Love this one, too. Tom makes his appearance, in a picture called, "Tom heads for the camera." The look on my face, in light of still another child to dilute my parents' attention, is priceless.
I fervently hope that this was absolutely the last time I ever wore clamdiggers and flip-flops. What WAS my mother thinking?
Okay, all right, I admit it, this kid was c-u-t-e, cute. I think he had a string that ran from his pants pocket up to his bow-tie that he could pull to make it spin. Very amusing.
Long Beach, Washington.
We lived at 2131 Davison, in Richland, WA, in a house that must have been built sometime in the sixties: a big split-level that featured a picture window in the front, electric heat (you can see the control on the wall), and an intercom system no one ever used. Here's the kid with the beginnings of a comic book collection he augments to this day.
The Hardin family, c.1963, just before their two-year crime spree across nineteen states. I'm surprised this photograph survived the most rudimentary of scrapbook cleanups undertaken over the nearly five decades since it was taken. Anyone even remotely apprised of our family history would see just how wildly telling these facial expressions are, and the fact that 50% of the kids turned out half normal (you do the math) can be considered miraculous.
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