My friend Jeff recently told me he likes the old photos I post here and wondered how I remember all of these stories. Well, as my pal James likes to remind me, “You have something to say about everything.” No matter his meaning, I take it as a compliment. And of course I’ve been thinking about these things from time to time through the years and so I tend to remember them. Alas, not always. Take for example, this slide that I found recently. I have no recollection of the circumstances surrounding my taking this photograph. Written on the slide’s collar: “Near Úbrež. July, 1972. Choreographer’s wife + kids + Setka.” The choreographer? Who was he? And why isn’t he in the picture? And why can’t I remember these happy kids? Or the wife who certainly knows how to hold a flattering pose? I have only the vaguest memory of Setka, the grandmother in black whom we met in our behind-the-Iron-Curtain travels that charmed summer. The photo brings back the subtlest recall of her quiet wisdom, her smile, nothing more.