Somewhere in the last year, my sister Kirstie took on the mantel of family photographer. To understand the implications of this, you must know that my grandfather has worked all of his life to make certain mine is the most well-documented family in America. Would he so desire, Ken Burns could make a film about our family sans narration and using only my grandfather’s photos that matched the combined length of Baseball and The Civil War.
Kirstie’s eye for photography is natural and amazing. She can find things through a lens that I would miss 99 times out of 100. She also has the special ability to convince her subjects to step outside the ordinary.
So, yesterday, in a rare event that saw all of my dad’s family assembled at once, Kirstie took the expected family portrait.
She then turned and asked if we all knew what Blue Steel was. Not surprisingly, the majority of the family said no. My cousin Chloe and I are evidently the only true celebrants of Ben Stiller’s film canon.
Kirstie demonstrated and told us we would all be sporting Blue Steel on the count of three. The result is above.
Pay particular attention to how my grandparents interpreted the instructions.
The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree (and I come from an orchard).