FourBux

Photographic memory - or not

Today on the way to the office, the DJ on the morning radio show I listen to was talking about how he has very few pictures of his life and wondered if he would regret it later. I felt like he was taking a page from my book. You know, if I had one. Yes, I realize that everyone identifies with radio DJs - that’s a big part of how they keep their jobs. But Chuck (that’s his name, Chuck) and I really are similar. Although all our conversations are one-sided, I can tell that we’d get along in real life. And before this gets any more creepy, I think I’ll get to the point.

He mentioned that while he’s the type of guy who doesn’t mind having his photo taken, he’s not the one to stop the party and try to capture every moment for posterity. I’m the same way. Although I have no problem with being in the group picture, or even taking pictures that I’m not in for other people, I rarely feel the need to document my life through pictures. That’s not to say that I don’t wish I had photos of some of my life’s events, but at the time I didn’t feel the need to bring a camera along, so the decision is moot.

I do, however, have a circle of friends who live and die by the pictures they take. Not only is my wife a scrap booker, but the people she hangs out with will inevitably ham it up for the camera at any given opportunity. We have countless pictures of people’s meals, their shoes, their car keys, the same person’s face with slightly different expressions, you get the point. Although in my mind the pictures have no real bearing on the event, they seem to help these “other-minded” people relive the experience in it’s fullest detail. If we didn’t have a digital camera we’d go bankrupt developing film.

The photos logging my life seem to be perpetually held by someone else, whether it be family members, friends, girlfriend, roommate, or whomever. I have a very small selection of photos in my possession of things that actually happened to me. (On a side note though - I really like having my camera phone - although the pictures aren’t great, I can generally clean them up well enough, and I don’t have to carry a second item, so there may be more photos in my future, but time will tell.) And sadly, once a person leaves my life, whether by death, or location changes, or breakups/fallings out, they tend to take the photos with them. I have no photos of my college days, arguably some of the most fun I’ll ever have, and I know they’ll never come back. They went with the ex-girlfriend.

I’ve always been the kind of person who can remember the events, and see them in my mind’s eye, although I will say that my memories seem to get better with each retelling, although the accuracy is suspect. I remember looking at my mother’s old photos from when she was growing up and feeling connected through them - she really was a young person at one time! My father, on the other hand, had two pictures that I can recall of his younger days. One was of his wedding and the other was one with his dad going on a pheasant hunt. Until recently, when I came across a dozen or so of his old pictures, I figured he never took any. He never seemed to regret it, but then again, dad never really seems to regret anything.

I just would hate to wake up one day and not have photos of my life to share with my kids once I get to that point. “Oh, you know what, an ex-girlfriend has that picture. Too bad.” I also don’t want to swing the other way and feel like I have to take pictures at every function, in the hopes of preserving the memory, because you miss out on real life when you’re looking at it through an LCD screen.

So I guess the answer is to just soak up the experience in its entirety, and if someone is taking pictures, well, that’s just gravy. Send me a copy. You never know when one of us will need reminding of why these people are our friends, or that we really used to be that young, or that thin, or that funny.

*Fires up the camera phone…