Ever wonder why there isn’t a female equivalent for the phrase ‘family man?’ If ‘family woman’ was a cliché, that’d be me. I’m sure I got it from my grandma, who was a family woman if ever there was one, and also happened to be My Favorite Person Who Ever Existed for most of my life.
It wasn’t because she bribed me with bowls of whipped cream (though I did enjoy many of them in her cozy kitchen over the years). And it wasn’t all the other things she did with and for us for as much as my childhood as I can remember – from board games to basketball games, cool washcloths on our foreheads when we were sick, and celebratory sundaes (or just straight whipped cream) when we succeeded. Actually, it was all of those things, and at least a million more.
Nothing was more important to my grandma than family. She believed that family should be celebrated, and commemorated, often, and she documented everything about hers. Even now I’ll find tiny typewritten notes tucked away inside a box of tablecloths or Christmas tree ornaments, telling me who gave them to her, and when, and for what occasion.
When my kids came along, I finally understood why every Christmas Eve she’d insist on dragging all twenty or so of her children and grandchildren, all of their spouses and whoever else happened to be there that day, outside to shiver on the front lawn while someone set the camera timer and made the mad dash back to their place in the pack for the annual family photo. When you love people this much you want to remember everything about them and the experiences you share.
I adore my husband and our two girls, Violet and Ruby, beyond description. I suspect they are not as fond of my camera, but they’ve developed an admirable tolerance for it. This is fortunate, because it tends to surface often – as in, every day. Our daughters have done more than inspire me; they have shown me that beautiful, artistic portraits can, and should be, real. They have shown me that there is a place for the pose, the eye contact and the cued smile, but that the unscripted, the everyday, and the true are equally exquisite and should be cherished as well. I carry that with me in all of my work. (I carry it in my heart.)