For my family, 2012 is all about organization. My husband is whipping around my house faster than MacGyver disassembling a bomb. It’s quite frustrating as I feel like a slacker. But during the big clean, I’ve been assigned to manage my photos.
I have a lot of photos. A lot. No less than ten shoe boxes and at least seven albums of memories from high school through college, and beyond. I am a picture snapping fool, always ready to catch the memories on film so I can live them forever.
As I was thumbing through various albums and boxes, it was a trip down memory lane. Over twenty-five years of memories. Class trips, road trips, fraternity dances, keg parties, camping trips, weddings and the memories go on. I got through maybe two shoe boxes of photos -reliving so many fun memories.
And then it hit me; there are plenty of people in these photos that came in and out of my life whom I will never talk to again. You know, like that girl from my African history class who cracked me up for four hours a week, who I definitely downed some shots with but what was her name? Oh, yea… it was…ummm, African Queen, yes, African Queen, she was gorgeous, like Sports Illustrated model gorgeous. But what was her real name? I had no idea; I couldn’t even muster up a first initial.
In more than half of the photos of me hugging some poor schmuck, or chugging a brew with, or who was holding my feet as I did a keg stand I had no idea what these friends real names were. At the time, I would have sworn on my life that we would have been friends forever, how can I not remember their names?
It definitely was not the drinking. I swear!
As I continued thumbing through my journey down memory lane, I smiled, laughed and definitely cringed a little when I saw pictures of “Blue Eyes”, “Big Titties”, “Mack-The-Knife”, “Townie Chris”, “Bi-Paula”; ya see, my friends and I gave nicknames to every person we saw, whether they were our housemates, an unsuspecting classmate, or the bartender. If we came up with a moniker more fitting than your name we gave it to you, and then referred to that nickname forever more.
“Hey Natalie, bang a right so we don’t run into Jolene-The-Teenage Queen- I’m-So-Pretty-I- Can-Scream.” Of course we used a high-pitched tone for that one, but not all nicknames came with sound effects. Or “Eileen let’s see if Cutie-Pie Dan is at the bar tonight.”
I loved all our nicknames, it was like a secret code I had with my friends, and it was certainly a bond that we all shared.
After reliving some very fun memories, and seeing my children passed out on the couches, I realized it was time to wrap up my walk down memory lane. Nothing was accomplished but a few good laughs. I continued to chuckle as I dusted off my PJ’s and packed up the boxes. Whoever said old habits die hard was right, as I’m still nicknaming everyone in my path.
And I hope my friends are too.
