my eye… and my baby brother.
He has always been such a good sport, never annoyed that I always have my camera around, even during the mundane everyday. We’ve lived in cities 1,000 miles apart for the past 15 years, but I always try to make it back home twice a year, even if it’s only for a few days, (not including 2020).
I’ve always said that a good friend lets you take their picture. A best friend lets you take their picture when they’re not looking.
As always, I appreciate all of you—your reads, skims, and quick views. I am grateful to share a little more personal subject this time. Call your brother/sister this week, if you can. 🩶
Lovely chronicle of the love you have for your brother.
Lovely post, Liza.