Here's another one of those mysterious family photographs -- this one of my maternal grandmother (the one in the back-left squinting from the smoke of her cigarette) sitting at a small table in an even smaller kitchen with a group of really elegant women friends and a whole lot of bottles of Cutty Sark and Rexnor. It is impossible to tell what time of day it is -- but I always imagined for some perverse reason that it is in the afternoon -- and the shade is down to keep out the bright California sun. And then there are the vegetables incongruously sitting on the edge of the table -- as though someone any moment might actually get up and make dinner?
There is a long story behind the photograph -- my grandmother Jeanette Westegaard worked in Hollywood as a script writer. The other women all worked in costuming and especially elegant hats. They were good friends -- even at a time when segregation might have made it difficult for them to gather.
And of course, I wonder about the woman who took the picture -- and the fact that none of her friends are looking at her, or posing for it. One of the group just stood up (and where has she been sitting? on a counter? there's no extra chair) and snapped it.
And what happened immediately after the photo was taken? Did they all look up from their intense conversations, put down their cigarettes and glasses, and laugh at being caught unawares by the camera?