This picture makes me want to laugh. Notice the “want.” I don’t quite—laugh. I can’t say why exactly.
Maybe it’s that I look so much like a dork in training or somebody entering the awkward age, which I was about that time. I usually never wore pants like that, and where the hell did I get that hat and where the hell did the parents find those glasses.
Talk about uncool. I remember I liked that windbreaker and zipping it clear to the top.
Maybe it just seems a really good picture of a dysfunctional fifties family. The tall boy clearly is a loon; the one with the broken arm looking too happy, and all set off by that little fellow to the right—brother Dave–eyeing the world somewhat suspiciously from under his parka.
That’s great. His head is sort of in and out of his parka. Clearly he is checking things out. He liked that parka and wearing it with the hood up whenever possible.
And then there’s the old lady, looking a bit reserved and a bit detached from the loon kids, but looking a bit daft herself.
The old lady there is Aunt Daisy. I remember she came out for a visit. She was one of Grandfather Tingle’s sisters, I do believe.
We appear to be out on another outing; probably we were showing Aunt Daisy a good time by taking her down to the docks in San Diego. Those docks are all tourist stuff now. Back then there were warehouses and navy boatyards. I think we had gone to see a boat that day; maybe that was the day we went to the submarine. Maybe that’s why I look happy. I enjoyed walking through the submarine and wishing I could linger because the place seemed really cozy. A submarine seemed like a real good way to get away from it all.
The American Flag back there maybe was sticking up to mark the way down to the Submarine.
God, do we look like hicks from the sticks or what?