We’ve all heard the adage “a picture is worth a thousand words”. The saying was first used in advertising in the twenties, but even now the wisdom of it is a powerful reminder that art and photography often evoke much more emotion and tell more of a story than anything we can write or say.
I experienced that truth this week when I pulled this photo out of a box of photos recently given to me by my brother. You may recall that I lived a very transient life as a child. My father changed jobs a lot. We moved to work in the fields. We moved to find cheaper housing. We moved for better opportunities. We moved…
It isn’t surprising that my brain has no memory of some houses, and I can only conjure up brief glimpses of others. However, I learned from seeing this photo that sometimes our memory just needs the right key to unlock its secrets.
When I was ten years old my father and uncle worked on a dam project in Georgetown, Texas. We lived in a four-plex and my brothers played “Army” in a lot behind us. Dad took us out to the job site a few times, usually to see large dens of rattlesnakes they had uncovered and destroyed. My aunt and uncle lived in a house nearby.
One of our neighbors was a child my age, but smarter than I ever thought about being. He was already in high school. My brain isn’t sure, but I believe he may have lived with his grandfather. I don’t recall there being a woman in the home. I do remember that green roses grew by their steps, most of one room inside was devoted to a collection of National Geographics, and I was allowed to visit, so my mom must have considered the man to be a good person. The boy, whose name I can’t recall, tried in vain to teach me to play chess. We did have some long discussions about some of the places featured in the magazine. We longed to visit Australia and Africa.
The neighbors directly next to us consisted of a husband and wife and baby boy about nine months old. I remember that she cooked some foods I’d never heard about. (They were from some European country.) She made huge batches of apple strudel that she rolled out on their metal kitchen table. I can almost taste those delicious treats even now! She needed to go shopping one afternoon and asked my mom if she thought I was old enough for the responsibility of staying with her son. Mom assured her that I’d had lots of practice with my brothers and that she would also be available if I needed help. I remember feeling a little nervous, but everything went well.
I don’t remember who lived in the third apartment. Perhaps some single person without children or someone not interested in the neighbors.
Other memories and events of that time come to mind as I look at this photo. It tells the story of year in my life. That makes it priceless!
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