A Picture’s Worth a 1000 Words
My admiration for this moment in time baffles my honey, who says completely straight-faced: “It’s billed as romantic, but it’s not. He didn’t even know her.” This from an ex-Navy guy who I’m sure kissed plenty of women he didn’t know. “They didn’t even end up together.” Again, said without irony. This from a man who thinks the Lancelot-Gwenivere-Arthur triangle is romantic. I mean, those two don’t end up together either. But whatever. I love this picture. It’s not romance I see in that photo.
After all, take a good look at this kiss. He’s got her locked in a half-nelson and it looks like one bruising kiss. (He probably could have used some tips from my honey about kissing. Like, “Yeah, girls like it when you frame their face with your hands, not perform a wrestling move.”) So no, I don’t look at the photo and sigh, “Isn’t it romantic?” I look at it and think, “Yeah, I’ve been that relieved before.”
Let me explain.
Math is not my strong suit. There are days when simple addition is a victory to me. I blame my English degree, but it’s really because I just don’t care. In college, I needed 8 hours of math and science to fulfill my general education requirements. I found in my senior year, I was deficient one semester hour. Of course, classes run in threes; and so the choice was: do you want a science or a math course? It was rather like being given the choice to ingest arsenic or cyanide. Either way, I’m dead at the end, which is not a preferred outcome. I went with math, since I’m even worse at science…and am even more apathetic. I chose a Finite Mathematics course. My other option was College Algebra; but strangely, although Algebra features the alphabet, at no point am I able to understand the language. Finite at least gave the impression there would be an end to the torture.
I flunked three of the four tests. I was lazy—and also godawful at the homework. However, I needed to pass the final or I wouldn’t graduate; and failure of this magnitude was not an option. I mean, I wasn’t going to graduate because I was deficient one hour of math? Please. The professor told me how many points I needed to make on the final exam in order to pass the class with a C-. And I think I got the points needed, plus maybe one or two to spare. I got my C-. I passed. I would graduate. I was ecstatic, like in a pure King of the World moment.
I barely remember getting back to my dorm, but I do remember I smiled at everyone and greeted everyone I met with “I got a C!” as if this were the best news anyone could have ever gotten. I would like it pointed out here that I graduated magna cum laude. I had never gotten a C in my life, in high school or college. (Plenty of B-‘s but no actual C’s. Except perhaps once in driver’s ed, well, never mind.) I danced up the stairs to my dorm room and as I’m tra-la-laing down the hall, singing about my C, I spotted the guy I’d had a horrible crush on for at least three years. He knows, of course. Everyone knows.
“I got a C!” I say, and in a moment of blazing clarity, I strode into the room where he sat, framed his face with my hands, and kissed him. Then to explain this assault, I said again in pure glee: “I got a C!” My best friend Mac stared at me like I’d grown two heads. I kissed him on both cheeks, bouncing and bright-eyed. “I got a C, Mac! I passed! Isn’t that wonderful?”
My crush gaped at me in horror. I danced back out of the room, carrying my message of triumph to the rest of the floor. We, of course, never discussed this breech of conduct ever again. (Oh, he bitched about it for a while until Mac pointed out that it sounded like he was protesting too much—and thus he had to shut up or be accused of wanting me to lay another one on him.)
But let me point out: that kiss wasn’t a bit romantic. Not a spark, not a toe curl. It was just pure, blessed, unadulterated relief.
Now I don’t look at that V-J picture and think of my college crush. (I mean, I haven’t thought of him, since, well, college.) I see TRIUMPH OVER DEFEAT. That’s all. I see a time period where we’d spent the last fifteen years trying to recover from the Great Depression and the last five trying to beat a two-front war. I see scrimping and sacrifice; I feel the worry of people who wonder if things will ever get better, if they will ever win. And in that picture, I see people who do know things will be better. That all their hard work, sacrifice and fervent prayers to heaven were not for naught. Here’s the proof at last. Finally, finally, a reason to celebrate. It’s America’s Happily Ever After epilogue after a long, awful Black Moment that seems to take up three-fourths of the book.
I’ve entertained the notion of writing a WWII set novel—I love reading novels in that setting. Dad shares really great stories (after I bother him enough) about his time in the Navy during this period; and I even know the hero I’d want to write about. (No, not my dad, though he would make a great hero too.) Dad has a group photo of the guys who worked in the boiler room. (I mean, he had photos from everywhere on this ship.) And one young man positioned in the middle is pure hero material: passionate dark eyes, the Mr. Darcy hair on his brow, the lean figure and prominent cheekbones. W.T. Griffith was his name—but the boys just called him Watertight. And of course, he was girl crazy, but tended to aim out of his league. (Some things never change.) However, Watertight died in the boiler room when one of the kamikaze planes hit the ship. He never did get his girl. I always thought he should. Maybe even kiss a girl on the street in relief and end up with a happily ever after instead.
