…..who IS that young, buff, dynamic guy in the old, dated photographs I retrieved from a shoebox in the back of my bedroom closet anyway? Do you recognize him? Is he someone you remember from the past? Any clues to his identity? Distinctive features? Should you know the undeniably striking fellow? Upon further scrutiny, I guess he kind of bears a passing resemblance to the you of today, but that is all it is; the resemblance is scant at best. And then some heartless apparition materializes from out of the firmament and reminds me that the youthful person in the picture is indeed Yours Truly, and I can’t help but be flabbergasted. Everyone knows passing time is a nefarious thief who steals away the profuse majority of human perquisites and peccadilloes as we grow older, but to witness firsthand that bodily deterioration in a photograph from decades ago is a brutal slap in the face regardless. We all grow old and pay a punitive price for this drawn-out natural process—True!—but does that cruel, gross degradation have to be preserved so starkly in photographs that last forever? Couldn’t the stark bastards lie or, at the bare minimum, conceal the harsh truth just a trifle? I somewhat sadly realize the answer to this rhetorical question is an unequivocal “No!” in light of the fact I am holding irrefutable evidence to the contrary in my hands right now, and that evidence is not subtle or feeling-sparing in the least…..
Fred's Soapbox 