Today’s prompt, from the maintenance department in Gulfport, Mississippi: What is your favorite photo you’ve ever taken?
I am, pardon my French, the sh*ttiest photographer on Earth, and have gotten even worse now that my right hand doesn’t work and everything on Earth is set up for right-handed people. So I don’t have a favorite photo that I’ve taken.
However, there are two meanings of "you’ve ever taken":
- pictures where I’ve held the camera and pressed the shutter
- pictures taken of me
I’m going with the latter.
I have two older cousins from whom I got the majority of sportcoats when I was younger, because both of them had about 5,000 sportcoats in their wardrobes, for whatever reason. In one batch, I received a fedora, and liked it, so Mom decided to outfit Jim and Kip with fedoras as well. And of course, it being the ’60’s, we all had trench coats.
So here we are on Easter morning, circa 1965. It’s colder than a penguin’s backside, like it always was in Chicago on Easter, and we haven’t eaten since early that morning, because in those days you had to fast for three hours before Communion (can’t have Jesus fall into a belly full of Rice Krispies, after all), which meant that, by the time Mom and Dad got their rear ends out of bed barely in time for the 12:15 Mass at St. Ignatius (which was literally one block from home: we lived at 6459, church was at 6559), we hadn’t eaten in almost six hours and were in imminent danger of going into hypoglycemic shock. And Mom decides she wants pictures of us, dressed in our Easter best. So we’re all a little aggravated and want to get in and have breakfast.
I call this picture "The Three Franks," because this was around the time Ol’ Blue Eyes was in his fedora and trench coat phase. And, for the record, I seriously doubt we ever wore the hats again…