My family never stood straight like boards, with blank looks on their face, for any photo or any moment in life. Each and every one of us would stand with one side of our hips out, with our hands on our hips glancing across dramatically, or in my case, a look of crazed laughter. Or you'd find us draped over something in the corner. Or laying languidly on the beach. A hip here or a shoulder there. It was nothing that we tried to do, just natural stances. What are you doing today "Nothing special. Just the normal languishing in a draped position."
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| Sophie, older sis, middle sis, mom, bro legs. I'm in the oven. |
There she is. Grandma Sophie. I'm sure at one of her parties or seances, she was languidly draped over a green velvet chaise lounge in the corner. That was the mood.
Then there was Dad. He was a well dressed, moody man. Drank pretty hard but it was part of the job. New York sports reporter from the late 30's to late 50's. His specialty was boxing and harness racing. Pretty much walking film noir. Everywhere he went there was a cigarette burning and a glass of scotch. My mom was a hot dame. Mom wore low cut dresses to mass, but she did belong to the Marian Society. Only near her death did she confess that she modeled lingerie at Burlesque shows during the depression. People had to eat. That's how my mom & dad met.
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| Center dude |
They hid it well in the suburbs, but so did everyone else. Mom hid her gin in the laundry basket. Dad hid dirty pictures and Redd Foxx 45's in his handkerchief drawer. On occasion they'd get all fired up & I'd walk downstairs "I'm going out" and there'd be a plate of spaghetti sliding down the wall. My brother fought with them about their drinking and fighting, then get mad, slam the door, go out and get high. A million of these stories all over during these times. I know many families split apart by all the changes going on at the time & a lot of it wasn't funny. Everywhere you walked you heard yelling. There was crap going down all over.
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