Another couple to love..

Most things I own, has a story.

So does this chalk photograph of a couple I like to call:

CLYDE AND PRISCILLA FITZGERALD

Here is the story.

Fancy Findings, Fancy Findings, oh how I love me some

FANCY FINDING

A little consignment/second hand store here in Plaquemine, La.

where I now live and play.

One of my first places i found here a year and a half ago, 

was this treasure store.

I have become friends with the owners,

Rita, the Momma and Marlaine the daughter.

Now to the  story.

Often when I need old and cheap frames for a project

I am working on Fancy Findings is where I start.

I visit at least once a week to the point where

I am even allowed in the back storage areas to dig.

One on of my first encounters,

I found this picture dusty and in the corner.

I fell in love with it as it reminded me of my Dad's old

photography days when he had to hand paint photos

because colored film had not yet been invented.

I wanted it then and wondered how family could just give

away or sell such a beautiful picture.

If you know me, you know I am obsesses with connection

of your family and friends. In my eyes, to get rid of

such a photo is  blasphemy.

These people once belonged.

They belonged in a family, had a family, was loved in 

a family and yet, here they sat at FF.

Each visit with my "podna's". Rita and M,

I visited them, I named them, I enquired them.

Each time I went in, if they were not in their

usual place I became worried that maybe someone had 

taken them home. They never let me down, they just were

moved to a different place.

Many laughs with my friends surrounded my visits as

I called them by names,

Clyde and Priscilla Fitzgerald.

I explained how I most often have to bring old pictures home with 

me to love, have even scrapped a few families I didn't even know.

Yesterday, Marlaine and I, once again, discuss the lives

of Priscilla and Clyde.

"You have to take them home, this has been going on for a year,

10 dollars and they are yours"

Because I knew all the price tags they held over the last year,

I knew they were practically giving it to me.

I paid the 10 and took them  home.

I took apart the frame, cleaned it all and reconnected them.

Now I will probably, somehow, make up some kind of story

to explain why these strangers are hanging in my home.

Fact is, to me, they are no longer strangers, but family.

I thought of my Daddy a lot yestereday as I carefully took

apart the frame for cleaning. I hoped it would be

one of those stories where you buy something for almost nothing

only to find money behind a beloved pictures.

No score, nor any clues as to who they really are.

The photograph is colored with chalks, same as my Daddy used

to do. It is amazing that after all these years, it is still very

colorful, still in one piece. I put it back together and

admire my beautiful photograph.

I told you, everything that lives in my home has a story....