A few years ago, I came upon a suitcase
that was stuffed with family memorabilia. I gave it to my brother to sort
through. He was thorough and scanned many of the pictures and burned them to a
DVD. I read all the letters before and hope he did too.
The other day, I got a package in the
mail of family photos. These may have been some from the suitcase or others he
found. His family is downsizing so what left my house is coming back.
Some of these rarities of times gone by
maybe worthy of framing but most will just be fuzzy antiques of people who are
no longer remembered. For photos are time capsules; reminders to those who were
there or creations of stories to another generation.
Since this is the end of this branch of
the family tree, may went into the bin to become the dust of history. Their
vison will still remain in my mental photo library with no names written on the
back.
Though it has been interesting to view an entire century of a family captured on film.
First, I am amazed that our family had a
camera at the turn of the century. Just like electricity, telephones and
automobiles, they were rare and cherished back in the day.
Second, I was surprised how many photos
of my brother there were. He was the first born so I guess that was a cause of
record keeping. Seems, along with letters written by hand in cursive script and
mailed, books were kept with photos listing the years and ages of children to
display for guest to view as family records, next to the family bible.
There are photos of my mother at age six
in the backyard where the chickens roamed until the day, she was sent out to
wring off their heads and watch their bodies run around until they realized
they were dead. There are photos of her mother looking as glamorous as she
could in 1922. Quite a catch for Mister Mac. There are photos of my father’s
parents holding my brother. I never knew my grandmother from that side of the
family for she died before I arrived. There are photos of my first birthday
cake.
There was a postcard of the Keswick Country Club where I spent my first
years. There are photos of the McIver harmony singing sessions. There are
photos of my parents getting married in Kansas in 1939.
There are photos of my brother in Boy Scout and Explorer uniforms giving the three-finger salute. He was very good at scouting and proceeding into the military. I followed but only have a photo of me being cute in a Cub Scout outfit.
There is a photo of me
standing beside our Mustang. I learned to drive in that car. I was a good
driver, but had a lead foot. A moment in time. There are photos of my mom and
dad at some convention or some sort of fancy occasion dressed to the nines opening
accolades or gifts from said organization (usually silver platers or bowls
etched with a description). My mother loved performing for the well-to-do and
appreciated the attention while my father worked the room as employment.
There
is a photo of the backyard of the Patterson house in the snow. It was early by
the size of the bushes and parking lot. Snow would normally close down the
city. We’d listen to the radio to see if the schools were open or not? There is
a photo of me and my dad in the yard in 1968. It must have been posed because I
don’t know of any conversation with my dad while laying on a hammock. 
There are
a couple of photos taken in 1979 of my first wife that I don’t remember. She
seemed to get along with my folks. A year later, we’d separate.
Photos of this century had to be processed at a Photoshop that mixed the chemistry and handed back black and white prints for a price. Photo reproduction became more advanced with color and everyone wanted a point-and-shoot camera. Polaroid presented the auto-developing print camera, only to be bypassed by the digital world.
Now everyone is carrying a camera (with
video) taking selfies and filming every event of family and friends to post on
social media for all the world to share. Uploaded images will remain in our
data storage until a power failure and history will disappear forever.
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