I purchased an old Ventura typewriter at a thrift store and there were two of these black pieces of paper (carbon copy paper, I think?) on which the writer had typed a couple of letters. What begins as a letter submitted along with a payment then intertwines with a heartfelt letter of guilt and loneliness. In the middle I can make out, “adjusting the best I can to being without my dear Valley. She was such a fine person and a lovely wife and we were very happy.” It ends with, “We will see all in October if nothing prevents.” There was a 2nd piece of paper with a single letter, signed Lewis and Valley.
I found these pictures in my parent’s attic. There was no indication of why they were relevant. I do not know the identity of “the raccoon trainer,” or why these photos were taken. I remember being told that one of our family members was a woodsman and that he died because a tree fell on his big toe. Continue reading →
If you store certain types of antique photos incorrectly, sometimes the image will transfer on to the surface of whatever it’s been pressed against, leaving behind an eerie faded version of itself. I call these “ghost photos.” I’m lucky enough to have a few examples of this interesting phenomenon, and this one is my favorite.
I found this when I was moving out of my old apartment. I discovered a grungy couch on the opposite side of the building, like somebody had moved out but didn’t have enough room for all of their stuff. I imagined two adolescents passing “grown up” notes while sitting on that grungy couch, wondering what being in love feels like.