We were young once, it’s the common statement of the aging. Often said with a note of regret, longing or despair.
We were young once, it covers a multitude of desires, youth, energy, speed, resilience and endurance.
We were young once, a question, can I remember my youth, the time that the roadway was opening up and widening with many detours.
We were young once, a question, what has happened to the road, the detours, the diversions, the possibilities, now it is narrowing to a gradual inevitability.
It’s the way things go, the heady days of youth, the chaos, the energy, the disruption. It’s the way things should be.
Now our role has changed to that of guide, to support, to encourage the youthful to disrupt, to shake the boat, to capsize it if necessary, to rage against the status quo, not the band you can rage with them, well the early 70’s version.
Age however is a time for reflection, looking back as much as looking forward in anticipation.
We have been going through these massive totes of family and other photographs. We bought a fancy scanner so we can digitize them and perhaps get rid of the space consuming boxes. It’s kind of a sad task at times, there is something so special about handling those old fading pictures, the feel of the paper, the glossiness of the finish and the inevitability that some really great pictures are so blurred by lack of attention at the picture taking moment. They are irretrievable and never to be saved and now they may be heading for the shredder, of course they never could be saved, AI would help but that’s a facsimile of the moment not the real thing.
There are pictures of old girlfriends, college friends I no longer know where they are, school friends I see twice a year and documents of places and behaviors it may be better to forget. It’s easy to sanitize the past when the only evidence sits in a turquoise tote in the dining room. They are not on line or posted anywhere, unless I chose to do that. These moments exist as a memory a moment in time and these pictures, they can be easily expunged from existence without too much effort. Should they be though, is it good to show the young that we were young once too, we made mistakes, were joyful, danced in the dark and wore clothing that at best could be seen as a poor choice and by others a crime. Rock and Roll is not just for the young.
I’ve always been a candid(bad/enthusiastic) photographer, snapping photos when others were not necessarily aware or giving them a seconds notice. With phones this is easy, you can delete the offending snaps, with analog photography it was harder. The wait for prints and then the disappointment as you realize your ability, the limitations of the camera have all conspired to produce a mess. There are pictures I can see I thought would be spectacular that are ruined by lack of attention, many pictures of people staring into space or sleeping, some of landscapes I can no longer identify. I know that in my mind I was sure I would never forget this view or person. There are whole stacks of people I don’t recognize and then I found one of a dead friend in his prime laughing and pointing at something, I have no idea what he was seeing, the excitement in his face is palpable though.
The real joy though is in the documentation of a relationship and a life together. I have been thumbing through the old pictures of me and my wife’s early life together. It’s a document to love, consideration and at times patience, mostly on her part, as we navigated the insane idea that two people and then children occasional parents and now grandchildren should at times live together in a strange multi-generational experiment, add in several dogs and a cat and you have the (a) picture.
I look at these pictures and all I can think is we were so young what could we have been thinking? Of course we probably were not thinking as is the case when two early twenties human beings are in love, we were experiencing all sorts of things, most of them fun.
There’s this one picture of my wife getting into the car, we are somewhere in Northumbria, probably been hiking/strolling looking around and it fills me with the sense of possibility.
It feels like this was one of those perfect days/weeks. No cares only the road and a new thing around every corner. There’s a sense of joy, love and expectation in her eyes and her smile, it’s hard to reconcile someone looking at me that way, I am probably looking right back. Yes her neck was at that curious angle, no AI involved.
Each picture gets a closer look, that’s the Polo we rented, the background is the north east. Each viewing reveals new details.
This is from the same journey, somewhere in the north of England/Wales, the problem with old pictures is unless someone writes on them then you have to guess unless there is an identifiable feature. There she is perched on a small rock probably as the sand was wet no idea, of course it could’ve been to prove her superior balancing skills. It’s hard to know the time of day. Could be morning or evening, the fading of photographs will do strange things and confuse the light.
Of course much of this life has involved a soundtrack. This is undoubtedly the song that reminds me of my wife every time I hear it, none more so than when we heard Iain Matthews sing it live.
As we enter this new stage of life, it’s not old, thats for our parents, it’s not young that’s for our children and yet it’s still not the middle either there’s a recalibration, a preparation for slowing the working down if not the living. Oh how I truly wish we could manage to not work, to return to some semblance of those golden days of road trips, camping and freedom.
