The Family Photo

Late in November, I sent out the message to all our children and grandchildren that since we would all be together this year for Christmas, we should make a “Family Picture.” For years, I have admired and saved all of the family photo cards we receive. I have a scrapbook of them and so I can chronicle the growth of our friends, grandchildren and assorted dogs. You can see, I am really in the spirit for this. “Everybody, bring a white shirt and jeans, so we can all match.”
I know I am on thin ice with that request because just to get here with their underwear and shoes is a real task for those who insist their husbands and children pack for themselves. However, I have declared this a stress-free photo shoot; if you don’t match, I don’t care. Celeste will use her new fancy camera, and all will be well.
The assigned day arrived the day after Christmas at 8:30 a.m., on our front porch. We were looking for the magic time when the sun wouldn’t make us all squint and would, at the same time, light our faces to reveal beautiful smiles. Of course, you know disaster is looming because I had made a pronouncement of stress-free photography.
The “Tally Halls,” so called because they live on Tally Ho Lane, arrived right on time, since they had to come from offshore, and the rest of us were all together at our house in Wildwood Crest.  
They arrived dressed and smiling in white shirts, jeans, and in five inch heels. Only the baby, Conrad, was miscolored in a light blue shirt. That fit easily into my scheme of “I don’t really care – just show up and smile.” The in-house family was still scurrying around trying to round up children, shirts, shoes and infant babies who had been up all night. Grace is always dispensed to the mothers of newborns.
The college-age twins were ready; the North Carolina family looked great in their attire and gathered on the porch for Celeste, our director and photographer, to place them in their spots. Art and I beamed over this wonderful gathering of our progeny.
The tripod was long in place, the camera was attached, and the fun began. Conrad, who is an adorable two-year-old, thought this was a great time to play escape artist from his mother who was sitting on the steps. Collin leapt over the porch railing to capture the curly-haired boy.
Nestled back in his mother’s arms, we proceeded, “Move over a foot. Cover that empty flowerpot. Balance with Keith on the other side. Benjamin, sit by Sol. Anya, I can’t see you! Where is Judah? Hurry because Conrad is trying to get away again.” (He thinks it’s a game). Now, Uncle Keith made a leap for the laughing toddler.
Finally, with the fancy camera in front of us and everyone somewhat still and smiling, the ultimate indignity occurred – the camera could not make contact with Celeste’s phone! I may have it wrong, don’t ask for an explanation. I didn’t get it and I didn’t ask, but after taking a few eye-squinted shots, we dismissed ourselves for the day. Celeste soldiered on with making sense of what was wrong and how to fix it. She is indomitable and will triumph yet.
Later that night, we gathered again around the tree with another try at “The Family Photo;” this time, she used her phone’s camera. Again, we were disorderly, dressed in our mismatched comfort clothes and trying to corral unruly little ones.
“Click, click, click, smile, cheese, click, don’t move – just one more. Celeste is working her magic on the pictures – taking a headshot from this one and replacing a fuzzy image and erasing an intruding table edge. When she finishes we will have a memory and maybe a next year‘s Christmas photo.”
In all of that effort, she never lost her cool, nor her optimism that The Family Picture was a thing we could do. Long live Celeste and the idea of success against all odds.