Elaine Ambrose

Bestselling Author, Ventriloquist, & Humorist

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The Humble Photographer

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(Published on The Huffington Post June 8, 2015)

camera

 

We all remember school picture day and how our mothers cajoled us into wearing that hideous dress just for Grandma, or restrained our bangs that we had purposely left to dance upon our eyelashes. Then, we repeated the motherly routine with our own children, fussing over their collars, bribing them to wear the cute headband and admonishing them to smile — or else! Did we ever consider the person behind the camera?

My uncle was a community photographer for almost 40 years. He opened a small shop in the hamlet of Jerome, Idaho, and his work took him to schools around the valley. He photographed weddings, reunions, anniversary parties and civic events. A self-taught businessman, he learned how to set up lights and props while he experimented with different ways to use a camera. He developed the film in his darkroom and carefully categorized the thousands of smiling faces. His work preserved memories for three generations.

He died recently at age 93, and a grateful crowd came to the memorial service to offer their respects. The most common comment was, “He was such a good, humble man.”

The world of photography has changed dramatically over the years. My uncle used to take his film and process the negatives as his clients waited weeks for the results. Now, any pre-teen or bored celebrity with a cell phone can take a “selfie” and instantly post an obnoxious, duck-lipped pose on social media. Too many are tempted to post potentially embarrassing photos that remain forever on the Internet. The act requires no skill and definitely no humility.

My uncle was appalled at how the art of photography had become a vanity tool for those who screamed, “Look at me!” His professional pride came from his talent to cajole a cranky baby to giggle, his ability to evoke a smile from a petulant schoolboy and his desire to create the perfect pose for a nervous bride. Behind the camera, he directed beautiful, true images of life. Not one of his photos included a purposely pouty pose.

The next time you take your children or grandchildren to a photography boutique in a retail store or prepare them for school photography day, consider the person behind the camera. The photographer doesn’t know your child, but will attempt to elicit a portrait that captures personality as well as image. These artists remain obscure, hidden behind their lenses, and that’s their choice. Behind the scenes, they use their talent to create instant masterpieces of other people.

My uncle didn’t want or need attention or fame. But he lives on through framed portraits that hang on thousands of walls and in photographs that fill countless albums. Over the decades, life through his eyes reflected a changing reality from poise to pomposity. He closed his business when the authentic images were not retrievable.

He was such a good, humble man.

Start Your Own Easter Parade

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(Featured  April 3, 2015 on Midlife Boulevard http://midlifeboulevard.com/start-easter-parade/

and Huffington Post 50 http://www.huffingtonpost.com/elaine-ambrose/start-your-own-easter-parade_b_6999574.html)

easter fashion

In the 1880s, the Easter Parade became the spring “to do” festivity for people bored with winter and ready to show off their finery. The occasion began as a procession in Manhattan from various churches after religious service to commemorate Easter, the most important holiday observance for Christians. The after-church traditional walk evolved into an exhibition of the latest trends in fashion.

Those from the less affluent classes lined the streets to watch the well-dressed procession saunter down the avenue. Local retail establishments saw the Easter Parade as a commercial opportunity and dry goods merchants and milliners publicized their new wares on the prominent people. By the turn of the century, the commercial scene provided through the Easter Parade equaled the Christmas season for successful sales.

American songwriter Irving Berlin worked for 15 years on a song he finally called “Easter Parade” and introduced in 1933. The lyrics were relatively simple, but the song became an instant hit as he promised ladies “in your Easter Bonnet, with all the frills upon it” that they would be the grandest lady in the parade. The song was later used in the final number in the hit 1948 movie “Easter Parade” staring Fred Astaire and Judy Garland. The classic movie contained 17 songs written by Berlin, and it should be added to your movie wish list.

