“Time is like a roll of toilet paper. The closer it gets to the end, the faster it goes.” — Andy Rooney Preserving the past is like herding cats in a wind tunnel—chaotic, noble, and almost always covered in dust. But when I stumbled over a box in the attic labeled “Old Stuff – Maybe Important?”, I didn’t find junk. I found treasure. Faded photographs. Forgotten faces. And one particularly blurry image that looked like Uncle Al photobombing his own wedding. It all started with a love story. Kenneth Victor Smith, a wide-eyed soldier from Los Angeles, stationed in Liverpool at the tail end of WWII, met Peg—a Liverpudlian firecracker…
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Reelin’ in the Years – Part One Stowin' Away the Time
“Your everlasting summer you can see it fading fast So you grab a piece of something that you think is gonna last Well you wouldn’t even know a diamond if you held it in your hand The things you think are precious I can’t understand” – Steely Dan, 1972 There was a time when photography was less about capturing a moment and more about surviving the process. The good ol’ days when seat belts were optional, asbestos was practically a food group, and snapping a photo required patience, coordination, and the nerve of a bomb technician. You didn’t just take a photo. You committed to it. One click, one chance,…
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The Wrinkled and the Reckless A fellowship of old fogeys redefines thrill-seeking one orthopedic mishap at a time
“You don’t stop laughing when you grow old—you stop laughing when you bend over and something snaps.” —George Bernard Shaw In a world where society gently nudges most ninety-somethings toward recliner imprisonment, emerges an anarchist battalion of geriatric gladiators hellbent on turning retirement into an extreme sport. Forget benign visions of visiting the Grand Canyon, or alphabetizing the spice rack. These senior insurgents charge full-speed ahead, wrinkles flapping in the wind, off to escapades that make action-film stunt doubles consider early retirement. Imagine scaling Mount Everest, clutching nothing but a handful of Werther’s Originals and sass sharper than their bifocals. Picture them swapping tales of swamp-wrestling alligators in the Atchafalaya…
