12/08/2008

Nothing good ever lasts

A friend of mine, from back in my favorite state, lost her dad today, a bear of a guy who I liked a great deal even though he was a prickly old pear. A farmer who collected old tractors and voted Republican, he was nonetheless a decent man who told a dirty joke or three and appreciated the meatball recipe I would bring to Thanksgiving.

So tonight I am going through four flashdrives, one harddrive, and one old laptop attempting to recover a ton of pictures I took between 04-07 that I have either misplaced or deleted accidentally because I have a touch of the WTF. I'm 73% of the way through a Search and Recover4(tm) on an old desktop harddrive. I kinda need to find those pictures of him to send to her because I know that when you lose someone, a picture becomes a precious thing.

I've been reading this book of collected travel writings from old timey National Geographics, like back in the 20s and 30s when people went places on camel and steamer ships and it wasn't easy to get here or there. I've always been a fan of history, other peoples', yours, mine. Perhaps it's romanticizing something that, at the time, probably felt as unglamorous as the here and now. Heck, I even look back misty eyed on 2006, but I can't say I thought it was all that/bag of chips when I was living it.

Memory is funny, especially these days with digital. Half the time I'm like, did it ever really happen if I don't have a picture of it; other half I don't need a picture to remember anything, it's all imprinted in there deep.

Me being nostalgic me, I drove through my old town over Thanksgiving, just to check things out, see what's changed. And of course to take pictures, to remember. Even though every inch is pretty much etched in my head forever.

Main street in my old town:




My old house:



What I remember most:

2 comments:

vivvy said...

That's a nice, big house! I can picture you lying on the porch, reading, dreaming Berlin songs running through your head...

And that's a nice thing to do for your friend, sweetie.

Spiky Zora Jones said...

Hi sweetie babe. I've been reading you but have not commented. Just wanted you to know that.

I love your old house. What a wonderful place to sit and drink a cold glass of sweet tea on a warm summer day. Maybe watch everything that goes on in the neighborhood huh?

I remember warm days in Cloverdale California. Swimming in the river and passing the time away looking at cloud formations.

I love small towns...I seem to relax more when I'm in them, but find I'm quite like the big city life. But sitting on the porch there sounds really good to me right now.

Do you remember a special time there on that porch and would you share it with me...us?

Ciao sweetie babe. have a wonderful day.