I don’t know what the deal was exactly, but I have noted that in pictures of me from about 6 to 18 months I am elevated or stuck up on top of things. A fence post in one case; atop a hay wagon in another; on the hood of the Reo, and in another case on the fender of the Reo. Also seated in a wheel barrow. In all cases, my feet are not touching the ground; you might think I had something against earth.
I was being posed in what was perhaps a fad of the era. Put Baby up on something high, and if he is not up on something high, you get down on your belly and point up with the Brownie so it looks like Baby is up high somewhere.
But I am pretty sure this is not a fad, but more a case of Freud’s “His Majesty, the Infant.” Baby is elevated because baby is King. In the infant, Freud says, the adult sees his or her own narcissism reflected back in a way that can be admitted into the light of day. If that’s the case, then Joan, who am I pretty sure was responsible for my various placements, was pretty grandiose since she insisted on my being elevated in Kingly fashion.
But then brother Steve has long claimed that Joan thinks she is the Queen of England.
I for my part did not apparently always like being posed or stuck high up on things.
In this photo clearly I am somewhat distraught at having been stuck in that ugly-assed wheelbarrow, that is not, as I look more closely, a wheel barrow at all but most probably a fertilizer distributor. Possibly I did not feel the fertilizer distributor a truly regal conveyance.