Suburban Chicago, November 1965. I remember three things about that day: (1) I had painfully chapped lips. In hindsight, it seems odd that my Parents weren't aware of lip balm. They didn't know what lip balm was until the following summer, when my Godmother explained how it would help me; (2) I was extremely embarrassed by my dorky hairstyle. The horn-like curls on the sides of my forehead were especially loathsome; and (3) my white, home sewn, velveteen dress was much plainer than the dresses of any of the other girls. Now, that would be a good thing. Then, it was not.
3 comments:
Funny what we remember on that very special day! On my Communion Day I remember that I did something wrong (I don't remember what it was) and my father yelled at me. I cried and cried thinking that here I was with the Body of Christ inside me for the first time and I already tarnished it by doing something wrong. I guess sainthood was just not in my future!
Often, I have not thought about an incident for years, and then a photograph, like this one, triggers a bunch of memories.
this picture is so "irene" to me. i've seen that look before and love it. :-)
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