Posts Tagged ‘kids’

Little Old Men. 1975

Wednesday, August 13th, 2008

I was shooting a portrait of a friend in her backyard. These boys were watching over her fence. The older boy asked if I would take a picture of him and his brother. Of course I would. But by the time the film was developed, they were gone. They were staying in a foster home and left for wherever foster kids go. I think of them to this day and hope they did OK in life.

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Little Old Men. 1975

Sunday, February 17th, 2008

my-brother.jpg boy-in-his-doghouse.jpg

I was shooting a portrait of a friend in her backyard. These boys were watching over her fence. The older boy asked if I would take a picture of him and his brother. Of course I would. Then would I take one of him in the doorway of their new doghouse. Sure. But by the time the film was developed, they were gone. They were staying in a foster home and left for wherever foster kids go. I think of them to this day and hope they did OK in life.

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A Boy & His Dog

Monday, February 11th, 2008

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I came from kind of an unusual family. Although we all loved each other, we weren’t exactly what you’d call sentimental nor traditional nor demonstrative. Birthdays were celebrated on the closest Saturday – so as not to interfere with school. It was our choice when to open Christmas gifts. If you got a book, you could read it before you opened the next present – your choice – it really didn’t matter. When we closed down our old family home in which my Father lived, we found Christmas presents he never opened at all. Some were over 20-years old.

Once when T. and I left the house after visiting my Dad, he gave her a big box of old photos, through which, I’m sure, he never looked. When we got home, she sat next to me looking at the old pictures as I read a book. She came across the picture above.

“You never told me you had a dog when you were a kid!” she excitedly said. I vaguely remembered the dog; I think it was supposed to be part German Shepard or something.

“Oh, yeh,” I said, and went back to my book.

“Oh, yeh? ……….. That’s it?” Obviously my ‘A Boy and His Dog’ memories weren’t living up to her sentimental expectations. Maybe she watched a lot of TV as a kid.

“What was your dog’s name?” she asked, obviously shocked at my alien role in her early American fantasy. I probably should have just made up a name like ‘Brownie’ or ‘Bill’ or something – but, of course, I would then have to make up a million stories that Old Bill and I shared- so I just said, “I really don’t remember.”

Wrong answer.

“WHAT!?” she loudly said, “You don’t remember the name of your first pet?” She seemed pretty agitated about this. Why? Well, of course, I’d be the last person to ask.

“I’m going to call your Father right now!” she said reaching for the phone, “I’m sure he’ll remember!”

“Right.” I thought.

T. punched in my Dad’s number. I watched her face. After explaining the situation, her brow slid into a furrow. Her mouth opened a bit and she said, “Uh-huh. Oh. Well thank you, Mr. P. Good night, now.” She looked a little confused as she held the phone in her hand without hanging it up.

“What did he say?” I asked.

“He doesn’t remember you even had a dog.”

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Kids?

Wednesday, December 12th, 2007

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