This blog is dedicated to all those people who fall last in the pecking order of their siblings. We are strong in numbers, and united in this experience. Read on and please feel free to lift my spirits and let me know I’m not alone.
This Easter my family did something it has never done before. I’m not even sure who started it, but at some point old photos landed in front of me. My mom’s cabinet was opened and captured memories were cascading all over the floor. What started out as some sibling ribbing turned into a mission. My brother picked up every picture in hopes of finding some of him. Well, to his delight every third picture was of him. He dismissed all others as he was there to find his memories (if you knew him, you would expect this). His partner enjoyed looking at his old photos too as he was convinced in my brother’s younger years, he was James Franco (it upped his sexiness since he is now 50, a far distance from Mr. Franco).
Ok, back to me. I flipped through the photos and noticed I came into the picture at about age 18 (barely an exaggeration). Of course with every picture I picked up, I said the same thing every single time as anyone in the house can attest too, “OMG I was so skinny”! To think, back then I thought I was fat (I wish I was as fat as I was back then). There were a handful of photos of me at about age three and only one infant one. Simultaneously, my daughter perused the photo albums finding an unlimited number of photos of her and my oldest son. Just as I was complaining that there were no photos of me, my youngest child echoed the same sentiment. I was guilty for the exact thing I was blaming my mom of. I felt an injustice was done to me by not having any photographs documenting my life.
Aside from the traditional professional school pictures, I found only one photo of me at approximately age seven. It was me in a striped bikini with my dad’s sunglasses on holding onto the umbrella pole at the beach. After passing a pile of my favorite finds including that photo, they became displaced. I was frantic that I couldn’t find these photos or more specifically, that beach shot. I besieged everyone around me to help in the search for it. Much to my brother-in-law’s dismay, I blamed him for losing that picture (not really lost, it’s safely in the company of hundreds of other photos in the abyss of my mom’s cabinet). It was more than just a photo to me. It represented that I existed in this family and more specifically, that individual memory at the beach.
Like a lot of people, I stopped printing photographs just as soon as I was able to take pictures with my phone. They are stored on my computer and I thought that was good enough. Here’s the lesson I took away from today. I felt horrible that there were no pictures of me (pity party, table for one please) and I could tell my youngest child felt exactly the same as I did. My first task for tomorrow is trying to print out a bunch of the pictures loaded on my computer so he never has to feel that way again especially when my own children go through pictures in my own home. Technology is amazing and has advanced us in so many ways but in the end, nothing can really replace a tangible photograph bringing back a specific memory.
To all my fellow people suffering from youngest child syndrome, let’s try and step up the game and not fuck up things for the next generation. Note to self: Take more pictures of my youngest child and PRINT them!
CINDAWENDA 