the gray area

My family has a huge wall of framed family photographs. It started eons ago with my grandparents' parents and now every one of us has such a wall in our homes. It's a requirement. But the one at my mom and dad's is by far the flagship.

The photos are all black and white shots in differing hues of sepia and ashy gray. Some photos are less than a year old and the oldest one was snapped in 1917. It's odd to look at the images scattered all over the wall knowing that everyone there was once alive and walking around and I knew and loved each of them.

My favorite is the one of my grandfather's company bowling team--they worked for the Dolly Madison pickle company (later bought out by Smuckers) and the photo was taken in 1939. All the men are strapping peasant fellows with wide smiles and funny haircuts. My grandfather is handsome, his hair is thick and he is wearing a necktie and suspenders--they all are--his sleeves are rolled up over his strong forearms and he is holding his bowling ball out in front of him as if offering it to the photographer.

Another is a professional headshot of my dad in his military uniform. He is young and gazing brilliantly off into the horizon, airborne wings above the lieutenant bars on his hat, cavalry patches on his collar, silk camouflage neck scarf. It was the year he went to Vietnam for the first time. We call it "the Colonel Kurtz" and whisper "the horror" whenever he pauses to look at himself, circa 1967.

There are pictures of my brother and me at varying stages of our lives; he stands in front of the wall sometimes and shakes his head. He jokingly calls it "the hall of shame." Sometimes my dad stands in front of it, Yul Brenner-ala the King of Siam-like, feet spread apart, hands on hips and proclaims proudly to my mom: "We are responsible for all of this," gesturing to the kids and grandkids smiling down at him.

When I was younger, my image all framed and mounted on the wall annoyed me and caused me embarrassment. But now I see that I blend well with the rest of them, in this sea of DNA and memory and tangled family bonds. And I don't mind so much.