During my childhood, we didn’t have any Easter parades in my small hometown in Idaho. But the children were dressed in their best clothes, the parents brought out their best Sunday-meeting attire, and families proudly appeared in church. In a photo from 1960, my two brothers and I were posed in front of our car before we left for church. My mother knew to quickly take the photograph because my white socks, white Mary-Jane shoes, frilly dress, and white hat had a high chance of becoming dirty within the hour.

Start Your Own Easter Parade
Elaine and her brothers, 1960

In 1978, I was in labor all day Easter with my first child. She was born the following day and came home from the hospital in her first Easter dress. Now, my granddaughters dress up in their new clothes, complete with frilly dresses and perky hats. Photos are taken, Easter brunch is shared, and candy is consumed because it’s been too long since the sugar rush of Valentine’s Day. Some go to church, some don’t, but we try to celebrate together as a family. If there isn’t any parade, we could always start our own. Why not?

2022 Update: This year I enjoyed making Easter eggs and laughing with the youngest granddaughter. Her older sisters have outgrown the tradition and don’t scamper over the lawn searching for hidden eggs. While they’ll never parade on 5th Avenue in elegant dresses, they’ll be busy creating their own memories. No parasols required.

 

Loving Life at Age 20, 40, and 60

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cabin wine

My five boisterous, funny granddaughters recently came over to make candy trains, a Christmas tradition that I first shared with my children 32 years ago. After their mothers wrangled them together to go home, my 7-year-old granddaughter turned to me and said, “I love making candy trains. After you die, we’re going to keep on making them with our families.”

Talk about a buzz-kill for the holidays! The pure honesty of children can be brutal. I hadn’t thought about dying, but she did bring up an important part of life – it continues with or without us. After the kids and commotion were gone, I poured a glass of wine and sat to contemplate the stages of life.  For me so far, there are three favorite ages.

elaine age 18 u of I

The Tender Twenties

A popular website titled Addicted to Success [addicted2success.com] recently published an article about life lessons that people should know at age 20. The tips included advice on how to relax, suggestions for staying healthy, and a reminder that happiness comes from within. I don’t think these rules are just limited to age 20, but people need to start somewhere.

At 20, I was a junior in college majoring in journalism. My friends were getting married and moving into inexpensive apartments with donated futons, beanbag chairs, and bookshelves made from boards on cinder blocks. That didn’t appeal to me because I didn’t have a steady boyfriend and the world was wide open and waiting for my naive confidence and stubborn independence. After I graduated from college, I loaded all my possessions into my Pontiac Firebird and drove down the road, without a job or a care.

During my twenties, I worked for various companies, I met my future husband, and we had two children. I hurried into my thirties totally exhausted. I worked full-time, had two active kids, a busy marriage, and a home that sprouted clutter. Looking back, I wish I had worked part-time. Even though women at the time were told we could “have it all,” something had to give. My marriage didn’t survive.

elaine age 48 1999

The Fabulous Forties

A recent article in Psychology Today notes that middle-aged people often feel discontent and restless while needing to reassess life and its meaning. They are confronting important issues, including the inevitable physical changes in their bodies, a sense of mortality, and the upcoming empty nest as their children grow up and leave home. Marriages are tested as both partners experience various feelings and turmoil during this time of transition.

For me, age 40 was a time of renewed focus. My children were 10 and 13, so I didn’t have any more childcare issues. I quit my corporate job and became the associate editor of a regional magazine. I divorced and managed to pay the mortgage, fix leaking toilets, and attend the kid’s activities. One pivotal time came when water began pouring from the ceiling into the living room because the rain gutters were clogged. I stood outside on a ladder in the rain scooping out leaves until the gutters were free. I was cold and close to crying, but I finished the job. The experience was liberating.

elaine portrait look back

The Sassy Sixties

According to a recent TODAY survey of 1,500 adults, the 60s can be a positive time of life. Of the participants in the study in their 60s, 72 percent said they felt younger than their age. A majority of the respondents said their journey so far was better than they expected. The key factors to happiness after 60 include personal health and adequate finances. Throw in loving relationships with friends and/or partners and life can be rewarding and fulfilling. Careers are ending so there is more time to volunteer, travel, work on hobbies, and read books from start to finish.

