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There’s something about Sunday night
that really makes you want to kill yourself
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Sunday, March 12, 2006

Photos

Last night I put on some good music and dug through my photo pile. As much as I love having a digital camera, I am so grateful for the old cameras that spawned loads of pictures of my past. I learned a lot, too--mostly that most of my hairstyles were serious missteps, and I need someone to sit me down and firmly tell me exactly what haircut I am best suited for.

I also used to be a lot more photogenic. I have millions of pictures of me leaning into a friend, us beaming widely and authentically--and beautifully. I don't remember having more self-confidence when I was younger (in college and after). But I do see so much happiness in the pictures, which is a universal beautifier. And friends. I see lots of friends. That's got to be what's missing now.

Another reason for looking through pictures: A friend asked about summer camps, and I thought of mine, Googled it, and found a web page for it. There were enough pictures that I could tell how much it had changed--and hardly recognized it. I made my way to the staff list for the upcoming summer, and saw a name I knew under Art Director. It took the wind out of me. If my memory does not fail me, she was my favorite camper 4th- and 5th-grade week my second year of counseling. That would have made her, what, nine or ten? And now she's the art director at the camp that, when I was there, could barely sustain crafts hour once a week for the littler kids.

I feel so old.

So I looked through my camp photos, and found a few pictures of her and me. I think I'm going to get copies made then send her a note with the pictures this summer at camp. I feel a bit tentative about it, as I always do contacting people with whom I'm long out of touch, but I remember what it was like at camp. I hope they still do post-lunch mail call, make a big fuss out of people who receive a lot of letters, and sign them up for an act in the weekly talent show. I would have loved to get a letter from an old counselor sharing memories with me, remembering me. I don't know, though, if I had been a camper at ten, if I would have remembered my counselor ten years later. I do know how influential counselors are, and I do still remember the ones I had the years I attended in high school. It could be like always remembering your first-grade teacher.

God I feel old.

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2 Comments:

Blogger junkyardlove said...

campers always remember the counselors.

i always did, anyway.

i think you should do it, girl.

5:02 PM  
Blogger Lesley said...

Hmm, speaking of grade school teachers... when I was in Marion over a month ago, I saw my second, fourth, & fifth grade teachers (Jeffrey, Stewart, Case, respectively). I'm sure they only recognized me b/c I was with my mother, but Judi Stewart gave me this huge hug. It meant a lot, especially because she had been one of my *favorites*. So I think the person would always be touched that you remember them. My mom even made recent contact with a student she had when she first started teaching -- and it was a cool reunion for both.

2:10 PM  

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