Photos are a conversation piece

There’s something about old photographs.

And as we, the subjects of those photographs, grow older, the fascination grows stronger.

Trust me on this.

An energetic subset of my high school classmates has decided that our aging cohort needs to get together for something billed as a “70th birthday party.”

Never mind the fact that some of us — this scribbler for example — won’t turn 70 until several — okay, a few — months after the party.

This group has never vetoed the idea of a party.

And because we are still tottering around — as we near 70 — in the 21st century, the internet has to be involved.

Specifically, Facebook is a factor.

Trouble is, some of us don’t do Facebook.

For “some of us,” substitute the old guy scribbling this column.

I understand Facebook’s appeal. I also understand how vulnerable to manipulation it was during the last presidential election. And I certainly understand how it has undermined traditional news media like the product you are reading today.

Mostly, my participation is based upon a firm conviction that I don’t want my private data, preferences, likes, and dislikes, and all that to become a product sold by Facebook’s purveyors.

That’s how they make their money. And I’m not wandering into the sheep pen to be sheared.

But having said that — crankily, I admit — the fact remains that Facebook is ubiquitous. It’s very, very hard to avoid.

And its greatest devotees — those who keep the Zuckerberg ball rolling — tend to fall directly into the demographic of my high school graduating class.

Safe to say that most Facebook users are women over the age of 40. While it was created with young people in mind, it’s their moms who dominate the traffic.

So when a bunch of soon-to-be-70-year-olds want to stay in touch, it’s the medium of choice.

And that brings me back — by circuitous route — to old photos, the kind folks want to see on Facebook.

Those organizing the 70th birthday party created a Facebook page, and they’ve been asking for old pix to add to the mix.

So when I stumbled upon about half a dozen old black and white glossies, I felt an obligation to share them, Facebook or no.

The pictures were a mixed bunch:

•A 5-year-old Carol Weinland walking across a stage at the “rec” to get her kindergarten diploma in 1953 or ’54.

•A shot of an Indiana history pageant at Judge Haynes Elementary School when I was in fourth grade.

•A publicity shot for a school play, “Don’t Call Me Junior,” in the fall of 1960 with my irascible friend Tom Stith as “Junior” and Vickie Renbarger as his sister.

•A Girl Scout Halloween party when my classmates were about nine.

•An unpublished photo — probably because the focus was a little soft — of some cousins at a fishing hole: Jim Caster, Bill Caster and Tim Caster.

In other words, it was the stuff of nostalgia.

So I scanned the photos in, sent them along to my old friend Steve McKee and asked him to post them to the Facebook page created for the 70th birthday party.

There’s just one problem.

Because of my firm rejection of Facebook’s transaction involving my own privacy, I can’t see the page being enjoyed by the rest of the class. I’ve added stuff to the mix, but I’m on the outside looking in.

That’s OK.

I figure it will give us something more to talk about at that 70th birthday party in August.