Word of the Day: Posture (päs’ chər) “The position or carriage of the body in standing or sitting, often with reference to the alignment of the back shoulders, and head.”
A professional photographer and his wife lived across the street from us on Willow Brook Road. Their property was much swankier than ours with a fancy house, a studio, beautiful grounds, and a large in-ground swimming pool. Apparently he had the contract for the Sears Catalogues. Remember those old Sears Catalogues that came out a couple times a year? Sears would ship him stacks and stacks of clothing for him to photograph, using live models. Enter Lynn and Suzanne! I really don’t know how it all came about, but a couple times a year we were enlisted to try on an assortment of beautiful new clothes and pose before the cameras.
I assume that some payment was involved in these camera forays, but I don’t think we ever saw any of it. Someday, in the next life, I’ll have to ask my parents about that! Of course, if it helped to meet expenses, I think we would have been fine with it, especially if it meant less pheasant for dinner. The photographer, I think his name was Frank Randt, was a hard task master. We learned to stand exactly right, with feet and hands in the precise positions he required, while still trying to look natural and unposed. That was somewhat of an oxymoron, I think.
We both enjoyed the glamour shots, the new shorts and tops outfits, the Easter dresses, and the winter coats, but there was a downside to this modelling business. We also had to do the underwear fashions. I hated that! At that point, I was as straight as a board as the saying goes. Little slips, petticoats, undershirts, and even panties. Who ever wore undershirts anyway? What could be more mortifying for a cowgirl like me than to be caught in front of a camera in my underwear for all the world to see? Our career phased out after a couple of years. I suspect he either lost the Sears contract or we outgrew his criteria for being the right sizes.
There was, however, one amazing side benefit to our short-lived modeling careers. We were invited to use that glorious swimming pool as often as we wanted. It was surrounded by a chain link fence and totally shielded from view by a number of large trees. I don’t recall the size of the pool, but it was large enough to have a diving board in the deep end. Sometimes my Mother, sister, and I went together. Other times I was allowed to go by myself. At moments like that, I could revert to my Esther Williams persona or, my new favorite, Jane. Now you are probably saying to yourself, “Who is Jane?” She, of course, was Tarzan’s consort. There was a weekly Saturday morning television show about Tarzan, Jane, and the chimpanzee. They all three went swimming in deep rivers and swinging through the trees on long vines that miraculously never broke and always took them to the exact right landing spot! I wonder if Tarzan and Jane ever got married, or if she was a fallen woman?
As I recall those lazy days of swimming, I am somewhat surprised that I was routinely allowed to go unsupervised to a pool like this, but I loved it. For those of us growing up in the fifties, our days were generally free and unstructured. Often I left in the morning and didn’t return until hunger or fatigue brought me home again. I don’t think our parents were any less caring or loving than today’s parents, but there was more of an underlying assumption that kids were basically safe and could take care of themselves. I don’t think I would have ever let my boys swim alone at a neighbor’s pool as I was allowed to do.
Not too far behind our house there was an old gravel pit where we often rode our horses. We went up and down the huge piles of sand and gravel and swam the horses across standing bodies of water. Looking back, I can only shudder at what a dangerous spot this really was! I am sure all children have tales that they have never shared with their parents, at least not until adulthood, but I never did tell my parents about the gravel pit escapades.
When I became a teenager, I had visions of becoming a fashion model, probably as an aftermath of those early days in front of a camera. I posed incessantly and often walked around the house balancing a book on my head to ensure good posture. My Dad never lost his military bearing, and my Mother was somewhat of the posture policia. “Stand up straight.” “Hold your shoulders back.” “Don’t stand there sway-backed.” I suppose all those admonitions took hold as I do have pretty good posture to this day.
Outside of a few brief stints in high school, my modelling career never quite materialized, and my interests quickly moved on to other visions of the future. When I was around thirteen or fourteen, I did make my television début. Unfortunately, it was as the Easter Bunny on some stupid children’s program on one of the Dallas television stations, but it was live television, even if I was totally concealed in my Easter Bunny outfit!
©2015, Black Dirt and Sunflowers
Time for a change of pace next week. Join me for “Clowns, Cancer, and Clairvoyance.”
