***Of This And That In The Old North Adamsville Neighborhood-In Search Of….. The Perfect Profile Photo

 

 A YouTube film clip of Iris Dement performing After You're Gone.

From The Pen Of Frank Jackman

For those who have been following this series about the old days in my old home town of North Adamsville, particularly the high school day as the 50^th anniversary of my graduation creeps up, will notice that recently I have been doing sketches based on my reaction to various e-mails sent by fellow classmates via the class website. So I have taken on the tough tasks of sending kisses to raging grandmothers, talking up old flames with guys I used to hang around the corners with, remembering those long ago searches for the heart of Saturday night, getting wistful about elementary school daydreams, taking up the cudgels for be-bop lost boys and the like. That is no accident as I have of late been avidly perusing the personal profiles of various members of the North Adamsville Class of 1964 website as fellow classmates have come on to the site and lost their shyness about telling their life stories (or have increased their computer technology capacities, not an unimportant consideration for the generation of ’68, a generation on the cusp of the computer revolution and so not necessarily as computer savvy as the average eight-year old today).

Some stuff is interesting to a point, you know, including those endless tales about the doings and not doings of the grandchildren, odd hobbies and other ventures taken up in retirement and so on although not worthy of me making a little off-hand commentary on. Some stuff is either too sensitive or too risqué to publish on a family-friendly site. Some stuff, some stuff about the old days and what did, or did not, happened to, or between, fellow classmates, you know the boy-girl thing (other now acceptable relationships were below the radar then) has naturally perked my interest.

Other stuff defies simple classification as is the case here in dealing not with photos of the beloved grandchildren which we all agree are endearing, adorable, cute and whatever other adjectives you want to describe them but photos of classmates, whether taken by someone else or with the so easy an eight-year old can do it new camera technology those now ubiquitous “selfies.” The problem for me was not so much the “who” or “how” of the photos but the quality or rather maybe not the quantity but the definite “photo-shop” action surrounding those selected photos. Rather than go on let me state my case:             

 “’Cause I’ve memorized each line in your face, and not even death can ever erase the story they tell to me”-a line from the folksinger/songwriter Iris DeMent’s hauntingly beautiful song After You’re Gone.

Those words immediately came to mind after viewing more than a smattering of photos from the personal profile pages of classmates who directed their fellows to their sites by updating their photo sections. I would not had thought anything of it except I knew that I needed to view more than  a smattering or else there would be hell to pay from some bright bulb accusing me of selectivity and worse. Of course those lyrics only apply to our male classmates. After all Iris is singing about her gone man. I do not, the age of sexual equality before us or not, want to extend their application to our sister classmates because I do not need to have every cyber-stone in the universe thrown at me. But those same lyrics do bring me to the purpose for today’s comment. As part of getting a 'feel' for writing about old North I perused the class profiles and a number of classmates had placed their  current photos there, although a number of people, including myself, are apparently camera-shy. Some, however, like the Chase brothers are not. (By the way, Jim and John, and others as well, what is up with the hats? We are Kennedy-era boys and hats, any hats were not part of our uniform.) Or like born again "muscle man" Brad Badger, the star cross country runner and track man our class, who has previously been mentioned by me as slender and gracefully-gaited. That photo-readiness forms the basis for my comment

I have to admit that I have been startled by some of the photos. Many of them seem to have been taken by grandchildren just before their naps. Isn’t the digital age supposed to have made the camera instantly user-friendly? Why all the soft-focus, looking through a fish tank kind of shots. And why does everyone seem to be have been photographed down the far end of some dark corridor or by someone about six miles away? Nobody expects Bachrach-quality photos [the photography studio that did our yearbook class pictures] but something is amiss here.

In contrast, a new arrival on this class site, Rich Florian, has found just the right approach. Initially, Rich placed a recent shot of himself on his profile page. Frankly, the old codger looked like he was wanted in about six states for “kiting” checks, and maybe had done a little “time.” More recently his page has been graced with a stock photo provided by the site, a tastefully-shot, resplendent wide old tree, apparently from his backyard. Automatically I now associate Rich with the tree of life, with oneness with the universe, with solidity, with the root of matter in him, and with bending but not breaking. Wise choice. Now I do not have to suppress a need to dial 911, but rather can think of Rich as one who walks with kings, as a sage for the ages. And nothing can ever erase the story that tells to me.

Artist: Dement Iris
Song: After You're Gone
Album: Infamous Angel Iris Dement Sheet Music

There'll be laughter even after you're gone.

I'll find reasons to face that empty dawn.

'Cause I've memorised each line in your face,

And not even death can ever erase the story they tell to me.

I'll miss you.

Oh, how I'll miss you.

I'll dream of you,

And I'll cry a million tears.

But the sorrow will pass.

And the one thing that will last,

Is the love that you've given to me.

There'll be laughter even after you're gone.

I'll find reasons and I'll face that empty dawn.

'Cause I've memorised each line in your face,

And not even death could ever erase the story they tell to me.