A MOTHER’S KEEPER
For a long time, I’ve wanted to have a place to put photographs. Just odd photographs that don’t fit into my blog. The other night, I decided to create a drop-box file for my favorite photographs. About two-o’clock in the morning, I hastily created The Fuzzy Foto. If you’re interested, I’ll be dropping my fuzzies and an occasional sharp one into the Fuzzy Foto box. My mother’s urn that sits on the living room mantle is one of them. I always liked this photo, but I never used it here.
My mother is so much a part of who I am that I am not sufficiently objective to talk much about her. She lived in a separate house across the patio from our house. She lived there for over twenty years before she died. Our life together is a long and, I think, an interesting story that I might be able to tell in episodic fashion. I will think about how to do that. It is not an easy story to tell.
Mother wanted the two of us to have a portrait. That was a few years before she died. This is a photograph of the print on canvas that hung in her house. She liked it. I smile every time I look at it because I can hear my dad saying, “Wait until your mama puts on her hat!”, every time we left the house. That’s what he called the outrageous wig she wore because she thought she didn’t have enough hair. This was a particularly awful one. Her hair was fine like a baby’s hair and as white as the wig … the resemblance ends there unfortunately. During the last years of her life, I cut her hair very short and dispensed with the hat. It was pretty hair. I am sorry that I lost all of my snapshots of her when my computer crashed a few years ago. I remember them, but I no longer have a print record.
I called her “Lucy”.