My family of origin consisted of Papi, Mami and six of us kids. I was am the youngest of this brood.
Here I am celebrating my 4th birthday. New dress, clean curls, birthday cake and a professional portrait that captured the moment.
When I was a very young child in Cuba, my parents would have a professional photographer come to our home in order to photograph the child whose birthday was being celebrated. Sometimes the photograph would include all of the invited guests.
I’m grateful that they did this. We have some beautiful portraits of us at each special event. There’s just one small problem: We were never photographed together.
So, to recap, we had a professional photographer visit our home at least six times a year. All of us were dressed in our party finery and yet, my siblings and I were never photographed together. I know. I’m still not over it.
There’s not one photo of the six of us together before 1971 (which is when I got my first camera and took care of the problem myself, but that’s not important right now).
We’ve all questioned my mom over this lapse. What was she thinking? Or not thinking? She’s never been able to give us a satisfactory answer. C’est la vie.
I know I’m in total reaction to this familial faux pas, but whenever the six of us adults are together, I make sure we capture the moment.
I don’t think that’s a bad thing.