Snapshot

Back in the spring of this year, my cousin was in Virginia and paid a visit to me in Arlington. Through the course of an afternoon, we reconnected and reminisced about our childhoods and our parents. She had brought along a stack of old photos, and we talked and laughed while going through them.

You never think about a relative having slightly different memories and/or memorabilia than you do. It came as a surprise, therefore, when I pulled this photo from the pile, a photo that I'd never seen before:

That's my grandfather in the checked shirt, my mom in the white blouse and black skirt, and my dad standing to my mom's left. My uncle and aunt and older brother are in the lower left corner. As near as I can guess, the photo was taken in 1962 (my brother looks like he's about 3). Notice the photo on the far right wall? That's my dad when he was in the Army. I have no idea where it was taken, in which state, or in whose home. My grandpa would have been in his early 50s (holy crap, my age), my mom would have been 22 and my dad 25. 

I love this photo because it's an unposed moment caught in time. It's almost as if the viewer could step into the scene. I wonder what they were talking about - my aunt Judy seems to be saying something, my mother is on her way somewhere. My older brother is perpetually frozen looking at the camera, not knowing that over 50 years later his yet-to-be-born-sister would be wondering what he was thinking. There's a time warp for you. Discuss.

R thinks it's pointless to think this way, to wonder about things for which you can't ever possibly know the answer, but I think it's fascinating. It keeps things in perspective and makes me stop and consider. We're all guilty of seeing people as though they're one-dimensional, without substance or nuance, as if in a photograph. Many times we don't consider the potential inner struggle of strangers or friends or coworkers or family. We all know they exist, but we're completely engrossed in our own story, with our own three dimensional, fascinating lives, to pay attention to the depth that might lurk in others. We assume that that single glimpsed moment is the sum of their lives.

Of course it isn't true - for others or for us.

Sometimes it's helpful to have a reminder that there's always more to the story than what we see in a moment. No, I don't know specifically what my family was experiencing in the exact moment the 1962 photo was taken. But I know a little about the struggles, heartaches, and joys that were theirs - details that the photo can never show. And if I can draw the line between those two points - the image and the reality - surely I can understand that all people deserve a little compassion, a little understanding, a little forgiveness.