Wander project A moment in the sun…


Wandering old pictures presents many thoughts and a myriad of memories. Moments that slipped away at the time, only to now return and seeing them again, remembering them again, wondering. The march of time isn’t slow or fast, but it doesn’t wait. Time is the one thing that slips through our fingers, we regret. What I could have done differently had I but had more time. But I wax not said today, for I am sharing a celebration, a moment in the past that was a gathering. Sad that one of the people who gathered then, is not with us now, but happy that the rest are still with us. Their memories expanding outward from the day, the moment, the event I am sharing to include more.

There is the path we take in life. I would love to say in all cases it is a four-lane superhighway that, in the perfection of travel is never slowed by traffic. The perfection of an autobahn, with each vehicle tearing by any single point a 200 miles per hour safely. Time itself, propelling us in a straight line and warning always of curves ahead. I would love to say that is the path we all get. But the reality is it is not. Our paths are sometimes created by goats or deer. Small and muddy, tiny and weaving, the highest possible speed two sometimes 3 miles per hour. Slow going and slogging through the infinite layers of material that are in our way. We do not always get the desired easy road.

I wonder, did Frost lie? Did taking the path less traveled truly make the journey better? Or was the journey simply different? Perhaps the original intent of the line to mislead and force us to consider that the easy road wasn’t the best road. Expect was it? Would the world be a better place if each of our paths was a superhighway? Probably not, in fairness, the difference at times is what makes us who we are. No one can tread my path as I cannot tread theirs. I am bound and wound to my path. All this from wandering old photographs dusty and worn. Their colors at times faded, but the memories oh the memories are always there. They change over time, the orientation of the observer as John Boyd said (OODA Loops). I walk lightly on my path and wish you well upon yours!

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family historian

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