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A Thousand Words....
08.15.05 (3:45 am)   [edit]
The other night while rummaging through some boxes in my attic, I stumbled across a few old photographs. As is my wont, I spent the better part of the rest of the evening with them, forgetting completely about the task at hand and instead trying to focus on a smattering of blurred images that were, apparently, from my life. Although I recognized the people in each picture, many of the other particulars were utterly lost to me. In fact, I had no recollection of ever having seen at least one of them before. And it wasn’t long before I felt my cheeks flush a little as I quietly flipped through the tiny snapshots in my fingers, all the while occasionally checking over my shoulder, for fear of being caught eavesdropping on someone else’s life.

The thing is, I’ve never been very good at keeping photo albums – which is a little ironic, I suppose, considering the fact that I truly love photographs.

Hmmmm. Maybe I should clarify that statement.

Like so many people I know, I despise the process of actually taking photos. Yet I often find myself completely in love with the finished products: just a few square inches of glossy paper that are so powerful that some native peoples still believe that each time a person is captured in one, she loses a bit of her soul. I like holding them in my hand and running my fingers across the image – often times with great affection and always with great nostalgia. But I lack the organizational skills necessary to keep and maintain a proper photo album. Don’t get me wrong, I’d have no problem simply purchasing a massive, strapping album and shoving random photos into its sterile plastic pages… but somehow, that just doesn’t seem good enough. If I’m going to take the time to keep a photograph, I always feel the need to annotate it. I want to give each one a title and then surround it with dates and names and a few scribbled lines to go along with the image so that years from the date it was taken I, or someone else, can look back and see more than just a few nameless faces captured in a forgotten moment that will forever be defined by forced poses.

Of course, this is where things start to fall apart and I find myself singing the familiar lament about a girl whose follow through wasn’t nearly as good as her intentions.

Even so, I haven’t quite resided myself to the inevitable fate of the photographs I stumbled upon the other night. I’m not quite ready to just shove them back in a box only to discover them again in a few more years when my memories of their secrets are even more faded and blurred than the photos themselves.

That said, the following is my attempt to hang on to them for just a little while longer:

Image hosted by Photobucket.com
Title: Baby Juniper
Year: 1974
Notes: [url=http://thejongleur.tblog.com]Someone [/url]very dear to me recently told me how he envied people who seemed, instinctively, to know what to do with their hands whilst having their photo taken. Clearly, even at three years old, I was not one of those people.
I’m still not.








Image hosted by Photobucket.com


Title: Her Hands
Year: 1974
Notes: My mother played guitar.
Despite her tiny wrists and frail bone structure, her hands, like the rest of her, always seemed so strong, so precise.
To me, this picture isn’t about my baby brother at all.





Image hosted by Photobucket.com

Title: Pulling Away
Year: 1975
My father must have taken this picture.
I love that it’s clear what his priorities were.
I’m sure he told my mother to smile.
I love that it’s clear what hers were too.








I recently caught a few moments of a program on television in which a man spent several hours constructing a pop-up paper windmill to place next to a small picture taken on a trip to Holland. Both items were lovingly displayed within an intricately constructed scrapbook full of fanciful stickers, colorful paper and all sorts of spangly doodles which were hot glued just above, below and beside pictures of Uncle Barry and Cousin Filbert in order to, I suppose, make the process of looking at ones family just a little less painful. At the time, I scoffed a bit at the handy crafter, his paper creation and the very notion of being beaned in the face by a springloaded windmill while thumbing through the pages of ones life, but now it doesn’t seem quite that simple.

One of my favorite things to do at antique shops is to rummage through the boxes of old photographs. I love looking at the faraway gray people and places while imagining the hundreds of stories that could, and do, go along with each pale print. Images from my own life are far less romantic, of course, because I know the names, the faces and all the miracles and tragedies that go along with them. And it occurs to me that, although I’ve yet to resort to paper windmills, perhaps my desire to annotate each picture is little more than just my own silly attempt to keep my memories from winding up in a dusty box, hidden in the corner of some dim shop, at the mercy of someone else’s prying fingers and reckless judgment. Such battles are academic, of course, and perhaps like Don Quixote himself I’ll come to realize eventually that not only are windmills [u]not[/u], in fact, sleeping giants, but that in the end… there are far worse fates than to be forgotten.
 

posted by: lindy (reply)
post date: 08.15.05 (7:29 am)

Uncle Barry and Cousin Filbert?!?!?!

Baby Juniper. Oh my. Your attempt to grab your dress at precisely the right moment is as priceless as that Cheshire cat smile you're sporting. Oh, to be able to know what was going through your mind at that point... (other than, 'What should I do with my hands? Oh, I know... I'll hold onto the sides of my dress... like this...')

