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The Bookless Club: What's your old photo policy?

Opinion: Anyone recognize these two? They were the sweetest kids, and obsessed with radio, rock 'n' roll, and a local recording artist.

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See this photo? I’ve had it for, I dunno, decades. That’s me on the left. I’m somewhere in my 20s in this picture. It was snapped in the lobby of C-FOX radio station where I’d stumbled into the position of morning-drive deejay. Forget that I look more like a kindergarten teacher or a realtor, I had backed into what was considered a plum job for a rabble-rouser. Plum though it may have been, the hours were murder. I was on-air from 5:30 a.m. until 10 a.m., and then would hot-foot it out to BCTV where I did the noon news weather and, often, the weather on the evening news, as well. I wouldn’t get home until after 8 p.m. Any chance of a social life was obliterated by those hours. The genius part of the equation was I was making good money, but didn’t have a spare minute to spend it.

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I only have the first names of the two young girls you see standing under those platinum records. They had written on the back of the photo before they mailed it to me, signing Baljit (if I’m deciphering her writing correctly) and Andrea. They were the sweetest kids, and obsessed with radio, rock ‘n’ roll, and, in particular, a local recording artist.

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I keep this photo along with hundreds of others like it, in shoeboxes on the top shelf of a closet. This is the depository of orphaned memories. I almost never look in these boxes — they’re a type of quicksand, unplanned encounters can swallow entire afternoons. These boxes contain multitudes — unflattering snapshots of yourself through the ages. Acquaintance’s family Christmas photos. A wretched excess of your unused passport-style school photos, and a wretched excess of school photos given to you by long-forgotten classmates. There will be inexplicable snapshots of the inside of the garage. Or a terribly over-exposed photo of people skating on a pond. Perhaps an entirely unremarkable stretch of landscape. Who knows where it was taken.

Every few years I chance upon this particular photo. And each time that I do, I wonder what became of Andrea and Baljit. I still remember how well-mannered they were — delightfully girlish in a way that is increasingly rare today. I want to believe that they went on to happy, prosperous lives, lives with satisfying careers, stable marriages and good kids. I want to hear that they are good citizens, that they don’t litter, or talk on their cellphones while driving. For some reason, I can’t bring myself to throw this photo out.

In the boxes there are collections of photos of people jumping off a diving board. Maybe one day, I’ll give these photos to those youthful jumpers. I’m running out of time as I recently learned that one of them has died (cancer). Office Christmas parties at downtown hotels are well-documented, but I never see those people anymore, so maybe it’s time to ditch those pix? Then again, I still marvel at the shot of a table full of co-workers balancing wine glasses on their heads.

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It turns out that there are some terrific alternatives to setting fire to your archive of old photos. Sites like Dead Fred Genealogy Photo Archive want your old photos. They offer a free searchable database where you can scroll through “unidentified and mystery photos of interest to genealogy enthusiasts.” Historical societies are often interested in your old pix. My family had a batch of photos of the explosion of the SS Greenhill Park in Vancouver Harbour back on March 6, 1945, a blast that killed eight people. Those photos are now in the archive of the Vancouver Maritime Museum. I’ve also seen evidence of — but no proof — that it’s possible to sell the lifetime image rights of your really wacky photos to someone who manufactures greeting cards, fridge magnets, or the like.

So, options abound. The space between the boxes and those decisions, however, is riddled with questions, bafflement and tender recollections.

Jane Macdougall is a freelance writer and former National Post columnist who lives in Vancouver. She writes The Bookless Club every Saturday online and in The Vancouver Sun. For more of what Jane’s up to, check out her website, janemacdougall.com

This week’s question for readers:

Question: What’s your old photo policy? Any chance you recognize Baljit or Andrea in my old photo?

Send your answers by email text, not an attachment, in 100 words or less, along with your full name to Jane at thebooklessclub@gmail.com. We will print some next week in this space.

Last week’s question for readers:

Question: Are you glued to the Olympics, or giving them a pass?

• Normally, I look forward to following the Olympics, both the Summer and Winter Games. Sadly, this is the year I’ve stopped. I have found the TV coverage insufferable. Too many former Olympians incessantly talking, trying to impress us with just how much more they know about the sport than us mere couch potatoes. The TV is on, but the volume is off.

• I loved getting to know more about gold medalist Alysa Lui’s family during these Olympics. She seems like such a firebrand, and her family story is certainly unique. Each athlete’s backstory is a huge part of the Games for me.

• Ilia Malinina, the American figure skater who won the gold medal, fascinated me. Both his parents were Olympians, skating for Uzbekistan and Russia, and his little sister is also a world-class skater. When watching him, I couldn’t help but wonder if his skill was genetic or simply excellent training. His jumps were amazing.

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