One of the challenges I’ll face this year when digging through old photos is that many years ago, my mother gave David and Debby the photo albums with the pictures documenting their lives. So short of traveling across state lines with a computer and a scanner, I’m limited to what she kept and what extras of my siblings I can find in the photo album she made for me.
For example, when Cousin Rachel married Charles, I have a vivid memory of my sister wearing the long white dress my mother made her so she could be a junior bridesmaid. And I don’t remember what my brother did in their wedding, but I’m pretty sure he was all adolescent Cary Grant in a white dinner jacket, black pants, and black tie.
What did I do in the wedding? I’m glad you asked.
NOTHING. I was shut.out. And this after I had learned from Cousin Rachel not to chew my tomato sandwich with my mouth open! I had ETIQUETTE. And after she and Charles had once traumatized my delicate self by taking me to the drive-in on one of their dates, where we saw a scary, suspenseful movie (and don’t think I’ve forgotten that scene where the tortured heroine runs over her rotten husband again and again!). And even worse, I had expressed my intention to grow up and marry Charles. Way to RUIN MY LIFE, COUSIN RACHEL.
Actually, for that weekend, I enjoyed my time with my parents. While the others were busy doing wedding stuff:
I did my Esther Williams pose.
And my Evita pose.
My parents often said that wherever we went, I always disappeared for a while after our arrival. I’d then come back and tell them where they could find the ice machine and the Coke machine, details about the desk clerk’s family and background, the hours the pool was open, what the story was on that station wagon full of people who’d arrived just before us, and how to get extra towels.
Imagine what I could have told them if I hadn’t been such a shy child?
World-class accommodations in Columbus, Mississippi.
Long gone.
An old post card I stole from the Internet.
Keep ’em coming! It’s been fun and touching to read about your family and childhood, and seeing all the great pictures. That motel is so bad-ass! Don’t you love seeing the old signs too, like that Texaco behind the pool?
PS: I sported that Cary Grant look for my senior prom in ’84.
Thanks! YES, I totally love the signs, both at the Texaco and the motel. Just the design of the motel is so evocative of that period. I also love looking at the cars in the parking lot–none of them is our car, though it will make its appearance sooner or later.
I NEED to see a photo of you being all Cary Grant. I’ll bet you were dashing.
i agree, keep em’ coming. i have enjoyed reading and viewing your photographic memories. really, thanks becky!
Thank YOU, Geri. I’m glad you’re enjoying them. =)