April 1
 
 

 
 
 
 

You know, I've started and stopped writing an entry about this photograph for an hour or so.  I find I'm not quite sure what I'd like to say about it.  My grandmother found it in her things a while back, and had copies made for everyone.  It's sort of inconcievable to me that this photograph is more than 60 years old.  60 years!  I love this photograph, and I love photographs from that time.  To me, my grandmother is lovely, perfect, and Angelo looks a little like someone who'd throw a punch in a bar because someone jostled his beer.  He is not a smiler so much, even now.  I am not sure whether they were married when this photograph was taken, I assume they were because of his sailor suit.  I do not believe my grandmother is even 20 years old.

When I was a child, I'd see photographs of my grandmother, young and glamorous and knew that she was without a doubt the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen in my entire life and wished and hoped that I'd be even a little bit the same way.

Visually, I have grown into neither.  Small things, borrowed from everyone make me who I am now.  My grandmother's nose.  My grandfather's coloring.  More, I am parts of their personalities.  Pragmatic and stubborn.  Fatalistic and passionate.  Generous and secretive.

Really, I wanted to just post the photo without any explanation or words, and I almost wish I had because I am still struggling.  This photograph makes me wistful and happy, both.  It makes me love my grandparents even more, if at all possible and again, as always, it makes me enormously humble and thankful that I still have them around.
 
 

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