Lately, I’ve been really reflective. I don’t know if it’s the pandemic we are all trying to survive, not traveling this summer, or the fact that I’m now sixty. It could be a combo of all three, but I think it’s mostly the pandemic. A few days ago my good friend, Needles, sent me the following text.
And then you hit one of these is in reference to the picture he texted. My brother’s old refrigerator, that we eventually moved into Needle’s garage in Mammoth. The text blew me away. It has been in my mind for several days, apparently I’m not the only one feeling reflective.
Looking at old photos is the best. Earlier this summer, I was scrounging around the garage, got side tracked and fell into a memory vortex looking at old photo albums. It was the same kind of endorphin high one feels at a high school reunion. A rush of memories. Happiness. I just had to share my high, so I started taking pics of the photos and texted them to the friends that were in them. Their responses made me even happier.
A few days later, I began receiving texts of pictures from them. What a treat! Especially the photos that I have never seen before; one was a group photo that included my late brother.
These are trying times. Out of the blue, surprise a friend and text them an old picture. Stay connected and spread a little happiness.
The classic photo: Long Bar in TJ. None of us were 21; it didn’t matter, the drinking age in Mexico was 18!
Myself, Fralia, and Frank: on our way to Lake Havasu, sometime in the mid to late 80s.
Acomb and House at my 40th birthday party.
The next three photos I had never seen before until my buddies texted them to me.
Acomb and me before we turned thirty. Outside of the Del Mar Race Track, where he hit it big!
1985, Nick and Sherri’s wedding: that’s my brother, Eric, on the right with red Vuarnet sunglasses in his pocket.
Lake Havasu, circa early 1980s
Stay safe everyone 😷
Full disclosure: Years grow shorter, not longer… are lyrics from the Jimmy Buffett song, Wonder Why We Ever Go Home.