Picture, Picture on the Wall

The childhood home I lived in some 40-60 years ago was like others I had seen, reflecting the personalities our parents.           

My mom’s decor choices were bold, as was she: red kitchen flooring, reddish/orange shag rug and similarly colored tweed upholstered furniture. Her passions were sprinkled throughout, such as her love for travel, her eternal fight for justice, historical novels she could immerse herself in, and her pursuit of beautiful artwork to make our walls pop with color and meaning. 

As unique as I found some of her taste, there was only one big difference between our home and those of my friends: we had no family pictures on display…anywhere.

There was no sign of little Judy as a toddler or playing with her siblings or the doggy or Mama Judy with her kiddies in tow. There was no picture of my mom and dad when they got married or their parents, grandparents or siblings. 

This isn’t a case of Were there even cameras back then?  Yes, there were.

It also isn’t a case of Did they have pictures?  Yes, lots. Older ones were neatly arranged in photo albums and newer ones filled the top drawer of my mom’s bedroom bureau.     

“Why don’t we have family pictures hanging up?” I asked my mom one day, given all the other stuff we had on the walls. 

“That would be indulgent,” she said, clearly showing disapproval.

I said “Oh, OK…” but I didn’t know what she was saying. What on earth did she mean? 

When my kids were in nursery school, I met a woman who sold really cool picture frames, and I bought a few. That was back in the day when people used film cameras, not their phones, so I always had a lot of pictures lying around as I’d get double prints made from each roll and distribute to the grandparents.

I would rotate pictures in those frames, never having more than one of each child at a time, because I couldn’t shake my mom’s comment about indulgence.   

Interestingly, on her 80^th birthday, my mom’s best friend Bea gave her a framed picture of the 3 Musketeers – my mom, Bea and Sylvia – who were besties for some 70 years. I was so curious what she’d do with that. Was she going to hide it in the drawer with all the photos I gave her, or was she going to hang it up?     

Next time I visited my mom, I was pleasantly surprised that the picture had been hung on the dining room wall. This meant she’d pass it every time she left the kitchen and would hopefully experience pleasant feelings multiple times a day.           

In my current home, we don’t have pictures on the first floor, other than of Matthew, David’s son, with 2 Mets players that David and Matthew met on one of their baseball trips. They are on a dining room wall, positioned so that we can see him when we come in the front door and as we walk around the house.

Upstairs, we have a good number of family and friends’ pictures in different places, and I enjoy them immensely. I wonder if my mom would think it indulgent to have pictures around that only we inhabitants would see.     

About 15 years ago, David took a shot of my mom and me, cheek to cheek. He framed it and gave it to me. I didn’t know where to put it; I knew it wasn’t going downstairs – God forbid she would see her picture when she came over – given my paranoia about her remark. 

He suggested that I place it on my nightstand so that I could look at her every day, when I get up and when I go to bed.    

I wasn’t keen on the idea initially but tried it out. I’m so happy I did.

I love seeing her face and it being so close to mine is an added bonus.