Today at work was a bad day for this head of mine. I was recalling a post on the curly board. About being sixteen. And I had to think back. Obviously I turned 16 at some point. But As hard as I tried. I couldnt remember having any sort of event for turning 16. And for the most part. I really couldnt remember 16 at all. Or 15, Or 14. So forth and so on.
Here i sit 32 years old. And I really can only remember bits and pieces of my teen aged years.
And that thought got me to thinking about my teen aged years. Trying to pull any memory I could from that time. I got a few out, but really its like i've completly wiped it all out of my head.
I dont remember which birthday it was (14-16) but I do remember I shared my birthday with my step-grandfather. A good man. Tall, named Phil. He passed away shortly after glenn and I met. But, back to my summers of teenness.
We were out at the Cape May house, that the "whole fam damly" rented for 2 weeks during the summer. I remember the striped sundress i wore there. I only had 2 of them. Those were to be saved for going out to dinner.
But I remember that one birthday. I got my swiss cheese bagel. (my daily breakfast, since i always woke up so late to have breakfast with the family) It was vacation. I remember a lifeguard contest was on that year. And I sat and sat and sat on the boardwalk all day long, also getting a really good burn on the tops of my thighs. But watching all those "hot" to a 15-6 year old was woo woo!
Another cape may memory came shortly after that one. A new photography school opened up a few miles deep into the heart of cape may. Past all the victorian houses and hotels. I rode my bike there to attend a lecture (at 15-16). I was a photography student in high school and just being around "professional" photographers even if for a brief peroid of time was just what I wanted to do. I even brought my tiny little portfolio of pictures. No one looked at them, but I had them ready!
Which then brought up one of the bad memories. Photography. I buried myself in it at school cause I never wanted to be home. I mixed more bottles of fixer, stop and developer. I did side work for the school. I even got asked to photograph stuff for a diversity study of our high school.
However, No matter my grades in photography. Would my father ever take me serious on how much I enjoyed it. Or how good I was at it. And my photography teacher once told me that every 4 years she gets a star student. I was it. She always gave me the reins if a picture needed to be taken for the Tamarack tower (the art and literature magazine of the high school). She taught me so many things. However.. when I showed interest in persuing a photography degree, or even going to a "art school" he said No. My mother on the other hand supported me and wanted to see me thrive in something I enjoyed. She even drove me up to Oswego new york. Which had one of the better art/photography departments of all the suny schools just to see if my photography could get me in, cause the rest of my grades couldnt. They didnt. But. She was the one who persuaded me to try.
But back to cape may. and my teen years. I went on my first date ever while i was down there. Rich C. was his name. A bright red headed guy. A few years older than me. Took me mini golfing. I think he also took me to the movies a few days later. Back to the future? I think we saw. I was really young. I was about to go into freshman year when I met him. He was about to go into junior year. I went to his junior prom. Some time after the prom I started hearing from his less. Then not at all. I called. And he told me he started going out with someone else. Someone who he met at that prom. Thats when I first went into therapy. From what I remember it started out with abandonment issues. And morphed into dealing with the grief from my step mother.
I remember how much I enjoyed going to cape may. Because most of the time I would be far far away from her. And her bitchyness. I spent a lot of time with her brother bob. I spent a lot of time on the beach, the arcade anywhere but the house. Rode hundreds of miles or at least it seemed like it at the time on my bike. Going into the surf shop to look and giggle at the "sex wax" stickers.
But I was always taking pictures. With my shitty little camera. Black and whites mostly. cause at the time I could process those for free. I even had a "gallery" showing at my high school. My photos were the ones my teacher chose from our class to put up there. My dad didnt go to that.
Also one year at cape may I took a slew of photos to make xmas gifts out of. I made a whole calendar of 2 photos per month. Of everyone in the family. Some pics I can still remember. I'm sure those photos are all gone now. I never kept a copy. And all my high school negatives/prints are still at my dads house. Or perhaps thrown away. Along with anything else i left there. But I remember one pic in particular. My dad and stepmother from behind. Looking oooh so fat. Pushing strollers. It was the "END" picture. She didnt like it. Duh cause she looked like a cow. Everyone else got a big kick out of it. And in some ways. I got a little back at her.
