First, I want to thank Camille for making this post possible. She asked me for some pictures of me and my dad together and I sent her a bunch but lamented that this one had a wrinkle across it; she ‘shopped the wrinkle out, fixed the color, and e-mailed it back to me. Yay, Camille!
So, there’s baby Me, sitting in Daddy’s lap… this was sometime mid-1969. Dad probably just finished washing the car (seriously, that was usually what he wore), and it was time for cuddles with his little baby girl that looked like a little baby boy.
And so to get comfortable, he lit up his pipe and blew huge puffs of tobacky smoke right into my personal space. Did baby Me care? Not a bit. In fact, Daddy completely bored baby Me, as evidenced by my big baby yawn. Either way, I doubt my lungs were pink for very long. To my parents’ credit, the dangers of second-hand smoke were not widely known back then or Mom never would have allowed this scene to take place, much less let it be captured on film!
I love this photo; it’s always been one of my favorites but means even more now. I hated those years when Dad smoked but oh, what I would give to smell that pipe again.