Below is a self portrait I took at the New York Port Authority Bus Terminal, sometime at the beginning of this century. I was probably on my way to see my parents. The photo evokes nostalgia of that time but other memories crowd their way into my consciousness. During the early 1970s I used to wait for a bus at that same terminal, to take me to Ithaca in upstate New York. During those times, one could see the bus exhaust. It was more dreadful to breathe, but only slightly less dreadful than the prospects of going back to college.
The term ‘nostalgia’ fits the photograph as it is: a son on his way to see his parents. I have warm feelings for the memories of those experiences. I don’t have that much of a longing for the secondary memories of college days evoked by the photo.
One of the problems with getting old is that memories pile up on each other.