For Kris -or- A post within a post

I'm a writer. I've always been a writer. It was that statement exactly, on the night I met my husband and after a bit of small talk about what we "did," he actually said to me: "But you've always been a writer, right?" I truly think it was that innocent (but oh so very insightful) statement that made me turn and look -- really look -- at him. And think, "hmmm...now that's interesting, how did he know that?" It could even have been what made me start to fall in love with him...

I digress. Blogging. And Kris. That is what this one was about. And the fact that for so very long, even though I knew about blogs and blogging (which have been around since '95!), I had ignored them -- and their function, their power for one such as a writer. Perhaps even deliberately (earlier this year, a friend of mine had asked me with a touch of scorn in his voice, "you're not going to start one of those mommy blogs now, are you?" I scoffed, and answered with complementary, condescending scorn, "Pfffbbb, no, of course not!").

My friend Kris changed that. Completely, suddenly, after one innocent (and yet again oh so very insightful) statement. I had written her a quick note about a picture of her lovely grandmother, who had recently passed away. Her one-line (dare I say life-changing?) response was, "Girl, if you're not writing for someone besides [your employer] -- at least a blog! -- you should be." And I sat back in my chair after reading it -- totally struck still -- and knew she was right. So this one's for her. And here's what sparked it all....

I saw a picture of my husband's grandparents a few years ago. It has lived in my memory ever since -- it's so provocative, almost the very essence of the word. And it was this picture that I thought of when I saw a very similar shot of Kris' grandmother....and here's what I told her:

There’s something to be said for seeing pics of our parents and grans with they were young -- especially folks of a certain age who grew up with those black and white/sepia-toned shots, and a certain style of clothes, a certain mindset about life -- shots like these blow me away.  I think it's because we are so accustomed to only seeing our rents/grans as “old,” and it always floors me to really see how truly beautiful or handsome they were when they were young -- ESPECIALLY during those times between the 40s & 50s…they all look like James Dean or Rita Hayworth -- and they make it look real, convincing, and somehow totally unattainable for you and me. It makes me love them even more somehow….

When I first saw this photo of Jim's grands, I honestly could not stop looking at it. Look at them -- she's got the model walk, her hat, holding her hand just so...he's got that star-struck look on his face as he gazes at her, hand fashionably in his pocket, like he just stepped out of a spread in GQ. The beauty, the undeniable glamor of this photo, the unconscious grace -- these are things that the people of our generation can never duplicate. Not totally. That art has been lost somewhere as the world grew up. And this shot wasn't posed -- they were just caught on the street. On film. What luck for us...

So, Kris. Thank you. Thank you for making me think of this photo. For making me remember that I was a writer. For helping me expel my prejudice against blogs in general. Thank you for giving me the (needed) literal kick in the bum to start being a writer again. Thanks for reminding me to write. This one's for you.