Friday, November 20, 2009


Today's post was prompted by an article in the Grand Forks Herald. It had to do with high school seniors and their year book photographs, or is it just there senior picture. The girl represented wanted to remember she was into a book series.

Now, I haven't seen a year book for a number of years so I don't know if some guy could use a picture of himself standing by a car wearing a tuxedo with a six foot long scarf around his neck. I do know the year books of the era of my children were head shots, although none of the three chose that as their best. Rachel was leaning on her hands surrounded my her hair. The picture was soften a bit; it is very nice. Bud posed in his favorite shirt and Ryen in a tee with a completely white back ground.

There were no options like that when I was going to school. Most of us went to Neal Fox Studio in the basement of the Elks Building at the corner of LaBree and Third. It smelled of photo chemicals and rain, snow, or hail may have messed with the back combed hair but Mr. Fox could fix that in processing.

My friend Barb and I went there on a misty evening. My new perm, something mother insisted I do each fall, was still tight. There was no teasing of it because it was too curly. I probably only had my hair like that once; the night of the pictures.

I was going steady with someone from Indiana at the time but rings on chains were not allowed. What was allowed was some big cheesy smile like you were smiling at some hunk. Mr. Fox was a lot of things, including a great photographer, but he was too old, (it seemed) to be a hunk. So, how do you grin up? I didn't.

How I wish I could have had a picture that represented what I was at that time. It would have probably been a picture of me and Suntan, the palomino mare. OR it might have been the '53 Chevy I named Ragdoll. Maybe I would have posed with McGregor, the Scottish terrier.

Maybe I would have been sitting in my car, looking out the window with a glint in my eye like the devil made me do it with hair looking like a wind storm hit it. My hair, shortly after the picture was taken, was cut off, only to grow out with remarkable speed. Or maybe I would have been feeding Suntan a sugar lump. But it wouldn't have been sitting in the Fountain Cafe watching someone eat French Fries covered with mustard.

My question to you is, what would you choose?


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