I think I only recognize one building...the school. If it's the same building, there's currently a huge hole in the south side big enough for a backhoe to drive inside. As far as I can tell, the one-time place of learning is now a garage for large equipment.
Memories...
The other pictures (and I didn't take photos of all the pictures...) hung on walls in an unused section of our local pizza joint, a room ignored by patrons and employees alike. The photos show how life looked--in black and white, of course--back in the day. Since I didn't live here back in the day, I assume they're pictures from our little town, anyone who lived during the actual time when the pictures were taken is either gone or well on their way.
I think I like old photos for much of the same reason I love new photos. Each can tell a story, or many stories. Everyone who see a picture interprets it differently based on personal experiences, likes, dislikes, even moods and attitudes when looking at the slices of life captured on film.
How we view art tells us as much about the observer as the art itself.
The room in which the photos hang is darkened, currently used as a storage space, four walls where couples, families, happy people, lonely people once sat and shared food, shared stories, jokes, memories. The framed pictures stand as a testament to history...
How fitting they adorn the walls of an empty room, a room where memories began.
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