Common Threads

It’s America’s birthday year, and like thousands of families across the country during its Bicentennial, my family went to Washington, D.C. in July to visit our local congressman. At that time, we lived on St. Simons Island, Georgia. We loaded up our station wagon with two of our grandparents and went to visit Congressman Ronald Bryan “Bo” Ginn, our 1st Congressional District representative who served from 1973-1983, and who was instrumental in forming the Federal Law Enforcement Training Center (FLETC) in Brunswick. He was a strong advocate for coastal Georgia, and it was an iconic year to take that trip to our nation’s capital.

There we were, in his office: my dad’s parents Georgia Lee and W.F. Haynes, Sr.; my dad, Felix Haynes (W.F. Haynes, Jr.); my brother Ken, me, Bo Ginn in the striped tie, and my mother, Miriam Haynes. My grandmother had her usual look of hidden amusement as if she’d witnessed something funny the rest of us hadn’t seen and holding her pocketbook like she always did, giving the impression she was always ready to get in the car and go back home. My grandfather was always smiling, too, probably believing that there was a lot to smile about in the world; he was 58 in this photo, and I turn 60 this month – – so perhaps the smile is rooted in the joy of being alive and kicking. Now Dad, I’m not sure why he picked that shirt; he was a Southern Baptist minister, but his collar makes him appear more Catholic, as if he’s about to lead a mass in a Congressional cathedral. My mother and Bo look like they know what’s going on and would be competent to handle any world news situation that might arise at any time. My brother and I, sharing the honors of sitting in the decision chair, look as if we’ve been jumping on the bed in the hotel room and had a few arm wrestling matches on the way to this moment in time; we were ten and five. In the days of film photography, this might have been the best the photographer could do. But I can see the same stance tendencies my grandmother had already forming in me, with those folded arms and gaze set to the left.

There is much to learn about taking photos from this trip, as I look back. Expressions and stance matter, and the photographer should feel free to make a few suggestions to help.

Even novice photographers (likely my grandfather, who I know was legally blind in one eye, but still….) can also take an extra moment to be sure things will turn out as intended. Take this photo below, for example. Maybe take a minute and make sure there are no thumbs or unwanted derrieres in the photo, for starters. Even though it’s clear the photographer was attempting to follow the famous rule of thirds in the photo, it might have been thoughtful to crop some of those steps. Likewise, it would have gone a long way to take a moment and yell at my brother. He was on the steps of the Nation’s Capital, for Lord’s sake, and I was the only one – a mere ten year old – trying to make him behave. And I hate mentioning this, but just asking me to put my hand down might have been a good idea that apparently went unsuggested. It brings to mind the sheer reality of how movies like National Lampoon’s Vacation and the things that make us look back and laugh are all sitting right there in all our own family photographs.

National Emergency First Responder