Say "Cheese", Johnny Reb

The Old Man and his Miss Martha had their picture made the other day. Some folks came into our church and set up shop for a few days with an eye toward making up a pictorial directory so we could all recognize each other. The experience made me think of Calehil Williamson. He was my great grandfather on my mother's side. Let me explain.

The photographer was a young fellow who was really excited about our being there. He sat us down, adjusted our clothing and began to fire away. I don't think he had photographed a lot of us "mature" types, because he kept trying to bend us into both glamour shot and cutsey positions. The conversation went like this, "Now sir, move your leg out this way and Miss Martha, could you slide your leg under his and put your hand on his left shoulder. Oh, and could you tilt your head more to the right? That's good, now turn this way just a little bit". Bones commenced creaking and joints began sounding like a five-hundred pound Jiffy Pop. Old people don't bend that way. Then the photog took a series of individual shots and one or two with no smiles, but rather a serious expression.



When Captain Photo had finished with us, we met with the sales consultant. Her mission was to separate us from as much of our wallet contents as possible. We got more ego strokes from her than Charlie Sheen looking in a mirror. Every shot was "outstanding" or "beautiful" or "fantastic". To us, most looked like we were having a stroke. In my serious shot I looked like Miss Martha had just told me she was going to run off with Blackbeard the Pirate.

It was simpler back in Calehil's time. Calehil was a Civil War Veteran. I have a couple of his medals in a shadowbox on the wall in my office. In those days, the subject(s) gathered outside for a picture. Light requirements, I suppose. Take a look.

Calehil and Liza are seated comfortably with their children standing behind them. You can't really tell very much about whether they were happy or not. From what mother told me, old Cal was sort of a sourpuss who could be a "demanding ole cuss"; perfectly understandable considering what he had seen in his lifetime. Born in 1843, he would have gone off to war at 19. He would live until 1924.

I guess someday someone might look at that pictorial directory and wonder about that Old Man and his lady. I promise you this.....if that happens, they'll see a couple of lovebirds who could show Calehil a thing or two.