Maybe today. Maybe I'll let them go today.

I don’t know about you, but I spend an inordinate amount of time these days trying to decide whether to keep something that has no real purpose or value, other than nostalgia, or to appreciate it as a momentary memory jogger and then pitch it in the recycling or the trash. After all, it’s not the object itself, but the memories it evokes. Letting go is becoming more difficult because my memories are beginning to fade like an autumn rainbow…once bright and beautiful, but slowly blending into the evening sky, soon to disappear completely. Holding the tangible creates the perception of holding the transient as well. I find it such a challenge to pitch things. I know that’s definitely not true of everyone…my sister tosses things with abandon, she’s my idol… but I certainly find it troublesome.

For decades, I have kept a small bundle of photos held together with an aging rubber band: two inches by three inches with deckel edges, and a shiny, textured surface. Perhaps it’s time for me to bid them farewell.

Early each fall, professional photographers from Powell Studios in Detroit would make the trek to my small, rural hometown in central Michigan to take high school senior pictures…graduation photos. The crew would assemble lights and cameras into a makeshift studio in the gymnasium, and each student would have the attention…as well as the camera and lights… focused on them for about fifteen minutes. It was a streamlined process, and each person’s fifteen minutes was pretty much the same as those who came before and after. The photos differed only in the features of the subjects; everything else was unexceptionally standard. All eyes would focus at the same angle, varied only by the orientation…left or right. The tilt of the shoulders and slant of the head were all textbook classic. In the days before Photoshop, the Powell team promised to cure zits, tame renegade strands of hair, and even remove braces. For teens growing up in the Midwest, this rite of passage…this tradition…having your senior picture made…looking good…was a big deal.

Then again…why rush into anything? 

One of the highlights of the year was the day the proofs appeared in the mail. Their arrival then prompted the difficult task of deciding which option to choose. Back then, proofs were very different from those we see today. The fixative used on the image was only temporary. The likenesses would continue to darken over time until they had completely disappeared. Powell Studios was taking no chances. The only way to retain the picture was to purchase it. 

The final portraits had barely arrived before we were already giving them away. It was our tradition to exchange pictures with classmates and sometimes with special underclassmen as well. Before the trade was made, it was customary to add an inscription to the back.

 "How can I ever forget the terrific time we had last summer.  What a weekend we spent!!!" No matter what we do together, we always seem to come up with some wild thing to do." 
"Be good. Your a swell gal."
"To one of the silliest girls in Government class."
"Remember all the fun we had in Art Class."
"To one of the best friends I've had in school. Remember all the fun we've had in school and out."
"To a friend that will never be forgotten. Good luck in the world."
"To a close friend in which we share all our problems. You have a real nice personality and are a nice girl."
"To a wonderful girl who is the life of everything. Good luck in the future and be sure never forget the past."
"KEEP as easy going as you are and you'll have it made."
"It's been fun going thru school with you. Remember all the times we got yelled at in Sunday School for talking."
"Good luck and be good."
"To a very sweet classmate who is going far."
"To the class cut-up and a sweet girl. Don't forget all the riots we've had, (a cigar?) and the fun we will have in the future."
"I couldn't have made it through Government without you. You are one of the finest people I have ever met."
"What nuts we were!"
"To one of the nicest girls I know."
"Always remember the time we spent together."
"Your always sticking up for me in Art Class. Thanks alot."
"Remember when I stayed with you when both our folks were gone!  
Wild isn't even the word for it."

Maybe it's today after all. Maybe it's time

This packet of photos has joined me on my life’s journey for nearly half a century and has been infused with more importance than mere ink and paper would suggest. In the pictures, each subject was positioned in such a way that their eyes were looking toward something unseen, out of view, unknown…the future, perhaps. When holding these photos, the hopes and dreams of these teenagers, now senior citizens, are almost palpable. With the bundle in my hands, I feel as if I am bearing witness to their lives…what they hoped for, what they lived, and increasingly more often…that they died. Simply tossing them in the bin is difficult, but perhaps discarding them all at once is preferable to losing them one at a time. Just chuck them all at once, and I won’t have to watch the pile dwindle with the passing of each of those young faces or wonder when my visage will be subtracted from the stack.

“Once I make up my mind, I’m full of indecision”…Oscar Levant

In reality, I may still have these images, but the people and places have been gone for a very long time. The high school was torn down years ago. The guys in my art class who were always in trouble for having long hair no longer have much hair to worry about. Many of the girls whose skirts were rolled up too short are grandmothers, and cataract surgery, new knees, and hearing aids are the newest status symbols.

We spent hours, days, and years learning, laughing, and growing up together, but after graduation, most of us walked out of the school into the absolute elsewhere of lives beyond our small town. We promised to keep in touch and never forget our time together, but over the years, we did lose connections, and trying to remember the fun times is something we don’t even attempt much anymore. Heck. We can’t even remember last week.

Yes. It is definitely time to let them go. I'm not really sure why I held on to them for so long.  

I have great affection for my former classmates, those with whom I survived the petri dish of high school. These photos from long ago remind me of the band festivals, the book reports and term papers, Friday night football and the dances that followed, the laughter between classes and the jokes in the lunchroom, but they also remind me of the panic of exams for which I had not studied, the cliques to which I did not belong, and feelings of inadequacy, frustration, and uncertainty. It wasn’t all Double-Ham-and-Cheese at Pizza Sam’s, that’s for sure, but in retrospect, high school is challenging, and it wasn’t the best time of my life, but I’m lucky that I lived it with this group of people.

Yep! Today's the Day

I know that it is finally time to let them go. Now, all I have to do is devise a meaningful way to dispose of them. It doesn’t seem fitting to just toss them in the trash with used paper towels and empty candy wrappers.

---

Oh, mercy! Now what am I saying? Is it true, I can’t get rid of them until I solve the method of the disposable conundrum? Bummer!

---

You know, the recycling bin doesn't seem so bad after all.