I can't remember Andrew sucking his thumb, but turn the page and there he is. The page is a chronicle by age, largely of school portraits. Andrew as a newborn, a second grader, 3rd grader, 4th grader. A moody low light portrait, and a set of photos shot in the "portrait studio" that my father tormented everyone with when I was in about 4th grade.

He hung a blanket up in the basement and set up lights and a tripod. Everyone who came to our house got their picture taken in this studio. This is one of those things that I would not remember if I didn't have pictures of it, and in fact I don't "remember" it. I have no active archive of memories associated with this--in my brain it might as well not have happened. I do not remember sitting for a portrait, but there are picture of me as well in this setting. My whole life happened, and I do not remember it. What I remember from these pictures are the stories about the pictures, and not the events themselves.