This is one of the first pictures I took with the camera. I just set it on auto and took about a billion pictures from different angles, with flash, without flash, you name it. Why, you ask, am I taking pictures of a ratty old cook book? It is falling apart and appears to be held together with medical tape for goodness sake. I love this thing. It belonged to my grandmother – my dad’s mom. My Pappaw gave it to her not long after they got married in 1946. Before she passed away, I told her that was the only thing I wanted that was hers. She used it like a journal of sorts. There are notes next to recipes, not just the usual ‘add more salt’ type of thing but she noted when something was made & who liked it best. There are even pages throughout with just random thoughts of hers – probably because it was always nearby in the tiny kitchen on 57th Terrace (that is no bigger than some walk-in closets these days). For some reason we all would try to pile in that kitchen even though there was the living room just a few feet away. That was her favorite room, I think. She would sit in her chair by the half-opened window (even when it was 10 below) while the rest of us crowded around the table, sat on counters & stood by the stove just talking over one another, laughing, debating, & enjoying the time together. I miss her terribly.
I decided that my dining room table would be the best setting for this shot because it also belonged to her. It may not be the best visually but I was more focused on capturing a bit of her in a photo than creating the perfect shot.