In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Wall to Wall.”
How many times have you walked into someone’s home, only to find they have covered the entirety of their stairways and hallways with various pictures? My mother did this when I was a kid and it was the “Wall Of Shame” as far as my brother and I were concerned. Pictures we both would have rather seen packed up in a box, only to be heard from when someone was moving and asking what to do with them. I dislike having my picture taken, so not too many of those made it into my adult years. And digital just means I’m somewhere on the computer, even if my father has hundreds of them stored for later harassment!
These days my walls are covered in artwork from various fairs and a few sports related collectibles. There is an anniversary poster from a concert I attended almost 10 years ago, celebrating the band’s 20th year. Red Sox things are found throughout the house. You’ll find something about them in almost every room, nothing crazy, many items just photos mixed in with other items.
There are some diplomas hanging on the walls. A tale of money spent in the pursuit of the perfect education. The shield from my fraternity rests on a shelf near the 6 foot wooden sword my “pledge son” made for me during his initiation period. Those pictures packed up but not far from my memory.
Pictures of family that have passed sit on a table in the hallway. Grandparents long gone, a great-aunt whose recent passing still stings, and hidden in the mess is a picture of my daughter. The pride of the photos being a graduation picture from Bates College in 1917 with my Great-Grandfather and his two brothers among the crowd. One of those long multi-exposure types, protected with archival quality glass [hundreds of dollars to protect what was once a 10 cent purchase!]
Artwork that one of my great-aunts used to do. Charcoal sketches, prints, an enamel bowl my nephew used to run around the house with. And the one item no one in the family knows how to hang. A print that has no perspective beyond the artists. [When I was a kid, I would rotate my parent’s version to see is anyone noticed. Even left it in a diamond shape…]
All in all, on my wall of wall there’s some nice memories. Some inherited, some forged over the years; but most pleasant.