Picture day through the years
(I’ve posted these pictures on Facebook, here they are with the original, but edited, blog post, following an updated introduction)
My Picture Days hearken to a simpler time…a time when I was much blonder, much cuter, and much more inclined to believe that one day, I may just become The Six Million Dollar Man. I share these with you now to prove these claims, and so that you (like I) can wonder aloud, “What happened?”
Let’s start at the beginning of my career as a portrait model:
Date: C. 1973
Age: < 1
I have no explanation for the slack jawed pose. It would eventually go away, only to reappear through most of my adolescent years. My pediatrician described my head as “Dr. Phil-like” even though Dr. Phil was decades away from Oprahfication. True story: this is the first photo of my congenitally crooked pinky fingers. Another true story: I’m still a little uncomfortable using any form of the word congenital.
Date: 1974
Age: 2
This comes from a time where photos seemingly arrived pre-aged and yellowed. Speaking of, yellow and brown were the new black in 1974. This photo was the convicting evidence in case alleging my parents were hippies: My sun-swept flowing locks, the sweater’s 8-bit pattern, the brown corduroy, and the yellow shag carpeting. You can practically hear Harry Chapin’s “Cats in the Cradle” in the background.
Date 1976
Age: 4
Duplicates of this photo may or may not have served as my calling card to the young ladies at the Five Senses Preschool. The cool gaze said, “I’m ready for kiss tag” and the pose said, “Yeah, I know I’m ‘it.’” I’m now wearing turtle neck shirts in two-thirds of my life’s portraits, and this image shows after four years, I still hadn’t mastered the art of folding my hands together.
Date 1978
Age: 5 (I turned 6 after the school year ended)
After a year off, Mom has decided to go back to yellow and brown, because of its proven results. Still, nothing says “classy” like a striped tee shirt. Thanks to the long blond locks, when I would get my tonsils removed later this year, the doc ID’d me as a boy by lifting my hospital gown while I was being carted in for the surgery. Even under anesthesia, I remember thinking that if he was going to ask the question, he should have at least given me enough time to answer.
Date 1979
Age: 6
Yes, this is the same shirt as last year. At first I wanted to believe that it was a larger version of the previous year’s shirt. Yet, note that the shirt here hits me higher on the arm than in the previous photo. While we were never rich, we were also never so poor that this would have been necessary. I don’t remember any clear loyalty to this shirt, but my mom also once gave me the exact same birthday card three years in a row, so this actually isn’t that unusual.
Date 1980
Age: 7
The start of the 80s gave way to a colorful new palate. Personally, I dig the gray & red. I don’t so much dig the front parting of my bangs. I remember my Aunt Nancy saying, upon seeing this image, “Aren’t you cuter than a bug’s ear?” To this day, I do not know if this is a compliment. This was also the last year I was allowed to get away with a closed-mouth smile.
Date 1981
Age: 8
I can still remember the terrycloth feel of that shirt. Perhaps it is because I often used it for a towel when I forgot to do my laundry. And yes, I was doing my own laundry by this age. My folks raised me to be independent. I was ironing by the end of the year and driving myself to school by the time I was 11.*
(*likely not accurate.)
Date 1982
Age 9
This was the year that I switched schools, from East Elementary to Sunset. Not understanding that the same photographer visited all the schools in the district, I welcomed the refreshing change. When I saw this picture the first time, I thought, “This is what I’m going to look like when I am a grown-up.” I don’t know if it is because its the first year I went flannel, or went with a collar, or because of the open collar. Or maybe it is because I apparently chose not to brush my hair that day, and somehow identified that with adulthood.
Date 1983
Age 10
When I saw this picture the first time, I thought, “Dear Lord, please don’t let me look like this as an adult.” These were the first of approximately 18 pairs of glasses that I went through in 5th grade, mostly because my brother watching these inexpensive frames splinter whenever he punched them against my face. I spent most of ‘82 behind taped nosepiece. I still have no explanation for the “bed head.” Weren’t teachers mothers back then, too? Was no one looking out for me?
Date 1984
Age 11
Welcome to my Encyclopedia Brown stage. Hair neatly combed. Sharp red and white polo. Wire-rimmed glasses defying my brother to break them (they had flexi-springs in the arms). And an incredulous pose, as if I did not have time for silly portraits, not when the culprit stealing the Widow Henderson’s prize apple pie from her window sill was on the loose. Hard to believe, but I wasn’t exactly “in demand” among the “ladies” at “school” or “anywhere else.”
Date 1985
Age 12
Tired of financing the eyeglass industry on their own, my parents finally moved me into contact lenses. A little neon striping in the black polo was a subtle shout out to Crocket & Tubbs, and announced that I was finally aware that I lived in the 80s. My messy moptop suggested that I was no longer the safe sleuth from the prior year. If the term Tweenager had been invented, I probably would have used it to refer to myself.
Date 1986
Age 13
How did someone so cool manage to look like such a doofus?Perhaps it was because I was still a year away from learning how to functionally smile. Grooming evidently became a high priority, but if time travel were possible, I would go back to 8th grade and take this kid to the mall for a little help. This is also evidence of how much a kid will sociologically evolve through the middle school years.
Date 1987
Age 14
It was the year I found my smile, so there was no hiding that I had been shackled into braces. My mental imprint was that I wore those metal lip snares for 3 years, but photographic evidence suggests otherwise. This was at the end of this year that I first met Kelli Cotter, and also apparently the inauguration of another Sweater Phase. Also, I had not yet been introduced to hair product.
Date 1988
Age 15
This sweater looks like a memorial garb to the braces I was no longer wearing. I wore this same sweater to homecoming with Kelli, so it was obviously an important element in the wardrobe strategy. It also indicates that Heathcliff Huxtable was a significant fashion influence, and that you knew where to find me on Thursday nights at 7 PM MST.
Date 1989
Age 16
After twelve years of school and sixteen years of portraiture, we discovered my good side. The life-long dispute with my hair stylist finally came to an amicable agreement, and my determination to look presentable would be captured in this one snapshot. As you will soon see, that determination soon gave way to other influences. I actually gave this photo to one friend on her birthday as a gift, a fact for which she still ridicules me to this day, more than 20 years later.
Date 1990
Age 17
Who is this guy? And why is he showing off the white socks with the black shoes? Obviously, I should not have been permitted to have a photo session with anyone. My best work takes place when the photographer says, “Next! Sit on that stool. Tilt your head. A little more. Not that much. Smile. Open your eyes. Good. Next!”
Date 1990
Age 17
My football picture from my senior year. This one image explains the lack of scholarship opportunities, and my performance that year, to be honest. As one of the three captains that year, it may also explain why we only managed to win three of our eight games. We did manage to beat our rival Steamboat, though, giving us an undefeated 4-year record against our nemesis Sailors.
Date 1990
Age 17
My senior track picture. I was a jumper…can you tell? I also wore a pink hat. A lot. I’m not particularly proud of that today, but there’s no denying it, either. It had the word “Bula” on it, which was a tropic clothing brand. I loved my track jacket. I wore that thing every day. In Northwestern Colorado, that qualified as “cool.” The photo does offer a nice view of the Yampa Valley behind me.
Date 1991
Age 19
My fina school portrait. This was from my days at Sigma Chi at the University of Denver. Even through the fuzzy resolution, you can see my full embrace of hair product technology, and my then-affinity for colorful neckties.
I’ve taken more portraits since then, but pictures have changed from “me growing up” to “me growing old.” Maybe when I’m done with that, I’ll post some of those photos.
