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It’s very strange, not having any photographs of myself from when I was growing up.  My mother is in possession of all the family pictures, and I haven’t seen them in what must be 25 years or more.

In my early teens, I discovered photography.  I adored taking pictures with my Kodak Instamatic X-15.  It had a “Magicube” (ooooh!) and if you know what that is, you’re as old as I am.  I took scads of pictures, all black and white, and I remember keeping them in an album.  I don’t have it anymore.

So, no pictures.  And, as I’ve mentioned before, in a previous post, I have very few memories.  We all know the power of a photograph to tell a story, or to prompt a flood of memory.  One feels a bit adrift with neither.

A while back, I happened to come across one photograph that I’ve managed to keep with me for almost forty years.  I took it in my early teens while watching the draft horse pull at the state fair.  I’m so happy that I never glued it into that album.

I don’t know who these people are, but in a way, this old couple has become part of my family, part of my story.  They look kind, don’t you think?

old couple 1

All photographs copyright Zen Doe

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