On Sunday, May 21st, 1911, the photographer would be coming through town. They had signed up at church the month before to schedule for the rare visit. It was an expensive venture to be sure with an average pay of $12 per week, it had to be budgeted for or come from money set aside for such an extravagance. The boys were already going off on their own, so this might well be the last time they take a family portrait. Mr. Miller decided it would be worth the expense.
Mrs. Miller had worked for hours the night before brushing the suits and pressing the collars. She had sore hands from the starch and hot iron pressing the day before, but the family would look their best in what they had on this day. The boys were wearing a few hand-me-down suits of their father’s but she had tailored them to fit well. Her oldest boy, wearing his first catalog ordered suit, would be leaving to work on the railroad and the next oldest would also be leaving to take his brother to the station and then look for a job in Evansville.
Linus had never been away from home to work or travel alone. His mother worried for his safety, but she knew he was excited to go. Her youngest son was only three and was fighting a terrible cold and had always been sickly. She feared he might be coming down with scarlet fever. It had been making rounds in the county and it had taken a few children to heaven over the spring.
Mr. Miller stood on the porch, checked his pocket watch, and looked up from it in time to see a motorized vehicle coming up the long dirt road toward his two story saltbox house. He called the children out onto the porch and the boys brought chairs for their parents. They were all excited to see the stranger and none of them but Mr. Miller had ever seen an automobile up close.
Minor Photography Company was painted white across the side of the panel on the Model T Ford bouncing and swaying up the dirt road. As he applied the hand brake and skidded to a halt, noises of clanks and spilling boxes came from the back seat of his contraption. All the children, including the grown men ran out to inspect the black metal hulk parked next to an old horse hitch.
“Hello friends. Are you ready to take your place in history?” There was little to unpack compared to the old tin type box cameras. This camera was hand held with a handle on the box. It was flat and had an ocular on the top and a flat large lense in the front. He called it “a brownie.” He instructed the family as he pointed where to sit how they were to freeze completely until he told them to move so the photo would not be blurred. He pointed at his head as a place to look and told them not to smile as to show any teeth and the children must be kept as still as possible or it would ruin the picture quality. He made a great fuss about it until Mr. Miller asked him to proceed, passing two coins over to the man to motivate the end to his speech.
As Mr. Miller sat surrounded by his large family, he thought of the first picture standing next to his wife who was so innocent and lovely eighteen years prior. She had agreed to marry him after a year of courting and he counted himself lucky as she had been a loyal and uncomplaining wife. Still smelling his collar pressed with Fels-Naptha, he caught the familiar scent of her lilac oil worn on their wedding day and every day since.
sherrystruthtofiction 