By now severely dementia-impaired, she nevertheless instantly rallied when she recognized the 8x10 camera I had set up on the deck. No questions about what it was. At her age she knew a bellows camera when she saw one.
[I]"You're going to take my picture."[/I]
She's always loved being photographed. After the war years she acted as an extra in Bob Hope movies. Lots of people did that. Pay was a few dollars per day and a coveted free lunch.
[I]"You betcha. Is this a good day?"[/I]
One of the very few blessings of dementia is the unavoidable fact that ignorance is bliss. One has good days and bad days. But sometimes it's hard to tell which are which. This day she set me straight.
[I]"Every day you can still take my picture is a good day."[/I]
I somehow managed to quickly expose six sheets that afternoon. That's all she could hang on for. I'm not a very fast and polished large format portrait photographer. Afterward we sat and talked for half an hour about earlier times until fatigue began to rob her of her short-lived clarity.
Of the six sheets, I like this one best. Missed the merging of her hair. But love her expression of seemingly sly determination. She was right, of course. Mom always is. It was indeed a good day.
She passed away January 18th at 86 years of age.
