-I have the unique circumstance of being fascinated with my own childhood pictures. My parents divorced when I was 8 and while we were between my father’s duty stations. Everything except the clothes on our back and our suit cases was lost. Dear dad left them in storage and refused my mother access, even when she offered to pay the amount in arrears (Bitter, party of one, your table is ready). In the past few years, thanks to my own reaching out and people getting old, I have managed to receive some of these photos. For the past 15 years all I had was one picture of me as an infant with my mother. I secured that, through threat of bodily harm, from a mean aunt when I visited a cousin in Seattle. My husband had it framed and hung in a place of honor. It was all I had with the exception of assorted awkward school photos from age 9 and up.
I received some ‘new’ ones upon request about 5 years ago. Recently, I was pleasantly surprised with a large envelope of photos I was not expecting. It was pleasant and painful at the same time. Long story but I had a pretty crappy childhood with many thanks going to both parents. <end blommit>
Amongst many of these photos are images of my very young ‘championship’ days. I had acquired over 150 trophies and 300 medals for my talent. Literally ALL of them lost in storage and now only old photos to show they ever existed. But not enough to show all of the hard work that went into earning them. So as an adult, I focused on awards at work. Not that I really focused on it but it seems that way in reflection. Maybe I was trying to capture some of those Glory Days…even though they weren’t so glorious at the time.
