Evidence
How was your weekend? Mine was a delight. I went to Santa Barbara to visit with Graham's folks and to see his home town. I love getting autobiographical tours of people's hometowns. It's really a secret passion for me. Once I went to Long Island with my friend Kathryn (hi KGK!) and I loved seeing her neighborhood and getting pizza from her family's favorite pizza place.
Often, people kind of groan when I ask for a tour, but invariably they get into it. I think it's kind of like going to visit your family--it's a mixed bag to go back to places you grew up. You leave your hometown for a reason, right? What I love to see are the personal landmarks that tell people's stories. Once on these tours, the people who are leading often get excited themselves. I think it's because we so often doubt that we have lived any life at all, and once we discover we have, we can't get enough.
Graham drove me all over Goleta and into Santa Barbara. He showed me the route he walked to elementary school, and his high school, and his junior high. He also showed me where he would go fishing with his dad, and where his favorite job was. We also went on a long walk down a bike path, and pointed out various spots for particular childhood experiences. He showed me the underpass where bats roost, and you can hear them peeping within the concrete. Note to self: bats smell like chickens, but sound CREEPY AS HELL. He showed me the old location of a gas station he used to work at, where he helped the crazy looking actor Christopher Lloyd. I loved every second of it.
Back a his childhood home, or as I like to call it, The Graham D. Parsons Honorable Library, I was assisted by the head curator, his mother, and got to view all his baby pictures and childhood photos. It drove Graham a little nuts, but I couldn't get enough. I loved knowing where he had come from, and what he looked like. I loved knowing that he had a bowl cut just like me and everyone I know at one point in his life. I loved that his favorite toy as a baby was a big plastic apple that chimed with bells. It ruled.
Secretly, I think he kind of got into it. He said later, "I didn't realize, I was such a BOY." I tell you, this stuff matters. The things we don't notice about ourselves are really important. It's the evidence that we have lived.
For those of you who are cringing in sympathy for Graham, don't worry, when the time is right, I'll let him look at the all the pictures of me as a flower child on a commune, wearing only what God gave me. I'll watch his face crack up at all the soccer photos, and prom pictures I've been storing up. They're from the 80's, and although I never had big hair, the dresses were big enough. Let me tell you, so are the stories.
Often, people kind of groan when I ask for a tour, but invariably they get into it. I think it's kind of like going to visit your family--it's a mixed bag to go back to places you grew up. You leave your hometown for a reason, right? What I love to see are the personal landmarks that tell people's stories. Once on these tours, the people who are leading often get excited themselves. I think it's because we so often doubt that we have lived any life at all, and once we discover we have, we can't get enough.
Graham drove me all over Goleta and into Santa Barbara. He showed me the route he walked to elementary school, and his high school, and his junior high. He also showed me where he would go fishing with his dad, and where his favorite job was. We also went on a long walk down a bike path, and pointed out various spots for particular childhood experiences. He showed me the underpass where bats roost, and you can hear them peeping within the concrete. Note to self: bats smell like chickens, but sound CREEPY AS HELL. He showed me the old location of a gas station he used to work at, where he helped the crazy looking actor Christopher Lloyd. I loved every second of it.
Back a his childhood home, or as I like to call it, The Graham D. Parsons Honorable Library, I was assisted by the head curator, his mother, and got to view all his baby pictures and childhood photos. It drove Graham a little nuts, but I couldn't get enough. I loved knowing where he had come from, and what he looked like. I loved knowing that he had a bowl cut just like me and everyone I know at one point in his life. I loved that his favorite toy as a baby was a big plastic apple that chimed with bells. It ruled.
Secretly, I think he kind of got into it. He said later, "I didn't realize, I was such a BOY." I tell you, this stuff matters. The things we don't notice about ourselves are really important. It's the evidence that we have lived.
For those of you who are cringing in sympathy for Graham, don't worry, when the time is right, I'll let him look at the all the pictures of me as a flower child on a commune, wearing only what God gave me. I'll watch his face crack up at all the soccer photos, and prom pictures I've been storing up. They're from the 80's, and although I never had big hair, the dresses were big enough. Let me tell you, so are the stories.
posted by Summer Pierre at
3:49 PM
1 Comments:
I am so jealous. Baby pictures are my PASSION!!!!
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