"My other family"

That's what my mom calls my strange obsession with other people's portraits and snapshots. Maybe it all stems from coming from such a small, shutter-shy family. I have a few photos from my mom's family, treasures begged off my mom after my grandma passed, but absolutely none from my dad and his murky, mysterious past. Other than a high school yearbook photo, I haven't even seen a picture of my dad taken before he met my mom. Maybe he was some sort of child/teenage spy!

Well, who knows? Not me, that's for sure, they don't even teach psych 101 at the musical theater school where I got my BFA of questionable usefulness so, unless you want me to break down a time step or analyze a scene from South Pacific, you're out of luck. . . The point is that somewhere along the way I started collecting old pictures. If the people or situations or clothing looked interesting I'd snatch the photo up for my collection. Apparently lots of things look interesting to me because I now have a small suitcase full of the things and they're begging to be shared.

I always had the intent of displaying them on my walls but the few times I tried never looked right. A few years back I started posting them to a journal on an improv comedy message board but I slacked off for some reason. Now I start anew.

Just as before, if the photo's previous owner felt the need to write something on it (and I can make out what he or she was trying to write) I will share it with you.