Monday, March 28, 2011

Hairy Bastard

#1 in the Passport Series, "Hey!  I'd arrest me too".  Late Eighties, hirsuteness (and lack of combs) still in full display.  The situation was a tad bumpy at this point as the idealism and pinata dreams were in the process of getting pummeled by post-college life.  Grinning and bearing it was a manageable code of living.

The Ever Loving Wife appeared on the scene and while career exploits were still running on the local track, the personal side boarded the express and we were off.  The kiddies soon appeared, much to our surprise and we had three and then four sets of footprints tromping around the neighborhood.  It was a time for big smiles in the house as the kids grew into quote machines, offering up their world observations from the perch of high-chairs and wheeling-about-the-wood-floors trikes.

The ELW started a side project of a kid's radio show in the spare timed eked from kinder/house care.  Our daughter, happily ensconced in a backpack from which she could carefully observe her parents' activity, was already devising methods to improve our daily regimen.  If she were capable of writing # 1 1/2, I'm sure her notes would have been prolific.  Our son, already in deep thought as to his future career as a fireman/trashman/baseball player, found our attempts to corral him into the confines of a daily grind truly insulting & uninspiring; we were already laying the groundwork for his high-tailing it to Montana when he was fully sentient.


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you could stand to look a little less guilty
The only comment I have to make, Sir, is that based on family genetics, I would strongly suggest that you let you hair grow to the max in your younger years as it'll be wisps of memories in your later years....

As far as guilt is concerned...guiltless days were long gone by the time this passport was issued.
"Guilty"? You look about as guilty as a Muppet (whose actual backstage shenanigans we viewers were never privy to).
Curious, also, to note how this is the first of the passport photos to eschew the "I'm too worldly-wise to actually be happy" mien.
Methinks you're giving me or the photographer a bit too much credit for a photo that was probably rushed to and through so that I could plop my passport applicaiton in the mail asap.
...but I'll take the reading into the pixels with pleasure.
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