|Cleveland Christmas Party - my friend Johanna (on Santa's lap), her son & ex-DIL, and a very young me |
(to left of her son). Circa late 80s.
Salad years? If anything, THESE are my salad years, as I am usually trying to watch my weight and grow my own fixings. Back then, I could eat anything and did. Mostly, it wasn't salads. Sigh. I digress.
A lot of these photographs were less than perfect. Some were a little fuzzy, some bore the obvious signs of a bad-hair era. These photographs were taken before the era of instant gratification - although I did and do have my much-loved Polaroids - and before you could censor yourself. I have never liked having my picture taken and there are very few photographs of myself that I like. There are actually only two: one taken when I was in my early 20s, I believe, with my mother, both of us hysterically laughing; the other taken at a sidewalk cafe in Paris on my first trip abroad. After that, it was all downhill. I have also discovered that I seem to be obsessed with bagpipers. There are dozens of pictures of bagpipers - parades, festivals, funerals. What can it mean??? It was such an emotional rollercoaster, coming across pictures of my younger self, a dear friend who died of lung cancer, sorely missed, my life in Holland. It was so nice having actual photographs, bits of glossy paper, to look at - just as it is comforting having actual books to hold in my hand and read. And here I sit typing about it, into a post which goes into my blog, which goes out into the blogosphere. Life is so interesting, isn't it?