All right. Anyone ever been struck by a story that came from a simple picture? Anyone got any pictures to share that simply move you? Anyone ever feel that sense of overwhelming relief after something—and did something crazy after?
Books by the Crew
50 comments:
You are so right on with that photo, Cap'n. I see it as you see it. Like the sense of a long awaited party on VJ day. My folks remember it. My Dad remembered knowing his brother was coming home, and the excitement of it all. Running around, just telling everyone that his brother was coming home...
I do love the story of your kissing the crush cause you got a 'C'. Classic celebratory fist in the air, or in your case, lip lock.
I know whenever I see the photo of Uno the beagle winning at Westminster. His head is up and I know the sound he is making...I owned a beagle once. Tells the story... "I did it! I found it!" Maybe it's odd to speak for a dog, but I always knew what Archie was saying when he raised his head and let loose with that victory howl...
I think with Bonnie, the new dog, it's going to be eyebrows twitching that will do most of the talking...
I love that photo, too. It's passionate, unrehearsed, exciting and exploding with life — as one would at the end of a horrible war. You're absolutely right — it's pure relief. It's life winning out over death. Have a good week, Cap'n and all the rest of you scurvie knaves! ;-)
If you had got C* after the math course I might have proposed marriage on the spot!
C* algebra is big magic and a tool of broken symmetry theory. Hey I just love to break symmetries....especially with a kiss! *grin*
I totally understand the relief kiss. I remember Kelly Holmes the British runner at the Olympic Games. After fighting injury and disappointment for years, she finally got it together to win gold.
After breaking the tape I think she would have hugged a gorilla if he'd been in the way!
So you had to go and bring up the Algebra word! Did I mention I don't like Algebra? Heck, Hebrew is easier than Algebra. Did I mention I have a mid-term exam this week? I think I'll be thrilled with a D, although I'll take a C any day. I just keep thinking there goes my 4.00 grade average.
You should write that story for Watertight. Give him his girl and his kiss on the street. Mr. Scott's grandfather flew dive bombers, a Curtis Helldiver. I keep thinking how amazing it was that the soldiers who made it home, did make it home. Conditions weren't the greatest on land, in air, or on sea.
Write your story, Hellie. It'll be a damn good one.
Renee
Wow. Like...deja vu. Or is that vuja de?
It is a great photo!
Jinan's character came to me from a photo.
And that is really sad about watertight.
I do love this photo though I'm not sure I read as much into it as you do. But I don't think of it sa romantic either. I just love this time period. I know times were tough, but I think being in your 20s or 30s in the 40s would have been amazing! (Did that make sense?)
I love movie posters and old time glamour shots. Old Marilyn pictures or Audrey Hepburn ones. I have a large canvas copy of the old Tattinger's ad inspired by Grace Kelly. http://www.havananightssc.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/01/l-instant-taittinger.jpg I just think it's gorgeous and I love the color.
I remember feeling incredible relief when I left my ex. Then again when I got to stop driving back and forth from the coast to AR every other weekend. I'm pretty sure I'll reach new heights of relief in June when I finally finish my degree!
Oh, and no lip locking moments. But I'll work on that. LOL!
2nd: Sorry about the deja vu. My math inabilities extend to reading a calendar. I thought the 9th was a Tuesday. Clearly it was not.
*LOL* That kiss was definitely a fist in the air.
That's a great story about your Dad...telling everyone he met that his brother was coming home. That's really sweet. Usually I do stuff like that when I go on vacation, right before I leave. Like in a bank line. Me: "You know I'm going on vacation." Bank Teller: "No, I've never met you before. Why would I know you're going on vacation?" Me: "I am. I'm going to the beach. I can't tell you how forward I've been looking to getting away from it all." BT: "You sure you're not somewhere else right now?"
*waves wildly* Pamela! So good to see you!!! Thanks for stopping by...and thanks for agreeing with me. *grins* Esp since the Bo'sun doesn't quite see it. *LOL*
Well, Q, not to brag, but you would have proposed to me after I'd fed you some of my gooey butter cake. I had a lot of marriage proposals whenever I made those. Half from women, but who's being picky?
I draw the line at kissing gorillas...or even hugging them. But yes, the relief was a lot like that.
