The Featured Image, taken by an unknown photographer, puts me on a New York City street in either the summer of 1980 or `81—I don’t recall which. That would make me 21 or 22 years-old, with hair!
Good friend Andy Morris looks on. My recollection of him is his infectious, and friendly, smile. Where is it, Andy? Was I that boring? Looking at how stiff I appear to be, maybe I wasn’t so good a street preacher.
Welcome back to the North Maine Woods, circa mid-1970s. I am the skinny, short kid to the far left; my father, in the red hat, is to the far right. Next to me, my cousin Dan looks at something; my guess is an insect.
His sister Debbie, sitting up, came along with two obnoxious friends. I spent several weeks as object of their abusive taunts and teasing. Wicked women, they were.
My father was a controlling, jealous, and quick-tempered man. The distance between Andromeda and Milky Way galaxies separated our personalities. He and I shared little in common, so much that if not for some physical resemblance my only conclusion must be illegitimacy. But Mom was faithful; he was the one who slept around, which precipitated her divorcing him.
Ah, the day she confided in me was joyous. I was relieved that he would be gone and me freed from his anger, curses, and putdowns. My sisters suffered loss at his departure. I thrived in his absence. Even during the lean teen years, when we had no Christmas presents and often were hungry, I wouldn’t want him around. Mom was a single mother with four children; he contributed nothing. She suffered for her brood; he looked after himself and his new family.
The year ends with an unexpected post. Today, my cousin Dan emailed a couple older photos, both likely taken by his dad (my Uncle Glenn). Date and my age are uncertain as I write. If Dan can answer my question where, then time is something I can add later on.
I probably started the beard around age 16, definitely by 17—but age 18 or 19 is possible, too, in the Featured Image. Seventeen is my guess. If correct, location likely would be my Nana’s apartment in Lewiston, Maine. Same would be true if a year or two older.
The other day, my sister Nanette reminded how much my younger self bore some (let me editorialize fleeting) resemblance to singer John Denver. During high school chorus trips 40 years ago (or so), somewhere, somewhen, […]
Back in February, Betanews published a column from me about Apple’s iPod Shuffle. I’m working on another column, on iPod nano, and decided to post the earlier one here.
