I have a friend over in Perth; a man who is, I think, my very oldest friend of all – meaning the one who comes from farthest back. Longest ago. You get the picture.
Roger is a serial emailer: he receives emails of humour or interest from all over, and re-sends them to various groups of his friends and colleagues. A couple of his thread topics cause my blood to boil, and I tell him so in no uncertain terms. But there – you don’t agree with everything your friends like or do, do you ?!
Today he sent me one that has an introduction saying
which is followed by the series of images, pasted one after the other within the email.
As I usually do with emails of this kind, I went online, knowing I’d find the photos there, and probably larger. And there they are, on Hussey’s professional site – https://www.tomhussey.com/PROJECTS/REFLECTIONS/1. I can’t show you any of the photos, as I’d be breaching his IP up, down and sideways. Just follow the link to get started on the first of these wonderful photographs. (Sorry that I can’t frame it within an ‘open in a separate window’ call.)
So. How do I feel after looking at them all ?
They make me cry. They’re so absolutely … so absolutely TRUE. So RIGHT. They say everything there is to say about growing old.
It happens to everyone, if s/he is lucky (you’ve heard that weak joke about “getting old is so much better than the alternative”, right ?). We all become ancient versions of the young creatures we once were; and yes, it does seem like the week before last. That’s because inside our heads we’re still that age, and we can manage to forget our wrinkly casings until we catch sight of them.
All these people are actually studying them. So the viewer understands that this is not the usual light-hearted situation in which they’re dismissing the wrinkly casings with a laugh, but actually thinking about what they were really like as those young creatures.
And it’s sad. I was young once, and so was Chic.
Oh, he was a lovely bloke !
That’s The Doctor reclining upon his reclining mama. Chic saved his life several years before, and the Noom<*> doted on him at least as much as he did on me.
I do remember those times. How not ? – living with Stringer was glorious.
But to cheer myself up again, I simply remind myself how happy I am that I’m not young: what the world has come to is not a place I want to linger in.
<*> all cats have several names !