Sometimes I marvel at how I got so old so fast, but really, it’s a wonderful time. My children are grown, married, working, and have delightful children of their own. I married a wonderful man, and we’re having the best time of our lives. We’re free to sleep naked with the bedroom door open, proving that simple pleasures can make life more interesting.

Studies indicate that people who live to age 60 have a likely chance of living until age 82. That gives me two more decades to focus on health, manage my finances, continue to laugh with my grandkids, and chase my husband around the house. I hope to tumble and fumble into my eighties with a sassy attitude of gratitude for an abundant life. And by then, my granddaughters can bring along their kids, and we’ll make some candy trains before I die.

 

The Christmas Fort

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adam fort age 9

Two decades ago, before the popularity and distraction of video games, cell phones, and personal computers, children played outside. They rode bikes, threw balls to each other in the park, scouted for frogs in the ditch, and climbed trees. And they built forts.

Our family moved into a new subdivision when my son was in third grade. The house backed up to a row of empty lots, a little boy’s adventure land. The neighbors next door had two little boys, and my son joined them in playing in the dirt. The developer was building new homes nearby, so the boys hauled unneeded scrap lumber over to the lot behind our house and built a fort. The fathers helped with the heavy lifting, but the boys did most of the work.

In December, they lined the fort with lights and strung an extension cord to the house. The local newspaper mentioned the fort in its list of Christmas light displays to see. They spent countless hours in the fort, telling stories, making little boy plans, and just being in their own private world. Of course, no adults were allowed, unless we were bringing snacks.

The structure weathered the winter, and the boys continued to play inside the fort. One day my son came home from school and went outside to play. He soon came running inside and yelled at me to come with him. The fort had been torn down, left in a pile of broken boards. Nearby the developer’s machinery rumbled over the ground, flattening everything in its path. The boys were heartbroken, but we had a discussion about personal property. We didn’t own the land, so the developer had the right to prepare the ground and build a house. It didn’t occur to him to move the structure to our yard.

My son grew up, married, and had children of his own. Last year he built them a fort in the tree in his back yard. His daughters played and laughed in the tree house, and adults could come near if we brought snacks. Maybe this year, in the spirit of the season and to continue the tradition, they’ll add lights on the fort. And if we’re good and on our best behavior, maybe they’ll allow the adults to come inside.

My Nutcracker Died

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weary nutcracker

The old soldier fell out of the ornament box and surrendered on the floor. His left arm finally rebelled against years of reapplied glue, and his right arm no longer felt secured under the yellowed scotch tape. A boot was missing, his mouth no longer opened, and his cracker wouldn’t crack. I could relate in so many ways.

I imagined hearing the sad military song “TAPS” playing somewhere, and the sound probably came from the box of unwrapped musical toys I kept for the tree. The old nutcracker’s sentry duties were done after standing at attention on the mantel every December for more than 20 years. Packed and unpacked, moved, stored, dusted, taped, glued, and then perched into position, he watched as the small children grew up, moved away, and then brought children of their own to play in front of the fireplace. He maintained his sturdy composure, a favorite fixture in the background throughout decades of Christmas photographs.

I picked up the sentimental soldier and determined he was beyond repair. I suspected the other decorations had been grumbling about his declining health because obviously he couldn’t see or hear very well, and he probably fell asleep during his watch. The angel in the snow globe shook her head and scattered her irritation like bits of frosty frowns, the wise men in the Nativity scene muttered that he should retire and ride off on a camel, and even durable Mr. Bill cried, “Oh, no!” and wondered why the character continued to perch on the mantel year after year when there were so many younger decorations waiting their turn.

