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Thinking About the Past....
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Friday 8/27/201
Last week someone sent me a link to some fascinating photos taken between 1939 and 1943.
The interesting thing about the pictures is that they are in color. Although folks 
had been experimenting with color photography for years, it wasn't until the late 1930s that color film became commercially available. And then it was difficult to use and very expensive to buy, to process, and to print. So you rarely see color photos from those years. In fact, it wasn't until the 1960s that color photography became financially practical for everyday pictures.
As I looked at the pictures from the 1940s, they looked so odd. After all, the past was supposed to be in black & white. That helped define it as a distant period, removed from reality. "Real life" (i.e. Now) is colorful. The past was dull and in shades of gray. As I was growing up, that helped me define time.
And that made me wonder when the past started to be in color. On a personal level, I mean. The 1920s will always be in black & white, to everyone. But when did folks' childhoods start being 100% color? I remember taking black & white photographs in the late 1970s, so I'm gonna guess anyone born after 1980 has a 100% colorful past. That would mean people who are 30 or younger. To them, the only thing distinguishing the past from the present would be the clothing styles.
And kids who are 20 or younger probably have a heavily documented past.
Digital video tape, and memory cards, and hard-drive memory is now so cheap that you can film almost everything that happens. I read that you can buy a hard-drive with enough memory to record everything you'll say in your entire life. Of course, you'd need another entire lifetime to edit it down to the important stuff.
I wonder if in the future documentation-overload will be an issue. If you record and film everything, how will there ever be enough time to watch it? For example, if you have a couple (or a hundred) photos of your trip to the beach, you could look at them later and say, "Aw, what a nice time that was!" But if you film every second of your trip to the beach, you'll need another vacation just to sift through it all and pull out the significant parts. And if we end up filming everything in our lives, then what?
That reminds me of one of the things I like so much about music. A song can conjure up a moment in your life. Rather than documenting every second, it brings back a feeling... an impression... an intangible wave of emotion that summarizes a moment, or an era. When I hear "Sugar Shack" by Jimmie Gilmer, I remember the Jefferson Swim Club and a sunny, carefree childhood 
summer. In the summer of 1965 my parents needed something to do with their nine kids, so they joined a local swim club. Back behind the pool was a picnic shelter, with an old juke box. It may have been a 78RPM converted to 45RPM juke box, because it only had ten records in it. And of the ten, only two could be considered rock music: "Help me Rhonda" by The Beach Boys and "Sugar Shack" by Jimmie Gilmer and The Fireballs. When we kids took a break from swimming, we went to the shelter and played those two songs over and over. I remember being fascinated by the bass sound on "Sugar Shack." Listening to it now, I can hear a Danelectro six-string bass on there, but I'm still not sure what the primary clicking bass sound is. Here's the recording. (You might be thinking, "You're calling that rock?" Well, compared to one of the other songs on that juke box, "Danke Schoen" by Wayne Newton, yeah.)
"Sugar Shack" reminds me of a sunny summer. "A Beautiful Morning" by The Rascals reminds me of a bus trip my high school class took to Seven Springs and the cute blonde-haired girl sitting across from me.