My brother inherited our family photo albums. He has set himself the huge project of scanning and distributing the pictures in case his house burns down. He’s now finished the oldest album’s 187 photos and sent me the original hard copies of ones featuring me, which is most them since I was the first and most photographed child in our family.
Rather than store the photos in a box placed out of sight until I’m ready to downsize, I plan to display them in my writing den in batches of five to look at for a period of time. The photos will be my blogging project through the summer — and a trip down memory lane.
The first five photos, randomy plucked from the box, are ones of me at around age two-three, when our family rented a bungalow on Pine Beach Boulvard in the Montreal suburb of Dorval.
Two of the photos show me with my first friend, Denise, who lived next door. I don’t really remember Denise, although I have a vague memory of her tied to a tree in her front yard. This was because Denise had habit of running onto the street, and Pine Beach had a lot of traffic. Her being tied up likely struck me as interesting because I was a more cautious child who wouldn’t have run onto the street. I remember the first time I left our property on my own I cut through back yards to get to my destination rather than take the busy road.
Well, that might not have been my first venture out. My parents used to talk about Denise’s other habit of taking her clothes off. To stop her doing this, her parents put her clothes on inside out. One day Denise managed to strip and got me to do the same. The two of us ran up naked to the store on Pine Beach corner, where her father worked.
Denise moved away when I was around four years old. I wonder what she’s up to these days.