I received an email recently that caused an instant flashback to grade school days. It was from on high saying we were going to have headshots and a group photo at work. Ah, picture day,. A day I haven’t experienced in a very long time. And honestly, I could live a lot longer without.
Likely that has to do with some emotional scarring that occurred sometime around the third grade. The notice came warning me and notifying my parents that it was time for those wonderful school pictures. It wasn’t that I didn’t like to have my picture taken. Rather, the prep that parents for some strange reason demanded. You had to wear your “good” jeans and at least a golf shirt if not a regular shirt with buttons. Ugg…what third grader has time to deal with buttons. It wasn’t that I didn’t know how to use them, it’s just that inevitably I would misalign them making the shirt a bit of a sideways mess. Here’s the kicker: school photographers rarely care or even notice such issues. You know who does? Moms. That’s who.
In true fashion, I failed to give the note to my folks in a timely manner. Instead, I delivered it the day before the big shoot. It seems that not only do you have to wear ridiculously uncomfortable clothes for these things, you also have to get a haircut even if you don’t need one.
At that time, my father was the family barber for my brother and me. One of the two skills he learned in the Navy was how to cut hair. He figured that it would be a skill he could use to earn a living should all else fail. The other skill was codes and signaling. Although the Navy did train him to be a barber, they found he was more useful as a signalman on a destroyer. That’s why the only close shaves he saw during WWII involved U-Boats and Zeros and not faces.
Mom wasn’t sure when Dad would be home so she took matters–and scissors–into her own hands. Back then I had bangs which at the time were almost covering my eyes sheep-dog style. That just wouldn’t do and the snipping began.
I’m not sure if I was holding my head to one side or if she was holding hers to one side. All I know is she cut the bangs so that they were much lower on one side. It was as if Zorro had swished his blade diagonally across my forehead. Just call me Sideways Bill. This was just too much for little Billy (aka Chunk) to take. My brother had played football for one season and still had his helmet rolling around in the basement. I rammed it on my head in an attempt to save what little dignity I had left.
I was talked out of wearing the helmet for the photo and after a good night’s sleep and a breakfast of Cap’n Crunch, I pretty well forgot about my lopsided hair style. That is until about six weeks later when “the envelope” arrived. That’s when I learned pictures don’t lie (except on social media).
I am pretty sure my mother had forgotten about the sideways slash she inflicted on my hair. I only base that on the look on her face when she saw her handiwork captured for posterity by Olan Mills. I can’t say for certain, but I’m not sure that those wallet size photos they ordered ever made it into anyone’s wallet. If they did, they were likely never shown. I’m just glad that social media wasn’t around, otherwise instant meme. And not a good one.
I can’t say where those or any of my school photos are. Likely discarded, I hope. Even if I had that one fateful photo, copyright and self preservation would prohibit me from sharing them online.
School photos certainly change from my days on the scholastic runway to when my children were mugging for the cameras. They had choices of different backgrounds including the one with lasers that I’m sure were popular with quite a few budding young Jedi.
One of the things that got me about picture day even as an elementary student was the way they pose you. I can still hear the instructions.
“Now sit on the stool and twist your torso to the left. What’s a torso…uh that’s your body. The part with the arms attached. Okay, twist your head to the right. Now raise your chin and crane your head as far over your shoulder as possible. Good. Now look this way. No, don't turn your head. Just move your eyes. Now smile and look natural.” Natural? Only if you’re trying to look like an accident victim.
I suppose they still take school pictures. I don’t know why. With cell phones, social media and selfies, do we really need more pictures? Maybe kids could just submit a selfie.
They say a picture is worth a thousand words. But when it comes to that fateful third grade portrait, the only words that come to mind I can’t publish.
