The point being that all that stuff went somewhere, and I knew I had better find where my dad stashed it all and put my hands on it before it went missing into the Depths of the Basement for all eternity. So I went home and dug in. Instead of just moving containers around, for once I actually sorted, and in doing so touched on little scraps from every corner of my life. From baby blankets to international gum wrappers to the odd scribble in an old notebook. Books I’d reminisced about recently and finally got to make that physical reconnection (Baby Island!). Books I’d totally forgotten about (a copy of How Things Work with the very subtle inscription from my grandfather: “Rebecca, I hope this will engage your interest in math and science.”) Books that didn’t quite belong to me after all (A copy of The Ferengi Rules of Acquisition bearing my own inscription: “Mom, here’s some business advice for you!” hey look – I’m still capable of surprising myself at the depths of my nerdiness.)
And then, of course, there were the pictures. I ruled out bringing back my big scrapbook o college memories. Instead I turned to the scanner and digitalized a nice chunk of those wes era photos. So here they are for your viewing pleasure. (plus a few that were already online, if you’re wondering why there are so damn many.) Uh... R and KT and I didn’t just stand in front of a green screen and take pictures for 4 years straight, despite what this slideshow may suggest, I swear. If you look real closely, you can see the
And don't miss the exclusive glimpses of Young Rebecca.
Featuring none other than - The Infamous Grunge Photo. This is pretty much what I looked like for all of junior high. The scary thing is I had NO IDEA that I fit into any kind of iconic grunge fashion until I saw this picture years later. All I remember at the time was feeling total alienation from the shiny happy world of popular girls in baby tees, and that Kurt Cobain and flannel were about the only things that made me feel comfortable in my own skin.
Thinking about this makes me feel all shifty, like maybe I’m at this very moment oblivious to being a walking time capsule of my generation, and I can feel my future self peeping in across the years and tsking my lack of self-awareness. Or perhaps this act of blogging about self-awareness is in itself emblematic of the times. Hmmmmmmmmm.