Balls and Walnuts
more than you ever wanted to know
Because Kate’s doing it
I know I promised you a Berkeley travelogue, but I’m having trouble feeling motivated. I mean . . . Top Dog. The Campanile. Sproul Plaza. Telegraph Avenue. East Bay Vivarium.
‘Nuff said. I’ll write more about Berkeley when I feel ready to give it the love it deserves.
This morning, while procrastinating because I dread editing blog-hopping, I chanced on this lovely post from Kate, my long lost twin. How I love those old black-and-whites, even if they’re photos of strangers. (Although, since I can really see Kate in her mom’s picture, they don’t feel much like strangers.) That one of Kate’s parents in the photo booth captures a time, a mood, an emotion.
On that note, here’s a photo my sister sent me last week. I had never seen this one before.
That’s Sis looking pensive, my mom and dad above her. My first thought when I saw this photo: I don’t know these people. My sis is — what, eleven years older than me? Or twelve? So, for me, these parents are young.
I mean, really young. My mother looks barely legal.
But it’s not even their youth which looks so startlingly unfamiliar; it’s their happiness. I see real joy in their eyes, joy and hope, the expectation young people have that the life ahead will be full of good things.
Maybe it was just an instant, not representative of the era. Or maybe they were truly that content with each other. I don’t know. Considering what they became, I’m not sure which possibility disturbs me more.
D.
I am 12 years older. That maybe they were that content with each other is what I find more disturbing. Our mother would be about 20 in this picture.
That’s what got me about my parents’ pictures. What pleasant, happy people! Who the hell are they?
and dayyyyum your mom is pretty
You gotta ask yourself…what the HELL happens to people to make them change so.
yeah. its weird for me to see pictures of my parents at their wedding–smiling, young, skinny…and obviously in love. not the wrinkled, overweight (dont tell them i said that!), crotchety (in my dad’s case) tired people they are now. makes me sad.
Shaina, I can handle it marginally better than I can handle my own before-and-afters. Trouble is, I still feel like a 16-year-old in so many ways (as you could probably tell from the live-blogging session last night!)