That's Susan, John, our cousin Julie, me, and Mary. And Laddie, who was later deported after he bit a neighborhood kid in the face. I have, as usual, been distracted by something off-camera. We are all dressed up in our 70s finery because we are going to the circus. And none of that Cirque du Soleil crap that's all beautiful and magical and awe-inspiring -- no, we're going to the real circus with elephants and trained dogs and scary clowns. And later, on the drive home, Susan, who just loooves cotton candy and is prone to car sickness, will throw up all over my shoes.
Here my siblings and I are posing with our grandparents, who were visiting from Detroit. I loved that dress I was wearing; I wore it all the time. In fact, when I think about my current wardrobe, I realize I don't have a single item in it that I love as much as I loved that dress. Looking at those shoes, though -- whew. I'm guessing those weren't my favorite shoes.
My mother loved this picture of my brother and me. I think it looks decidedly unnatural: I'll bet someone asked us to pose this way. But if you look closely, you'll see that my right hand is curled into a loose fist, which better sums up my childhood relationship with my brother than this photo does.