Return to There are places in this world where mundane, forgotten things have learned to weave their own magic (idea)

Take for instance, an old run of the mill, ordinary everyday [shoebox], a belly full of [beer] and the lure of the basement.

Some of [friends] might make the claim that at times, I’m full of [shit]. That given enough [alcohol], [time] and a willing [ear] to bend, I can [Good things rarely happen after midnight|weave a story] about [Condoms. Tampax. Aspirin. Ecstasy.| almost anything that comes to mind]. Now, I don’t know if that’s true or not but I’ll try and take it in the [spirit] that it was intended. After all, I can pretty much say the same about most of them on any given night when the [beer] and shots are flowing freely. In part, I think that’s what keeps us coming back to each other.

And so it was when I got home the other evening that I went looking for [buried treasure]. No, not in the [backyard] or out on the many beaches that dot the coast line of Ohio. Sometimes the [treasure] one seeks isn’t hidden at all. It’s right there underneath your [nose] just waiting to be found. In my case, all it involved was yet another trip down to the basement.

There, scattered amongst the dampness and the long forgotten suitcases and other assorted [relics] are a couple of rows of shoeboxes. While the shoes themselves have either long gone out of [fashion] or been discarded because their soles have worn thin, there’s no denying they still hold on to another type of [soul].

Maybe they contain old [newspaper] clippings from days gone or an old [report card] or two. If you’re old enough, there might be a set of dads [cufflinks], a [tie clip] or a [billfold] that you kept as a keepsake for some reason or another. Maybe it’s the [index card]s that your mom used to transcribe her [Betty Crocker] recipes on. If you’re a parent, maybe they contain a lock or two of [hair] and either some [baby shoes] or [baby teeth] that you felt the need to hold onto.

In my particular instance, most of them hold old photographs.

All of these were taken long before the days of jpegs, [digital camera]s and [cell phone]s that take pictures. Most of them are old [Polaroid]s that seem to be on the brink of crumbling or falling apart when you lift them out to look at them. [Truth] be told, I find that rather comforting.

I’m sure that many of you are now scratching your heads and are wondering what [preposterous] reasons could be floating around in that thing I call a brain. After all, images are much easier to organize, don’t take up as much room, are hard to lose, can be edited at almost anytime, can be forwarded to just abut anywhere under the sun and will seemingly last [forever]. Don’t get me wrong, that all goes in the [plus] column when it comes to the [debate] over images versus a picture but then there’s also the minus column.

See, to me, images don’t have another side to them. Oh sure, they can be captioned with text but that’s just what it is, plain text. You can’t hold them in your hand and turn them over in order to try and decipher some faded [handwriting] or to wonder about under just what circumstances it was taken. They seem to hold a certain air of [mystery] to them and you have to play detective to figure out just what was so important at the moment that it warranted a snapshot. I mean, just look at some of the people in the photo and the poses they struck.

Most of the pictures that I have are what’s probably known as staged shots. There hidden amongst what seem like forced smiles and stilted postures are the little [buried treasure]s that I was referring to earlier. It takes some time and some [imagination] to look at those expressions and to try and figure out what the back story might be. They don’t vanish with the click of the [mouse] or by the hitting of the delete button but are meant to be pored over and wrestled with until they take on some meaning.

Somehow, long after I’m gone, I think I’m gonna find it reassuring to know that my kid can still pick up a picture of me and hold it to her cheek and maybe shed a [tear] or two or let a [smile] cross her [face] when she thinks about the times that we’ve had. When it comes to things like that, something’s aren’t meant to be edited or thrown out.

For all their convenience and their own brand of [magic], I just don’t see that happening with an image on a screen.

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