Scanning the past

 

I am feeling back to normal and my last COVID home test was negative. I feel free to wander the planet once again.

While in self-imposed quarantine I sort of kicked myself into working on a long-range project that’s been nagging me for some time - scanning in old print photographs from the 70s, 80s, and 90s.* 

Residing in 3-ring photo album binders in the guest bedroom closet, these hundreds of snapshots both bring me joy and haunt me. Images of my first wedding, college days, early jobs, various travels, and celebrations bring smiles to my face as I carefully pull them from the sticky pages of the photo albums and place them on the scanner glass. Nothing gladdens my heart more than photos of my daughter and son as babies, toddlers, and elementary schoolers. Without exception, we all look like we are having joyful times eating, playing, reading, and just messing around. Often accompanied by friends and grandparents, both my children seemed to be well fed, clothed, cared for, nurtured, and loved.

Yet I cannot but also reflect on how I might have been a better parent. My marriages to their mothers did not last and both kids lived in two separate homes during much of their childhoods. Should I have encouraged or insisted they participate in more sports or clubs or other extra-curricular activities? Was I there for them when they were worried or sad or insecure? Did they get hugs and attention when they needed them the most? Do other parents have such worries?

Thankfully, both my children are now kind, loving, and responsible adults who still talk to and spend some time with their father.. Was this because of their childhoods - or despite them?

I still have a couple weeks worth of scanning to do. Were I really responsible, I would add tags to the photos telling the dates, places, and circumstances of each shot. I am operating under the assumption that my relatives and friends will want access to these memories. One day, I am sure, the physical pieces of paper these images occupy will be buried deep in a landfill, the subjects on them only vaguely known or cared about. Not being either a notorious criminal nor world leader, I do not expect a place in any history. But the digital images most probably will remain in some remote server.  Perhaps AI when it takes over the world can make use of them.

Oh, another project I have vowed to complete is what I am calling “My Happy 100.” I am going to go back through all my old photos and select 100 of them in which I am happy. I will place these in a slideshow to be shown at my funeral or memorial service or whatever gathering (if there is one). The problem will not be finding 100 photos; it will be selecting them from so many happy times.

*For me, photography went digital in 2001. About the time my first grandson was born.

No events today

This is my second self-imposed day of isolation after home-tests on both Saturday and Sunday showed positive for COVID. I feel I have a bit of a cold and a little draggy, but nothing all that serious. The quarantine is worse than the physical discomfort.

• No visits to the Y.
• No volunteer rides to give.
• No grocery shopping.
• No Rotary meetings.
• No group hiking.

“No events today” as the app on my iPad reads. 

Ironically, I would have given anything for a schedule like this only a few years ago. A forty hour plus per week day job, traveling to do speaking and consulting, writing, participation in volunteer organizations, entertaining young grandchildren, and keeping up a large house on a large lot overfilled most of my calendar. And oddly enough, I never seemed stressed about the abundance of activities.

I really have nothing to complain about - I have plenty to read, plenty of movies to stream, plenty of small projects to do around the house. If I am bored, I have no one to blame but myself. Maybe I will be less inclined to take my mobility, my health, and my independence for granted as a result of these few days of exile. 

But the next time I take the home-test if better damn well come back negative!

Elevated observations

At a medical building where I took a client as a volunteer driver, I noticed these elevator buttons:

“Low oil”? I didn’t know elevators used oil. 

...

At another medical building with another client earlier this week, a fellow who looked something like this stepped off the elevator:

He was small and kind of ratty-looking with a scraggly beard, facial piercings, and tattoos, but still looked somewhat menacing.

As he got off the elevator, he thoughtfully turned and held the elevator door open so the lady with her walker was able to easily walk in slowly.

As the doors of the elevator closed, she turned to me and said, “You sure can’t judge a book by its cover!”

Yup.

Pay attention out there. Interesting things are happening every day.