I started going through old pictures yesterday. Well, actually slides from my grandfather that I’ve somehow come to possess. Even Gramp, as organized as he was, didn’t label every slide, so I made the decision that I am going to save mostly pictures of people I recognize, along with an occasional scenery pic, if it meets certain criteria like immediately catching my eye.
I was reminded of why I don’t like doing this—because it’s so easy to get distracted, sidetracked, and otherwise slowed down. And when I take a break, it feels like I’ve returned from the past– I realize I’m in my house in February of 2026 but also that I’ve taken a ride in a time machine.
These were bags of loose slides from as far back as the late 1950s, so Gram and Gramp are way younger than I am now. My siblings and I are little kids, Mom and Dad are our own kids’ age, or younger. It’s weirdly wonderful, but there’s also a bit of melancholy.
There’s a long way to go, and I’m not sure why I’m even bothering with this project. I guess it’s in hopes of these pictures meaning something to our kids or their kids, someone who has a sense of history and a hankering for continuity—a certain curiosity about the past and filling in blanks and learning from whence and whom they come.
3 Cents' 