Worth a Thousand

On Thursday afternoon a friend posted an old photo from college to his Facebook page.  The scads of comments that unspooled fast and furious for well over an hour were bananas!  And more a tangential memory jog than at all relating to the actual photo.  It became a miniature online reunion.  Swept up in this little nostalgia fest, more folks seemed to dig out their old shots and put them up.  Meaning most had to scan them in (or had already scanned them at some point).  For you see, back when we were in college, pay attention now kids, all our cameras required film.  Then that film had to be taken to be developed.  We might as well have been drawing our likenesses on a cave wall with the burnt end of a stick.  It seems that primitive now.

One of our favorite games was to go on little photo jaunts, staging impromptu shoots around town late at night.  Often with wardrobe changes!  Once, we invaded the Orlando International Airport around midnight, and took pictures on the baggage carousel, the people mover-y sidewalks, and on and around the godawful “public art” that littered the place.  It seems inconceivable now. We’d be hauled into some windowless, cramped, florescent-lit  Homeland Security office the moment we traipsed through the doors with our weird outfits and conspicuous behavior.  Hello, cavity search.

Now whenever you go out, everyone acts like the lay paparazzi of their own lives, with their digital cameras and cell phones:  incessantly snapping pictures at every bar, club or birthday party.  Every moment captured and subsequently blogged or Tumblred or Flickred, or yes, Facebooked.  Though this isn’t a screed against the ease and proliferation of images in this digital age.  I mean, we had our own instant gratification, it was called Polaroid.  So.  I suppose it’s an appreciation that these images endure, in whatever form, and can act as such a powerful catalyst to reminiscence.

Above is one of my favorite shots, taken outside a 7-11 (mmm, Slurpees!) on one of our photo outings in downtown Orlando.

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15 Responses to Worth a Thousand

  1. meli says:

    I have a photo of you in a waitress dress sitting in front of the status board smoking a cig with your doc martins on. If I had a scanner I would so post that pic. I may have to run out a buy one now. Nostalgia plus scanner purchase equals economic stimulation. Win win for all…

  2. ephemerist says:

    @Meli: Yeah, Cindy put it up on the Facebook — you can gank it from her photo feed. But I have a ton of pics at home that need to be scanned. For nostalgia and blackmail purposes.

  3. That sidewalk? Dirtiest thing I’ve ever seen. And is Jen holding … and ice cream cone? Priceless.

  4. ephemerist says:

    @Sorcia: Cindy has a, what are those, cones. Nut cones? Shit. What are those things? With the chocolate and the icecream and the nuts and the cone. Well, whatever it’s called that’s what she has.

  5. ephemerist says:

    @Sorcia: Drumstick! Gawd. It’s called a Drumstick. Fuck’s sake. That required googling.

  6. When I was growing up, those ice-cream cones were called “Nutty Buddies” (I think.) I obvs don’t know anyone in the pic, but it’s lovely shot, it seems to encapsulate a timeless (by which I mean post-war American wasteland era) mix of conformity/youth/hope/resignation that makes me want to know more about their stories. (Not literally, of course.)

  7. ephemerist says:

    @Gay Recluse: I thought Nutty Buddies as well. I think they were for a time called that? But the googles told me drumstick. You don’t want to google nutty Buddies. It could be a rabbit hole of perversion.

  8. ephemerist says:

    Oh, and. Thanks for the comments on the photo.

  9. Kitty Bangz says:

    I think Drumsticks are round on top and Nutty Buddies have that flat top “lid”…

    Oh and then there was this

  10. ephemerist says:

    @KB: I think you might be right on the drumstick/nutty buddies topic. Also that picture! Eek.

  11. ephemerist says:

    @KB: Also another reason for you to be on Facebook, you then will be able to post pics in which I look thin and hawt. To be joining you do, plz?

  12. Cindy E. says:

    Ah, the days when each photo counted, because you couldn’t just erase and try again. Now it’s all: take the shot, run around to the other side of the person holding the camera to look at the 2″x3″ screen, declare that my nose looks too big (or other some such imperfection) and retake the picture.

    @TheGayRecluse: “makes me want to know more about their stories. (Not literally, of course.)” – that last part had me laughing out loud.

  13. Cindy E. says:

    BTW – this particular photo shoot had 5 wardrobe changes for me, and involved PLEATHER. Oh yes, pleather!

  14. ephemerist says:

    Costume changes! Pleather! It’s true. And like, multiple location changes too. Mmmm.

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