Renee: good luck on your midterm this week. *crossing fingers* I'm hoping you do better than you think.
Helldiver! That's a cool name...someone should have that name in a book.
Yes, I'm also amazed at the ones who did make it home as well. My Dad was a welder--so he was below decks a lot, so it was amazing the kamikaze ships didn't hit him as well.
What do you mean I don't see it?! Did I say that? I admit, I may not have seen that until AFTER you told me what you see. But I did see it then. LOL!
Tiff, that's so cool that your Jinan story came from a picture. (I think you've showed us the picture, haven't you?) I think it would be so inspirational to have the picture nearby to help you write.
The "I didn't read as much into it as you did" struck one of my many nerves. I get that comment alot. *LOL* You know, because I'm basically always reading something into something. *LOL*
I love the 40s and 50s glamour shots. Marilyn and Frank Sinatra...and just all of them. I also have some pics of Frank (from the 40s) to frame and hang on my wall. Which reminds me, Michael's is having a sale on frames this week.
Funny, I think the "didn't read as much into it" as more of an insult to me. LOL! I never notice stuff like that. Sometimes I feel like I go through life always missing things!
It's the distractions, I tell ya. I needs ta get rid of some of these distractions.
Hellion - what a great blog! :) I love the idea for Watertight! You should totally write that! I would read that in a heartbeat. And something about the WWII era, the desperation of it, makes it so ripe for some happiness.
I love the kiss by the hotel de ville, by Doisneau. Though I haven't gotten a story from it, I just love the pic.
http://www.prints.co.nz/page/fine-art/PROD/Sale/8549
Well, usually when people tell me I'm reading something into something, they don't mean it complimentary. *LOL* I had a knee-jerk reaction.
I think I have a fascination with the picture because Dad was in WWII--and a sailor--so even though I know that's not Dad, I think "That could have been Dad" (You know, if he were that handsy *LOL*) "and wouldn't it be funny if it had been." I don't know. I know we didn't invent sex, but I'd say "public displays of affection" of that magnitude would be rather uncommon...so the fact that sailor boy plucked the first pretty girl he found and just kissed her in the middle of the street, not knowing what the reception would be--that's just clearly a guy who wasn't thinking things through. He was too damned giddy by the fact that things were going right for a change.
Marn - Love that picture. I've never heard of it before.
There are several books written by Dorothy Garlock that take place around this time. They are mostly in the mid-west so things were very hard, but there are two that center around a hero that goes off to fight in the Pacific. VERY good books.
Hellie - We need to put braces on your knees. :)
GREAT picture, Marnee! I'm sure you'll think of a couple great stories for that one!
I love black and white photography...it's so much more romantic. I wanted this pic of a couple, the girl had her feet up on her vanity (she was wearing a dress and was bare legged) and the boyfriend was sitting behind her, watching her put on makeup.
Of course, my friends ruined the picture for me--they bought it for me and I squealed over it--then they pointed out he was looking up her skirt. I haven't enjoyed the picture since.
What's wrong with looking up her skirt? You think that wasn't what she had in mind? Hmmmm?
I seriously thought today was Weds. I got confused this morning when it was the Cap and not Dee.
I swear, we're losing it around here. :)
*LOL* It's a long week already, isn't it, Marn?
It just sorta sucked the romance out of the picture. In my head, he was looking at *her*, thinking she was the most beautiful creature he'd ever seen, not looking at her *hooha* thinking it was the most beautiful, uh, creature he'd ever seen.
Great blog Hellion! I love that picture too, but I'd never really stopped to think about what the sailor might be thinking. And I definitely agree that Watertight's story needs to be written - what a great character!
I think photos, esp black and white photos, can be so evocative, but I don't think I've ever thought to use one to see a story....I'm going to start looking closer at pictures now *g*
So, do you have a link to this picture what him looking up her skirt, or remember who did it? you've got me all curious!
OMG, I found it!
http://www.allposters.com/-sp/Bis-Posters_i380133_.htm
I tried to do a search for it, but I doubt it's under the title "Romantic Couple with the Guy Looking Up Her Skirt"...I forget what it was called. I think it was one of those French couples, black and white posters.
okay, even with the whole "looking up the skirt" factor, that's a pretty hot picture. I like it *g*
Uhm.....She clearly meant for him to look where he's looking. And it ain't where she's putting the lipstick.
LMAO!!
See, Ter, that was the commentary my friends were feeding me that ruined the picture. I hadn't grasped that when I fawned over the picture. The picture just doesn't have the same appeal for me. *LOL*
It's hot, but it's not very romantic to me.