What happens to old nutcrackers? To my knowledge he had never cracked a nut and I wondered if his entire life had been a fraud. Or, maybe he accepted his lofty position on the mantel, content to come out for one month every year and guard the family. I didn’t want to throw him away in the garbage or keep him in the bottom of the ornament box with the cluttered, broken debris. After serious contemplation, I devised a list of suggestions for how to properly retire a dead nutcracker.

  1. Resist the urge to throw him into the fireplace in front of the children. This unacceptable behavior could lead to expensive counseling bills.
  2. Don’t tell the grandkids a mushy story like the Velveteen Nutcracker. There is no way he can be rubbed, loved, or cajoled into humanity.
  3. Don’t be tempted to donate him to the local ballet for a future performance of “The Nutcracker.” They probably have bins and boxes full of dead nutcrackers.
  4. Don’t give him to the local gun club for target practice. We’re desperately trying to avoid the current plethora of inflammatory issues so we’ll play it safe with snow globes and candy canes.
  5. Here’s the only answer: Glue and duct-tape all the parts together, tie a bow around his neck, and give him to the grandchildren. Then their parents have to deal with him.

According to German folklore, nutcrackers were given as keepsakes to bring good luck and to protect the family home. The legend says that a nutcracker represents power and strength and serves like a trusty watch dog guarding the family from evil spirits and danger. My nutcracker performed his duties for two decades, and we were safe. To honor my dead soldier, I toasted him with a mug of Christmas cheer. It was only sensible to toast him 20 times.

Sweet Traditions with Candy Trains

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candy trains e and a

Mix three wonderful items – kids, Christmas, and candy – and create some fun and lasting memories by making candy trains. They are magic because they disappear before New Year’s Eve.

We first made candy trains more than thirty years ago when my two children were toddlers. Now, their children and I meet on a Saturday each December to make trains.  It’s a tradition that gets better every year. The mothers and I have added a new ritual that makes everything more festive: we enjoy a glass of wine while the little ones concentrate on frosting and candy. By the end of the day, everyone is happy. Sugar rush? Who cares?

candy trains 3 crop

Candy trains make wonderful holiday centerpieces, and they’re also fun gifts for neighbors and friends. To make trains and traditions of your own, you’ll need the following supplies:

Cardboard

Tinfoil and tape

A few cans of white frosting

Strings of red licorice

Candy: M&Ms, unwrapped candy bars, unwrapped round red and white mints, chocolate kisses, life savers, square mints in foil, anything else you want. (Frozen leftovers from Halloween work well.)

Cut up a cardboard box and tape several sturdy pieces together for the platform. Cover it with tinfoil and tape on the bottom to secure.

Spread white frosting on the cardboard for snow. Place two strips of licorice over the frosting for the tracks. Squish one candy bar into the frosting near the end of the platform. Cut a candy bar in half and “glue” with frosting to the top of the first candy bar. See the engine taking shape?

Now, glue the round wheels onto the candy bar. Glue M&Ms into the center of each wheel. Glue a chocolate kiss onto the front for the cow catcher. Use unwrapped lifesavers on the engine for the smoke stack. Repeat with more cars, adding wheels and more candy. Allow the children to create their own masterpieces. We’re talking about future engineers here! You may need to establish parameters ahead of time: the designers only can eat four pieces of candy and four tastes of the frosting during the assembly.

After the edible art is finished, everyone celebrates with hot cocoa. Then the kids can proudly take home their trains to display on the kitchen counter. If you have a cat, you may need to cover the train or leave the cat outside until January. (In case defensive pet lovers don’t know, that was a joke.)

candy trains 1

Over the next few days, the train gradually disappears. One M&M is missing, a chocolate kiss disappears, and then a chunk of candy bar is gone. How does that happen? As we all know, the season is full of mystery and magic, and it makes me happy to watch my children and their children enjoy a special family tradition. After we tuck the little ones into bed, we often stand and gaze at them sleeping and imagine visions of sugar plums dancing in their heads. Somewhere, I can hear Tiny Tim saying, “God bless us. Every one!”