Using the tool found here (story on it from Engadget here), I input my blurry college ID photo from 1990 (we barely had color photos back then) and here’s a before and after shot. While it clearly has trouble with glasses, I think the AI made my lips look sexier than reality, so I can’t really complain about the results.
I like that it didn’t know what to do with some of the artifacts, so it enhanced those as well. This stuff is probably going to be freaky good in a few more years.
And to end the month here’s a photo of the entire family from around 1968 or so.
From left to right: Mom, me, Carole, Terri, Dad, Barry, Ricky
From the previous post, you can see my claim to being a skinny ass kid is accurate. My legs are sticks. I can’t even keep my comfy wool socks from slipping off. I seem pretty happy, though, possibly because I’m finally off the bottle.
While the fashions seen here are pretty jazzy, I am especially intrigued by what my brothers are wearing. The jackets are fine–they’d even look fine in the 21st century. But the black and white-striped pants that are inches too short? I just don’t know. No, wait, I do know. They look ridiculous. This must have been a fad, however brief, in the late 60s. Both brothers seem to be compensating for the pants by adopting tough guy looks. I think Rick may be holding a skateboard, which also helps a little to compensate.
I don’t recall my sisters ever wearing these knee-high socks except in photos like this one.
I remember the orange couch, though. We eventually got a green one with a floral pattern but for years the orange couch dominated the living room, demanding–and receiving–attention from all who entered.
I can’t really articulate how much it bothers me that I have photos that were taken of me from half a century ago, except that I’m happy to still be around and embarrassed by them. I’ve recently scanned in a pair from 1967. There’s no date beyond the year so I would have been between two and three years old.
The first photo is an outdoor shot of me and my brother Rick standing in the front yard of our house on Trunk Road in glorious Duncan, BC.
You know, it may not be my brother at all, but the size and hair seem to fit.
Mostly I can’t figure out what sort of hat I am wearing. It looks like a motorcycle helmet made out of fluff. I seem mildly embarrassed by it. How ironic that in years to come I would willingly subject myself to far greater fashion crimes.
This next photo is a rare color one from the same year.
I seem much happier here and why not? I’m not wearing the fluff helmet, I’m snuggled in comfy jammies with the little feet built-in and I’ve…got my bottle?
Yes, that is clearly a baby bottle in my lap but as you can also see I am clearly not a baby in the photo. I have teeth and everything. This led me to wonder at what age you stop bottle-feeding your kids and I found a Time article that suggests the bottle should be taken away between 12 and 18 months. Clearly, this did not happen here, unless I was just keeping the bottle warm for the younger sibling I never knew I had. Mind you, the same study said that late bottle feeding increases the risk of obesity and I was one skinny ass kid.
But maybe I kept thin by ingesting all the second-hand smoke floating around. Every adult back then had lit cigarettes in their mouths, in their hands or in an ashtray.
I have no idea who is knitting next to me but that posture surely can’t be good for the back. Also, rad red pants.
Finally, I think my mom took this photo. The clue is the blurry digit in the top-right corner. As a photographer, my mom had two specialties: including her fingers as subjects, and lopping off the tops of people’s heads. I was too short here, thus my head was spared.