Blasts from the Past, 1

One of the best parts about having a personal blog is getting to choose the pictures. And by that, I mean choosing the best pictures of myself, so I can put my best "face" forward. So throughout this blog's history, I've purposely chosen not to post pictures in which my eyes are closed or I'm wearing glasses or where my hair is doing strange things.

But in honor of my "Blasts from the Past" week, I have decided to release some previously private photos. Luckily for me (and for your eyes), the repertoire here at my house goes back only through 1996.

So here's a little glimpse back to November 1996. This shot was taken in Bryan-College Station right before my friend Angela and I headed out to Central Baptist Church.


The hair, oh the hair! In many ways, it speaks for itself. It dwarfs my face and shouts, "I'm from the South where big hair rules!" And the interesting thing in hindsight is that I'm pretty sure I would have considered that to be one of my "good hair" days.

I guess it's all a matter of perspective. Some things may seem good at the time but can be embarrassing later. Other things, while not so great to start with, get better with time. So it's a good idea to stop and reflect from time to time and see where you are at on the spectrum.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

(The rest of the story behind the picture: I never made it into the church that day. It was raining, and I fell in the parking lot. Angela left me holding an umbrella and sitting in a puddle while she and my sister went in the church and told an usher that I had fallen. In response, the pastor made an announcement about me being down for the count in the parking lot, and a couple of gentlemen came to my rescue. The one man, who I thinks was a doctor, told me that it didn't look like I would need any stitches for my bloody knee and helped me to my feet because I couldn't bend my leg. Once I was up, Angela, my sister, and I headed back to Angela's apartment where I changed out of my busted pantyhose, cleaned up my knee, and watched the church service on television. Thankfully, I had other subsequent trips to BCS that were much less dangerous and less embarrassing.)