These photograph were taken of each of us when we were each about twenty-one years old. My husband died at seventy. He would have been seventy-three on March sixteenth of this year. I will be seventy years old on May twenty-first of this year. Our daughter, Kelli, was forty-five years old on February fourth this year. I cannot believe any of us are as old as we know in our heads we are.
These are photographs of photographs taken through glass so they aren’t the best. I am beginning to sound like somebody’s grandmother with a wallet full of photos of her children, grandchildren, great grandchildren (I won’t live to see them) and maybe even her cats. I was struck by the transience of our existence here the other night and photographed these for anybody who might be remotely interested in my little family.
The daughter is wearing her mother’s jacket. I think we still have it around somewhere. Everybody wore that thing. Even Miss Sarah wore it, and she made me wear it to one of her special church banquets held in a fancy club in town. She wanted to inspect my wardrobe to find out if I had something “shiny” enough to do. She talked Dean into going along. I could hardly believe it. That’s a story in itself. I must do one on Miss Sarah. Now, that lady is somebody special whom anybody would have liked.
This may be the only photograph in existence of Dean and Me as very young kids. I think it was probably shot by Dean’s good friend during the summer before we were married. We were married on December 23, 1960 during Christmas break of my freshman year in college. I was eighteen years old and he was twenty-one years old. We eloped to another state to be married by a Justice of the Peace who made us wait until Gunsmoke was over. We could hear the TV show through the wall. What an adventure that was! My parents failed to appreciate the humor.