Clearly the same features...dad mom uncle the kids. This is how folks traveled back then. Family packs. Their expressions are the sort that we all got when if as one we knew we'd had enough, and wanted to go home. ...where everything was normal.
I think that's a '52 Pontiac behind them there. Not theirs of course. Only communists, and beatniks had convertibles.
Looking at them...yeah the parents, and uncle have been beaten to a pulp by the world.
The daughter is glazed...she knows she's trapped, and will end up like her mom. The teenaged son certainly by now knows it's a rigged game, but he's not bitter yet.
The little son is still innocent, and in his dreams...bless him.
Were that they all could have kept their dreams.
Btw I learned how to do this jazz at the "Uncle Sidney School of Social Analysis, and Air Conditioner Repair". Call them today...ask about their veteran's rates.
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