In the Sink
My beloved Mammy and I, persons of strong opinions, held some fairly energetic discussions1 when, from time to time, our points of view failed to coincide. The very last of these, in this life at least, took place in the French Mission’s Citroën DS-21 at Christmas-time in 1967. I asserted that Rick was a vastly cuter baby than I had been; Valerie backed me up. Mammy maintained that we had both taken leave of our senses. Pappy held his peace.
OK, you be the judge. Here we are both, Rick (March, 1966) and I (August 15, 1941), each at the advantageous age of six months, depicted under similar circumstances. My likeness, at left, benefits enormously by Pappy’s photographic technique and hand-tinting. Rick’s three images, above, suffer from my amateurish if loving Polaroid skills.
1Let’s not call them arguments
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Updated Jan 2014 [Stan26.htm] Page 35-029