haybarn: Backpages: 70's

I've been digging through more old photos the last few days. It is a never-ending chore, archiving photos. I think we archive photos all our lives. There is no end point. No finish line in sight for me, anyway. Every time I sort and re-sort, I realize there are always more things I have left out, misplaced or categorized incorrectly. I'll be sorting out my photos, and my family's photos, til the end of time.

And every time I jump back into these piles of memories I get stuck. I stop and look at one. I look at a dozen. I'll look at a photo for an hour and get lost in it. I will wonder what I was doing and how different my life was all those years ago. I'll remember how I felt on a certain day or remember how much I loved a particular shirt or what a crush I had on some girl in grade school. And as I lose myself in photo after photo, hours will pass and it will be time to stop again, put them away, and move on to the next chore until I have the energy to get lost in it all over again.

If you do the same thing, you understand. I think all lot of us do it. And we have such big 'photo album' plans for this set or that set of photos. It's a chore. It's work. And it's work that will never end. I think of it as memory management sometimes. The organiziation of my life on paper. I love it and yet it's a little scary. It seems to be more rewarding and more troubling every year.

But it's a hoot. And it's fun to share some of these memories with others. Makes them more real again. Seeing parts of yourself through other people's eyes for the first time. The following photos are from the earliest years of my life. They have yellowed a little with time. I can almost hear Boards of Canada playing in the background as I look at them.

The first house I lived in. Schenectady, New York.

Beautiful Mum

Dearest Pop

The gang's all here. My baptism, early August 1974.

My big sister, Kelly, when she was just a pup. A few years before my time.

Here I am, full of piss and vinegar. About 12 months old I think.

Kelly, a few years older. Must be Halloween. Pretty darn cute.

Ryan, my little bro. Also known as Poo-Man.

Gettin' hopped up on sugar at somebody's birthday.

Ryan and I have always been up to no good. Bunch of whipper-snappers we are. We look like kids from the 60's in Northern Ireland here. But I think it was just a park in Schenectady somewhere.

Kelly and me are a different story. She's always kept me out of trouble. She couldn't keep us out of these fancy outfits though. We look like we just came off the set of The Waltons in this one.