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Flashback Friday



I don't want you to think that college was nothing but classes, studying at the library, late night cramming, and then up early to do it again.  Mind you, others found more time than I did to wander down to the bar, while I was engaged in more academic pursuits.  But I did my best to join them when I could.  Short of that we stayed on the floor and amused ourselves by taking pictures of each other, I guess.  Why remains a mystery.  Apparently someone thought I needed to be permanently recorded in the doorway, which, just might have been my room.  Perhaps my roomie, the now eminent Dr. Kolbow,  thought it necessary to use up my expensive Polaroids for no reason at all.  




I include this picture for your perusal this week to let you know a couple things worth noting.  One,  after commending the Polaroid company last week for their superb use of film emulsions that have withstood time, I come across this picture that has not stood the test of time very well.  It is showing a great deal of degradation around the edges as well as some cracking.  I, too, seem to be degrading as well with time.

So Polaroids were a hit or miss thing when they developed.  I have some that look just as pristine as the day they were shot and others, like this that are well on their way to being virtually unrecognizable.  

The bumper sticker on the door was a popular phrase about that time.  Times have changed however.  Today such alcohol-induced bravado is socially and legally risky.  Somewhere in the room above or at the least on the dorm floor, was a picture of W.C. Fields, an iconic favorite of my college comrades, saying something like, "Someone stole the cork out of my lunch."  A different time, indeed.     

Just thought you might like seeing me back when... I was somebody. 



  

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Class, Or Lack Thereof The Dwight Vice gravestone in Oquawka, Illinois. I bring this old chestnut out every so often just to remind me that class is classless.  Dwight Vice was killed in his home near Oquawka in 2001.  It was one of those things that can generate crime:  two guys thought Dwight had a lot of money stashed at home because of his pot-selling sideline to supplement his fishing job.   Not really one of those big drug deals gone-bad things.  Marijuana was, according to the trial, about the only stuff Dwight sold.   But these two guys barge into the house and killed Dwight and attempted to kill his 11 year old kid, Darryl, before they took off with what money they could find.   His son, now 23, was stabbed in the back and left for dead.  He survived and is wheelchair bound and has undergone several surgeries to repair his wounds.  He will be paralyzed for life.   None of this is pleasant.  Reading the facts of the murder and attempted murder are most unpleasant