My stepmother recently sent me this picture. I’m fascinated by it.
This must have been taken in 1993. Maybe 1994. The grainy photo. The dull colors. The 90’s, like this picture, lacked the edge of the 2020’s. A calmer and grainier time. Less civil unrest. Less social media. More oversized keyboards and dot matrix printers.
There’s so much to notice about 1993 Sam. The Insecticide t-shirt. The round glasses and flowing hair. I think I was trying to look like John Lennon. Or Elton John. Or Kurt Cobain. It wasn’t working.
And look at that reclining office chair! My father pushed hundreds of thousands of dollars in long-term care insurance through the phone as he sat in that chair. And look at my almost-chubby, youthful face. Not a trace of the gray goatee that now hides my mouth. My gross, unsocked feet for all the world to see. You’re welcome for the picture if you are into my feet. Feet never did anything for me. And look at that ancient lamp stand. That wooden desk. Talk about lavish furnishings.
This picture is a window into a different universe.
***
I spent hours in the upstairs loft where this picture was taken. Our family room. My Super Nintendo was hooked up to the TV next to the computer. I played Final Fantasy 2 or Super Mario World. My friends Josh and Nick would come over after school on Friday. Dad would order us pizza and we’d stay up until 4am, drinking Mountain Dew (or Surge) and staring into that old box of a TV. Dad mostly left us alone. I’m sure the poor guy got hardly any sleep. His bedroom was down the hall and my friend Nick was loud. Looking back, my Dad let us get away with murder. And even supplied us with pizza and pop. I don’t know if I could be so easygoing with my kids.
Later, as I got older and less baby-faced, I moved down to the unfinished and unheated basement. My mom and stepfather Jim gave me their old box of a TV. So I brought the Super Nintendo downstairs with me. My friends and I would stay up late in that basement, shivering, playing Tecmo Bowl 3, and letting my Dad go to sleep at a reasonable hour. That basement fortress of solitude was dusty, frozen, and entirely my domain. I miss the heated waterbed, the old IBM computer I eventually bought, and even the ping-pong table Dad picked up that I rarely used. I spent hours playing the Nintendo 64 and Playstation I bought with wages from McDonalds as 1993 turned into 1996. I’d come and go as I pleased, driving around in the 1984 Oldsmobile Cutlass Ciera Dad gave me when I finally passed my driver’s test. It took a few times. I can be a slow learner. And here I’ll notice that Dad gave me a free car. Again, I’m struck by his generosity as I mine my memory for this post.
That kid in the picture above had no idea what was coming his way as he clacked away at that giant keyboard. It’s crazy for me to see that from here.
***
Now, I’m leery of the narcissism of this post. Post a picture of myself and write about it? Talk about navel gazing.
Still, let’s be real with each other, kind reader. What else is this blog but me staring at me and then writing about me? There’s something truly Sam-centric about such a project. There’s something Sam-centric about everything I post on the internet, I guess. We live in narcissistic times. Beware of turning into a flower. Or worse, turning into an amateur political pundit. Or national health expert. Or reading expert. Or whatever it is people think they are after clicking on a news story or reading a few posts on Twitter. Ahem, excuse me. On X.
We didn’t think we were experts about anything in my day! We clacked away at our giant keyboards, filled our dot matrix printers with expensive ink, and wore our Nirvana t-shirts with pride! Get off my lawn, sleep in an unheated basement, and walk uphill to school both ways, etc.!
I’m kidding, of course. People have a long history of imagining their worldview is the right worldview. Or imagining the past was better than it was. Make anything great again. Good luck with that.
Our long history of imagining our pasts were the best version of reality comes to life in the ways we put things out on social media. On the internet. The internet was just hitting in the picture above. AOL dial-up. It took hours to check your email. And the whole thing came crashing down if Dad picked up the phone to make an insurance call.
Who knew how the internet would take hold in 1994? Certainly not the kid in that photo. I was certainly offline in the picture. Working on a paper for school or playing Wastelands or Lands of Lore.
Part of me would kill to go back. Another part of me is just fine staying here. The passage of time, kind reader, is such a strange thing.
Samuel Jaye Tanner 