Saturday Snapshots: April 28, 2012

 

"We shall not cease from exploration, and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time." ~ T.S. Eliot  

{Sunshine and lovely springtime frocks abounded on the day this group of ladies stopped by for a visit at Honey Bear Farms, Genoa City, WI in 1957.}

{Whether as part of a uniform or just to wishing to indulge in a spot of borrowing from the boys, I love that this chipper looking 1940s lady decided to sport a necktie as she stood on a rocky ledge above the frothy sea.}

{Jam packed with cars (of the sort I'd jump with joy to own!), this street scene of Cascade Avenue, in Banff, Alberta shows, in coloured detail, what the heart of this famous Canadian Rocky Mountain town looked like during the mid-twentieth century. }

{It's short hemlines and bobbed hair all around for these fashionable gals as they posed in a group embrace of sorts to have their photo snapped in 1928. No background information is provided for this image, leaving one to wonder if they were classmates, friends, relatives, neighbours, or perhaps just amongst the town's most stylish lasses.}

{A smartly dressed young couple beam smiles as they stand in front of a car (their own perhaps?) in this charming mid-century courtship image.}

{Like a lone rose emerging from a verdant garden, an elegantly attired woman (identified as Jeanne) posing on a hillside in an eye-catching red coat while at Mt. Tamalpais, California, during February of 1952.}

{A gang of young ladies and gents, decked out not swimwear, but their daily street attire, huddle round for a group portrait while at the beach on a sunny day in the 40s or early 50s.}

{An unidentified man and a darling little dog enjoy a moment of companionship in this heartwarming vintage image. I wonder if the pup was his loyal canine companion or merely a cute critter he felt drawn to say hello to. Whatever the case, the pair make for sweetly special photograph that is bound to appeal to animal lovers everywhere.}

{From her terrific curled half up, half down hairdo to her charming leaf and circle link necklace, there's much to enjoy and draw inspiration from in the outfit this pretty 1940s woman is sporting.}

{A trio of well dressed beach goers (I've venture to guess tourists) gather 'round for a snapshot that looks as though it could very well have come from the pages of a magazine, while at the beach in Caiscais, Portugal in 1962. I especially love the fact that the brunette gal on the right is holding a camera in her hands, almost as if to make us think she's taking a picture of this image's photographer at the same time.}

{All images above are from Flickr. To learn more about a specific image, please click on it to be taken to its respective Flickr page.}

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In 1940 American novelist Thomas Wolfe's book You Can't Go Home again was published posthumously, and in doing so its title quickly became a common expression when referring to returning – or not returning - to a place called you once called your own.

Though at various points throughout my life, I've been more than able to relate directly to what Wolfe meant - there are homes, towns, and people that you far better off never returning to again - I have also found that in some instances all one needs is a bit of time and distance, a new set of memories and an increase in the number of shares you hold from the "lessons learned" stock in order to indeed return home once more.

For life, like T.S. Eliot so beautifully summed up in the quote featured at the top of is post, is all about exploration. Even the most ardent and adventurous amongst us needs at least one place, a singular, special corner of the world which will call home. A spot where after we have journey - be it for a day or a decade - we know that we can safely, securely, and happily return to.

In doing so, coming back to where we started (or at least where we once laid our hat) we often discover a newness to that very spot, no matter how well we thought we once knew it. For places, like people, change over the course of time. I've been experiencing this very situation myself recently, having moved back to a town where I spent a good portion of youth, some eight years after I last left.

The foundations - streets, parks, mountains, and lakes are still there, as are many of the homes and buildings I recall vividly from my youth, yet some of them are now long gone now. Their presence existing only in the shadow memories that fall over the new inhabitants that rest where they once stood.

There's a degree of melancholy as you watch your home town change (especially when vintage houses and shops get demolished), but at the same time I cannot help but feel a certain sense of happiness that stems from knowing that I got to experience, first hand, an older version of this city for a portion of my life.

Explore the near and the far, the familiar and the unknown, sweet friends. It is what has driven humanity since the dawn of time, and what will both simultaneously preserve the past and ensure we always have something to look forward to in the future.