Lately, 'scrapbooking' has become the rage among crafters all across the country. It's suddenly big business (and expensive). Naturally, that makes me want to discontinue such. heh. I'm so predictable.

I've always been of the opinion that the intent behind decorating the white space around photographs was to lend them a feel of rich history. The idea was to tell a story that makes sense with what is the focal point. There is also an element of showing off the creativity of the artist... what cuter way to display a trip to the Arboretum then to display the photographs in the shape of a flower? What lovelier way to display travel photographs than to surround them with old stamps and random trinkets, reminders of what transpired? Depending on your skill, it can turn out quite nice... or quite jumbled.

There's also something endearing about that dusty old box with the power to nudge us off track. There is about stumbling on pictures, unplanned, and ending up pouring over them for hours in an effort to remember. Having them laid out in order, in a book that spells out each situation to the last detail is certainly a jolly good time, but also, it loses its sense of adventure, it's sense of wonder. So... for me, there are pluses and minuses in both situations.

Thank you for this peek. You look like your mother.




posted by: juniperflux (reply)
post date: 08.15.05 (11:19 pm)

Reply to: lindy

When I was little adults would lean into me and say things like "oh my... you look so much like your father" or make jokes about being sure of my mother's fidelity. That said, imagine my surprise (horror) one day when I looked in the mirror only to discover my mother staring back at me. *shudders*

"Uncle Barry and Cousin Filbert?!?!?!"

*giggle*

As always, thanks for stopping by and chatting a bit, L.

j


posted by: TheJongleur (reply)
post date: 08.16.05 (12:07 am)

Like L, I was very much lost for the hands.. grasping at something for fear of having nothing to grasp.
~~
And, baby juniper and those sad eyes...? There you are.. *smile*

I like this post a lot.. not least because there are far worse fates then being rediscovered.. and being wondered about.

ams


posted by: lindy (reply)
post date: 08.16.05 (8:15 am)

Reply to: juniperflux

Man, so it turns out that Barry isn't related to David at all, but rather... *ahem* hahaha... I give up!

I happily resign myself to the outside...

Lindy < -- not in the loop and okay with it. ;)

I've decided, after reading your response three times that I'm changing the grammar around permanently in an effort to delight myself. Reading accidents often lead to such wonderful misunderstandings. :)

'when I was little adults.'

It's official. You were 'little adults' and that is that. Oh, what a lovely thing to say. I remember when I was little adults too. And I have plenty of pictures that show I didn't know what to do with my hands either. In fact, I have pictures like that as 'big adults' - heh.

At least your mother is sitting on that couch with a lovely, lanky, leggy, lithe figure. You wouldn't *believe* what I have to look forward to... in fact... I see it even now... *looks down*

-shudder-


posted by: juniperflux (reply)
post date: 08.16.05 (11:27 pm)

Reply to: TheJongleur

"there are far worse fates then being rediscovered.. and being wondered about."

It's funny... while I relish if my own capacity to spiral into long, indulgent moments of self-reflection, it never occurred to me that I might be a little uncomfortable with others gazing at a few forgotten moments from some far away place that, apparently, I once called home. And yet, I've struggled to come up with replies to the thoughts that have been left here. You're right, of course, there are far worse fates than being wondered about, but I'm more and more convinced these days that deep down, I prefer shadows to spotlight. To quote someone we both know... "it's not all that easy being seen."

Thank you for sitting here with me for awhile.

jennifer


posted by: juniperflux (reply)
post date: 08.16.05 (11:32 pm)

Reply to: lindy

Oh... I'm convinced David and Barry *are* related insomuch as they have the same father. Their mothers... well, that's a different story. *wink*

"when I was little adults"

Grrrrr. :)

Actually, now that I think about it, I have to admit that works in its own silly, fractured way. I *was* little adults -- in more ways than one. Perhaps that's why I act like such an infant sometimes now. *smile*

My mother was quite beautiful in her day... when she was very young (teens) she did some modeling and even appeared in a cosmetics ad that ran in cosmo. She was quite the hottie, hottie. That said, let me reiterate one crucial point: "my... you certainly look like your father."

:|

Thanks for spending some time here with me, L.

j




posted by: juniperflux (reply)
post date: 08.16.05 (11:40 pm)

Reply to: kurtmaddox

Hmmmm. I can appreciate the distinction between "looking" and "seeing" and, in fact, that's the kind of semantic variation that I could spend quite some time tossing around in my head until I've thoroughly convinced myself that I've stumbled across something very important. That said, I think it's entirely possible to "see" photographs.. you just have to put on the right pair of glasses, I suppose.

