Discarded Lives
I once found a stack of Polaroids on the 59th Street in New York. They had been discarded and left on a pile of old furniture. At first, it seemed like a good idea to take them and do something like art. I changed my mind after looking at the first few. They weren’t pictures of a lascivious nature. There was no bondage or private parts. They were images of a young couple posing in front of a tree in Central park, or sitting on an ugly sofa in a suburban house. I put them back. There was something voyeuristic and creepy about handling them. Now we’re used to this. We can look at hundreds of photos of people sitting on ugly sofas.
In that vein, I’m adding more creepy images to the pile. I found these today in the binder that has actual printed photos. The image of Noreen and me in a Shriners hat was taken before a costume party. I like to tell people this was taken after I returned from the war. The baby photo, well, I’ll leave that to your imagination. But don’t believe the stories of babies being stolen at Disneyland. And the poodles, I have no idea why I have this.
