Margaret (Peggy) Lombardo

I’ll keep the writing short today, which is not my strong suit. And I have a lot to say, but not the energy at the moment.

I decided (like obsession is a decision) to knock out the end of this book, and the last chapters are massive and daunting. Earlier today, I finished the second-to-last, and have to gear up for one final gargantuan chapter before I’m finished with this two-year beast of a project. So close. Sorta close.

Between that, work, life, a third leak in a year, and the world blowing up, I’ve been in a bit of an emergency mode, and frankly, I just don’t think it’s going to be possible to write here as regularly as I’m planning until I finish this final chapter.

Anyway, I’ll ruin the book’s conclusion here, as this place is a good sounding board, but the process of writing the book basically led me to the conclusion of how significantly I’m on the spectrum for autism. It all makes sense now, thinking back to all the symptoms and the invisible forces, deep down, I felt that I was fighting, or at least just trying to understand. It’s been fascinating learning about the subject. I’ll share more in a future post.

In the meantime, I will post regularly over the next two months, but with light writing, and I’ll probably mostly share these photographs that I’ve been scanning from my grandmother, Margaret (Peggy) Lombardo.

I’ve been finding and scanning all the best work from her archive at Gowanus Darkroom (lovely place), and that’s been another beast of a project. I knew she was an astounding photographer, but had absolutely no clue as to the scale, and how serious she took photography, until I recently explored the full archive.

I think I have a good 5-6 full scanning days left, if I’m lucky, and then some serious organizing. There’s a lot of history here. It’s a wild experience to go through, along with old letters, a written family history, little books my grandfather and his friends made, and other things.

Some of the photographs in her collection are from my grandfather’s friends during road trips, I believe, but it’s impossible to discern authorship for many of them, and most of these are from my grandmother.


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