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I’m guilty of it.

My mother was guilty of it.

Even my grandmother, God love her, was guilty of it.

And do you know what?

You’re probably guilty of it too.

What am I referring to?

Being camera shy.

Yes, yes, I am well familiar with the pang of fear that pierces the heart as someone raises a camera …

What about the hair?

…the lipstick?

…the sloppy clothes?

…the glasses?

Well, no more!

My Grandmother was quite predictable when it came time to taking her picture.  The glasses would immediately come off and then she would launch into the biggest and best smile.

Each and every picture that I have of her (with or without her glasses) is special, and I could spend an eternity looking at them all.

Finally, on our last holiday together, my Mother was a doll and allowed me take her picture, as long as I asked her first.

That was groundbreaking.

I think it was around that time that I have realized that there is no such thing as a bad picture of my mother, grandmother, kids, partner, or anyone else that I love.

Fortunately, neither of my daughters seem to be camera shy.  In fact, they seem to revel in front of a camera, so at least I haven’t scarred them.

And so, I think that I eventually convinced my Mother that when the day comes that she is gone, and as her children and grandchildren look at her photos with her self proclaimed  ‘messy hair’ …  ‘crooked smile’ …. and …. ‘thunder thighs’…

They’re going to say to themselves:

“Damn… she looked good.”

 

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