I have decided to "deconstruct" another vernacular group photo over a period of days. Hopefully you'll find this odd enough to return to see more. In the end you will have all the pieces of the whole. I cannot say if any of the pieces will make sense anymore than I can say that the full image makes sense. It is what it is.
With a theme of shoes at this week’s Sepia Saturday it was easy for me to find a couple shots to fit just right.
Now, we can look at this shot of the ladies and wonder if the photographer had a shoe fetish or was merely one of those folks who always managed to inexplicably cut people’s heads out of the frame. Personally I prefer to believe they were merely a Francophile who couldn’t resist seeing the flag of France in the coats.
Click on any image to see it larger.
When thinking of shoes and feet one must ultimately think of what rises above the feet, the legs. And nowhere is the leg more comical than on a man with just a small gap of flesh showing above his dark socks. It’s not that it strikes me funny in the real world, it’s the world of television where that gap of flesh brings on giggles. I look back on the Mike Douglas show in the late ‘60s and 70s and recall the men sitting in the chairs with their legs crossed, most wise enough to wear socks that would cover the gap, but then you’d see one fellow, hoping to be entertaining and perhaps even cool, and then there’d be that gap, that hairy little gap. That pale, hairy, little gap. I’m guessing this fellow is either nonchalant about his gap or unaware. That little gap can somehow make any man look vulnerable. Their suit of armor cracked.
And thinking of feet and shoes I just have to hear a little of the great Fats Waller.
My time continues to be consumed with caring for my father. A week spent driving back and forth, back and forth each day to the hospital wore me out. The stress of his illness and uncertainty of the future has me thinking back on my childhood and better times.
My father has always been a loving man and my champion.
Here is another photo of Ernie with his daughter. I hope they shared an enduring bond.
Click on the label "Ernie" below to see more posts about Ernie.
I have within the past weeks become a caregiver for my father. I have been down this rutted path before so it’s not all new to me. It is lonely, tiring, and mind numbing. I make lists of things I need to do and while making the list I remember something else to add and quickly forget what it was I was already adding. I must remember to eat along with dole out meds, take care of appointments, and even just get the mail. It is at night when I spend a short time reading before sleep that I have a few moments to remember who I am.
Though again, I cannot fully participate in Sepia Saturday, I did want to post a few images for the theme of reading. All but the first image have been posted in the past, but all are moments of someone enjoying the simple pleasure of reading.
My books are my friends and acquaintances. Some I cherish, some I bitterly sneer at. I feel sorry for those who have no connection to books or bookstores. When I go into a home devoid of books I feel the place is incomplete and empty. Anyone who comes into my home and peruses my large bookshelves will find bits of me ready to be taken from the shelves and discovered.
If you arrived via Sepia Saturday do not feel obligated to leave a comment because I cannot do the same.
This is my submission to this weeks Sepia Saturday. I'm sorry that I won't be able to fully participate, but I had these photos of George Kallman sitting on my computer for several months and felt he needed to be part of the celebration of men with their dogs.
For those who have read some of my posts from the past you might be familiar with the Kallman name. George Kallman was a schoolteacher who died and nobody wanted his family photos so they were given to me. Click on the tag below, George Kallman, to see some of my previous posts about him, his sister Gladys, and their parents.
Tattered and Lost: Buckaroos and Buckarettes is a collection of vintage snapshots for those who remember riding the range when they were kids. These adventures usually consisted of sitting in front of a black and white television or running around the neighborhood with our shiny six-guns strapped to our sides. Our imaginations created entire worlds that never existed. We sang along with our heroes, convinced that with a song in our heart and a six-gun on our hip we could vanquish evil. This book is dedicated to all the other buckaroos and buckarettes who rode their imaginations into the sunset while humming Happy Trails.
CAKES, PICNICS, AND WATERMELON
Collecting vintage photographs starts out innocent enough with a few snapshots here and there, but at some point it becomes a bit more obsessive and you find yourself longing for the next image that makes you laugh or ponder the irrefutable confusion of being human. This book, Tattered and Lost: Cakes, Picnics, and Watermelon, the fourth in a series, shows the quirky world of sharing food from the 1890s to the 1970s in the United States. Sit back and enjoy watching people cut cakes (some people do it with such style!), go on picnics without your relatives, and watch people eat watermelon. Yes, eat watermelon. An odd category for sure, but one sure to make you smile.
Tattered and Lost: Vernacular Photographs, is volume 1 in my self-published books showing photos from my collection. Photographs play off each other on facing pages asking the viewer to come to their own conclusion as to what they are looking at. Included is a photo of the Pennsylvania Railroad S1 steam locomotive, designed by Raymond Loewy, on display at the 1939 New York World’s Fair. And one of the few known copies of a photo taken by Rudolph D’Heureuse in 1863 proving there were indeed camels used by the U. S. Cavalry is included. So take a step back in time and visit with some folks who long ago smiled and said “cheese” never knowing how long those smiles would last.
In need of writing prompts? Looking for a gift for a friend who loves vintage photographs? Tattered and Lost: Telling Stories is now available from CreateSpace and Amazon. Click on the image to find out more!
A new and expanded edition of Tattered and Lost: Childhood. Available at CreateSpace and Amazon. Better price, more pages, larger trim size. Click on the image to read more about it.
To those thinking of appropriating images from my site to use on Pinterest understand you have no legal right to be using them. I ask that you cease this practice.
TATTERED AND LOST BOOK DESIGNS
Thinking of self-publishing a book? Been working on your family genealogy and want to share your research? Click the image above.
Genealogy enthusiasts know that organizing and de-cluttering the vast amount of documents required to create a picture of a family’s history can be intimidating and time-consuming. Sort Your Story is the only organizing tool you’ll need to store all of your important genealogy data in one place. Sort Your Story takes the puzzle pieces of your family history and helps you create a complete picture – and instantly identify what pieces are missing. Click on the puzzle piece to go to the site.
SORT YOUR STORY COMPANION GUIDES FOR MAC AND WINDOWS
What is Tattered and Lost?
Tattered and Lost is about some of the found and/or vernacular photography in my collection.
Unless you're an incredibly organized person you probably have a few stray photos tucked away that you've forgotten about. No matter how many family members or friends say they love you, sooner or later, a photo of you is going to slip through the cracks and end up in the hands of someone who knows nothing about you. Such are the photos at this site.
Photographs of the ordinary by the ordinary.
All photos are from my private collection. They may not be used in any manner without my permission. I retain all copyrights. Contact me if you wish to use one of them. You might be surprised by my answer.
All words are mine. I own them. Okay, well, the person who invented each word owns them. But I own my thoughts. It's about all I own. Don't steal my thoughts.