arms up!

December 14, 2010 | Filed Under Uncategorized | Leave a Comment 

My daughter doesn’t look a lot like me she looks a lot like her dad but whenever she is mad, sad or happy all her emotions play all over her face and she looks exactly the same as me. People who say we are not alike at all – kinda freak out and go “oh my god, she is the spitting image of you right now!”

She is a tough cookie who is fearless, brave and very very independent – even at three you can’t miss it in her. We were both born quite early, her a few weeks, me a few months, and we live life the same way impatient and ready to take it on.

She hates going to bed and eating her dinner – both traits of mine at her age which drive me insane, her grandfather says its parents revenge that I have to put up with the same trouble that they did with me.

We both love the old guy on the slide to bits. He might be Dad to me and Poppie to her be we reckon he is the best. He is a kind, calm, hard working and generous man. I hope she inherits this from him, as I did,  being a positive, glass is half full person in tough times is a great inspiration to all around you.



the lighting

December 13, 2010 | Filed Under Uncategorized | Leave a Comment 

Both Jo and Isabelle were living in a foreign country to their native UK when the pictures were taken. In 1970 we were in Nigeria, and Isabelle is now based in Zakynthos, Greece.  In 1970, making long distance calls from Nigeria to the UK was a tortuous business, but Kiki has never known a time without video Skype, which we all use to keep in touch today. I’m still blown away by how this technology has shrunk our world, but Kiki and Hari are all like, meh!

Jo, Isabelle and Kiki are all partial to a bit of cake!



grandad’s mouth

December 10, 2010 | Filed Under Uncategorized | Leave a Comment 

To me both are handsome and always posing for the cameras – I remember my grandfather always taking time to get ready for a picture, the same does my little son.  As my grandfather, my son has good taste (for toys, music, food, clothing, and for girls…ha ha) and independence.

None of them were rich, they had no money, but they were fighters, studied hard to become literate and as working class put lot of effort in their dream of making and then growing their small families with pride.

My grandfather was never able to own or drive a car so he was a very good and usual and fast walker and even-though my son is little (7 yrs old at the present) he loves and prefers walking fast to any transport, which in fact he enjoys here in london all the time: we walk to everywhere at any time!



frown, don’t smile

December 9, 2010 | Filed Under Uncategorized | Leave a Comment 


I remember my mom dressing me up and taking this picture, making me wear the itchy wool skirt and bulky white tights, then telling me to frown instead of smile. It was in our dining room; I remember the wallpaper which looks like the patterns I see when I close my eyes and press on them too hard.

My mom was a “Carny” when she was a young woman; she played in the Palace of Legerdemain as the lady who gets burned up, the mermaid, the girl who is cut in half.  I was a child actor, mainly in dramatic theatrical performance; I “married up” into Vaudeville and toured with the Flying Karamazov Brothers and the New Old Time Chautauqua.  As she’s grown up in this world, my daughter has melded her dance and theater experience into aerial dance, where she now does trapeze, lyra, fabric and straps in aerial performance.  From my mom’s carnival dramatics, to my theater/vaudeville experience, to my daughter’s dance and circus arts, it feels like the generations are transforming performance from over-the-top sleight of hand, into down-to-earth drama and humor, emotional levity and now into literal levity, off the ground dancing on air.  It’s refreshing to see the growth over the generations from the carnival art of deceitful cleverness, to vaudeville’s humorous entertainment, to skilled graceful circus performance for beauty’s sake.

As a child, I was always told that I look “exactly like” my mother.  As an adult, the resemblance is uncanny (especially when looking at myself, horrified, in the mirror).  Physically in my daughter I can see my deep-set eyes and dimples in her face, but as her dad is Hispanic she is darker in hair and skin than I am; often when she was a child people couldn’t see that we were related at all.  She has lost a lot of curl and her hair has lightened up as she’s matured, so she’s looking more and more like me as she becomes a young woman.

My daughter and I are similar in our ability to intuit the heart of a situation, to throw ourselves totally into a project or relationship, and our ability to hold a grudge for an extensive period of time.