Apr 142012
 

Memories are strange things. Both gift and curse, they allow us to learn from the past even as they let us dwell upon it. Left unchecked, they may lead us to nostalgia.

One thing I love about old photos is how they can trigger buried memories or remind me of things I haven’t thought of in a long time. Even the most seemingly boring snapshot might lead to a rich array of associations. Take this one for example.

golden retriever

me and my dogJust a picture of a dog, my childhood golden retriever. I got him when we were both just puppies. I remember my mom broke her wrist in a freak accident while playing with him. We had to put him down when he was, at least in my memory, too young. I never had a dog since.

But also in the picture is a lawn chair. I can remember its texture, how it opened and adjusted. On it sets a book, almost certainly a science fiction novel, a near-constant companion in those days. The building in the image was a detached garage. Atop its roof was an aerial antenna we used to get the three or four TV channels available at the time. The antenna also served as a lightning rod, common in the Midwest in those days.

The car in the background was a dark green Chevrolet Vega. Mom once accidentally ran it into the front of the garage because she had it in the wrong gear. I remember trying (unsuccessfully) to learn how to drive a stick shift with that car.

Those observations just scratch the surface of the associations I get from that one photo.

NDSU campusSometimes the associations encompass a period of time, as in these pictures of the NDSU campus and of my dorm room (complete with cheap, thrown-together stereo and psychedelic poster). An onslaught of memories of life on campus, the music I listened to, college friends, and walking the sidewalks against bitter winter winds all come to me from viewing those pictures.

NDSU dorm room

desk with old PCOther associations are more vertical, spanning time. Take this shot from my first days out of college. On top of an old surplus metal desk from Boeing sits my first PC, an IBM portable. It had two 5.5″ floppy drives, no hard drive, and ran at an excruciating 4.7 MHz. (In other words, it was slow.) From that prompt, I can remember the string of PCs I’ve owned up to my current-day machine that can do things that would have seemed impossible back in the day of my portable.

my first bicycleThis picture of me with my first bicycle evokes memories of wheelies, coming to skidding stops, and riding for the sheer joy of it. It also makes me think of the white Pontiac that was the first car I can actually remember. Oh, and it reminds me what a dork I was.

me as child relaxing in back yard

Do you have old snapshots you like to look at because of the memories they evoke?

—–

An odd thing happens sometimes when I see snapshots of other people’s lives. I am struck by the fact that, for someone, those photos capture an instant in time that must trigger a similar barrage of memories. My imagination kicks in and I might make up a story about them, or I may simply feel wonder at the amazing fact of all the lives that are out there being lived in parallel.

One oddly fascinating source of such photos is internet k-hole. It’s a bizarre collection of photos that include hundreds of random snapshots, occasionally intermixed with old pictures of celebrities and musicians, and the random old-school porn shot. (You’ve been warned, if such things make you uncomfortable.)

Have you ever looked at other people’s snapshots and found them fascinating?


Blogging from A to Z Challenge banner

Jan 112012
 

Blue butterflyI often feel absurdly pleased when an animal “likes” me — especially if it’s an animal that doesn’t typically like people. You know, like the dog that comes over with her tail wagging and the owner says, “Oh, Abby doesn’t usually like men.”

But how many people have had a butterfly befriend them? (Okay, so maybe it’s more common that I’d like to believe, but I don’t want to know if that’s true.)

We were having lunch at Hannegan Pass in the beautiful Cascade Mountains, and I saw this cool little blue butterfly. It did that random fluttery thing butterflies do and fluttered its way to where I stood admiring the view. As it flew close to me, I held out my left hand. I guess I just did it out of a futile hope that the butterfly would land there, but I was still surprised when it ended up settling on my index finger.

Butterfly on fingerHe (Hey, how the heck am I supposed to know if it was male or female?) just stayed there and did whatever it is that butterflies do when they’re not fluttering or eating sugar. At first I tried to be so careful not to move too much because I wanted him to hang out on my finger. But, after minutes passed and he just stayed there, I began to move around, walking in the little meadow in which we found ourselves.

The whole time he stayed, clinging with his six little white legs, enjoying (I hope) the ride, and I took pictures, showed him to my hiking buddy, and was amazed at how long this tiny little creature seemed content to hang with me.

So, why was I so tickled by this? I mean, is it really such a significant thing to have a bug land on me? But, it was a butterfly, a beautiful thing. It was also more rare than, say, the flies that had no problem paying us all too much attention during our hike. And, its attentions were more gentle, more sublime (at least, so I felt in my fuzzy little brain).

It’s as if I was being honored by the little fella. Here was a living being, much smaller than me, who trusted me enough to rest on my finger. And, maybe there was some weird background idea that animals (even butterflies!) are somehow able to sense the innate goodness (or badness) in a person, so this funny blue critter hanging out on my finger was almost a sort of stamp of approval, like, “Hey, this guy’s alright.”

And maybe with our pets, or with the animals we encounter in nature, we can imagine some spark of consciousness that is not bogged down with all the crazy human crap that fills our minds. “I like you.” “You scare me.” Simple, straightforward.

Or, maybe I just want to be one of the few, the proud, the liked-by-butterflies…

*****

Hannegan Pass

Full disclosure: I stole this piece from one of my previous, now-extinct blogs hardly anyone saw. Partly I’m posting it to “prove” that not all my hiking experiences were distinguished by stupidly flirting with disaster.

Partly I’m re-posting because I got a kick out of my little butterfly buddy and wanted to honor him (or her).

Mostly, though, I’m re-posting because I’m lazy. Is that so wrong?