|Me At Sixteen
||[Oct. 21st, 2008|02:56 pm]
Wizard of Changes -- ©cdozo 2004 to 2015
|[||The river is
Passport photo taken by my dad.
I remember this. You're so pretty. Too bad it isn't in color. Your eyes are so blue. You look like you.
I like that it's black and white. I've always liked this picture. I'm glad I finally got it scanned in.
I don't exactly know all why but this is such a moving post
What a marvelous picture! It captures the you that you became...you were, but you were still becoming, and it's you now, too.
If that makes sense at all.
I agree. It's somehow more than just a photo.
Look at you! Wonderful photo. A bit younger than when I first met you, but not by much. I know where you were going, I think, so won't ruin the game. Great to see this photo.
My father turned on the light and I felt the warmth bouncing off the umbrella onto my face and he said look here and I watched him peering down into his old Rolloflex, finding me, moving his thumb along one of the wheels on the side of the camera, bringing me into focus and then zooming in a little more.
I was sixteen and standing barefoot on the grey seamless he set up in our living room and I don’t think I ever felt more in focus in my life as I did then. He didn’t have to tell me to turn my head or lift my chin, I had a hold on who I was and felt full of who I might be and do and the picture my father would develop later in his darkroom---that lightless space he built in our basement where he was disappearing for longer and longer hours as my mother went to her pottery classes or rumba and tango lessons or beginning Japanese---that picture would be of the me I would lose that summer backpacking around Europe on five dollars a day. The serious, daring, voluptuous, shy, awkward me that I was suddenly reckless with, traded easily for other things, used to get places I thought I wanted to go, changed and changed and changed to fit the way I thought I had to and then at some point completely discarded and forgot. That me would still be there in a box of my stuff in the basement after my mother and father were gone. I threw it away and half the contents of the box when I found it, I was saving too much. But then, I changed my mind, untied several garbage bags before I retrieved it, because I think now the passport photo will be my way back…
Wow. This is tough. I like it. I flinched a little at first (I don't like sad things), but now it seems like it will be ok. Very cool piece.
This process seems much more useful than nanowrimo although I found the Cooper's Indians group recently and it cracked me up just thinking of that essay. Cooper's Indians. Lol.
You haven't changed a bit except you didn't have your hair in a tail. That seems to be the same t-shirt I saw you in last time, too.
...so WHERE did YOU GO with your passport at 16?
It was summer 1971. My sister had gone backpacking around Europe with a friend. I got stuck at home with a case of mono and two summer school classes. In spite of the mono, I somehow got an A and a B. In the meantime, ndozo had a falling out with her traveling companion and was on her own.
So, as a reward for the good grades and consolation for being sick most of the summer, my folks sent me to meet with ndozo and travel around Europe for the rest of the summer. Plane fares were low, but the dollar was not doing well. We did fine. We traveled cheap and had a good time.
2008-10-23 06:05 pm (UTC)
Wow. I have a high school picture that looks just like that.
2008-10-23 10:15 pm (UTC)
Can you post it?