Some old photos of my family in Oregon, circa 1988. I’m the elder of the two pipsqueaks.
These shots in particular are from when we visited Mount Hood. I remember bits and pieces of that day vividly, because when we “scaled” the mount (which is more hill than mountain, considering we went up there with my brother in a stroller), my tiny 4-year old brain didn’t comprehend the size difference. Instead I heard “mountain” and the area around my feet was suddenly the end of the world, like I was balancing on the top of one of those snowy peaks you see in nature shows. Never mind that there was solid ground all around me and room enough for 20 strollers. I didn’t care, and burst into terrified hysterics for the remainder of the climb, or decent, or whatever.
It’s interesting how a child’s view of the world can warp itself around fears like that. I’ve always wondered what it’d be like to go there as an adult, so I can see just how ridiculous I was being. I may actually get that chance soon, too. After over 20 years, we’re going back to Oregon to visit family again. I don’t know if we’ll revisit Mount Hood, but my brother’s already talked about “recreating” some other old photographs from the last trip out there, kinda like people have done here (though not as obsessive about the clothing choices). I wonder if any of it will trigger buried memories. That’s hard to predict, but you never know. 