The two photos shown below illustrate perfectly what the problem was between me and Mama. The only thing we had in common was near-sightedness.
Mama, age 12
When Mama was twelve she was the very picture of a blossoming Southern belle. It was 1947 and the U.S. was basking in the post-war glow. Mama studied piano. She attended Minnie Holman Grammar School. She played in the streets of 8th Terrace, Birmingham, with her many friends. She was girly and social and she wore the jewelry from her father's store with style and grace.
When I was 12 I wore the same pair of jeans to school literally every day. (You can imagine what that did for my popularity.) And I don't mean literally in some Joe Biden-literally way, that is, figuratively. I mean literally. Sometimes I slept in them. The holes that developed in the knees perfected them. Mama was aghast. Using her ever-handy needle and thread she patched the holes. This was the only compromise that we could reach. I continued wearing them daily until my body betrayed me and they no longer fit.
From the day I was born until the day she died, my relationship with Mama was about learning how to compromise.
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Comments
I'd say you've got the same smile. Are those bell-bottoms that you're wearing?
I think you two actually show a strong resemblance. But my, oh my, what different eras you represent!