I've previously posted about the ability Millenials and post Millenials had growing up to completely chronicle their lives with pictures taken from smartphones. Meanwhile, my generation has to be content with the few very intentional snapshots taken with actual film-based cameras. It's easy for us to look ruefully at the dearth of pictures chronicling our school and early adult years, knowing that so many storied moments exist only in our memories. As the years continue their incessant march, even these are fading from existence.
There is a flip side. Quietly and in hushed tones, a lot of us are actually breathing a collective sigh of relief that our generation didn't usher in the advent of the daily selfie. The younger generations who grew up with this amazing technology seem to have fewer qualms about a permanent record of (mis)deeds available in an online forever archive. Meanwhile, us older folks who lived through the cold war have a sketchier view of the benevolence of government and corporate entities. If a picture is worth a thousand words, a lack of pictures should have the opposite effect. In the modern vernacular, "Pics, or it didn't happen."
And if it actually didn't happen, sometimes that's even better. It's no small consolation to find comfort in not having to kick oneself for legendary embarrassing acts and events that didn't occur. Case in point - a talent show where I was slated to portray the Native American from The Village People wearing only buckskins never came to pass.
On another occasion, a year or so after Andrea and I were married, we were visiting relatives in New Jersey. Every year the sizeable Filipino contingent in the area hosts a gathering of folks from the Mountain Province of the Philippines. It's a huge celebration of culture, family, and phenomenal food. The multi-day celebration culminates with a celebratory tribal dance with traditional instruments and costumes, and I was invited by my relatives to participate. Did I mention it was tribal dress? The traditional costume for the men was a mere G-string. I was fervently attempting to decline, but Andrea was gleefully thwarting my efforts, "Hon, you can finally use the G-string presented by your family as a wedding present!"
Perhaps the greatest reprieve from a nonevent took place in high school. One of my buddies got a boneheaded idea to lip-sync Aerosmith's "Dude Looks Like a Lady". During a pep rally. In front of the entire student body. While wearing cheerleader outfits. It was initially approved and we got so far as scheduling rehearsals with the cheerleading squad. Holy, Hannah, how do I get out of this? I was dreading the impending date. Then, like a last minute death row grant of amnesty, the whole endeavor fell through. Not gonna lie - I was not upset. No one wants to see me in a mini skirt.
While these days, there's no longer a threat of having to perform at a pep rally in a miniskirt, I still face the looming danger of being peer pressured into donning a G-string as a display of Tribal Pinoy Pride.
As I think about it - comparatively speaking, that miniskirt now doesn't sound so bad. Regardless, you have been warned.
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