Datebook: Tuesday, August 22nd ~ 2006

I think it is time we talk about pictures.

(Not the photos from the “official photographer” at competitions. I actually fear talking about those because a bouncer—wearing Kodak colors of course-- might be sent out to confiscate any disposable cameras used at a recent competition in case I planned to sell these pieces of art to the masses).

No, I mean the photos we offer to the world everyday. The ones on our official documents. Like our driver’s license photographs.

First of all, it clearly states that a driver’s license is to be used only for identification of operating a motor vehicle. It is not supposed to be used to verify my Visa signature. I don’t want the sales clerk at Macy’s to see my latest photo. If she isn’t on my Christmas card list getting my annual family photo, she certainly doesn’t qualify to see my pix in August.

It is always the same, I have to surgically remove it from my wallet like its been superglued to the leather, I present it, the clerk looks, does this little blink thing with her eyes, and then avoids looking directly at me ever again.

There are reasons driver’s license photos look horrible.

First of all, there are only 4 or 5 birthdays we care about. 13, because you can finally say you are a teenager. 16, because you can drive. 18, because you are an adult according to the criminal digests of any state. 20, because you can say you are no longer a teenager and 21, because, well, you get to actually sit in the light and drink.

That’s it. We don’t want to celebrate other moments in our history.

The Motor Vehicle Administration has this odd way of photographing drivers. If dog years equal 1 for every 7 of ours, they use the Beagle model. That’s right. Every five years we get a notice that we need to go to the MVA and get re-photographed for our new license.

This is not a cause for celebration. In fact, they won’t give you the old license back in case it was a good previous photo year. They will cut the little picture out and you can use it to keep a running progress of your life at five year clips.

I wasn’t sure what to do with them so I started adding them to the back of my high school yearbook.

It is kind of like a bell curve I guess.

Passport photos are other captured moments in time. Adults always look like they are about to be incarcerated. There is no way to stand against a blue background draped over a concrete wall in a government building and not think the next step involves getting black ink on your fingers.

These should be happy photos.

These are the pre-photos for vacations

Or skating travel.

They should not look like you were just handed a bill for the cost of every skater who placed higher than your child at the last competition. Eyes should not look glazed; hair should not stand on end.

We need some free-lance photographers to stand on the sidelines at MVA and the Post Office to assure quality control or at least competitive incentives.

Someone who makes sure the light is falling softly across our cheekbones. Someone who knows what a “good side” is, and knows how to tip the chin at just the right angle to hide the recent addiction to Nutter Butters.

Passport pictures stay with us for a decade. It does seem like a sentence and there is no possibility for parole.

I am getting travel materials ready for my daughter and so of course I have her passport in hand. There is no denying that being on the up side of the Bell Curve has advantages.

I take some comfort in seeing the numbers and U. S. seal that flits across her face like one of those rings in a Cracker Jack box. Still, I have been with her when custom agents look at her passport, then at her, and then smile sweetly, saying, “Good picture.”

I’ve resigned myself to accepting there will be some things I will never hear in my lifetime.

Topping the list: The salesperson at Talbot’s will never say, “Great picture, Mrs. Banderas.”

Mombo#9