I’ve written about this before.
Let me quote myself:
Growing up as the daughter of an outdoorsman meant I posed with every dead thing my dad brought home. Every fish, rabbit, bird or mammal he snared, trapped or shot. And in each picture I have the same expression on my face: a forced smile in response to some off-camera plea-turned-threat.
It’s too late to ask my father why we played pass the dead thing. Right around the time this snapshot was taken (1968) I was getting used to the feeling of scales, fur and feather in my hands. I was adjusting to holding still, smiling and waiting for the all-clear signal to resume my childhood.
Was it a matter of scale? A fish looks bigger in the hands of a child? Was it a record of our vacation activities? Yeah, we had fish for dinner that night.
Ah, who knows? All I do know is that my family photo albums are brimming with pictures like these. What better way to join the shame-fest known as Sincerely Fro Me to You hosted by camera-ready Marcy. Go on over for more pictures that didn’t or shouldn’t have made the cut.