Memories Are Easier to Store Than Stuff
I live across the street from an 80-acre park and spend many mornings walking its paths, especially those in the rose garden, which is a favorite of local photographers. Young families with new babies, adult children with aging parents, graduating seniors—they’re often in the park, creating keepsakes for the family photo wall. But, most importantly, they’re building memories. I am especially intrigued by the young women getting their senior photos taken, leaning casually against a wall, their hair shining in the sunlight, their dresses shifting in the wind, their toenails painted. My senior photo was a different story. We had some serious rules back in the 1960s at my Catholic high school. We wore simple sweaters and pearls for a black-and-white studio shot identical to all our classmates. Only the faces changed, although some of us faced left and others faced right. No billowing dresses and flowing tresses like those young women of today. I don’t remember my photo shoot at all, and I wonder where I got the pearls and sweater because those were …
