It’s 8:30 in the evening, and I just finished eating dinner–a bowl of chili and a salad. Before that, I went on a two-hour walk around Van Buren. Everyone has their Halloween decorations on display. And whereas one creative person went all out and put a skeleton pushing an old-fashioned lawnmower in their backyard, two nextdoor neighbors–Christians, I assume–simply stuck matching signs in their front yards that said, “The only ghost that lives here is the Holy Ghost.”

Groan.

And then there was the family whose yard was already full of Christmas inflatables. I don’t know–I’m all for the celebrating the virgin birth of Christ, but I really feel like these folks are jumping the gun. I mean, it’s still October!

I guess that’s what you’d call a premature immaculation.

This afternoon I spent several hours organizing old photos, a project I started yesterday. Ugh. This is going to take a while, since despite my sorting hundreds of photos today, I still have thousands to go. Oh well, what else am I doing with my life?

Here’s a picture of my progress thus far. The photo sticking up is from my 21st birthday, on which I went out for–wait for it–coffee. (I’m not kidding.) Anyway, I have a “tab” for every major place (junior high, high school, home) or event (summer camp, trip to Thailand, etc.). Thankfully, many of the photos have dates printed on them or I just remember–That was 1995–but in some cases I’m just guessing–Uh, I think that was sometime in college. Isn’t that weird how certain details of your life can just disappear?

Here’s a picture I found from my sophomore year in high school. I was 16, and our class was on a field trip. Check out that beret. Can you believe I used to tell people that I was straight? I filed this picture under a section called “The Power of Self-Delusion,” alternatively titled “Reasons Everyone Knew before I Did.”

While sorting through pictures from elementary school, I found images of old classmates who are now dead. This was a real shock to my system, to see them as I remember them–young, vibrant, full of potential–and yet know that they’ve long stopped breathing.

Hum. No one thinks it will happen to them, but it happens to everyone. Death, that is. “What will you do with your one wild and precious life?” Mary Oliver asks.

Also while going through elementary school photos, I ripped up some pictures of a kid that I thought was–quite honestly–a jerk. Not that I assume he’s a jerk now, but at the time, for sure. So twenty years later–rip, rip, rip–that felt good.

My therapist says that some of the deepest and longest lasting wounds we carry are from childhood. I guess because we’re so impressionable, our hearts wide open. So I’m trying now to be okay with whatever arises while looking at all these old photos, to be open to any thoughts and reactions I may have shoved down that want to come up. Like, Awe, I liked him. Or, What an asshat! Because I’m tired of self-delusion. I’d rather be honest. For this reason, as much as I see this project as a “tidy” and “orderly” thing to do, I also see it as a healthy thing to do. That is, I see it as another way to get real, a symbolic act to get my past in order, to clean it up the best I can and properly put it behind me.

[Me and my longtime friend Neil. From seventh grade, I think, spirit week.]