“We’ll have too many memories.”
My friend Revaz, visiting his family over the holidays from New York, made his declaration rather facetiously after I commented on how many photographs I’d take on his birthday outing. I’ve known the guy for roughly 12 years, but it’s rare if we see each other more than five times a year. So, it was a no-brainer to take a Friday off for his 34th birthday, drive him to one of the best diners in Sonoma, and then schedule a tasting at the hipster-iest winery on the planet for great photo-ops. As you can see, deer head.
I agree with Revaz. Eventually, I think I’ll have way too many memories to sort though. We all will. But that’s exactly what I want. I envision a future where I have an archive of the greatest hits of my life: beautiful detours, my son and wife, my best friends, my best birthday, and my family. (I bet there is terminology for wanting this archive that some neuroscientist somewhere has coined. If you know it, tell me what it is.) I’m not ready to say forgetting is terrifying, but it’s a little bit scary.
Last year, my dad sent me a few family photographs my cousin had scanned and sent over to him. One of them (on the right) I had never seen before. I never knew this lovely thing existed until the day my dad emailed it to me. Since then, I’ve tried my best to understand everything I can about what was going on. Where were we? Why am I wearing white pants? How old am I? Who is taking the photo? Why am I smiling like a kid who just discovered a $20 in his back pocket? For me, there are simply too many…gaps. I don’t want that to happen.
I spent the afternoon of Revaz’s birthday adventure in Sonoma trying to capture the best of the rainy day light. I took overheard shots, anticipated conversations, and followed my son around to see what his smile would create. I stopped, as I always do, to participate, remember conversations, laugh, and enjoy everything around me.
But the archive is always important. And I managed to capture one image in particular that, to me, is already forever etched in my memory as an illustration of the day. I’ll let you guess which one it is.
Lastly, I won’t dedicate an entire blog post to this topic, but I will simply say that I’m investing in this space again. As my friend David has noted, owning a little piece of your own “internet real estate” is fun. I began blogging in 2000, lost a majority of my nonsensical stuff in a 2012 blogopacalypse, and I haven’t budged much since. But I miss you, blogging community. Let’s kick it again.