I was flipping through some old photos the other day and I happened upon a picture of my parents from the 1960s.

The picture was apparently taken after they were first married. I could tell because they were touching each other. Allow me to elaborate, after people are married for 40 years, they don't usually spend a great deal of time cuddling. At any rate, they looked pretty happy, dad all laid back on the grass propped up on his arms with mom beside him kind of laying on him, years before I was even imagined. Looking at the picture is like seeing a memory I never will have. Now they would have a hard time getting up if they were to lay down in the yard. After saying that, I would say that I have been cut off from Sunday dinner for a while. At any rate, I also saw pictures of my father when he was in the army during the Korean War. I think there is a special service for veterans planned at a college somewhere and my sister is planning on submitting my father's photograph. That is why the old pictures were out to start with, I think. It sounded like a good idea to me, but I don't think she asked him, come to think of it. I am not sure he would go for it.

He doesn't have a very high opinion of the military, from what I understand. He did what a lot of Americans did: He went in, "pulled his time" and came home. Perhaps the fact that he was a prisoner of war for three years on the Chinese border has left him jaded. I don't think anyone would blame him for that.

He never talks about it much, but there on the back of the photograph was a date, I think it was August 1953, when he was released from the prison camp. The photo said Red Cross on the back. It was one of those fill in the blank messages, which really had more blanks than message. Kind of like what I know about his experience over there. In the picture, he looked a lot like me, only younger. I can't imagine going through that sort of thing. I don't guess many people can.

I know it seems surreal for me to look at the old pictures, so I can only imagine what my parents must feel like when they glance over their old photographs.

I have noticed that isn't something most people do very often. Is it because we don't like seeing ourselves in pictures, as if we were looking through the "eyes" of another? There is a certain reality to a photograph that is hard to accept, but on the other hand, there is a certain unreality, as well. Most people are in motion, either moving their hands (or at least their eyelids), but photos are completely lifeless and still. Good paintings seem to have much more life than photographs.

When I look at an old picture of myself, it is almost as if there is some fellow out there who looks almost like me and knows all the same people I either know or used to know. He is the one that usually shows up for the photographs and then vanishes, leaving me behind to wonder what he was thinking.

Old family photographs, like little slices of life forever frozen in time, are as valuable to me as anything I could ever own.

I was in a photograph the other day with some friends of mine, just hanging out. The picture didn't look bad, but it did not fit my mental picture of myself. Then again, usually when I see myself I am foaming toothpaste out of my mouth or making funny shaving faces in a bathroom mirror. I hope I don't look that stupid all the time.

Photographs are almost like a coin collection to me, they are something that I save up but seldom show anyone. However, those who have children are not that way, I have found. I saw a friend the other day and he showed me the entire life story of his children, thanks to an unfolding wallet photo holder. The thing started unfolding and almost hit the floor.

Inside of it there were pictures of babies, of which I have discovered all are ugly, save the ones that belong to you. Since none of them belong to me, I can admit that they are all unattractive. I remember when my sister had her child (I won't say which one) and I thought how much it looked like one of the little hamsters that my pet - named Kermit - once birthed. It is hard to tell whether or not a hamster is a female, I learned. I should have named it "Miss Piggy" as things turned out. The newborn human child my sister birthed was tiny, pink-looking and hairless. All that was missing was a prehensile tail. That was a thought that I kept to myself until now, most likely wisely.

Everything turned out well though, as that hideous looking little thing turned out to be a lovely adult.

As for my friend with the endless wallet, I followed the same protocol - I just nodded and smiled. You could probably lose teeth telling people that their children were unattractive, or hamster-like, even.

At least the toddler pictures were cute. When a kid turns two or three, they're really at their cutest, but from what I have seen, that is when they are pure heck to live with.

Actually, I may have mentally complained about the picture show a little because I don't have my own photos to bore him back with. It was quite touching to see how proud he is of his children. That told me much more than the photos could have.

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