This photo was staged and snapped back when you had to stage a photo—back when photography was a leap of faith. There was no looking at the screen of a phone to make sure no one was blinking, everyone’s smile was perfect, no one’s hair was askew, etc.
My mother is sitting in the arm chair on the far right side of the shot.
This photo is paramount in my lifetime. It has “appeared” in speeches (delivered to small groups), it has been referenced in numerous blog posts (read by no one), and it has harbored a treasure trove of memories that will continue to fuel my written ramblings (read by no one). There is already a vignette from my first novel straight out of this era.
There are two exceptional exceptions, however—Iris and Tammy. Iris was my mother’s BFF and my second mom for a long stretch. Tammy started cutting my hair when she was 18 and I was 12. We grew up together one haircut at a time. Both of these angels moved on to the next astral plane way too early for me. Both were quintessential.
This photo was taken on the cusp on the ’80s. My mother is sitting on the far right. She was “El Jefe”. For 55+ years she ran a wildly successful hair salon that did a whole lot more that haircuts. I asked my mother if I could have it. She dropped it off today on her bi-weekly visit. She said, “If I need to see it, I’ll just stop by.”
These women taught me how to be a man. I grew up in their unique orbit. They were all unique, interesting, wonderful. A handful of them would watch me grow from a kid, to a teen, to a man. Forever, this photo will hang somewhere near where I write. There is so much here, and I’m blessed to have it.
They represent a time when looking sharp was not an anomaly. They were sophisticated beyond their years. They were all strong and sometimes salty women. I spent so much time around them, that I eventually became more comfortable around women than men. This persisted throughout my college days and career. They literally made me the man I am today.
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© 2024 – ∞ B. Charles Donley
Blight of Write 