November 1963

It’s early November 1963. I’m in the fifth grade. Nine years old. At school I’m doing well, especially when you consider that just a year before this, I survived a fairly horrific car accident. My mother nearly lost her leg and ended up disabled for the remainder of her life.

But look at my smile. I’m obviously happy. Okay, maybe I was faking it just a tad. But, still.

I love the details in this photo. I remember that key chain with the faux giant diamond ring on one end. After the accident, I became a latch key kid and so I learned how to get into the house and make myself an after school snack and do my homework on my own.

Look at the ripped pockets of the sweatshirt. Money was tight and there was no one around to take me shopping. But truth is—in those days we had school dresses--and separate of this, after school clothes--clothes we could rip and get dirty.

Oh, and my hair. The neighbor mothers took my long hair as a personal affront, coming at me with a fierce look in their eyes and a big bristled brush, swearing at the tangles as if my messy hair was running down the reputation of the entire neighborhood.

Be sure to notice the clothesline in the background. For some reason I can’t even begin to describe why the clothesline breaks my heart. Perhaps it’s because in those days no one owned a dryer and we all put our clothes out to dry on a line even in the middle of winter. I have memories of pulling in flannel pajamas on the line, frozen stiff, as if a body in rigor mortis resided within the cloth.

My father, Papa Callan, took this photo in early November, 1963. It’s an ordinary moment, but fragile too. Precious. No one could have expected that in just ten days our president, John F. Kennedy, would be assassinated in Dallas, Texas. The teachers came to tell us during class. They were crying as they sent us home from school early.

Creative Friends--The world spins and whirls within you and without you. Everything is happening, all at once. The most you can do is hold on. Try to be happy. Make art. Write a poem. Write a song. Move your body and dance. Tell someone that you love them. Forgive. Take a few pictures to remember the day and make the most of this precious moment.

Love,

Jamie