My past is long and my future short. So, in my mind’s glaucomic eye, I like to transport myself more rearward than forward. I prefer to peer into the slag and sediment of my history rather than into the odds and ends of my future. But I wasn’t always this way, e.g. in my witless prepubescent days I was far more anxious over future funds for movies and Milk Duds than knowing names and faces of darkly clad people who were both old and dead. Or why I lived in Marysville rather than Oslo or Carrickfergus.
Recent events have caused me to recall a boring afternoon in my 1307 Walnut St. home in Marysville when my mother suggested that my two younger sisters and I get out of her hair and spend time looking through our old family photos stored in an antique trunk.