Kendall baby photo

I am fascinated by the baby photo posted by Freespiral in response to Peopletwitcher's Challenge because it tells so much about a time and a way of life that is no more. Looking at hers, I thought of this one of me when I was about two. Not very clear and hardly any larger than a postage stamp, it was taken by a visiting great-aunt with a Brownie camera.

I lived with my grandparents and great-grandmother in genteel poverty in the mountains of North Carolina while my unmarried mother worked far away and sent money back when she could. My grandfather worked in a hardware store and took me with him to the store in the mornings on Monday through Friday while my grandmother was at work as a supervisor of school lunch rooms; he would take me home at mid-day and I'd stay with her and her aged mother for the rest of the day. Nobody was paid a living wage, and it was hard for my grandparents to support me and the great-grandmother; I was aware of their struggles and their kindness. I remember long and painful discussions between them over how the coal would be paid for in winter and what to do when the fridge broke down. I tried to be very good, to cause no trouble, to stay clean and be invisible.

I love this picture because my grandmother's attentions are all over it: the flowers she grew and cut and arranged, the doilies she crocheted, the curtains she made on her old Singer sewing machine operated by a broad carved pedal on which she rested both feet. She had married beneath herself; her brothers were more prosperous than we, and she did so want to be middle class. She did all she could to preserve appearances. I can feel the quiet. We had a radio but only played it at night. No TV, no gadgets. There was one telephone in the hallway, but it seldom rang.

I was sober, watchful, a bit distant from other children. I thought about what I saw, and I loved Little Golden Books, available at the A&P grocery for twenty-nine cents and carted home for me between a head of celery and a can of coffee on special occasions. Never a girly girl, there I am with my legs crossed "like a man." I got into trouble for that throughout my childhood and adolescence. I still do sit like that. And note that my feet are (very carefully) not making contact with the upholstery. How I did try to be good. Still do love to read.

Apologies for the comments I deleted yesterday. I had forgotten to ask permission from the people in the photo, and rather than ask them after the fact, which might be a bit coercive, I deleted it.