Thanks for your kind words and for stopping by.

j


posted by: lindy (reply)
post date: 08.17.05 (7:22 am)

Reply to: juniperflux

There are some girls who come out looking just like their fathers and have no business being that beautiful! Present company included. (that would be... you)

And then there are some of us who look so much like their fathers that we just shake our heads and think, 'why? Why?!' - haha!

'little adults' wouldn't work on too many other tiny people, Juni. It's meant for you and you alone. :)


posted by: juniperflux (reply)
post date: 08.17.05 (2:25 pm)

Reply to: lindy

*blush*

You may not just be saying such things just to be nice... but you're being quite nice, nonetheless. I appreciate your kind words, your company and your friendship. Thank you.


j


posted by: smilesnz (reply)
post date: 08.18.05 (1:12 pm)

wow, nice post:) Jenn


posted by: juniperflux (reply)
post date: 08.18.05 (11:58 pm)

Reply to: smilesnz

Thanks, Jenn. :)

j


posted by: cribananda (reply)
post date: 08.19.05 (9:50 pm)

Thanks for stopping by my blog, Juniper. You do write really well - should spend some time reading your blog archives!


posted by: linkinwayne (reply)
post date: 08.20.05 (11:22 pm)

hello... nice post... really cool...


posted by: juniperflux (reply)
post date: 08.20.05 (11:37 pm)

Reply to: cribananda

Thank you for your kind words. Although I'm certain you'd find my archives disappointing, I'm always grateful for the company.

Take care,

j


posted by: juniperflux (reply)
post date: 08.20.05 (11:38 pm)

Reply to: linkinwayne

Thanks for stopping by.

j


posted by: billlyryan (reply)
post date: 08.21.05 (1:10 pm)

Maybe you can't stand me by now, maybe you haven't given me a second thought. Either way, I just wanted to say that this post hit a cord with me for some reason. Baby pictures and family pictures always get me.
Hope you're well.



posted by: BerlinBear (reply)
post date: 08.23.05 (12:03 pm)

Reply to: juniperflux
I think you misinterpreted cribananda's comment. I think s/he was saying that *you* should spend some time reading your archives. ;-) Anyway, all your self-deprecating modesty aside, I'm with cribananda. Your writing *is* excellent, and if you *were to* spend some time in your archives, you might be pleasantly surprised by the quality of what you found.

In other words, nice post, as ever.


posted by: juniperflux (reply)
post date: 08.23.05 (4:45 pm)

Reply to: BerlinBear

*smile*

Well... aren't you nicer than the average bear?

Seriously, thank you for your kind words, (you flatter me), and for continuing to poke around here from time to time.

I appreciate the company.

j


posted by: BerlinBear (reply)
post date: 08.23.05 (9:38 pm)

Reply to: juniperflux
*does a little nicer-than-the-average-bear bow*

Of course I continue to poke around here from time to time. How could I not? You're the top ranking blog, after all! ;-)


posted by: juniperflux (reply)
post date: 08.24.05 (12:19 am)

Reply to: BerlinBear

*does top ranking blog bow*

Well... what can I say? We all have our 15 minutes of fame, right?

*wink*

j


posted by: BerlinBear (reply)
post date: 08.24.05 (1:50 am)

Reply to: juniperflux
Well I hope that *that* is not your fifteen minutes! It'd seem such a shame to have those precious few minutes wasted on tBlog! ;-)


posted by: newbie (reply)
post date: 08.24.05 (3:29 am)

Reply to: BerlinBear

Eh. I'll let you have the limelight, BB. I've always been a "behind the scenes" kind of girl, anyway.

*wink*


posted by: newbie (reply)
post date: 08.24.05 (3:30 am)

Reply to: BerlinBear

Hint:

newbie = me :)


posted by: Lindy (reply)
post date: 08.24.05 (5:49 pm)

Reply to: BerlinBear

Why, you little instigator!

*snicker snicker*


posted by: BerlinBear (reply)
post date: 08.24.05 (11:21 pm)

Reply to: Lindy
Well, opne does one's best! ;-)


posted by: unsigned (reply)
post date: 09.04.05 (12:43 am)

hi - just in the neighbourhood and thought i'd drop by...well actually i was drawn to it because of ur placement on the "hot blogs" list - wanted to see what all the fuss was about :). you really are an amazing writer, reading ur blog was a breath of fresh air. thank-u.


posted by: juniperflux (reply)
post date: 09.04.05 (1:15 am)

Reply to: unsigned

Thank you for your kind words and for spending a little time with me. I greatly appreciate the company.

Take care,

j

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