They show us how we looked and even behaved in earlier days when youth and vigor predominated. Additionally, they make us realize how the intervening years have affected us all differently.

In some instances, the passage of time has been gentle and in others it has even been somewhat harsh.

But whatever the case may be, these captured images cannot be questioned.  They are neither prejudicial nor judgmental. They are candid statements forcing us, in most instances, to compare the back then with the here and now.

They are miraculous declarations begging to be preserved.

I recently discovered a small stash of travel slides of myself in foreign locales during the 1970s. I used a Nikkormat and Kodak Kodachrome because of the saturated richness of the film’s colors.  I then sent them off to special labs to make prints.

Incidentally, my original camera is still in use after nearly 50 years.  Kudos to Nikon.

After looking at them for a while, the initial soothing nostalgia faded somewhat and gave way to a certain melancholy.  The slim young man in bell-bottomed jeans with the dark hair and the devil-may-care attitude had indeed changed.

At this point I must admit that in all the time that I traveled or lived abroad I took few pictures of myself.  I was always more interested in the other countries and their people. That makes these photos very special.

I’d like to share some of those memories.

There are two photos taken in the Sudan when I worked at the Kenana Sugar Company. In one print I’m sitting in the living room of my on-site home.  Near me are three of my co-workers from India who I had befriended. I recall a vegetarian meal that night and a sensation of great contentment.  The other image shows me on an ornery camel at the local market. I’m wearing cut-off shorts and a Tabasco T-shirt.

Adventure was my creed while worry and restraint had not yet infected my mental vocabulary.

A third photo was taken in the Yucatan Peninsula while visiting the Mayan ruins of Mayapan.  I placed my Nikkormat on a nearby stone and used the self-timer lever. The camera captured my eldest brother and I standing next to a sculpture. I have a beard and I’m in bell-bottomed jeans held by suspenders.

The last image was taken in England.  I was at the monastic ruins of Fountains Abbey when I asked a passing tourist to take my picture with part of the structure in the background.  Even though I’m wearing a colorful striped soccer jersey my expression is somber.  After all, this place was almost sacred ground as it was one of the religious sites destroyed by King Henry VIII in his vendetta against the Catholic Church. 

 My hair is white now, my walking is slower, and I have no intention of riding a camel any time soon. But that young man in the prints still resides within me.

Thanks, in part, to the power of photography, I don’t think that he’ll ever abandon his older friend.

O.J. GONZALEZis a native and resident of Jeanerette. He graduated from USL in printmaking and photography and his photographs have appeared in publications in Louisiana, Alaska, Canada, New Zealand and England.