Seminary

Thursday's don't feel like Thursdays anymore. There's no more coffee social on Thursday mornings at 9:30., Also because of social distancing there is no book club on Thursday afternoons. So what used to be a busy Thursday I'm working on home projects such as scanning photos into my hard drive and organizing my photo life. Actually all things being equal this is the best I've done on this project. For a number of years now I've tried to get this project off the ground. Now, I'm actually doing it, kind of. My goal at the onset is to just get the images on the hard drive and into generalized categories like “Families”, “friends”, “50 Years A Quad” etc. When I don't have a folder to stick something in I make one and like I said so far I've had more progress than ever before.

One thing which is somewhat counterproductive but quite a bit of fun is to find an image that a number of individuals would be interested in and then sending them copies of the image via Facebook or to their cell phone. I've been able to make contact with a number of folk I haven't communicated within half a century. I don't know how much this communication will continue but it's been grand touching bases and getting a little feedback on what's been going on with their lives. This of course takes away from my main project of scanning but maybe that's okay too. Perhaps the point is to make social distancing survivable. I have to admit there's also the added benefit of developing more ideas to blog about or history to write. For example:

In the image of the Seminary class I have posted above. Seminary is a Mormon religious class high schoolers are highly encouraged to attend. More often than not seminary is held in the morning before first-class. This is my ninth grade seminary class. I'm the guy in the black rimmed glasses in the third row the two guys just beneath me Kim and Greg we had been friends for years. These two were fairly dedicated to visit me in the hospital right after my accident. I was still pretty much in critical care in what was called a striker frame and for some reason I desperately wanted Col. Sanders Kentucky fried chicken from the joint I had just started working at when I had my accident. I encourage the two to take money from my wallet and get me a bucket of chicken which they did that were caught on the way in. Of course could not of had the chicken even had they made the delivery. The chicken pilot killed me that they were committed to me and I've never forgot that commitment.

This incident happened more than 50 years ago now it feels like the blink of an eye. We've all people got our own ways and in many different directions. However, I keep the warm spot in my heart for these folks from another lifetime many years ago…