What a terrific blog, Hellion! Have you read Pamela Morsi's Last Dance at Jitterbug Lounge? If not, I highly recommend it. She weaves together two stories--one contemporary, one WWII with a sailor. It's an incredible book, my top read of 2008. Even the cover is great.
There are so many iconic photographs from the 30s and 40s. Dorothea Lange's "Migrant Mother" always moves me to tears, but it's rarer to find one like the famous kiss that captures a moment of joy and celebration.
I think most photos tell stories. One of my favorite writing assignments was to ask my students to choose a photo that included them as the focus of an autobiographical essay. The results were always much more interesting than the usual responses.
Maybe she's wearing frilly panties with skulls and crossbones on them...
It's Tuesday?
This convo reminds me of this country song by Jamey Johnson. It's called In Color and it's perfect for this topic.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FXKBUK94cC0
Oh, I *Love* that song! That fits it perfect!
I KNOW! This explains the difference here. The music would inspire me to create a story. Pictures go by me a lot of the time. I guess I'm auditory?
I'm sure that will come as NO surprise to anyone. LOL!
I've never heard that song before but I loved it! :)
And I think the pic is sexy as hell. That guy looks like he wants to eat her alive.
Janga, I did read the Jitterbug book! I had to think. It wasn't as easy to read as some of Pamela's books are, but now that I was writing back to say, "I think I only read half" I realize, I did read it because I remember the parts with the young people. Jack and his wife...and how Jack visits with Bud...and the whole story there. That was a really great story.
I didn't think I'd like it, like it because I don't like stuff that's sad at the beginning. I found the old man, being alone, to be sad. Even though we'd hear more about his love story later--the fact he was alone for the story we were hearing about now bothered me. Too "The Notebook" for my liking.
My absolute favorite WWII set era book though is Morning Glory by LaVeryle Spencer. OMG, that's the greatest book ever.
It's hard to top Spencer in any time period. Though I'm still going to get you to read the Garlock books. LOL! Someday!
I get lots of ideas and inspiration from songs, too, Terri, but pictures interest me. If I'm not tuned out of my surrounding, which I'm guilty of doing, I like to watch people. (You know, so long as no one is crowding, touching, or invading my personal space.) It always interests me to see the people in a group who are the outsiders looking in; and the ones who are leading...and the ones who are leading, but are really insecure about it.
Unless you already read them and I'm supposed to remember that. Need we go into this memory thing again?
Didn't think so...
I used to read Garlock books once upon a time. The old Candace Camp stuff is awesome. Back in the old days when I preferred angst to humor. These people are more angsty than humorous.
Yep, Garlock is angst beginning to end. I usually people watch at stuff like concerts or festivals. Usually means I'm sitting still with nothing better to do than watch people. I can turn my brain off for a bit and that helps.
No, concerts and festivals are too many people. I like to observe on smaller scales.
Oh, I forgot. Well, if you're sitting on a blanket on the lawn and it's still 30 minutes before the show starts, no one is crowding you and you can watch all the crazy people. The thought that always comes to mind is that those chicks looked in the mirror before leaving the house and thought, "I look good!"
LOL!
*LOL* That's not the kind of observing I do. *LOL*
But that is the kind of observing Tammy likes doing. *LOL* And she likes to do it at bigger festivals too.
You like to watch the people on the edges, eh? That's me, generally.
I was watching Saving Grace last night. The bit with her going on and on about who she is really drives me batty. But one phrase caught my attention... "I want to be the mystery in the room." That would be a great line to open a book with...
I think I start stories from phrases more than pics or lyrics...
Ooh, that IS a good phrase to start a story from! That's awesome!
I like quotations too...
The mantra of the week I really enjoyed came off a birthday card that Janga sent me (THANK YOU, JANGA!)--that said, "Imagine more. Think less." I think that's the perfect mantra for a writer.
True, Grace has a line in last night's episode about finding that place between thinking too much and not thinking at all... That is the place to take action from, something like that. Holly Hunter is great in this series, even if it irritates me as well as entertains me...
I tried watching that show once and she did irritate the hell out of me. But I think I was jumping in the middle of things. She was holding some priest hostage and kept acting like she was going to kill him. I think she rolled him in a rug. What was up with that?
That is a great line. And so many ways it could go.
Ah! Well, that is the priest that sexually abused her when she was very young and pretty much set her on this path of self-destruction... Help at all? That would be a weird one to step into the middle of! She thought he was dead and just found out he wasn't...and wanted some payback time before she turned him in...
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