The whole picture

 

In honor of my parents, I used the picture at the top of this post as my profile picture yesterday.

I wrestle with how to handle the anniversary of my father's passing (yesterday, St. Patrick's Day) in which I argue that I make too much of it while alternately arguing that, "How I mourn -- even after these years -- is my own business." 

So I used that picture on Facebook but I also felt guilty because it cut my siblings out of it.

Yes. I have some deep-rooted issues.

*****

It was Aug 30, 1987. A Sunday.

I had tickets to see Huey Lewis and News that night at the Orange County Fairgrounds in Middletown, NY. I felt like a big shot because I had just seen HLN at Madison Square Garden back in May of '87 in a transformative concert for me. So to see them twice in the span of five months was incredible.

However, my parents were having old friends over for a BBQ. In truth, the husband in the couple was dying and he was coming to say goodbye. There was an air of sadness hanging in the air but it wasn't allowed to be a sad day.

My brother and his family were there. My sister was there also (pre-kids for her).

While my parents were glad that I stayed around for the gathering, in part to help keep things light, it was time for me to go as the afternoon began to turn towards evening. I had to go pick someone up and meet my cousin before we headed out to the concert.

Our guests asked us to pose for a family picture. No grandkids. Nobody else. Just the fab five -- my parents and their three kids.

I stood there in my black Levis jacket to go along with my button-down shirt and black Levis jeans. A truly Huey Lewis-inspired look.

My hair -- parted right down the middle -- was blown dry and appropriately sprayed.

I rocked the white belt with the jeans and I might have been wearing sneakers since we'd be doing some walking and standing.

In my left hand were my newly-purchased jacket (bought with money from my high school graduation earlier that summer) and the keys to my 1980 green Oldsmobile Omega. My key ring featured a small replica of a 1960 Mickey Mantle baseball card.

On our picnic table were cups and other accouterments of a picnic, including a prominently-placed bottle of Hires root beer. Slightly behind it and off to the side, sadly, sat a full ashtray as my father beamed through the sadness he felt that day.

Selfishly I was glad to make my early exit because I knew the goodbyes would be tough.

The picture turned out great and we were all given copies of it. My mother and I both had it nearby over the years, including that one that hung in her living room on the day she died.

It is still there as I'm typing.

The concert was great. It was basically the same show that they did at the Garden with a few small changes. I remember they didn't do "If This is It" at MSG but did at Middletown. While predictable, I was still enthralled with it.

I remember going to a Denny's in Fishkill (long gone) later the night for a late snack. I was right on the fringe of starting college.

Our family friend did indeed die not long after their visit.

Of course, Dad passed a little over a year-and-a-half later.

And that picture -- that moment in time, an image of different hairstyles and waistlines and fashion and behavior -- was the last picture of the five of us.

Regardless of anything, I still treasure it and wanted to be seen while explaining its backstory.

Norwegian playwright and theatre director Henrik Ibsen once said, "A thousand words leave not the same deep impression as does a single deed." It's possible that was the basis for the adage, "A picture is worth a thousand words."

In this case, I'm not sure I need a thousand, because the picture itself says a lot.