Beautiful and expensive dresses, all tailored, and rented tuxes of colors matching or complementing those dresses: Prom night. A version of the coming-out party that harks to May and Mary celebrations, to fertility rites, to Ceres welcoming Proserpine in the sunshine, serially celebrated in spring. And old things: Trees and buildings that serve as backdrops for photos of the exuberant though nervous young, surrounded by parents, siblings, and friends taking pictures too numerous to print except for a few for the scrapbook and one for the wall.
Want to bet? I’ll wager a blog that most of those pre-prom pictures are, weather permitting, of outdoor poses, the ladies with bouquets in hand and their escorts with boutonnières pinned to lapels, big old tree in the background, or worn steps, or porticos, or bricks in need of repointing: The contrast between the young and old never so obvious as it is during the shoot among the spring shoots on old trees.
Of course, there’s no way I can pay if I lose the bet. If you win, write yourself a blog, and make it about where you stand between the emergence of youth and the experience of age. The blog is your photo, that captured moment worth keeping, my gift to you (I’m thinking Elton John, “This one’s for you”).
Really, you deserve a personal blog, a bioblogography that highlights that moment in your youth that was like a pre-prom photo shoot, somewhat balanced between total awkwardness and confidence, that moment when everyone saw you against the background of those who paid for the dress or the tux, the corsage or boutonnière, and the ticket to watch you parade in the Grand March into your future.
Even if you never went to the prom, you understand that moment when the seesaw was momentarily balanced between youth and age, the tipping point into realities too numerous to mention, realities that loosen the mortar between bricks in life’s building. Glittering clothes and dull, older finishes. Liquefaction against solidity. What a great contrast! Things that have weathered time and that stand stately, serving as backdrop for things yet to come.
It’s spring. Pull out the moment’s memory when you posed in obvious contrast to age. Everyone has some version of a prom night. What is yours?
Want to bet? I’ll wager a blog that most of those pre-prom pictures are, weather permitting, of outdoor poses, the ladies with bouquets in hand and their escorts with boutonnières pinned to lapels, big old tree in the background, or worn steps, or porticos, or bricks in need of repointing: The contrast between the young and old never so obvious as it is during the shoot among the spring shoots on old trees.
Of course, there’s no way I can pay if I lose the bet. If you win, write yourself a blog, and make it about where you stand between the emergence of youth and the experience of age. The blog is your photo, that captured moment worth keeping, my gift to you (I’m thinking Elton John, “This one’s for you”).
Really, you deserve a personal blog, a bioblogography that highlights that moment in your youth that was like a pre-prom photo shoot, somewhat balanced between total awkwardness and confidence, that moment when everyone saw you against the background of those who paid for the dress or the tux, the corsage or boutonnière, and the ticket to watch you parade in the Grand March into your future.
Even if you never went to the prom, you understand that moment when the seesaw was momentarily balanced between youth and age, the tipping point into realities too numerous to mention, realities that loosen the mortar between bricks in life’s building. Glittering clothes and dull, older finishes. Liquefaction against solidity. What a great contrast! Things that have weathered time and that stand stately, serving as backdrop for things yet to come.
It’s spring. Pull out the moment’s memory when you posed in obvious contrast to age. Everyone has some version of a prom night. What is yours?
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