What is it about our childhood memories that make us long to bring the past into the present?
(Related: Is Big Brother ALWAYS watching?)
Above: Whitby, 1979. My parents can take credit for the cute kids, but not the snazzy wallpaper, retro red carpet or shiny linoleum. The photo was taken at a friend’s. And apparently, this friend was bad ass.
If you’re a social media addict, you’ll have noticed the popularity of #tbt, or #ThrowbackThursday. It’s a once-a-week chance to share our photo memorabilia; a chance to laugh at plaid bell bottoms (on our parents, of course), reminisce about birthdays and holidays passed, or simply show off our gorgeous baby pictures. It’s the opportunity to connect our past and present in a lighthearted, meaningful way which often draws in friends, family – even complete strangers. (Hands up if you’ve sighed over Ian Somerhalder’s #tbts? Yup, me too.) Over the months, I’ve become a staunch follower of the nostalgia it invokes.
Above: Toronto, 1980. I am 2 years old, and my brother and I lounge on the hood of my dad’s prized 1978 Mercury Cougar XR7. We are from a generation that stayed out until the streetlights came on, and rode our bikes for miles. We skipped on the sidewalk, drank water from a hose and always remembered to say our prayers before bedtime. This is my throwback.…