I was sitting in the back of our truck with my brother, James, and sister, Charlotte, wearing itchy clothes, holding props, and trying not to wrinkle anything. We pulled into a parking spot in front of Starbucks in Portland, Maine, and my parents opened their doors and walked out. They pointed inside and waved to a lady and man who came outside to greet them. The lady’s name is Danielle. She is a professional photographer and a family friend who takes our family photos every year. Through the car windows, we saw that she was holding a large camera, a bag of lenses and memory chips, and the man, her husband Chris, was holding a step ladder. He has been my dad’s best friend since college. I opened the car door and Danielle peered in.

“Hi kids!” she said, “Are you ready to get this over with? It’s your mother’s favorite day of the year, so just act like this is a Christmas present to her.”

We noded, knowing very well that this means the world to our mom, and that she and her friend Danielle spent months planning the elaborate scheme for the annual photo shoot. And so we carefully scooted out of the truck, trying not to mess up our hair and clothes.

Every year, we anticipate something going wrong before or during the photo shoot. Whether it be frigid outside, or someone has a catastrophic haircut, it always makes for an interesting day. Everyone in my family reacts to the pictures differently. Charlotte adores the photo shoot. She is always very excited for the pictures, loving the attention and posing for the camera. James despises it. He absolutely hates posing, and being forced to wear clothes that he would never choose himself. I dislike the attention, and having to forge a smile or imitate walking down a street, but I just try to get it over with and not protest. My dad sucks it up and does whatever he is asked to do, knowing the faster everyone cooperates and moves along, the faster it will be done and we can go to lunch or get on with the day. One of the earlier years that we had pictures taken of our whole family, after my two siblings had been born, was in 2007 in Exeter in front of the old mill buildings. Charlotte was two years old, James was four years old, and I was six. We had been painstakingly dressed and prepared for the occasion, but when we arrived at the location, we realized it was too dark. In order to see the backdrop, which coordinated with our outfits, we needed it to be lighter out. We decided to go around to other places nearby to take individual pictures while we waited for the sun to be just right. Then we realized something… James and Charlotte had to take their naps, and they were already getting restless. We ended up going home, undressing, waiting for them to sleep, dressing up again, and driving back to take the picture.

In 2008, only a few days before the photoshoot, James and Charlotte were playing alone in the basement. They decided to play ‘haircut’, where  James proceeded to cut Charlotte’s beautiful, long, curly blonde hair on a diagonal above her ear so she had a mullet. That one snip resulted in a late afternoon emergency trip to Supercuts, where they cut the rest of Charlotte’s hair to her chin to try to even it out. In the picture a few days later, taken on Mackworth Island in Maine, we made sure to cover the disaster area with  a large bow, and took the pictures from farther away.

The next year, Charlotte’s hair had grown back, and we were back in downtown Exeter for our 2009 pictures. James was amid a few year period of time where he would not cooperate when getting his picture taken AT ALL. In every picture taken, James is either frowning, pushing me and Charlotte, or my mom has him in a vise grip to keep him still. This was also the year when Danielle bribed us with candy to cooperate for the pictures. She would toss us candy periodically like we were show dogs getting treats. Knowing we would have prizes for being good through the photoshoot was all it took to get it over with quickly and painlessly.

In 2010, we decided to take our pictures at the Portland Headlight Park. Danielle had gone ahead and found a wall that would be the perfect backdrop. Horrifyingly, when we arrived, we were dismayed to see that there was profanity freshly spraypainted on the wall. We changed plans and found another wall to pose by.

In 2011 we had the brilliant idea of taking our pictures in Portsmouth on the old bridge before it was torn down. The bridge looked like the perfect site: peeling green paint to expose dark rust, and behind it, the water. We had to park relatively far away, and walked all the way to the bridge, when we realized it was going to be very difficult to take the picture. We could smell the exhaust from the cars driving by, people were walking with strollers, rollerblades, biking, people were walking on the sidewalk with dogs, and here we were trying to take up half of the road for the picture. We decided to jump the “keep out” tape and go on the side of the bridge. A man wearing bright orange reflective work clothes, and was sitting in the lookout tower above us yelled at us to go back on the other side of the tape. Reluctantly, we obeyed, but never got completely ready for the picture to be taken. To our surprise, the picture, which was really only a practice-shot to check the lighting, ended up hanging in our living room.

In 2012, we had a wonderful surprise when we walked down to the railroad yard in Portland and saw a train with ‘Polar Express’ written on it. Although it was frigid and windy next to the water, and I had bare arms, the finished product was great and well worth it.

Two years later, in 2014, we had another hair trauma a few days before the photo shoot. It’s funny how karma works out. James had ruined Charlotte’s hair, and although it was not nearly as severe, James’s hair had been ‘ruined’ too. James had asked for his normal haircut (using scissors) and ended up with my Dad’s haircut- an almost completely shaved head. James hid in his room under the covers all day the day before the pictures, and refused to show his face. So, at the last minute, we decided to all wear hats. That way, no one would see his hair (or lack thereof).

Although we have had our fair share of problems and mishaps when it comes to our annual family photo shoot, we all know that the final product will always be worth it. It’s always funny to laugh at the story behind the perfect photograph. None of us like to have our outfits chosen for us, to have to hold strange props, and fake laugh over and over again while having a camera shoved in our faces, but we don’t even argue anymore, and try to get it over with as soon as possible. So, when the yearly time rolls around to wake up early, dress up in somewhat matching clothes, and stand in the cold smiling with chapped lips with pedestrians staring at us like we are aliens, we just laugh and hope that we can get it over with as quickly as possible. I will admit that it’s nice to look back at a picture from every year and see how we have changed.

A couple weeks ago when we had no school for Veteran’s Day, Danielle and Chris walked with us down the the sidewalk along Wharf Street in the old port, to the first scene for our pictures. It was cold, and we could have still be sleeping.

“How are we going to do this?” my mom said. “I want the old lampposts to be in the background, but there are road signs posted on them.”

“Let’s go down the street to the spot in front of that restaurant,” Danielle pointed to a part of the street a hundred meters away. “Then we can get the lampposts without the signs, and no parked cars in the background.”

James, Charlotte, and I quietly groaned. We were tired, and ready to be done: or at least stop talking and get to the place to pose. We walked down the old cobblestone street.

“Can I hold the box?” Charlotte asked.

“Sure. Go stand in the street. We will be right there,” my mom replied.

Danielle snapped a picture of Charlotte holding the box.

“James, pick up the wreath and the snowflake bag.”

“Nah…” He said, shoving it into my arms. The prickly twigs were pretty, yet painful to hold. “It hurts my hands.” A truck full of pumpkins drove down the road, and we moved to the side of the street while it squeezed by.
“Ok. Quickly jump back into the street before the next car comes,” Danielle said. Chris was holding a coffee, leaning back against a brick wall and quietly chuckling at my dad and the scene. We were commanded to pose:
“Move forward… forward… forward… backwards… Turn to the side… Stick your head forward… Throw your head back and pretend to laugh…” James, Charlotte, and I looked at each other and truly did laugh. We know we are always going to have to do this, and might as well make the most of it and get it done quickly. I balanced on one foot, pretending to walk forward down a street, and Danielle snapped the picture. Came out pretty great right?