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Weekly e-Gram for members and friends of Dublin Community Church

July 1, 2011

IT WILL COME BACK TO YOU

It is rather a strange juxtaposition of “historical photos.”

Not really historical. But the folder does include a rather large portion of my life.

There is an adult daughter’s birthday party. A photo of Marty and me in Lima nearly 40 years ago. In Berkeley. Me in Montana. Me, standing in front of a huge Hindu Temple in India.  There’s the Taj Mahal with Laura and me. Me, with a fishing boat in Sri Lanka. Me in a kayak in Michigan. Me in my motorboat. Me with gray hair (wait, that is nearly every photo).

There is Marty and me with my Mom. Me, standing in a church with my minister’s robe. Daughters at various ages and stages. At a track meet.

OK, so the dominant theme is me and the photos flash by like a movie of the events and places of my adult life (not one photo of anything-Dublin though).

It’s like viewing those old photos of Civil War veterans who posed for a camera before they went off to war. Those soldiers are just two-dimensional until an historian tells us the events of their particular battle or perhaps we read a letter the soldier wrote home to Mom. Then the soldier comes to life.

Viewing my life in a series of 14 photos makes me smile and wonder who that person is in all those pictures, even though I already know. And each photo has a story behind it, which I can recall quite clearly.

But one photo, just like in a movie scene, fell out of the packet by itself and on to the floor. I picked it up. Naturally, it is of me, but it is a grade school picture from about the third grade. I am not sure how it survived and why it should have made it to my “adult-life” photo collection.  But what is most unusual is that I am wearing a white shirt and bowtie for this school picture.  

None of this is that unusual because we all have boxes and packets of photos tucked in our shelves. What is strange is how one’s long life gets compacted into but 14 photos stacked on top of one another.

Peace, Rev. Bob Tussing

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