I’m finally making a dent in my hoarding mess. Last weekend I found my college yearbook. Ahh the memories. Actually the yearbook brings back no memories whatsoever, because I’m not really in it.
I flipped through the pages and saw photos of athletic teams, drama groups and more choirs than you can imagine. I didn’t participate in any of these, so of course I’m not in those photos.
Then I saw photos of things I never even knew existed – a danceline, some fraternities (it was a small school with no Greek system, or so I thought), and a society for creative anachronism. What? I did not recognize a single person in any of these photos. Did I accidentally grab my husband’s yearbook?
I flipped to the back and saw that I was listed as having a senior photo included – phew! Maybe that will jog some memories.
As a senior you could submit your own photo vs. getting a headshot by the college photographer. Perhaps it was a way to test us and gauge which students would submit a nice, professional portrait – and therefore go on to successful careers in law or finance – vs. those who would use it for comedic purposes, signaling a lifetime of poverty and failure.
Below is my senior photo. I’m the one in the middle.
To be clear, that’s my hand you see in the middle photo. And my floral dress. The person whose face appears in my senior photo was a fellow student I met in Thailand. She’s a lovely gal. But I was standing to her right.
If there’s a lesson here, it’s that you should always crop your photos yourself.
If there’s a second lesson, it’s that perhaps if you are more active and involved in your student body, people will recognize your face with your name, and they won’t cut you out of your own photo.
If there’s a third lesson, it’s that I was very popular in college. Obviously.