1982: My first experience with the death of a close family member. My maternal grandmother passed away from breast cancer that year. She avoided going to doctors and by the time she did, it was too late. I remember being so upset and I can still picture to this day sitting on my dad's lap crying and asking why did this have to happen? She and I shared a special bond -- Scrabble. Whenever I'd sleep over her and my Papa's house we'd play Scrabble (she had the "deluxe" turntable edition). While she was sick, she kept promising me that when she got better, we'd play Scrabble again. I wish we'd been able to. I feel like I was robbed of really getting to know her. Here are a few of the only photos I have of she and I.
Shortly after I was born (I'd say Easter of 1972). My maternal grandmother is on the right and my paternal grandmother is on the left:
Here we are again (yes, I'm the chunky monkey).
1983:
We moved. I had lived in the same small town all of my life up until this point. I remember holding onto my bedpost and saying I wasn't going. (FYI: It didn't work.) I was so so sad to leave the only friends (and most of my extended family) that I'd ever known. It was an EXTREMELY rough year. Not only did I move to a new town, but it was the first (and only) year that I attended public school, I went from living in a house with a yard to a second floor apartment, and went from living a car's ride from everything to being able to walk to shops.
map courtesy of Google Maps
6th grade class picture(s). Yes, plural. Guess what happened in the first take? Closed eyes. Ugh. So, we had the class picture as a composite and there I am smack in the middle with my eyes closed. Nightmare. Way to make new friends. So, for my own sake, I taped my re-take over it and no one was the wiser. (I think I must've scratched my mouth out or something...and apparently got a new hairdo or a curling iron...)
On the road again. This time it was across the state -- from small city to gigantic city. Another scary move, but definitely shaped the rest of my life. I loved life in the big city. I loved being able to take public transportation into Harvard Square in Cambridge or to my junior high.
7th grade class picture (let the perming begin):
Friend Jen's b-day party. Yeah, I have the EXACT same hairdo and the EXACT same sweater on. ::sigh:: If you look REALLY closely, you'll see that I have multiple colors of nail polish on...that was oh so chic back then.
1985:
WARNING: Hair disaster. I should've stayed with the perm and NOT let my hair grow out. ::sigh::
8th grade class picture: Oh no! I don't have a copy of my 8th grade picture. I know you're all disappointed...I sure am... NOT.
Almost as good is my 8th grade yearbook picture (I was quite the philosopher, eh?)
Yes, everyone went to concerts, but did you go to see Jack Wagner? Frisco of General Hospital. Heartthrob. Crappy musician, but who noticed these things back then? (Oh, and $13.50 was a lot for an 8th grader.)
Typical mid-80s girl teen's "stuff": (and yes, those are tapes on the left...had cassingles come out yet? and records on the right)
1986:
HIGH SCHOOL!!!!! Big change again. I went to a Catholic high school with some of my friends, while others went to a different Catholic high school or public high school. More awkwardness. More bad hair.
9th grade school ID. Braces? Check. Collar up? Check. Cowlick/perm? Check. Throw up? Check.
9th grade class picture. Braces? Still a check. Collar up? Still a check. Feathered hair with bangs and different cowlick? Check. Unfortunately, like most things in life, it gets worse before it gets better (wait until you see my sophomore school ID -- cliffhanger!)
No comments:
Post a Comment