I was looking for some sort of inspiration (and motivation) to write today's post and let me tell you that the trending topics are just as dull as the bowl of cereal I had for breakfast.
Then I looked to my right and my eyes wondered on some pictures I printed and framed the other week and that got me thinking.
I don't need to look for stories, I can write about my own.
Those black and white shots were not taken by me.
They are mix of shots of my late dad, my mom, my hubby at age one, my parents in law and of course my crazy self.
Here are the real stories behind those black and white moments in time captured in a what I like to call a state of grace.
Gone with the Wind.
This is me at age 6 or 7 back in Italy where I grew up.
It was taken under the porch of my dad's family 1900 house in the little town of Campagnola (Italian for country girl).
My father's family used to be considered the Kennedys of our little provincial town and in their A days they actually were. They had old money, land as far as the eye could see and there was as much shit going on under their roof as at Downton Abbey. They fit the profile.
I felt I had to live up to our former social status and my way of fulfilling my duties was to dress the part.
This picture was taken after I watched for the first time the iconic movie Gone With the Wind. As a little gay boy I fell in love with the opulence of it all from the very first shot where Vivian Leigh is chatting away with the Tarleton twins dressed in that glorious red belted white gown.
I think I consolidated my queerness when I saw Scarlet wearing the white and green dress that she insisted on sporting at the barbecue at the Twelve Oaks Plantation.
That dress inspired my get up: the ample skirt and the hat held on my head with a scarf.
The skirt I made with an Easter Egg wrapping (in Italy we have big chocolate eggs wrapped in colorful plastic paper with a surprise in them to be gifted for that holiday).
The hat was an old straw number with a fake flower on it that I probably got from my granny's trunk of horrors. The scarf was indeed a handkerchief and it usually doubled as a herbal wrap holder for my frequent teeth abscesses.
There you have it: a simple girl from the country side.
My dad took that picture with his trusty Pentax. He had that camera for his whole life. We still have it and since after he died we treasure it like it was the Holy Grail.
My father loved taking pictures and he had a great eye for it. Luckily he passed that gift onto me.
He never had a problem with my dressing up schenanigans and this picture is one of the many others he took of me as a child with either a frock, a wig or a pair of my aunt heels on. He always supported our imagination and artsy inclinations.
I was lucky to have such a progressive dad.
I miss him.
The Rhodesian Prince.
This is my hubby at age one. It was 1975 and he was getting his groove on with his little overall and the house dog Sally.
The hubby was born in Rhodesia, now Zimbabwe, during the time when that country was the land of milk and honey (quote from his granny Pinky).
As my dad's family, the hubby's mom's family was very wealthy and well connected. The hubby was the first male grandchild and for that reason he was considered the best invention since sliced bread.
In this shot this lovely Rhodesian prince is wearing a custom made jumpsuit of course.
This picture was taken under the porch of hubby's grandparents villa and it is from an era gone with the wind.
Glenda.
Hubby's mom in the 60's.
I just love this picture.
It captures my mother in law true essence and it will remind us that she will always be the same girl no matter how much her mind will let her memories fade away.
Violetta.
My mom.
She was named after the lead character in La Traviata by the Italian opera composer Verdi.
It looks like a picture from one of the stunning Italian movies from the Neorealism days.
Mom was a late bloomer and she was probably a teenager there. This picture was taken right after she was convinced to cut her hair short. She said she cried for days because she thought she looked like a boy. That is why she started wearing earrings at all times, even when going fishing, so that she wouldn't be mistaken for a chap. Also she wishes she was still as skinny as she was in this shot.
Paolo.
My dad.
This picture describes him perfectly.
The funniest sense of humor I know.
A humble yet amazingly intelligent and knowledgeable man.
A true kind soul.
My mom snapped this shot at the wealthy parents in law compound shortly after they started dating.
The end tale of the 70's but the beginning of 30 years as a couple.
Mom just after she came back from Munich where she worked for a summer season as an ice cream vendor. She meet my dad (who took this picture) once she returned to Italy.
Mom was sitting on her brother's brand new Vespa motorbike. It was the family trophy.
The perm is a souvenir from Germany.
Hubby's mom and dad.
They were celebrating Glenda 21st birthday. The hubby was already in the picture since his mom got married because she was pregnant with him.
Allegedly my father in law didn't meet the posh family standards but the pair was in love so they got pregnant to gain the blessing from the family.
In this shot they were dancing up a storm and as you can see they were up to speed with the latest trends of the 70's.
State of Grace.
My mom's feet. She took her shoes off because they were new and they pinched her toes. I cannot remember a single pair of shoes that did not hurt my mom's feet. It is her curse since her long life obsession is and will always be shoes.
My dad took this picture of her feet up in the air when they were both care free, with very little money but plenty of life ahead of them. They were young, they saw each other beauty and the sun was shining on their faces and sore toes.
When I look at this picture I can actually smell the fragrance of one of those country side pre-winter days when the sunlight and the sky are crystal clear.
The air is crisp and the scent of my home back in Italy is stunningly perceptible.
It's like I was there, I can touch that feeling as well as I am touching this keyboard.
It's palpable.
It's a state of grace.
Ciao for now.
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