It’s interesting to look back at old photos, especially of family. 

 I like looking at ones from way back, when a traveling photographer might come by the house and ask the family if they wanted a photo. Folks would spruce up a little and maybe stand on the front porch.

Unsmiling, of course.  Sometimes the kids don’t have shoes on.

I once asked my grandmother why people didn’t smile in photos way back then.

Coming from a family that valued hard work above almost anything, she replied “Well, everyone had to work hard!”

My great-great-great-grandparents had a family of 14 children. The Peter Vallette family. Grandma Vallette started having children at age 16 and had her last baby at age 41.

She probably wasn’t smiling for other reasons.

I treasure a picture of the Vallette family from 1894 on the occasion of their 50th wedding anniversary.  The whole family is gathered on the front steps of the big home.

Most aren’t smiling, but some seem to have pleasant looking faces.

I have various family photos from different branches of my family, and I think it’s interesting to see the family dynamics by just looking at how everyone is standing and/or smiling.

My maternal grandmother had 10 brothers and sisters, and would have had more if modern medicine had been more dependable before the 1920s. 

In this particular picture, someone has lined up all of the siblings at my great-grandfather’s 90th birthday celebration.  

It’s just a simple snapshot.

Some of the younger sisters are standing close together with smiles on their faces.  Older sisters seemed to have rushed in from the sides, late for the picture almost. The oldest sister seems matronly and has a kind look on her face, as if she’s watching over the rest of the family.

Which, she actually did from time to time after the deaths of the first wife and the second wife, too.

The brothers are scattered throughout the group, some appearing as if they also just stepped in from the sidelines and some standing proud and seemingly in charge.

Since I know the history of the family, including who got along and who did not, I can read a whole lot of stuff into the simple click of a camera.

When I came along, mom scheduled photos with a photographer in Mt. Vernon who had his studio in a converted garage or rec room of sorts.  He had a canvas covered bench with backgrounds that could be pulled down behind the subjects.

Depending on what outfit you were wearing, he’d find a suitable and complimentary color combo.  

There didn’t seem to be many to choose from.

In my earliest of baby pictures, there I am with a bald-head resembling a giant light bulb, faint hint of a forehead bruise, a few teeth and my sturdy white baby shoes with hard soles.

Oh, and I’m wearing a Dr. Doolittle t-shirt.

Later, when I was more mature and probably around age 2 or 3, I wore a little green suit with a gold turtleneck sweater underneath – with Vitalis in my hair to make my double cowlick behave.

I remember asking when I could “mess up my hair” when the photos were over.

Fashion trends changed, and it’s funny to see how my dad went from almost a crew cut to a more slicked-down hairstyle.  Mom’s hair got less poofy as the 1970s progressed. My brother and I lost the slicked-back Vitalis style for bangs, which we kept until the early 1980s, probably.

Michelle and I got our picture taken together before we were engaged, after we were engaged, and then many times after that as we added kids to our mix.  

My kids like to poke fun at our church directory photos. The several choices that we purchased from the photographer shows all of the family in various positions of the photo, but the dad (me) is always in the exact same position with the exact same expression.

“It looks like dad is frozen and we all just kept moving around.”

They are so funny, aren’t they? Always at my expense.

Looking over all the family pictures, again, makes me ponder the dynamics and stories of the family. And I notice we are all smiling pretty big.

I guess we weren’t working as hard as we should have been, according to Grandma.