Picture Day

Oh man I wish just wish I had the picture that goes with this story. It is great to look at it (I haven't actually seen the pic since I left home). I can see it in my minds eye. A smallish dark haired dark eyed young lad. He was six. He was the man of the house now. He was trying to fit in. Even at such a young age he knew he was different from the other kids. Most of them had moms present at picture day, helping the school photographer, make their child look better than usual. No smudgy faces for them! Smiles all! They even had a universal comb that they would use to straighten you up for fear that you wouldn't look your best.

So in an attempt to individuate a bit, into the new role as "man of the house" my brother pulled a fast one. I didn't see it, until the prints arrived a month later, but I held his secret close to my heart for that whole month. He came speeding up to me after school that day. Breathless, as if he'd run a 5k, he told me he had to tell me what picture would arrive soon.

You see, there was this kid in his class. A tough guy, you know the kind, already 4 and half feet tall in the first grade, no fear in sight, and the coolness of Steve McQueen. He had one flaw, this tall, giant of a boy, also had , what we called back then, bucked teeth. It meant they protruded forward in his mouth and only added to the "cool" factor in my brother's eyes. One thing my brother did receive in life, was picture perfect teeth. Wonderful pearls of white, straight in a row as if they'd been string by the most perfect of pearl stringers, ready to be draped around a stralets neck. It was another of those things that made him different. Perfect teeth, go figure.

Well, he confided his darkest secret. For his picture, because there was no one to supervise his his decisions on this very day, he chose to attempt to look as if he too, had bucked teeth. I died. What????!!? What were you thinking? This was my first day of having pictures taken and I sat there like the little robot I was and smiled on command without thinking I could do anything but smile. Here was my brother, the rebel, stepping out into the darkness of individuality to become someone else. I could only imagine how horrible this picture would be. "Let me see what you did". "Show me". He would pose and I would just stare. Could it be that he would be defiant? How could he be defiant. Mother was all but there at all times. I could feel her long arm and stern voice at every step. How could he not? It was a mystery to me.

In the long month of waiting he would recreate that silly look each day as we walked home. We would giggle and laugh as we knew he had pulled a fast one on everyone present that day. The proof would arrive soon and then the price would have to be paid.

The day finally arrived. He quickly ran to me, quivering with excitement, as we each opened our envelopes to see the results of our pictures. Mine was a little pixie of a girl smiling wide, two front teeth missing. His on the other hand, was this smallish framed young lad, in a red shirt proudly smiling with this goofy grin. No teeth showing at all. It was as if the gods were against him. His mouth was pinched up a bit. Mother complained that they should have waited until he was ready for the picture, he was obviously half ready to smile! We knew then he had pulled it off. Not that anyone would ever think by looking at the photo that he had bucked teeth, only that he had full control of his fate. He could actually do what he wished, he could be in charge of himself, and bear the consequences, no matter what.