Photographs serve as place markers in our memories. Whether we like to admit it to ourselves as we get older our memories blur at the edges and run together a person’s whole life resembles something like an impressionist painting, with only the vague colors, shapes, and smallest suggestions of the things that they truly were. Photographs seek to hold that at bay,to hold one particular person, place, thing frozen in time, in an attempt to say to the world, “yes I was here, at this time at this particular moment in my life, at this particular place and no matter if your memory or mine fades this is the proof my existence and whether or not you know my name when you see the picture you acknowledge that I existed and that is enough.”
That having been said I am notoriously camera shy and leery having photos taken of me. I used to think I was deficient, damaged goods, not worth anyone’s second glance or second thought.So why then is the header portion of my blog a photograph? That picture was taken last spring on a day when I really should have brought gloves and is the place marker for the day when I finally got the message that I wasn’t second-rate or second-class to anyone and never would be. It is my favorite photograph and I suspect it will be for a very long time.